Dolly Departed dtdf-3

by Deb Baker

  "Horrible? He sounds like a Good Samaritan."

  "He returned it after he wrote himself a big, fat check. My bank actually paid it, even though the transaction overdrew my account. I had to use my savings to cover the overdraft. Why didn't they let it bounce? Now I've lost everything." Gretchen should have told the manager that the check had been forged. Wasn't that the right thing to do? Yet, she hesitated. Forgery was a serious offense, and he was so old. All she wanted was her money back. Turning him in would be a last resort. Matt scowled. "I still don't quite understand. The guy's in the hospital?"

  The elevator arrived. Gretchen, still in the lead, pushed the floor number. "He deserved everything he got," she said, hands on hips.

  "He deserved what? Please don't tell me that you put him in here?"

  Gretchen gave the detective a narrow-eyed look. "Of course not. He was concocting something called bug juice, and it blew up in his face."

  "I see."

  She could tell he didn't see at all. "Follow me," she said.

  "Don't I always?"

  That gave Gretchen pause. Maybe he was always following her. When they found the hospital room, Bernard looked like an extra from the movie The Mummy. His face was completely swathed in bandages. Gretchen knew it was him by the visible mop of white hair, though his mustache was hidden by the bandages. His name on the chart at the foot of the bed helped, too.

  "He's sleeping," Matt said, still sounding puzzled. "I'm really lacking enough background information to handle this properly."

  "Not for long." Gretchen thumped the patient's shoulder. Bernard's eyes flew open.

  "You stole my money, you old buzzard." It took all her control to keep her hands off his neck. "I want it back."

  "You said you never use your account."

  That's not exactly what she had said to him when he dropped off her checkbook. She had meant that she hadn't missed the checkbook because there was so little money in the bank. "So you thought you'd keep it active for me?" she screeched.

  "Hold on." Matt said, trying to step into the middle of the scene and direct traffic.

  "She called the cops?" Bernard's eyes grew wide when he saw Matt. "I only borrowed the money. Honest. I was going to return it long before she even knew it was gone."

  "Surprise, I checked." Gretchen said. "And I want it back. Right now."

  "Sir," Matt said, managing to squeeze between them.

  "Is that correct? Did you forge her name and remove funds from her account?"

  "He sure did."

  "I'm asking him, Gretchen."

  Gretchen watched the old man's eyes. He wanted to deny it, she could tell, but he'd already admitted it. "I thought I deserved a reward," he said. "You know, for finding the checkbook and returning it to its rightful owner."

  "Read him his rights," Gretchen demanded. "Arrest him."

  "Where is the money?" Matt asked Bernard with a cold, hard stare. Gretchen never wanted to be on the receiving end of that look.

  Bernard's eyes slid to a metal cabinet next to the bed.

  "In there. In my wallet. You can have it back."

  Gretchen lunged for the cabinet, found the wallet, and counted out a large wad of bills. "All here," she said with a huge sigh of relief. It was all the money she had in the world, and she had almost lost it.

  Bernard watched through slits in the bandages.

  "What exactly happened to you?" Matt asked him.

  "Explosion. Someone's trying to kill me." He nodded in Gretchen's direction. "Might be her, for all I know. Did you ever see anybody that mad before? I think she has an anger management problem."

  Gretchen wanted to shake the scrawny weasel.

  Matt glanced at Gretchen. Now that the confrontation was over, he had a hint of sparkle back in his eyes.

  "You screwed the cover on too tight," Gretchen told him. She looked at the quizzical expression on Matt's face.

  "Britt Gleeland told me about it."

  "I can't stand that woman," Bernard said. "She doesn't know anything."

  "At least she came and visited you." Gretchen thought Britt must be the only one in Phoenix who liked the man well enough to care. What a disagreeable personality.

  "That woman better not show up here."

  "But I thought-"

  "I know better than to close the lid tight," Bernard said, interrupting. "I left it loose. I've been making juice for years, and I know I didn't do it wrong. Someone added in another chemical to give it more power."

  "Why would anyone try to kill you?" Matt asked.

  "Because. That's why. Just because." Through the white wrapping, Gretchen could see his lips tighten down. Bernard wasn't talking to them anymore.

