there’s still the possibility that your mother conspired with Brummer.”
Gretchen pushed her plate away, having suddenly lost her appetite.
“I suspected him all along,” Nina said. “Doesn’t surprise me at all.”
They drove toward Scottsdale Memorial Hospital through typically heavy traffic on their way to visit Daisy. Nina’s menagerie-Tutu, Nimrod, and the volatile Enrico-rode in the backseat, and Gretchen again felt gratitude for her cat and his independent character. His only requirements were a constant source of food and water and a warm body to cuddle with at night. Dogs, on the other hand… She let the thought go, resigned to the present situation and present, doggy-breath company.
The back windows were crusted with accumulated drool.
“Nacho didn’t implicate her,” Gretchen said, repeating the rest of the information supplied by the detective. “In fact he insisted that my mother had nothing to do with it. He was adamant, maintaining that he acted alone.”
“That’s good news.”
“The police still have a warrant out for her arrest based on the description from the hikers.”
“That’s not good news.”
Something still didn’t feel right about Nacho’s confession, but Gretchen was confident that her questions would be answered eventually. How, for example, could Nacho have been responsible for Daisy’s car accident? He didn’t even own a vehicle, so how could he have forced her off the road? And his concern for Daisy had seemed genuine. Why would he try to harm her?
However, his sneaky manner and covert actions made his guilty plea plausible. And he admitted to the murder. Case closed. Or almost. Maybe the reason for Daisy’s crash was simpler than it appeared. Daisy, inattentive or inexperienced, could have lost control and driven off the road. It was possible that, as the detective had conjectured, no one had tail-ended her.
“I don’t understand his penchant for speaking Spanish,” Gretchen said. “He refused to speak English, and as far as I know, he isn’t even Spanish. At least he doesn’t look Spanish. And we know he’s fluent in English. What’s the significance of the Spanish?”
“You think too much,” Nina said. “Accept his confession at face value.”
“And ignore the fact that he didn’t break in and steal Martha’s bag?”
“How do you know he didn’t?”
“Because he’s the one who gave the bag to us.”
Nina swung into the hospital parking lot, and all three dogs tumbled to the right side of the car. “Seat belts for you guys unless you learn to brace better for turns,” she warned.
“How are we going to fit Daisy into the car?” Gretchen said in exasperation. “There isn’t room.”
Nina slid the gears into the park position and turned off the engine. “It was your idea to take Daisy home with you,” she said. “I don’t approve of letting a vagrant take over Caroline’s home, but it’s your decision. Now, when you’re robbed blind, I’ll know exactly who did it.”
“You’re stereotyping,” Gretchen said. “I thought you were more open-minded than that.”
Nina grinned. “In answer to your question. We have plenty of room for Daisy because you can ride in the back with the pooches.”
Gretchen got out of the car and slammed the door.
Caroline didn’t flinch at the exorbitant amount of money she had paid for the doll. Thanks to the increasing popularity of plastic and the credit card service’s unethical tactics that trapped the impulsive consumer into a lifetime of interest-paying servitude, she had been allowed to spend more than she could reasonably repay. Usually outspoken about the evils of excessive credit debt, Caroline, in one single transaction, had joined the multitudes of overextended debtors.
She smiled with satisfaction.
Until now she had carefully avoided leaving a paper trail. In fact, she still practiced extreme caution. Watchful eyes would find no easy path to her temporary door. She had used only cash until the final moment when she had no other choice. The evasive maneuvers, however, would end soon enough.
The terms of a private auction were strictly adhered to, Caroline knew from her own experience with online selling. Bidders’ e-mail addresses were not disclosed, a distinct advantage for Caroline that effectively concealed her identity from the seller. Of course, this seller, she knew, also requiring anonymity, had used another identity and an escrow service to manage the transaction.
Full contact information could be requested only after winning the auction, and only the seller and the highest bidder were notified via e-mail when the auction was over.
Caroline keyed in her request for the seller’s identification and settled in to wait for the response. The information she was about to receive would be well worth the thousands she had spent moments earlier.
She thought of Nacho, her friend back in Phoenix, with a mixture of fondness and reserve. Her accomplice. One of life’s enigmas, the erudite outcast, fluent speaker of multiple languages. All the knowledge in his head couldn’t save him from his struggles with the bottle. Lucid for long periods of time until the next inevitable alcoholic binge and the rapid descent from lucid to lurid.
Caroline hoped he could maintain his focus long enough to continue to be of use to her. He was the only one she could trust. Their mutual cause bound them together like two foot soldiers huddled in a foxhole.
She rubbed her tired, dry eyes and opened them again at the same instant that the monitor changed.
The “Receiving mail” message flashed across the bottom of her computer screen.
24
For the collector who enjoys a bit of the macabre, a line of dolls has been created especially for you. Living Dead Dolls come, not with a certificate of authenticity, but with a death certificate. One possible choice for the avid collector is Died & Doom, a gruesome bride and groom. All dolls are accompanied by morbid rhyming histories and original individualized coffins. Blood spatters and glow-in-the-dark are available as well. They have a certain freakish appeal for mystery and horror fans.
– From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch
Daisy settled into the spare bedroom with her meager supply of toiletries, furnished by the hospital, and with the clothes on her back, several layers of mix-and-match items that were all mix, no match. Didn’t the woman appreciate the extent of the high summer temperatures? Couldn’t she feel the sweltering, relentless heat rising to a boil under all those layers? Gretchen felt hot just looking at her and adjusted the air-conditioning upward.
“I’ll say this again,” Daisy said, the top of her head bandaged and the surrounding hair shaved to stubble. “I’d rather stay with Nacho. All the Hollywood scouts hang out in downtown Phoenix. What are my chances of being discovered way out here behind this ugly clump of dirt you call a mountain?”
Nina sighed heavily. “How many times do I have to say it? Nacho’s house swept away in the last flood. I saw it with my own eyes. It’s gone.”
Along with my phone, Gretchen thought. Somehow there hadn’t been time to visit her phone service and purchase a new one. She felt naked without it and experienced a moment of pampered privilege for her thought. Daisy had absolutely nothing in the world, while she clung to all the modern, convenient trappings, every one of them.
Nacho wouldn’t need his cardboard home any time soon, but she hadn’t told Daisy about his incarceration yet.
“And my clothes,” Daisy continued to complain. “I can’t function without my shopping cart.”
“We’ll find the cart later today. Your clothes and the rest of your things are in Nina’s trunk,” Gretchen assured her, watching Nina make a face at the thought of Daisy’s foul-smelling odds and ends arriving inside her sister’s home. “Or we can buy you a new outfit or two,” she said, hoping to appease Nina’s sensibilities. “Would you like
