by Deb Baker
“You’re terrible. Cruel and inhuman.”
“I have an idea for you.”
“I can’t wait.”
“Why don’t you come and work for me? We can train purse dogs together.” Nina nibbled on a French fry, and Gretchen watched with envy. “I’ve been turning away clients because I don’t have enough time. You’d be good.”
Gretchen rolled her eyeballs to the ceiling of the car, then glanced at Tutu and Nimrod in the backseat. Nimrod had mustard on his face from the hamburger. The canine profession suited Nina perfectly, as did doll restoration for her mother.
Gretchen, alas, still searched for her own niche. Dog training was decidedly not it.
“I don’t think I have the patience,” Gretchen said. “And Wobbles wouldn’t approve. Besides, I’m going back to Boston soon, back to Steve and back to the search for a ‘real’ job.”
“Are you implying that purse dog training isn’t a real job?” Nina said.
Gretchen gave in to temptation and snitched one of Nina’s fries while she searched for a quick response to cover having blurted out the truth. “It demands a certain amount of connection with different energy sources, uh… a special ability to read auras must be important in training puppies. I bet only a few people have what it takes.”
“You could be a cat trainer.” Nina’s eyes lit up at the idea. “Are cats trainable?”
Gretchen chuckled at the thought of any cat taking orders from a human being. She tried to picture Wobbles traveling in a purse and snorted out loud. “No,” she said. “They really aren’t.”
“What about that guy in Key West? The Catman,” Nina said. “He makes cats jump through hoops.”
“I’d love to see that sometime. But right now, let’s go talk to Joseph Reiner.”
Joseph’s Dream Dolls was located on Southern Avenue and was appropriately named. The shop cabinets and countertops brimmed with fabulous dolls arranged in groupings. Rare collectibles were locked into a large cabinet where Gretchen stood admiring a Kestner boy doll through the glass. Joseph rushed to the front of the store to greet them.
“Hey, you two,” he said, noticing the dogs for the first time. “I’m closing up. It’s five o’clock. I’ll just lock the door. You two stay put.” He rolled a finger across the top of Nimrod’s head, then bent to give Tutu equal attention.
“I’m showing Gretchen around town,” Nina said. “We thought we’d stop by.”
“Look around. Enjoy yourself, but keep a good eye on your dogs. The teacup poodle in the purse is priceless.” He breezed away to lock up.
What a delight, Gretchen thought, reveling in the combination of old and new-a Door of Hope Mission doll from China, several Queen Annes, and a large selection of contemporary artist dolls. She admired a Dy-Dee Baby and two celebrity dolls, Marie Osmond and Annette Funicello. The collection of dolls was endless, and for a time, as she wandered through the shop, she escaped into a make-believe world of color and glamour and beauty.
Joseph cleared his throat and brought her back from her welcome escape from reality. “I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, pulling at the diamond stud in his left ear.
“I’m okay.” Gretchen laughed lightly. “We came by for several reasons, to see your shop, of course, but I wanted to show you this picture again when all the club members weren’t present.”
“I thought that detective took this picture as evidence,” Joseph said when she handed it to him.
“This is a copy.” Gretchen wasn’t about to tell him of the second picture or about her mother’s message on the back of it. She had stashed that one safely away after making a copy of the picture of the doll. “I know you saw the picture yesterday at Bonnie’s, but take another look. Have you ever seen this French fashion doll before?”
“No,” he said. “But I want to. It’s amazing.” He handed the copy back to Gretchen and rubbed his goatee with two fingers. “Why do you ask?”
“You know my mother is missing. And you have to know that the police suspect her in Martha’s death.” Gretchen watched Joseph carefully. He seemed unnaturally nervous, as he had at the meeting at Nina’s house.
Joseph nodded. “I’m not passing judgment on Caroline. She’s innocent until proven guilty as far as I’m concerned.”
“Thank you. I appreciate that. This doll might have something to do with her disappearance, or it might not. I think the picture is worth showing around in case someone recognizes it.”
