Dolled Up For Murder

by Deb Baker

  She was on her way back to Phoenix with the proof she needed to save her life and to avenge Martha’s death.

  25

  Recent Market Report on French Fashion Doll:

  I’m always cautious about determining prices for dolls, believing that this inexact science is best served through published pricing guides and current market demands. However, I can report at the time of this writing that the French fashion doll, particularly those manufactured by Bru and Jumeau, have experienced a resurgence in popularity and are considered hot dolls. They paved the way for the modern fashion doll we all know and love-the Barbie-and today’s collectors couldn’t be more bewitched by this captivating antique doll.

  I have personally had the opportunity to witness an exquisite rare specimen selling at auction for six digits!

  – From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch

  Gretchen couldn’t help measuring the success of the two doll dealers. Larry struggled to keep his business open, and the physical stress showed on his face as a nervous twitch. Joseph, diamonds glistening in his pierced ears and wearing flamboyant garb, enjoyed a thriving business and enormous success, if the number of customers in his shop was a reasonable indicator.

  Location, location, location.

  It really did matter.

  Joseph’s Dream Dolls was part of a booming new shopping mall in a bustling section of Mesa with heavy walk-by traffic. Who could resist a front window brimming with smiling dolls?

  On the other hand, Larry and Julia’s China Doll Shop sat in a near-empty outdated mall with a straggle of aging but loyal customers.

  Gretchen wished the best for Larry and Julia and made a mental note to visit their shop soon and make a purchase. Perhaps it was time for them to consider moving to a better location.

  Larry and Joseph eyed each other like boxers in a ring, and Gretchen thought it must feel strange for Joseph to know that his competition was taking in all the details of his shop and assigning a grade. Gretchen thought Joseph would earn the highest score possible, a ten on a scale of one to ten.

  His store had pizzazz. He knew how to set up his displays to show off his dolls to the best possible advantage.

  The first thing he mentioned after greeting them was Nacho’s arrest, having learned the news through a courtesy phone call from Detective Albright. “Relieved to finally put an end to the whole awful business,” Joseph said. “Maybe now they can release her body.”

  His fingers fluttered over a display, edging pieces into new positions, moving a doll over by a space so infinitesimally small Gretchen wondered why he bothered. “I knew your mother was innocent,” he said. “I just knew it.”

  Larry wandered away, studying the shop with intensity, stopping to observe the woman behind the cash register who wore a bright bow in her hair and looked like an Ideal Tammy doll herself. Details everywhere, even in the staffing, not a trick of the trade missed.

  Gretchen lowered her voice and said to Joseph, “I’d like to look at your Kewpie dolls. I’m thinking of one as a gift for Nina.”

  Joseph looked surprised. “I didn’t know Nina collected dolls. Well, that’s marvelous. I always wondered how she could survive as a member of your family without taking part. Right this way.”

  Smiling Kewpies covered a section of the back wall. Kewpies in every imaginable pose, lying down, holding baskets, wearing costumes.

  “There’s a strong market for Kewpies,” Joseph said. “It’s a good choice for a gift, because it will never depreciate.”

  Gretchen scanned the grouping without finding the Blunderboo that Bonnie had described. “I was hoping for something very special. She’s done a lot for me.”

  “I have just the thing over here in a locked cabinet with all my distinctive pieces. It’s costly though. I’m not sure you should spend that kind of money for a first-time collector.” Joseph laughed. “Listen to me, trying to talk a customer out of a sale.”

  Larry joined them as they approached a large glass cabinet. Gretchen spotted the Blunderboo immediately, its laughing baby face lighting up the entire grouping, the red heart label prominent on his naked, chubby body.

  Joseph unlocked the cabinet and carefully deposited the Kewpie in Gretchen’s hand. “Blunderboo, the clumsy Kewpie,” he said. “Forever tripping over himself.”

  “It’s marvelous. Where did you acquire it?” she asked.

