The Dollmaker

about it.”

The gray eyes stared unblinking at Claire. “How did you get in?”

“The back door was unlocked.”

“So you just walked in?”

Regardless of what she said, her tone was most definitely suspicious, Claire decided. “I know that sounds bad, but I found the rear entrance unlocked when I was there on Friday. Someone next door was supposed to get in touch with your mother and make sure that the premises were secured. I was curious to see if anyone had been there since I left. When I saw that the door was still unlocked, I became concerned.”

“Do the police know that you were there before?”

“Yes, of course. I’ve told them everything I know, which really isn’t much. As I said, I only came back to ask your mother about the doll I saw.”

Claire hadn’t meant to sound defensive, but Lily said quickly, “I’m not implying that you were somehow responsible for Mother’s death. Please don’t think that. I’m just trying to make sense of what happened.”

“I understand.”

Lily drew in a ragged breath. “I have two little girls. They both adored Mother. I don’t know how I’m going to tell them….” She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth. “When I drove up and saw all the police cars out front, I knew something had happened. But I never dreamed…I just still can’t believe it. Even after I identified the body.”

“I’m sorry you had to go through that,” Claire said.

The woman didn’t seem to hear her. “They told me I would have to wait outside until the crime scene had been cleared. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I couldn’t seem to think…I guess that’s why one of the detectives told me that I should come over here and wait with you.”

Claire watched, mesmerized, as Lily lifted the cup to her lips. Her hands shook so badly, Claire had to resist the urge to offer assistance, but somehow she managed alone. She took a sip, then returned the cup to the saucer with a clatter.

“I should have checked on her sooner. The girls and I were busy all weekend and I thought Mother was out of town. She wasn’t due home until last night, and when I didn’t hear from her, I assumed she’d gotten in late. I didn’t want to bother her….” She trailed off, her eyes filling again.

“I called her house this morning, and when she didn’t answer, I told myself she was probably in the shower or outside. She liked to putter around in her garden before she left for work. I tried her cell phone, but she wasn’t in the habit of turning it on. She only bought one to appease me. I thought it was a good idea because she traveled a lot.”

Lily’s gaze dropped to her cup, and she stared for a long time into the tea, as if trying to divine a message in the dregs.

“I didn’t mean to unload all that on you,” she finally said. “I guess I can’t stop talking about it because it’s just so hard for me to comprehend. Who would do such a terrible thing to someone as kind and gentle as my mother? And why? I don’t understand how something like this could happen….” She bowed her head then and her slim shoulders shook as she began to weep quietly into her napkin.

Claire reached over and touched her hand. “Is there someone you want me to call? You shouldn’t have to face this alone.”

Lily wiped her nose and eyes and straightened her shoulders. “I’ve already called a friend. He should be here soon. I probably shouldn’t ask this of you. I’ve already imposed on you long enough. But…would you mind sitting with me until he gets here?”

“Of course not.”

She turned back to the window, staring out at the commotion across the street. “I’m not usually like this. I never lose control.”

“It’s understandable under the circumstances.” Claire wished she knew what to say to the woman, what words she could offer that might bring some comfort. But grief was an intensely personal emotion. Others could sympathize, but no one else, no matter their own experience, could ever fully comprehend.

The woman bit her bottom lip to stop the tremor. “I should have called the police when I couldn’t reach her.”

“You had no way of knowing she was in trouble.”

“I know, but I should have done something.”

“It’s easy to think in hindsight of everything we might or should have done, but it doesn’t help, and you can let yourself slide into a very dark place if you aren’t careful.”

“I know you’re right. Still…”

She continued to look out the window, and Claire knew that wasn’t a good thing because they would be bringing out the body soon. “Maybe it would help if we talked about something else,” she said.

The woman’s gaze finally moved away from the window. She took another sip of her tea as she mustered her shaky poise. “Why don’t you tell me about the doll you came to ask about? Are you a collector?”

“My mother is. My sister and I were shopping for a birthday present for her when I saw the doll in the window. I was involved in an accident that day or I would have gone in and asked about her then. When I came back on Friday, the shop was closed and the doll was gone from the window.”

A note of desperation in Claire’s voice seemed to filter through Lily Devereaux’s grief, and she looked up with a frown. “Which doll was it?”

“She had curly blond hair and beautiful turquoise eyes. She seemed so lifelike I had to look twice to make sure she wasn’t real.” Claire paused, fighting back her own rush of emotions. “This may sound strange, but she looks exactly like…my daughter.”

For the first time, Lily smiled. “It doesn’t sound strange to me at all. I had a twin doll when I was little. Mother still has her in her collection. You must have seen the Savannah Sweete doll. Mother only got her a few days ago and was over the moon about the purchase. If you know anything about doll collecting, you’ll understand why.”

Claire’s heart had started to beat an erratic tattoo inside her chest, but she tried to keep the excitement from her voice. She didn’t want to say or do anything that might alarm Lily Devereaux, because the poor woman had already been through enough. “The little I do know, I’ve picked up from my mother. I’ve heard her mention Savannah Sweete. I think she even took some classes from her at one time.”

“It’s quite possible. Savannah used to teach doll making classes here in New Orleans and in Houma, which is close to where she lives. But she had a terrible accident a few years ago that confined her to a wheelchair, and I understand she’s been almost a recluse since then. I don’t know much else about her except that she’s regarded as one of the finest doll artists in the country. That’s why Mother was so elated when a man brought one into the shop. As I said, portrait dolls rarely come on the market and you almost never see a Savannah Sweete.”

“Did your mother happen to mention the man’s name?”

“I don’t think she knew him. He wasn’t a collector or dealer, just someone who had a doll for sale. She said he mentioned that a child had died and the reminder was just too painful. That’s why he needed to get rid of the doll.”

Claire turned to the window, her own eyes filling with tears. A child had died and the reminder was just too painful.

Outside, the wind picked up, and she watched a paper cup roll across the street and into the gutter. In her mind she saw a bright yellow kite skim low over the surf as Ruby ran laughing behind it.

“Are you okay?”

The woman’s concerned voice drew Claire’s attention back to the table, and she had to swallow past a sudden knot in her throat. “I don’t want to bother you at a time like this, but…it’s very important to me that I find this doll. Do you have any idea what happened to her? Did your mother say anything about selling her?”

Curiosity sparked in Lily Devereaux’s eyes, but she shook her head. “The last time I talked to her was on Thursday morning. She said the doll had generated a lot of interest and she was anticipating a fairly heated bidding war. The piece was that spectacular.”

“Did you see the doll yourself?”

“No, but I feel as if I did after the way Mother went on and on about her. She said the attention to detail was extraordinary. The eyes, the mouth, the nose…everything exquisitely sculpted and painted. She even had a tiny