Martha. And I can’t bear it.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Intrigue, conspiracy, death,” Nina said in a stage whisper. “The writing is on the wall.”
“The writing isn’t on the wall,” Gretchen said. “It’s on a piece of paper. In Martha’s cold hand. In Nacho’s notebook. I have to admit, it looks bad. But looks are deceiving. You know that.”
Gretchen leaned over and gave her aunt a strong hug. “We have to fight, Aunt Nina. We can’t give up hope.”
As the two pink bracelets on Gretchen’s wrist said, Share Beauty Spread Hope.
“Every time we discover new clues,” Nina pointed out, “they incriminate Caroline. Maybe we should stop helping.”
“Our luck has to turn soon.” Gretchen sat down and cupped her chin in her good hand. “Where would my mother hide a French fashion doll?”
“It can’t be here. The police searched the house.”
“Did she have a storage unit someplace?” Gretchen asked. “Or a large safe-deposit box?”
Nina shook her head. “Nothing that I know of. That Nacho character is creepy. I can’t believe you went to see him alone.”
Gretchen didn’t respond. She gazed out the window at the rugged beauty of the mountain. “She must have the doll with her.”
“It’s not important,” Nina said. “Finding the doll won’t help your mother. We have the trunk.” Nina gestured at the wooden doll trunk and the scattered costumes. “And what good is it? With our current streak of bad luck, we’ll find the doll, remove its head, and we’ll find a note. The note will say, ‘Caroline Birch murdered Martha Williams.’”
“No need for sarcasm, dear aunt. Your pessimism is getting to me.”
Gretchen gathered up the doll clothes and accessories and replaced them in the trunk. She opened a cabinet, rearranged the shelves to make room, and slid the trunk inside. A stack of folded fabric placed in front of it concealed the trunk from the casual observer.
“I have to keep moving,” she said. “Every minute at this house feels like wasted time.”
“I’m coming along.” Nina’s voice held a hint of stubbornness.
Gretchen watched Nimrod tackle Tutu. Playful snarls filled the room. Having Nina along meant having Nimrod and Tutu as well. The term comes with baggage took on a whole new meaning.
“Someone has to look out for you,” Nina said, stuffing Nimrod in his traveling purse.
April Lehman lived in Tempe, close to Arizona State University. Nina drove quickly along a newly opened express-way. Gretchen couldn’t believe how many new routes were available in Maricopa County making access easy to surrounding cities such as Tempe, which was situated a few miles southeast of Phoenix. It had a small- town college atmosphere that Gretchen appreciated.
As they approached Tempe, Nina raised the subject of Steve.
“How’s it going with you two?”
“Fine,” Gretchen replied, looking out the side window.
“Your life doesn’t seem too exciting,” Nina continued. “Where’s the action?”
“What do you mean? Are you saying I don’t have a life?”
“All I’m saying is it could be more exciting.”
“It’s more exciting than I care for, right now.”
“Humpf.”
Maybe Nina is right, Gretchen thought. My life hasn’t been exactly movie material. The same boyfriend for seven years, the same job, which never quite materialized into an established career before it unceremoniously terminated, and numerous torturous business-related events in the name of Steve’s rapid rise in the law firm.
Gretchen thought about friends her own age, or rather her lack of friends. A few college buddies seen occasionally to relive the past, happy hour with coworkers before the long drive home in the early evening, a book club group once a month. She thought of the stray voice messages left on her cell phone. Casual acquaintances. No true friends. Not one person particularly concerned over her whereabouts.
Looking back, she realized that she hadn’t taken the time to develop friendships because her relationship with Steve required constant care and attention, even as Steve spent less and less time with her. She had allowed some friendships to lapse, and as a result she was intensely lonely.
Her small and quirky family had been a steady ship for her, a cast of strong females who colored Gretchen’s life with animation. Ten years ago she couldn’t imagine herself thinking this, because at that time she was emotionally geared for independence. But at twenty-nine she didn’t hesitate to list her missing mother as her best friend.
Martha’s murder and her mother’s disappearance certainly verged on cliff-hanging entertainment, excuse the pun, but those events weren’t about her life. They were about other people’s lives.
Gretchen vowed to work on spicing up her own life in more positive ways just as soon as this family crisis was resolved.
Nina turned onto Apache Boulevard and parked.
The temperature registered one hundred and five degrees according to a large display sign above a local bank. The time was a few minutes after three. The heat hit Gretchen with something like physical force when she left the car. She could have been strapped to a stake in the middle of a blazing fire. Nina adjusted a cardboard windshield shade along the dashboard and began assembling her canine clan.
Gretchen studied April’s dilapidated home. Peeling paint and a green AstroTurf lawn that effectively eliminated the need for watering and weeding. The house sat on a tiny lot without benefit of a swimming pool or exotic tropical landscaping. As she followed Nina along the crumbling sidewalk, Gretchen hoped April had air-conditioning.
“Come on in,” April called out from inside, her voice muffled but audible through the front door. The fact that the door was closed indicated the presence of cool air. “You got here fast.”
Gretchen and Nina found April’s massive form sprawled across a sagging sofa. She wore a muumuu with green and purple stripes and had hiked it up around her thighs, exposing treelike legs snaked with varicose veins.
A window air conditioner droned loudly, the motor struggling to lower the temperature of the small room, with limited success.
“You look awful,” Nina said. “I wish you had called me when you were diagnosed with valley fever. I would have helped you out.”
“I didn’t want to bother anybody,” April said. “I’m feeling pretty good now. Gretchen, what happened to your arm?”
“I tripped and fell yesterday.” Gretchen caught Nina’s eye, hoping Nina would follow her lead and refrain from sharing the details of the encounter with Nacho.
“That’s too bad,” April said.
Nina sat down in a torn and faded cloth chair with Tutu leashed at her feet. The top of Nimrod’s purse was vacant, indicating a napping puppy inside. Gretchen remained standing and couldn’t resist scrutinizing the room.
Piles of doll magazines littered the floor, and every inch of table space was covered with dolls.
Gretchen stifled an involuntary giggle. Enormous April collected miniature dolls, all types and styles. The table next to Gretchen held several dolls, an eight-inch Lee Middleton, a Strawberry Shortcake riding her trike with Custard Cat in the basket, a five-inch cloth doll with an embroidered face, and an antique German bisque with jointed arms, wearing a blue dress.
“I have almost all of the original boxes and packing,” April said proudly, looking at Gretchen with a schoolgirl’s beam. “You didn’t know I was a miniaturist, did ya?”
“These are marvelous,” Gretchen said. And inexpensive, she thought. None of the dolls in April’s collection were worth much more than twenty dollars. Based on April’s lifestyle, that was all she probably could afford. Her appraisal service might be the backbone of the collecting business, but it didn’t pay well.
“I always wanted to get into collecting doll houses and furniture,” April said. “But the time hasn’t been right. For my thirtieth birthday I’m going to treat myself to my very first doll house.”
Thirty! Gretchen had assumed April was well into her fifties, but she was the same age as Gretchen.
Nina piped up. “Caroline is still missing, April, and it’s turning ugly. We have to ask you a few questions about