  Joseph turned away, refusing to meet Gretchen’s eyes, and began to arrange the other dolls within the cabinet. “At an estate sale,” he muttered. “Most of my dolls are purchased through auctions or estate sales.”

  Was Bonnie mistaken? Or had the doll really belonged to Martha at one time? Why would Joseph tell her that the doll had been purchased at an estate sale if Martha had given the doll to him? He’d have no reason to misrepresent the facts.

  “Someone told me that Martha had owned a Kewpie like this one,” she said.

  Gretchen thought she saw Joseph flinch.

  “Who told you that?” Larry said from behind Gretchen.

  “I don’t remember,” Gretchen said.

  “Well,” Joseph said, “it wasn’t this Kewpie.”

  Gretchen glanced at the price tag and handed the doll to Joseph. “I’ll think about it,” she said. “He’s beautiful.” Joseph locked the Kewpie in the cabinet and placed the key in his pocket.

  “I’m still looking for my mother,” Gretchen said. “If you have any ideas where she might be, please let me know.”

  “Sorry, Gretchen. I haven’t heard a thing.”

  Walking out into the intense sun, Gretchen knew that Joseph had lied to her. He’d lied the first time she visited the shop when he claimed no knowledge of the disposition of Martha’s dolls, and he’d lied again today. Joseph was worth serious consideration as a suspect in Martha’s murder. Had he killed his aunt for her doll collection? Was that why he had become successful? By selling off Martha’s valuable dolls?

  Nina pulled up to the curb with Daisy in the passenger seat wearing a purple sundress and a floppy red hat that covered her bandaged head. She rolled the window down and waved. “Look at me. I’m like a new person, real movie star material in this getup.”

  “What are you doing here?” Gretchen said, bending down and peering at Nina.

  “We got your message,” Nina said, not looking especially happy. “And we were shopping right down the street.”

  “You came all the way to Mesa for your shopping spree? I thought you’d head in the other direction.” Gretchen grinned and turned to Larry. “Thanks for lunch. I’ll hitch a ride home with Nina.”

  Larry blinked rapidly in the glare from the sun, continuing to stand on the sidewalk, apparently reluctant to return to his own shop and Julia’s battlefield tactics.

  “I’ve got to go now,” Gretchen said.

  “See you ladies later,” he said, walking slowly to his car.

  “Get in the back,” Nina said to Gretchen, and she slid in with the dogs, accepting her punishment for forcing Daisy’s company on Nina.

  Nina slung an arm over the back of the seat and stared solemnly at Gretchen. “You have the blackest aura surrounding you that I think I’ve ever seen around a human being. Are you feeling okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “If you aren’t feeling it yet, it must be a gathering force. The outlook is scaring me.”

  Gretchen felt cold in spite of the heat and in spite of her personal opinion about Nina’s psychic experiences. None of her predictions had exactly panned out so far. If Nina were an oilfield geologist, they’d be drilling a multitude of expensive dry holes.

  “I agree with you about Gretchen’s aura,” Daisy said to Nina as they pulled out. “And I see exactly what you mean. It’s a bad one.”

  Nina looked over at Daisy and scowled.

  “What if…” Gretchen said, scrubbing at the red paint crusted on the workshop floor with paint thinner and an old rag, “we’ve missed the meaning of the note found in Martha’s hand.”


  “The one with Caroline’s name on it that said to put her away?” Nina leaned back against a stool and watched Gretchen clean up. Daisy, exhaustion etched across her face, had gone to the spare bedroom to try on her new outfits and rest. “By the way,” Nina said, “I decided to shop in Mesa, the opposite direction of the Rescue Mission, so I could tell Daisy that we didn’t have time to pick up her shopping cart, that we were too far away. She got so excited over the clothes that she didn’t even mention the cart.”

  “The police assumed Martha left the note as an accusation,” Gretchen said, focused on her line of thought, concentrating so Nina wouldn’t distract her. “What if my mother was helping Martha? The note could have referred to putting away the French fashion doll. We know she had the doll because she wrote it in the note to Nacho. She said she had it but he had to hide the trunk because it was too large for her to hide easily. If she didn’t take it with her, where would she have hidden it?”