“Sorry I can’t help you.”
“Maybe you still can,” Gretchen said. “It’s my understanding that Martha was your aunt. Am I correct?”
“Who told you that?” Joseph spoke a little too loudly, a little too defensively.
“Was she your aunt?”
Joseph rubbed his face with his hands as though he were rubbing away a bad dream. “Embarrassing to admit, but yes, she was my aunt. I’m related to that pathetic, homeless drunk. Or was. We weren’t close, and I didn’t mention it to the club members because I had no desire to share my ancestry with them.”
“She apparently didn’t go out of her way to cultivate alliances,” Gretchen said.
Joseph nodded. “She led a self-absorbed life, at least after the alcohol took control. The ability to look beyond her personal self-interests drowned in a pool of stale booze, a common symptom of alcoholism.”
Gretchen remembered what Nina had said about Joseph’s own problems with alcohol and his resolve to beat the disease.
“Did she have any family other than you?”
“A sister in Florida, but they hadn’t spoken for years. She’s in a nursing home in the final stages of Alzheimer’s. She wouldn’t understand that Martha is dead or that she even had a sister.”
“How about friends?”
Joseph laughed bitterly. “Aunt Martha didn’t have any real friends left. I suppose you could count those down-and-out characters she roamed the streets with as friends.”
Gretchen heard Nina’s cell phone from somewhere in the shop playing the Star Wars theme. “Hello,” she heard Nina say.
“Martha had an expensive collection of dolls at one time,” Gretchen said to Joseph. “Can you tell me what happened to it?”
“I’ve had this shop for seventeen years,” Joseph said. “She bought her first doll from me, at a discount, of course. After that, she became very secretive about what she purchased and where she bought it. She hid the dolls around her house, worrying constantly that someone would steal them. She became distrustful of everyone. What’s the point of having a collection if you can’t have fun with it?”
“Then?” Gretchen said, encouraging him to continue. She heard Nina’s voice drifting from across the room.
“I offered to take the collection on consignment when I found out she faced bankruptcy, but she refused. She had a pernicious personality. Her fingers were caustic, destroying everything she touched. And she never let go. I don’t know what happened to her collection. I have to assume that she acted with her typical irrational behavior, and the collection is lost forever.”
“You hesitated before answering. You don’t believe it, do you?”
Joseph shrugged. “She cared about those dolls in a way she never cared about any living person. She would have died for them before she’d let anyone take them.”
Maybe she did die for them.
“Last I saw her, she was hopelessly lost in one of many bouts of what I called schizophrenic paranoia. She showed up here at the shop. Someone was always out to get her. Nations plotted to overthrow her. This time the secret agent stalking her was someone she called ‘the Inspector.’ I assumed she meant the state of Arizona was finally going to force her into a rehab program. Too bad they didn’t move a little quicker.”
Nina came around the corner, her face as white as unpainted china.
“What’s wrong?” Gretchen asked, afraid to hear the answer.
“They found your mother’s car,” Nina said, her voice thick and shaky, “in northern S
cottsdale.”
“And?”
Gretchen watched Nina’s mouth slowly form the words. “The car left the road and ran into a drainage ditch. It must have rolled several times, because it landed upside down.”
Gretchen’s hands flew to her mouth. “No,” she said in disbelief. “Is she…?”
“Caroline’s in critical condition at Scottsdale Memorial. She’s in surgery right now.”
15
When restoring an antique doll head, the aim is to make the repair as inconspicuous as possible by simulating the original glazes and colors. A successful repair depends on a perfect blend between the surface and the cracked area and on successfully matching colors. Flesh is the color used most often, and it can be mixed by adding small amounts of red, yellow, and brown to white paint until the desired skin tone is produced.
