Dolled Up for Murder - By Deb Baker Page 0,86
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Larry and Joseph eyed each other like boxers in a ring, and Gretchen thought it must feel strange for Joseph to know that his competition was taking in all the details of his shop and assigning a grade. Gretchen thought Joseph would earn the highest score possible, a ten on a scale of one to ten.
His store had pizzazz. He knew how to set up his displays to show off his dolls to the best possible advantage.
The first thing he mentioned after greeting them was Nacho’s arrest, having learned the news through a courtesy phone call from Detective Albright. “Relieved to finally put an end to the whole awful business,” Joseph said. “Maybe now they can release her body.”
His fingers fluttered over a display, edging pieces into new positions, moving a doll over by a space so infinitesimally small Gretchen wondered why he bothered. “I knew your mother was innocent,” he said. “I just knew it.”
Larry wandered away, studying the shop with intensity, stopping to observe the woman behind the cash register who wore a bright bow in her hair and looked like an Ideal Tammy doll herself. Details everywhere, even in the staffing, not a trick of the trade missed.
Gretchen lowered her voice and said to Joseph, “I’d like to look at your Kewpie dolls. I’m thinking of one as a gift for Nina.”
Joseph looked surprised. “I didn’t know Nina collected dolls. Well, that’s marvelous. I always wondered how she could survive as a member of your family without taking part. Right this way.”
Smiling Kewpies covered a section of the back wall. Kewpies in every imaginable pose, lying down, holding baskets, wearing costumes.
“There’s a strong market for Kewpies,” Joseph said. “It’s a good choice for a gift, because it will never depreciate.”
Gretchen scanned the grouping without finding the Blunderboo that Bonnie had described. “I was hoping for something very special. She’s done a lot for me.”
“I have just the thing over here in a locked cabinet with all my distinctive pieces. It’s costly though. I’m not sure you should spend that kind of money for a first-time collector.” Joseph laughed. “Listen to me, trying to talk a customer out of a sale.”
Larry joined them as they approached a large glass cabinet. Gretchen spotted the Blunderboo immediately, its laughing baby face lighting up the entire grouping, the red heart label prominent on his naked, chubby body.
Joseph unlocked the cabinet and carefully deposited the Kewpie in Gretchen’s hand. “Blunderboo, the clumsy Kewpie,” he said. “Forever tripping over himself.”
“It’s marvelous. Where did you acquire it?” she asked.
Joseph turned away, refusing to meet Gretchen’s eyes, and began to arrange the other dolls within the cabinet. “At an estate sale,” he muttered. “Most of my dolls are purchased through auctions or estate sales.”
Was Bonnie mistaken? Or had the doll really belonged to Martha at one time? Why would Joseph tell her that the doll had been purchased at an estate sale if Martha had given the doll to him? He’d have no reason to misrepresent the facts.
“Someone told me that Martha had owned a Kewpie like this one,” she said.
Gretchen thought she saw Joseph flinch.
“Who told you that?” Larry said from behind Gretchen.
“I don’t remember,” Gretchen said.
“Well,” Joseph said, “it wasn’t this Kewpie.”
Gretchen glanced at the price tag and handed the doll to Joseph. “I’ll think about it,” she said. “He’s beautiful.” Joseph locked the Kewpie in the cabinet and placed the key in his pocket.
“I’m still looking for my mother,” Gretchen said. “If you have any ideas where she might be, please let me know.”
“Sorry, Gretchen. I haven’t heard a thing.”
Walking out into the intense sun, Gretchen knew that Joseph had lied to her. He’d lied the first time she visited the shop when he claimed no knowledge of the disposition of Martha’s dolls, and he’d lied again today. Joseph was worth serious consideration as a suspect in Martha’s murder. Had he killed his aunt for her doll collection? Was that why he had become successful? By selling off Martha’s valuable dolls?
Nina pulled up to the curb with Daisy in the passenger seat wearing a purple sundress and a floppy red hat that covered her bandaged head. She rolled the window down and waved. “Look at me. I’m like a new person, real movie star material in this getup.”
“What are you doing here?” Gretchen said, bending down and peering at Nina.
“We got your message,” Nina said, not looking especially happy. “And we were shopping right down the street.”
“You came all the way to