Dolled Up for Murder - By Deb Baker Page 0,58

house. At least the same number of calls from Nina, received and also ignored. Now, when she needed so desperately to warn her daughter away from Phoenix, she couldn’t locate her.

All her calls to Gretchen had gone unanswered.

She sat alone in a musty room with a foul odor clinging to it, the smell of too many years of cigarette smoke and too many untrained pets. The first thing she did on entering the room was to yank the bedspread off the bed and toss it into a corner.

Planes continuously roared overhead, drowning out the television, turned on but unwatched.

Caroline considered leaving a message on Gretchen’s voice mail, but what would she say? Explain too much or too little, and she couldn’t predict the extent of the damage to herself or to Gretchen.

She had failed. She could tell Gretchen that. Her laptop hummed on the scarred dresser top, but it hummed off-key, the music Caroline had hoped to hear never played.

Wireless Internet, even in this dilapidated sorry excuse for a motel.

She tried calling her house. No answer.

With any luck, Gretchen was back in Boston and wouldn’t need a warning.

Nacho should have called by now. Hah, he should have called a long time ago. He was her only link to the events taking place in Phoenix, and he was as unreliable as always. Self-medicating inside a wine bottle to numb the pain or to calm his nerves, or to render inactive the voices only he could hear. Who knew what really went on inside that misshapen head?

Reluctantly, she speed-dialed Gretchen’s cell phone number again, left a terse, uninformative message, and hung up, feeling regret for avoiding her daughter these past few days.

Why didn’t Gretchen answer?

18

A professional doll restorer spends as much time searching for doll parts as she spends performing the actual repairs. Without a well-stocked inventory, her ability to replace parts damaged beyond repair can become severely limited. Anyone hoping to break into the business should start a collection of at least the basics: heads, legs, arms, eyes, wigs, clothes, hats, and shoes, keeping everything organized in separately marked bins. A replacement doll part must complement the doll it is joining. No mixing and matching. Attaching a vinyl leg to a hard plastic doll is a faux pas not tolerated in the doll community. And the doll community is smaller than one might think.

—From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch

Tutu and Nimrod greeted them with enthusiasm. Gretchen was enormously relieved to find they had behaved themselves without leaving the whirlwind mess in Caroline’s house she’d feared. One natural disaster for the day was enough.

Wobbles, a fairly large tomcat, stalked between the two dogs, towering over Nimrod and standing almost eye to eye with Tutu. A formidable trio, but Wobbles was clearly the ruler.

Ever since Tutu had suffered a scratched nose, she watched Wobbles with a healthy respect.

The respect wasn’t reciprocated.

Wobbles feigned indifference, but Gretchen suspected that he knew exactly where the dogs were at all times. He even tolerated Nimrod’s puppy playfulness. As for Tutu, he didn’t allow her much leeway after cutting her down to size with one swift swoop of his armed paw.

“Six o’clock, and it’s dark outside already,” Nina said. “Monsoon season is the only time of year that we have such short days. If the sun never set at all, I’d be perfectly happy.”

Nina ordered a delivery of Chinese from a nearby restaurant, and they changed into dry clothes, Nina selecting a loose sundress from Caroline’s closet.

“Watch what I’m teaching Nimrod,” Nina said to Gretchen, crouching and holding open his personalized purse. Nimrod ran right in, turned around, and peeked out joyfully. Holding the handbag, Nina stood and adjusted it on her shoulder.

Gretchen said, “Rumor has it you tried to sneak Tutu into the hospital in a purse.”

“I would have pulled it off if I had a larger purse. I used to carry Tutu around all the time, but she weighs about twelve pounds, and my back isn’t as strong as it used to be. Nimrod, when he’s grown, will be only four or five pounds, the perfect weight for a purse. Now watch this.”

Nina strolled across the bedroom with Nimrod and purse, past the dresser filled with Shirley Temple dolls. She pivoted at the closet, started back, and stopped before she reached Gretchen. “Nimrod, hide,” she whispered, turning her head toward Nimrod.

He instantly ducked inside the purse.

Nina grinned with pleasure. “Okay, good boy.” Nimrod peeked out again.

Gretchen laughed out loud, a deep, throaty, full-bodied laugh. The