Dolly Departed Part 2

"After."

Old Scottsdale was one of Gretchen's favorite places to browse. They strolled past western-style shops filled with Native American pottery and Navajo rugs. Art galleries, antique shops, trading posts, and jewelry stores lined the busy streets.

Gretchen admired a turquoise and silver bracelet in a window. She wished she could afford to buy it, but at the moment, she was saving for her own apartment.

"It's beautiful," Nina said, stopping to admire the same piece of jewelry. "Turquoise and silver are the hottest combination this year. Let's go in. You have to try it on."

"I can't afford to even think about it," Gretchen said wistfully. Nina groaned and pulled Gretchen's arm. "Come on. Just try it on."

"No, once it's on my wrist, I won't be able to take it off."

Gretchen stood firm.

"Why fight it?" Nina insisted. "You're saving so you can move out of your mother's home, but Caroline is hardly there since she started her book tours. Stay there as long as you want. Besides, the repair workshop is right there at the house. How much more convenient could it be? You don't want to start commuting to work."

"She's coming home tomorrow," Gretchen reminded Nina.

"Because of Charlie. After that, poof, she'll be gone again. Say after me, buy jewelry."

"I need my own place. Ever since moving across the country, I've lived with my mother. Not that I'm complaining about the circ.u.mstances, it just doesn't feel grown-up."

"You lived by yourself in Boston, and you were horribly lonely."

"What makes you think that?"

"Psychic a.n.a.lysis."

Gretchen turned from the tempting bracelet and continued walking in the direction of Charlie's doll shop. Nina and Tutu scurried to catch up.

"I love my work," Gretchen said, stopping to let a little girl pet Nimrod. "But I'm new at it. When I agreed to the business arrangement with Mom, I didn't antic.i.p.ate going it alone. It was supposed to be a partners.h.i.+p. Two of us. Dos. Dos. " She held up two fingers. " She held up two fingers.

The doll restoration business she shared with her mother had taken off, but so had her mother. Once Gretchen had agreed to help with repairs, Caroline had handed most of the real work to her and was now traveling extensively to promote her new doll book, World of Dolls World of Dolls. In her spare time, she hunted for treasures to add to her collection or to sell at the doll shows that Gretchen attended.

Nimrod's most recent admirer gave him a kiss on the top of his head and waved goodbye.

"Caroline is having the time of her life," Nina said.

"Having you in Phoenix has been so good for her. She can pursue her writing, thanks to you. She needs you as much as you need her."

Gretchen strode along, considering the years of trouble that had plagued her family: her father's death in a car accident, followed rapidly by her mother's battle with breast cancer. She'd almost lost both of them.

She realized Nina wasn't beside her. She stopped and turned.

"You're walking too fast," Nina huffed from behind, eyes darting to catch every window display. "Slow down.

"You're a shopaholic," Gretchen called out.

Nina glanced into an art gallery. "Let's go in and check out the paintings."

"Mini Maize is right here," Gretchen said, pointing to the next shop.

"I'll be along soon." Nina darted into the gallery with Tutu at her heels, leaving Gretchen standing alone in front of the doll shop.

Here I am. Now what?

Gretchen peered through the window. A light had been left on over the main counter. She could see the display case lying on the floor. The room boxes and scattered doll furnis.h.i.+ngs still remained where they had fallen earlier in the day. From her position, she could even see where Charlie Maize's body had been found. Then she saw movement. A woman came out of the back room and approached the counter. With her back to Gretchen, she straightened a stack of magazines on the countertop.

Gretchen tapped on the window to get her attention. Thewoman's head snapped around. Gretchen motioned to the door. The woman met her there and unlocked it. As she stuck her head out, Gretchen could see the wariness in her eyes. "The shop is closed."

"I know. I'm Gretchen Birch. I was here this morning when Charlie's body was discovered. I wanted to come by." That sounded foolish. Why had had she come to the shop? she come to the shop?

"I was her best friend," the woman said without opening the door any wider. "I'm Britt Gleeland. I made most of the miniature dolls on display in the shop."

"I'm surprised I haven't met you before."

"I'm not a member of the Phoenix Dollers."

Gretchen knew that there were two distinct doll groups: doll collectors and miniaturists. They each had their own clubs and shows, so it wasn't unusual that she hadn't met Charlie's friend before. Of course, there were always crossovers like April, who loved all aspects of the doll world.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Gretchen said.

"Thank you." Britt Gleeland had dark hair in a tightly rolled French twist with a fringe of long bangs. She was about forty-five years old and wore a crisp white blouse, dark skirt, and businesslike heels that matched the professional expression on her face.

"Can I come in?" Gretchen asked.

"It's not a good time."

"I won't keep you long." Gretchen couldn't believe how quickly the police had wrapped up their work at the shop. How long had it been? Less than twelve hours?

"Very well," Britt said, reluctantly standing back. Gretchen moved past her and noticed a shopping bag on the floor next to the counter.

"I'm collecting some of my dolls," Britt said. "Charlie had them on consignment, so they belong to me. I don'tknow what's going to happen to the shop now that she's gone, and I was concerned about retrieving them."

"I hope you left the display pieces."

"Why?"

"My mother will be restoring the display case and would like everything to be just as it was. Please don't remove anything just yet."

"I didn't hear anything about that," Britt said. "But it doesn't matter. I've only gathered up the dolls that Charlie had on consignment." Britt squatted and picked up a room box. "I don't know what I'll do without a best friend. They take years to acquire." She glanced up, her eyes teary. Acquire? Acquire? What an odd thing to say. It sounded like she was talking about a doll collection rather than a human relations.h.i.+p. What an odd thing to say. It sounded like she was talking about a doll collection rather than a human relations.h.i.+p.