  "What's going on in here?" a nurse said from the doorway.

  "This police officer and young lady are bullying me around. I want them to leave."

  Nimrod chose that moment to peek out of Gretchen's purse. The nurse glared. "I'm calling security if you aren't gone in thirty seconds."

  Matt didn't even challenge the nurse. He apologized for the intrusion and escorted Gretchen out of the room.

  "Don't you outrank a nurse?" Gretchen wanted to know on the way down in the elevator.

  Matt chuckled. "No one on the police force would think of tangling with a head nurse. And I lost my advantage when the mutt made his appearance."

  "Bernard Waites should be on your list of suspects."

  "He seems to think someone's trying to kill him."

  "Yeah, right."

  "He took quite a hit. I checked his medical records earlier. He's lucky to be alive."

  Gretchen stared at Matt. "You knew he was here all along."

  "I knew about his condition, not about the theft."

  "Were you following me?"

  "I was leaving the hospital when you came up. I thought you were following me." Matt grinned at her.

  "Did you interrogate him?"

  "I questioned him right after Charlie died."

  "That's how he knew you were a cop."

  "He lied in the original report he gave Brandon Kline. He said he hadn't seen Charlie since the day before, but he had. Several witnesses saw him at the shop very early that morning."

  "Ahah!"

  "Another witness saw Charlie alive and well afterward."

  "Oh."

  "Bernard's in worse shape than you seem to think."

  Was that true? Had she really bullied a severely injured old man? But look what he had done. "Why didn't you stop me if he's so sick?"

  "And spoil the fun?"

  Gretchen cracked a weak smile. "I was awful, wasn't I?"

  "Out of control."

  "I'm pressing charges."

  "You should."

  "Does that mean he's on the top of your list of suspects?"

  "Everyone's on my list."

  "Even me?"

  Matt grinned. "Especially you."

  19

  When Gretchen and Caroline arrived at Mini Maize with Nimrod, April was waiting in her car. She wore a loose, white sundress covered with yellow sunflowers and really did look thinner.

  Nina and Britt swooped in right behind them with Tutu and Enrico. All the dogs ran off playing. Gretchen picked up the crude, unfinished room box that they had originally rejected and added it to the others in the display.

  "It doesn't exactly fit," Britt remarked. "I'd throw it away."

  "Nina thinks it's an important component. We'll see what we can do with it."

  "I'm off," Britt announced, hugging Nina. "Any word yet on Charlie's funeral?"

  Caroline answered her. "The police are still holding her body. They haven't said when they will release it."

  After Britt left, Nina clapped and called out. The three dogs appeared in the room. Nina pulled a pink hatbox from one of her many totes. "I'm so excited," she said. "I could hardly wait to come in today. Wait till you see."

  Gretchen exchanged glances with her mother. Something silly was up. They could tell. Nina danced in anti
cipation. "Bonnie Albright has been working on a new venture."

  "She's been very secretive about it," April said, dusting dolls on a shelf. "We've been trying to get the details out of her at Curves, but for the first time in her life, she's not talking."

  Nina jiggled the box. "She's been creating wigs."

  Gretchen grimaced when she thought of the stiff, red wig Bonnie wore to cover a bald spot on the top of her head. She was the last person on earth Gretchen would consider qualified to create realistic wigs. Gretchen's eyes slid to the pink box. "You bought a wig from her?"

  Nina bobbed her head in glee. "I've always thought about this concept, and she went out and did it."

  "Let's see," Gretchen leaned in as Nina pulled off the little round cover.

  "Tutu, come here," Nina called. The schnoodle bounded down one of the aisles in full anticipation of another treat. Nina had her hand over the box, concealing the contents.

  "At first, I couldn't decide between the two styles. Should I get the CleoPetra with bangs, or the Barky Braids?"

  "CleoPetra?" April shouted. "For heaven's sake, will you show us what you have?"

  "Eventually I decided on the Barky Braids." Nina extracted a wig and reached out for Tutu, adjusting it on the dog's head so that two braids hung down in front of Tutu's ears.

