Dolled Up for Murder - By Deb Baker Page 0,17
carefully considered the possible reasons why he would be searching for her mother. She thought she detected a hard, determined glint behind the detective’s sunshine eyes. After the note found with Martha’s body, the police would want an explanation, and Gretchen wasn’t sure her mother had one.
“Come back when you have a warrant,” she finally said and closed the door. A few minutes later she heard his car drive off.
Wobbles was talkative, meowing and rubbing against her leg. Gretchen poured cat food and water into two bowls she found in the cupboard, made a piece of toast, and started a pot of coffee. She ate the toast while she waited for the coffee to perk, then poured a steaming cup and called Nina.
“What time is it?” Nina’s husky voice sounded thick with sleep. Payback time, Gretchen thought.
“After six. I need to borrow your car today.” Gretchen sipped the fragrant coffee and felt it coursing through her body, rejuvenating her spirit in spite of her early morning visitor. “I’d like to do a little shopping. I brought only a small amount of cat food with me, and there isn’t much people food in the house either.”
“Six in the morning?”
“You can go back to sleep in a minute, but I need your car later.”
“We’re having our hair done at eleven,” Nina said, yawning. “You can drop us at the salon. That will give you a few hours.”
“We?”
“Tutu and I.”
Gretchen choked back a chortle, but a small titter slipped out. Nina could make her laugh even in the most trying situations.
“Go ahead,” Nina said. “Laugh all you want.”
The light moment passed, and Gretchen related the conversation she had with Matt Albright. When she paused, Nina asked, “Did you tell him about the doll shawl and photograph you found on the mountain?”
“I didn’t even think of it. I was more concerned about why he was here.”
“That’s good,” Nina said. “He doesn’t need to know right now.”
“Is the shawl still in your car?”
“Still wrapped up and stowed away,” Nina said. “I’ve been thinking this through. According to April, the French fashion doll is worth a lot of money on its own, but it’s worth twice as much with the trunk. If we can find them, we might have our answer to Caroline’s whereabouts. I’m still convinced that Martha didn’t jump willingly, and Detective Albright snooping around means that the police aren’t so sure either. I’ll give Bonnie a call and find out if she knows anything more.”
Gretchen poured another cup of coffee. “Remind April to keep the news of the trunk to herself, at least for a few days.”
“April keeps everything close to her chest.”
There was a discernible pause. Nina broke the silence. “This doesn’t look good for your mother. You know that, don’t you? What if she has the doll? What if she’s involved in something dangerous?”
Or deadly. Gretchen couldn’t express the thought aloud. Her emotional strength came from believing that Caroline would reappear and explain her absence. That Martha had committed suicide. That there was a logical explanation in spite of Gretchen’s growing sense of distress.
After finalizing plans to borrow Nina’s car, Gretchen changed into shorts and a tank top and pulled on her hiking boots for a brisk walk up Camelback. She again checked for messages on her answering machine in Boston and on her cell phone. Other than a few greetings from friends, she found nothing from Steve or her mother.
Sliding open the glass patio door leading to the pool, Gretchen was surprised to find the door unlocked. She must have forgotten to lock it yesterday before she left with Nina. She scolded herself for her carelessness.
The morning temperature was tolerable, and Gretchen wondered if she was already acclimating to the harsh desert summer. She loped easily up to the trailhead and slowed to a steady jog, appreciating the sanctuary around her.
Gretchen had learned long ago that the natural world could bring her needed serenity when her thoughts were troubled, and hiking trails had provided the perfect solution. In the area around Boston she had discovered the Blue Hills and Skyline Trail, then Middlesex Fells. After that, she delighted in every quest to find interesting and unique paths to explore.
Even in the center of a densely populated city like Phoenix, she could find refuge.
Summit Trail reminded her of Martha’s fall, so she stayed on more accessible paths, jogging along Bobby’s Rock Trail. Mesquite and staghorn lined the path. She heard the chatter of birds, and catching movement from the corner of