"Charlie sent me an invitation to attend a party after the parade," Gretchen said. "Do you know what we were celebrating exactly?"

Britt rose and shrugged. "She liked to invite people to the shop, hoping they'd make purchases. And she'd been working on a new display she wanted to show. I had a migraine this morning, or I would have been here when it happened. I might have been able to save her."

Gretchen walked over to the display case on the floor. The display case had wooden part.i.tions, each with slightly larger dimensions than the room boxes.

The case was surprisingly light. She righted it, then saw an inscription on a small metal plaque attached to the top. In memory of Sara Bellingmore. In memory of Sara Bellingmore.

"Who's Sara?" Gretchen asked.

"Charlie's younger sister," Britt said, running her fingers over the letters. Gretchen retrieved one of the room boxes and tucked it into a display panel. It fit perfectly. "The room boxes musthave been in the window," Gretchen guessed, noticing a red table covering in a heap near the window. "That's why the area around the window is empty now."

"Yes," Britt said rather stiffly.

Wasn't it unusual that the authorities would open up Charlie's shop so soon after Charlie's death? Wouldn't they want to keep people out? "Did the police give you permission to come in and take the dolls?" Gretchen asked.

"Of course. Officer--now what was his name?"

"Kline?"

"That's it."

"You have your own key?"

"We were best friends." Britt started to bristle. "You have no authority to question me. You're acting like I I did something wrong. I'd like to see proof that did something wrong. I'd like to see proof that you you have permission to be here." have permission to be here."

"I didn't mean to imply--"

"I have to ask you to leave now." Britt escorted Gretchen and her travel companion, Nimrod, out of Mini Maize. Gretchen joined her aunt on the street of Old Scottsdale.

"I can't believe some people," Nina said. "That crabby gallery owner threw us out. No dogs, the guy said."

"Join the club," Gretchen muttered. She felt sufficiently chastised. Why had she questioned Charlie's friend?

Who do I think I am? Jessica Fletcher?

* 4 *

"Peanut flour," April Lehman exclaimed early Monday morning while jiving to the beat of "Wake Up Little Susie." Her heavy frame heaved from the exertion, her legs pounded away on the gym mat.

"Peanut flour?" Gretchen asked.

Curves was packed, as usual. "Change stations now,"

the programmed voice commanded, as it did every thirty seconds all day long. The women moved in a large circle, climbing onto different machines or creating their own moves on the square platforms s.p.a.ced at intervals around the exercise equipment.

The doll collectors, who all gathered at Curves to exercise three times each week, were keeping a steady stream of conversation going. Gretchen looked around at the familiar group: Rita, the Barbie enthusiast; Karen, the kindergarten teacher who liked Lee Middletons; and April, the club's doll appraiser and Gretchen's friend. April always seemed on the verge of collapsing after the first pa.s.s around the circle.

"Peanut flour?" Gretchen repeated.

"Peanut flour?" echoed Ora, the Curves manager. Bonnie Albright hurried in before April could expand on her peanut flour comment. Bonnie was not only Detective Matt Albright's mother, she was president of the Phoenix Dollers Club and the biggest gossip of the group. She wedged into the circle between April and Gretchen.

"Where's Nina?" Bonnie asked, her red wig slightly skewed. She had applied lipstick in a shaky line around her mouth.

"She's picking up a client," Gretchen said. "Enrico is back in training."

"The Chihuahua?"

Gretchen nodded. "He needs a monthly refresher course."

Enrico didn't forget what Nina taught him; he simply refused to cooperate.

"How's your mother?" Bonnie asked.

"She came in late last night. She's still sleeping."

"Let me get back to my story about Sara Bellingmore,"

April said. She plopped on the thigh abductor but didn't attempt to work the hydraulic machine. She wiped her face with her sleeve.

When Gretchen had mentioned the inscription on Charlie's display case, April had pounced on the chance to hold center stage.

"You remember Sara," Rita said to Bonnie. "She was Charlie's sister."

"The name doesn't ring a bell." Bonnie ran in place on a platform.

Gretchen smiled to herself. Bonnie's version of running amounted to a few sloppy arm swings and small heel lifts. The mechanical voice interrupted, and everyone moved to the next position in the large circle.

"You knew her, Bonnie," April said. "She was a miniature collector. She also collected antique penny dolls and must have had several hundred of them. She had a table at one of our shows a few years back, br.i.m.m.i.n.g with those tiny little dolls." April sighed wistfully. "I should have bought all of them. I love penny dolls." Gretchen's friend was a serious miniature doll collector, but cash was always tight for April.

"Now I remember her," Bonnie said, looking thoughtful.

"The miniaturists keep to themselves, but so do we," she acknowledged.

"Sara Bellingmore died last year," April said. "She ate a slice of banana bread made with peanut flour."

"Don't you mean peanut b.u.t.ter?" Bonnie said.

"Peanut flour," April emphasized. "It has a very mild peanut flavor. Sara died from an allergic reaction to the nuts. Her throat swelled up, and she suffocated to death." April emphasized. "It has a very mild peanut flavor. Sara died from an allergic reaction to the nuts. Her throat swelled up, and she suffocated to death."

"What an awful way to go," Gretchen said. "Peanut allergies are dangerous, especially severe ones."

Rita piped up. "I have a friend who gets sick if she eats anything that's been prepared in a pan that contained peanut oil, even if the pan is washed out first."

April leaned over to catch her breath after the first turn around the machines. Gretchen worried she might pa.s.s out, but, after a few seconds, April straightened up. "I need to lose some weight, and exercising isn't doing it."

"You have to stop putting all that food in your mouth,"

Bonnie scolded, throwing tact to the wind. "I've never seen anyone eat so much."

"Try the Curves diet," Rita suggested. "That's how I lost all my weight. And you get to eat a lot of food."