  Nina hopped from the stool, excitement flushing her face. “I have a feeling about that. It’s getting stronger.” She cocked her head to the side as if listening to something beyond Gretchen’s range of sound and clapped her hands together. “The doll is close by, probably somewhere in the house.”

  “Where in the house?”

  “You’re expecting way too much detail,” Nina said, exasperated. “Isn’t it enough to know we’re on the right track? Let’s start looking.”

  “The police searched the workshop thoroughly. It wouldn’t be in here.”

  “Caroline’s bedroom then. Come on.”

  Gretchen and Nina attacked the house with gusto, Nina driven by her need to prove that her psychic abilities were real. Gretchen’s personal belief was that her mother had the doll with her wherever she had gone, but Gretchen had run out of options. Searching the house kept her body in motion, made her feel as though she was moving forward instead of stagnating.

  The search moved slowly, both women working together fluidly but without results. With one room left to search, Nina tapped gently at Daisy’s door. She opened it a crack when she didn’t receive a response. Daisy was sprawled across the bed, sound asleep.

  They tiptoed in and searched the room without awakening Daisy. “She’s still recovering from the surgery,” Nina whispered. “I shouldn’t have kept her out as long as I did.”

  Before they finished, Gretchen moved close enough to satisfy herself that Daisy was still breathing. She hadn’t moved since they started the search. Gretchen watched her chest rise softly.

  After a thorough search of the last room in the house, they collapsed on the living room sofa with nothing to show for their efforts. The only consolation, Gretchen thought, is that Arizona homes don’t have basements or attics. Otherwise they’d be at it the rest of the day and all night with possibly the same discouraging news in the end.

  Nothing. They had unearthed absolutely nothing.

  Zip, nada, zilch, zero.

  Nina pulled off her shoes and rubbed her feet. “I really thought I had it right this time.”

  Gretchen scratched the part of her left hand protruding from the cast and assumed the intense itching inside the cast meant her wrist was healing. “Why are we bothering to look for it anyway? Nacho has confessed. My mother will come home eventually, and the police will drop the charges against her. It’s simple. There is no urgency anymore.”

  “Ha,” Nina said, mockingly. “Your aura is still black. We have to continue what’s begun, and we have to understand it, or you’re in big trouble.”

  “Okay, then,” Gretchen said to humor Nina. “Put on your shoes and follow me.”

  The pool water glistened in the sun, reflecting patterns and images cast by the towering palms and exotic shrubbery. The only sound came from the hum of the air-conditioning unit as Gretchen padded along on her way to the cabana. The July sun sizzled on her skin, and she found herself struggling for breath in the hot, airless vacuum.

  The water mesmerized Gretchen, reminding her of the recent trek through the flooded streets and the skill with which Nacho had concealed his home. She noted a chameleon lounging on the side of the adobe wall, its skin color fusing into its background, effectively hiding it from watchful predators.

  She remembered again the Easter basket hunts of her youth. If Caroline had hidden a doll somewhere in her home, no one would be able to find it.

  No one except her daughter, who had played this arcane game with enthusiasm and appreciation.

  The silence and emptiness of the cabana weighed on Gretchen. One section of the room she’d been so fond of now resembled a storage unit, filled with her mother’s boxes of sale dolls. The room brought back memories of her past visits. She longed to return to one of those times, to pretend her mother was busy in her workshop, humming while restringing an old doll after giving it a renewing bath. She imagined her mother putting away the doll repairing tools and seeking out Gretchen, conversations filled with love and caring and companionship.

  “We’ve already gone through the boxes,” Nina said, bringing Gretchen back to the moment. “It isn’t in any of them.”

  “I know,” Gretchen said, scanning the room, her eyes sweeping over clay pottery and potted cacti. She bent and peered up the chimney, then pulled a small television set from a built-in shelf and checked behind it. She walked into the bathroom.