  "The wig is for your dog?" April said, failing to hold back a full-blown roar. "I thought it was for you. It's for Tutu?"

  Gretchen laughed along with April and her mother. It felt good after all the tension surrounding Charlie's murder and her own financial problems. Leave it to Nina to lighten the moment.

  Nina grinned. "It's a perfect fit, isn't it?"

  "How does it stay on?" Caroline asked.

  "Elastic."

  "I absolutely love it," Gretchen agreed. "Tutu looks ravishing."

  "The wig is exactly the same color as Tutu's hair," April pointed out.

  Nina preened at the compliments. "That's right. Bonnie's a miracle worker. I could have picked any color I wanted. She makes them to order. Nimrod and Enrico should have doggie wigs, too."

  Gretchen glanced at the tiny teacup poodle and the aggressive Chihuahua, who were playing tug of war with a knotted rope. "Enrico's just beginning to fit in," she said.

  "Let's not traumatize him unnecessarily."

  "Enough play," Caroline said. "Help me find the dolls that go inside the room boxes. I should have asked Britt more about them before she left."

  They rummaged around on the storage room shelves without finding anything useful. Gretchen pulled open each of Charlie's desk drawers until she found a box filled with dolls.

  "You're not going to like this," she said to the others after she opened the cover and peered in. "This is so sad."

  The women gathered around. Miniature room box dolls were arranged in a row. Six of them. Three women and three men. Two of the dolls' skulls were bashed in, one had slash marks crisscrossing her tiny body, and two had gaping holes in their heads. The only one that appeared undamaged was a distinguished-looking male doll. Instead of holes and slashes, his face was contorted in the semblance of excruciating pain.

  No one said anything for several minutes.

  "Well," Caroline finally said. "I don't think we will be displaying the room boxes at the funeral after all."

  "Wise decision," April said.

  "We're done then," Gretchen said with relief. Charlie's obsession with death, culminating with her own, was disturbing. Gretchen closed the cover. "The police must have seen these when they investigated."

  "What would a few mutilated dolls mean to them?" Caroline said.

  "It would be interesting to discuss them with the police," Gretchen said, deciding to take the dolls along with her.

  "I'll get photos of the room boxes for Charlie's brother,"

  Caroline said. "Without the dolls."

  After her mother had taken the promised photographs, Gretchen helped Nina pack up dog supplies.

  A window shopper stopped in front of the shop. Enrico the Enforcer lunged at the window, snarling and showing his teeth. The pedestrian took one look at the foaming, frothing creature and moved on.

  "Poor Enrico," Nina said.

  "Poor Enrico?" April said, incredulous. "He seems to have the upper hand."

  "The poor little orphan."

  Gretchen groaned silently. She saw it coming before April did. "Enrico is looking for a new home," Nina said as if on cue.

  Her aunt couldn't resist taking in abandoned canines. That's how Gretchen had ended up with Nimrod. Not that she was complaining. The tiny pup was a perfect match for her. But Enrico and April?

  Nina looked sadly at April, then peeked at Enrico, who still guarded the window. "His owner can't get used to-"

  An explosion drowned out Nina's next words. Gretchen saw the shop window blow apart. One second, it was there. The next second, it was gone. Shards of glass flew everywhere. The noise was deafening. Gretchen moved as fast as she could, but it still felt like slow motion. She lunged for the space where the tiny Chihuahua had stood a moment before and saw only emptiness. She frantically turned left and right. Nothing. Enrico was gone.

  Another explosion.

  Gretchen dove for the floor as the display case filled with recently furnished room boxes tipped toward the women.

  "Get down," she screamed. The other women crouched down behind her in a tight embrace.

  Gretchen covered her head with her hands and curled into a ball. Some of the miniature doll furnishings shot across the room, others rained down on them. She stayed on the floor until the air assault ended.

  She saw April's feet, encased in white socks and sandals, move past, glass crunching underfoot. Gretchen lifted her head and wiped off loosely embedded glass from the side of her face that had been against the floor. Blood oozed from small puncture wounds on her arms. Flames licked at the room boxes, and a line of fire also ran along the windowsill. She caught the strong odor of gasoline and sprang up in time to see April pull off her sundress. Stripped down to panties and bra, April began to beat at the display case with her dress.