– From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch
While Gretchen drove to the hospital, Nina dialed several phone numbers before reaching someone who could help. Larry Gerney agreed to meet them in the visitor’s parking lot and arrived at the same time they did. Hurrying, they transferred Tutu and Nimrod to Larry’s car. Gretchen handed over the key to her mother’s house. “It’s much closer for you than driving them all the way to Nina’s,” she said. “Leave the dogs there.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Larry said and pulled away as they ran into the hospital.
Nina’s ability to think in a linear path under duress amazed Gretchen. By the time they arrived at the hospital, Nina had notified most of the Birch family members across the country, arranged for pet care with Larry, and had even left a message for Steve to return her call. Gretchen, on the other hand, had driven in silence, almost paralyzed by fear and shock.
Now she wanted to stand up and scream at everyone-at the dispassionate receptionist attending the waiting room desk, at the nurses strolling through in their impenetrable groups, quietly murmuring among themselves and consulting clipboards. She wanted to scream at Nina for her endless chatter.
This couldn’t be happening. She stared out a hospital window at pavement and parked cars and at nothing at all. Nina forced her to take a cup of coffee, but her one good arm felt too weak to lift it to her lips. Instead of drinking the coffee, she clutched it like a lifeline.
Hospital sounds whirled around her. An overhead paging system called for Dr. Kay. Mechanical noises created by massive generators churned, and carts creaked down harshly lighted halls that smelled faintly of chemicals and sanitizers.
Someone walked by and stopped. Gretchen turned her head.
“She suffered a subdural hematoma,” a woman in scrubs said. “A severe head injury. She’s in surgery now to relieve the pressure and control the bleeding. We won’t know anything for several hours.”
“Did anyone speak to her?” Nina asked.
“She was unconscious when she arrived.”
“Is the bleeding in her brain?” Nina said while Gretchen remained speechless.
“No,” the woman explained. “It’s the area external to the brain, below the inner layer of the dura.”
Nina nodded and gripped Gretchen’s fingers below her cast.
“Thank you,” Gretchen murmured and the woman walked through doors clearly labeled No Admittance.
In novels, the heroine never cries, Gretchen thought, watching Nina dab her eyes with a balled-up tissue. Gretchen looked away, wondering who the heroine could be in this real-life drama. She didn’t know why, but the sight of other people crying always brought tears to her own eyes.
Two uniformed police, stationed at the end of the hall, stood guard. Because of Caroline’s arrest warrant status, they would remain at the hospital until she awoke and was able to be questioned.
If she awoke.
If. If. If…
Larry returned from taking the dogs home and sat down beside them, visibly agitated. Detective Albright appeared and strode purposefully across the waiting room toward them.
“I headed here as soon as I heard,” he said. “I don’t have much information. We don’t have any witnesses to the accident, at least not yet. A passing motorist observed the car lying upside down in the ditch on Pima Road and called nine-one-one. It took quite a while to extricate her from the vehicle, and she lost consciousness during transport in the paramedic unit.” He looked at Gretchen. “Have you heard anything yet?”
“She has a head injury,” Gretchen said faintly. “She’s in surgery. Were you at the scene?”
“Of the accident? No. I didn’t hear about it until they had time to run the plates. She was on her way to the hospital by then.”
“Did anyone talk to her?” Larry asked, blinking wildly.
“She was in shock,” Matt said. “She didn’t make much sense.”
“Nina asked the hospital staff the same thing,” Gretchen said. “But no one had an opportunity to ask her about the accident. She was unconscious when she arrived.”
“Why don’t you take a break,” Matt said. “Go home for awhile. I’ll call you when she comes out of surgery.”
“I’ll stay, too,” Larry said.
Gretchen shook her head. “I couldn’t possibly leave.”
“We had to turn off our cell phones when we entered the hospital,” Nina said. “Let’s go outside and try to get through to Steve again, and I’ll update the family.”
“Who’s Steve?” Matt asked.
“Her fiancé,” Nina replied, stretching the truth even in time of crisis. “He’s an attorney, so you better watch yourself. No more illegal moves while he’s round. I think I might have a lawsuit against you for searching my car.”
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Matt said, displaying the palms of his hands. “Promise.”