  Nothing here except stationary bathroom fixtures and an overhead cabinet set above the sink. Two towels rolled up, stacked neatly inside the cabinet, entirely filled the space. Gretchen removed the towels and stared at the back of the cabinet. Her heart pounded, because she remembered everything about the cabana and she remembered the cabinet. Plenty of room inside, last time she visited, for a large stack of assorted towels, bath, hand, and face.

  Her fingers pushed gently on the back of the cabinet, pressing and exploring, and she felt the wall give slightly. She pushed on a corner, and the backing moved.

  Gretchen heard Nina gasp behind her as she forced her fingers under the false wall and pulled the backing toward her, exposing a compartment.

  Like Nacho’s hidden home, the cabinet interior had been designed to deceive the casual observer, to dupe the unaware.

  From behind the wall, Gretchen removed a package wrapped in fabric the size of the doll she sought, along with another parcel, smaller and denser.

  Gretchen had found the French fashion doll.

  The landing gear whined into place as the plane rapidly descended over the familiar desert landscape. Caroline braced herself and waited for the plane to touch down. Finding a flight home had been more difficult than she’d anticipated. The first flights she checked were filled to capacity. In July, she thought. Who flies willingly into Phoenix in July, where the day’s temperature, according to the pilot, hovered around one hundred and seventeen degrees?

  Her plan was simple. A cab ride home, since she assumed her car had been properly disposed of. She would remove the hastily fashioned wall containing the French fashion doll and the accompanying pictures and inventory. Those items and the information stored on her computer were the only things she needed.

  The Inspector had been caught unaware, and the end was near.

  26

  I hope I have managed to remove some of the mystery from the expansive world of doll collection. You can decide for yourself what level of participation you want to actively pursue. Many of you won’t start out with the ferocity and intense focus of the truly addicted collector. But mark my words; eventually you will become caught up in the pageantry and intrigue. With this book I have given you the tools you need, and so my job here is done. May your dolls bring you years of boundless joy.

  The End

  – From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch

  The picture hadn’t done her justice. A photograph, in Gretchen’s mind, was never able to re-create the splendor and beauty the photographer hoped to capture.

  The doll’s delicate bisque features, unflawed in any way, shone with charm, her green cascad
ing costume sumptuous and accurately portraying the dress fashion of her historical era. A circle and dot on the back of her neck established her Bru heritage. Gretchen marveled at the craftsmanship and at this rare opportunity to hold the doll in her hands.

  Nina unwrapped the second package, and photographs spilled out onto the kitchen table.

  Gretchen carefully laid the French fashion doll down on the sofa and picked up a sheet of paper. “Look,” she said. “Martha’s old inventory of dolls. And pictures of each.” She shuffled through the photographs, noting bisque dolls from various French and German makers, several fashion dolls, Bébés, character dolls, dolly-faced dolls, cloth dolls, wooden dolls. Gretchen was stunned by the number of quality dolls in the collection. Reading the inventory days ago didn’t have the same impact that viewing the pictures did.

  She turned over a photograph. The doll’s written description, transposed from the inventory list, was scrawled across the back of the picture. Gretchen studied the date stamp on the back, the same as the date stamp on the back of the French fashion doll photograph. Picking up the inventory list, she scanned it, running her index finger along the entries. She stopped at a listing.

  “Nina,” she said, breathlessly. “This inventory list is different from the one the police found in the workshop.”

  “How do you know?” Nina asked. “What’s different?”

  “Well, to begin with, the Bru French fashion doll is listed right here.” She dragged the paper across the table, careful to keep her finger placed next to the appropriate listing. “It wasn’t part of the other inventory. I remember commenting on that at the time. We thought Martha must have forgotten to update the list.”

  While Nina looked it over, she hurried to her mother’s bedroom and returned with her copy of the inventory. A cross-comparison of the two lists exposed several inconsistencies, aside from a difference in the font used to print the lists. The list found in the cabana appeared to have been composed on an old-fashioned typewriter; the one found in the workshop was laser-printed from a computer word processor.