  "Should we call for help?" Nina said through ragged sobs.

  "Yes," Gretchen shouted to her aunt. "I'd consider this an emergency."

  Nina looked dazed. Caroline rose from the floor.

  "The dogs," Gretchen added, scanning the store, relieved that the women were on their feet and appeared to be unharmed. "Mom, help find Enrico."

  That did the trick for Nina. Cell phone in hand, she sprang into action, pounding on its keys as she ran along the front of the shop searching for the tiny Chihuahua. With a breaking voice, she gave their location before scurrying off into the back room to check for the animals. Caroline was right behind her.

  Gretchen looked for a fire extinguisher but didn't find one. She yanked a tablecloth from under a miniature display table and set about helping April smother the flames. Judging from the power of the blasts, Gretchen thought all of the women should be plastered with glass shards, but she had been front and center, and the cuts on her arms appeared to be superficial, sustained mostly during her lunge for the floor. "Did a bomb go off?" Gretchen asked, beating at the fire with the tablecloth.

  "That, or someone shot through the window," April answered, winded from the physical exertion. "You shielded us from most of the debris, Superwoman. Are you all right?"

  Gretchen nodded. "We're fanning the flames rather than smothering them," she said. "We better get out of the shop."

  "Help is on the way," Nina said, hustling toward them with a bucket of water. "The emergency operator said the fire truck will be here momentarily. Stand back." Her aim was flawless. The flames died back a little. April grabbed the empty bucket and ran for the back room.

  "Don't let the dogs out," Nina called after her, watching the underclad woman charge away.

  Gretchen tried to put out a line of fire along the windowsill with the cloth. It caught fire. She threw it on the floor and stomped out the flame.


  April returned with the bucket and flung water on the remaining flames. "We should join the fire department,"

  she said. "We'd be a great team."

  "Nimrod and Tutu are in the storage room," Nina said.

  "I closed the door so they wouldn't get hurt on the glass or run into the fire. But I can't find Enrico anywhere."

  Smoke still rose from the display case, but the flames along the window had been completely extinguished. Gretchen noted a thick, black substance where the fire had died away. April took another swipe at the display case with her dress.

  "We'll have company soon. You better put on your dress," Gretchen advised her. The street was already filled with people. Gretchen heard a siren approaching, a few blocks away.

  April flung the dress over her head, lumbered to the open window, and spread her legs in a no-nonsense stance. Her sundress, covered with black soot and burn holes, wasn't white anymore. "Everybody stay put right where you are until we figure out what happened in here. Did anybody see anything?"

  A kid with a red ball cap raised his hand. "I did. I heard a kaboom and glass flew all over the street."

  "Some guy threw something," another observer said.

  "He was wearing a do-rag on his head."

  Ryan! Gretchen thought with dismay.

  "Anybody out there hurt?" April called, sliding a knowing glance at Gretchen. She had thought of Ryan, too. No one spoke up. "Okay, then. I'm taking that as a 'no.' Anybody see a little brown dog?"

  Gretchen stiffened, expecting someone to find Enrico's mangled body lying on the pavement. The glass shards would have acted like shrapnel, piercing the tiny dog's hairless body. And the fire! Had he burned alive?

  A few people on the street shook their heads. Enrico must have been swept up in the force of the explosion and flung away. The poor thing. Nothing that small would have survived.

  Nina cried into a tissue. Caroline wrapped her arms around her sister. "Everything's going to be okay," she said. "Shhh."

  "We have to find Enrico. He has to be here somewhere."

  "We will," Gretchen assured her. "He could have jumped out the window and run away." She didn't believe her own reassurance for one second.

  A fire truck pulled to a stop outside, and the siren died away. Several police officers arrived at the same time. Brandon Kline was one of those who responded. Nina and April told the tale, while Gretchen barely listened to the officer's questions and the women's responses. The professionals went about their business. Gretchen stared at the window, or what was left of the window. All their work ruined. But did it matter anymore? The whole point of the exercise was to prepare the room boxes for display at Charlie's funeral, and they had already abandoned the idea after finding the macabre dolls.