Gretchen had lost all feeling. Her body and mind were numb. Nina took the coffee cup from her hand, placed it on the table, and led her outside. She didn’t feel the heat. She shuffled along like a woman without hope, like the homeless men and women wandering the streets.
“Turn on your phone,” Nina said harshly. “Snap out of it.”
Gretchen numbly dialed Steve’s office number. “No one’s answering at the office.”
“It’s Sunday,” Nina said. “Call his cell phone.”
She gazed into Nina’s frightened eyes and listened to the third ring. She chewed her lip.
“Gretchen,” Steve said when he answered. “What’s going on?”
Mechanically, she related the events surrounding her mother’s accident as they had been told to her.
“I don’t know what to say,” Steve said. “This is awful. Are you okay?”
Gretchen wanted to say No, I’m not okay. Nothing is okay. How could I be okay? Instead she said, “I’m with Nina. We’ll be at Scottsdale Memorial until we know the outcome of the surgery and I get a chance to see her. I can’t use my phone inside. You’ll have to call the hospital if you want me.”
“Just do whatever you need to do. And call me as soon as you know anything.”
Gretchen signed off. She wanted to scream at him, too. Why hadn’t he offered to come? Didn’t he know she needed his support, needed him at her side? Calm down, she scolded. Stay cool. You’re overreacting. It’s the stress that’s making you feel crazy.
“I have your aunt Gertie on the line,” Nina said with distaste, covering her cell phone with her hand. “She’s willing to catch a flight today if you want her to. She said your mother has to be exonerated and needs help now more than ever because she can’t defend herself.”
Gretchen took the phone from Nina. “Hey, Aunt Gertie. I can’t worry about the murder investigation right now. All I care about is whether or not she’s going to live.”
“Quality of life counts, too, you know,” Gertie said. “She isn’t going to be happy in prison. She needs you to keep working for her because she can’t do it herself.”
“Don’t come yet. I’ll let you know if I need you.”
“We’re a crusty line of women,” Gertie said. “You have wha
t it takes. Keep me posted, and stay strong.”
Gretchen heard her disconnect.
Stay strong. Good advice from Aunt Gertie.
Larry continued to make himself useful. At eight o’clock, he drove back to Caroline’s house to check on Tutu and Nimrod and feed Wobbles. “I confined them to the kitchen. Not Wobbles,” he said quickly when he saw Gretchen’s expression. “The two dogs. I had to. They were behaving like a bunch of teenagers who discovered the parents were away. What a mess.”
He caught Nina’s look. “Don’t worry. I cleaned it up.”
Matt paced the hall, drinking coffee and occasionally huddling with the officers on duty in the hall. At some point, he thrust a tuna sandwich into Gretchen’s hand and forced her to take small bites.
Three eternal hours after they had arrived at the hospital, the doctor appeared.
“She’s in recovery,” he said. “The surgery went well. She’s not out of danger yet, though. The next twenty-four hours are critical.”
Gretchen and Nina fell into each other’s arms and let the emotions that had been boiling under the surface escape. Damp-eyed, Gretchen asked to see her mother.
“She’ll be in recovery for a while. Go home, and we’ll call you when she wakes up. That won’t be any time soon.”
Gretchen glanced at Matt. At least he had the good sense to refrain from requesting an interrogation. She wondered how soon the attending physician would allow police officials to question his patient. When Matt sat down next to the coffeepot and crossed one leg over his knee, Gretchen knew he was in for the long haul. So was she.
“I’m staying,” she said to the doctor, with a piercing glance at Matt. She sat down hard in a chair and crossed her arms. “And I expect to be the first one notified when she is able to have a visitor.”
The doctor approached the detective. “It’ll be some time before you will be able to interview her. Her family will be the only ones allowed in initally.”
Matt looked over at Gretchen. “I understand. I’m staying anyway. After all, I’m almost like family.”
How quickly he went from family friend to family member. A charlatan, our craggy detective.
