Dolly Departed

have been disguised as the clown, because she had seen those three within minutes of bumping into the clown. Joseph passed with the crowd, and Bernard and Evie were at the doll shop. None of them would have had time to change.

That left Ryan, Britt, and Melany. The poison mixer could be anybody, but since she was making wild assumptions, she would assume that the killer was one of the remaining three people. Could Nina be right? Britt wasn't the most likable women Gretchen had ever met. She had dinner with Charlie the night before she died. And she had been in the shop the night after Charlie's death. Cleaning up, Britt had said. Getting some of her things out of the shop.

Gretchen reached for the phone and called the Scottsdale police department. She asked for Detective Kline. Fortunately, he was in and came on the line. No, he hadn't seen Nina, but he had tried to reach her at her home the evening before. He was sure she was all right, but he'd keep an eye out for her car.

'Tell me,' Gretchen said. 'Did anyone have permission to remove items from Mini Maize on the Saturday that Charlie died?'

'Of course not.'

'So no one should have been inside.'

'Absolutely no one.'

'I thought Matt Albright told me you were finished with the shop on Saturday.'

'We were. But we didn't release it until you arrived the next morning.'

What possible motive could Britt have that would drive her to murder? Charlie had been her best friend, or so she claimed. Britt didn't seem interested in taking over the shop like Bernard. She hadn't been stealing from Charlie as the old dollhouse maker had.

Yet, she had been a doll maker, too. She might have been in competition with Sara, her best friend's sister. Britt had made pretty weird comments about friendships. Gretchen remembered her own challenges with Nina and April, the tiff they'd had because Nina felt Gretchen was spending too much time with April.

It had almost ruined their relationships.

Gretchen jumped into her car and roared away with no clear destination in mind. Almost subconsciously, she turned in the direction of Britt's house.

Nothing fit into a snug package. Gretchen tried to put herself in the killer's mind. Pretend you just killed Charlie Maize. What would you do next? She'd hope the police would buy into the heart attack. Charlie had had a bad heart, and if they didn't detect the nicotine, she would be home free.

Hadn't Matt told Gretchen the autopsy almost missed the traces of nicotine overdose? Nicotine traveled through the body quickly, so the evidence might have been easily overlooked. But it hadn't been.

After that, Gretchen had shared a secret with Nina, and her aunt passed it on to her new friend Britt. Charlie had been murdered.

The police would now look for the most likely suspect. The killer would have to throw suspicion somewhere else. Why not blame the burned-out drug addict son who had caused his mother so much grief?

One block from Britt's house, Gretchen stopped the car and thought about her next move. All her conjecture could be wrong. And she had no proof.

But what about Gretchen's missing aunt? She felt her stomach lurch and tried to calm her nerves. If Nina had barged into Britt's house, flinging accusations in her natural theatrical manner, and she was right, Nina might be dead this very minute.

If Britt was the killer. As April would say, there were a lot of ifs flying around. Gretchen tried to call April but got no answer. Then she realized April's cell phone would be turned off while she was inside the hospital. Please, April, don't call and tell me Nina is the Jane Doe!

She eased the car down the street and passed by Britt's house. The garage door was up. And it was empty. Gretchen parked around the corner, grabbed a handful of doll repair tools, and headed for Britt's house. What was she thinking? For starters, she'd get a good look at the wallpaper that had been so similar to the wallpaper in the room box. And she'd look for her aunt. Walking briskly into the garage, she knocked on the door. After waiting for a response, she lowered the garage door. No sense flaunting her lack of breakin skills in front of the entire neighborhood.

Giving up with the tools, she tried to open the locked door with her repair hooks and her utility knife, but it wouldn't give. She reached up and ran her hand along the top of the doorframe. Hadn't she read somewhere that people like to stash keys near the door? Her fingers touched on metal, and she pulled down a key, stunned at her unbelievable good fortune. Gretchen opened the door, made her illegal entry, and hurried to the kitchen. The house creaked, startling her. The refrigerator motor kicked in, and she almost fainted. Get a grip, she scolded herself.

The basic wallpaper seemed to be the same color as that in the room box, but the border was different. Gretchen chewed on her lip, trying to remember more clearly. Too bad the room box had been scorched in the fire. She had a picture on her camera phone, but it was a little out of focus, and the colors weren't exactly right. Not to mention that she had left it in her car.

Gretchen pulled over a kitchen chair and stood on it. She reached up and tried to peel away the edge of the border. It wouldn't budge. She tried a different spot. What was the paper glued down with? Cement?

She moved the chair to a new spot and tried again. Any second, she expected Britt to come home and catch her. She was almost ready to give up, when she felt the border give slightly under her fingers. Carefully she inserted her utility knife under the wallpaper, working it loose. She pulled the first layer away and stared at the underlying design: an apple. A teapot. The room spun. Gretchen leaned against a cabinet for support.

Britt hadn't had time to remove the wallpaper, so she'd just papered over it.

Nina had been right. But Gretchen hadn't believed her. She would never forgive herself if her aunt was dead. Gretchen replaced the chair.

She heard the garage door rising.

37

Gretchen quickly calculated her chances of getting out of the house before Britt came in and caught her. Slim to none, she decided, running for the dollmaking studio. She'd go out the back workshop door, the same one she'd used when they had visited. Piece of cake.

Except the back door was deadbolted, and the key wasn't in the lock. She felt along the top of the doorframe. Nothing.

Gretchen heard someone enter the house just as she spotted another door she hadn't noticed when she visited. It was a walk-in storage closet. She slid in and held her breath, wondering how she would get out of this mess. If it came to a physical confrontation, she was sure she could take Britt. Gretchen was a larger woman than Britt. This was the one and only time she had ever appreciated her size. Still, she hoped it wouldn't come to that. It was dark in the closet, but as her eyes adjusted, she saw the outline of storage units lining the wall. If she scooted back far enough, she might remain undetected. Then what?

She would have to wait until dark and sneak out. Too bad she had left her cell phone in the car. Smart thinking, Gretchen.

She edged toward the back of the storage closet. Her foot struck something soft, something unyielding. At that moment, she realized she wasn't alone in the closet.

She blinked, straining to see more clearly. Gretchen squatted and gasped. The clown suit! She slapped her hand across her mouth to stifle a scream. Gretchen could see the jutting hair and the shiny bald spot on top. And the big nose.

The most horrifying thing of all was that the suit wasn't empty.

Someone was crumpled in a heap, wearing the clown face: nose, wig, and white face paint. The paint seemed to glow in the dark. The rest of the body was clothed in a fabric Gretchen could identify even in the dark: her aunt's favorite pink pantsuit. The lifeless body belonged to Nina!

Gretchen ran her fingers along the prone woman's neck, searching for a pulse. If Nina was dead, Gretchen would attack Britt and strangle her with her bare hands. A pulse throbbed under her fingers. Gretchen felt tears of