dawning terror at the image before her.
It wasn’t her mother standing back in the shadows of the mountain.
Too late, she remembered where she had seen one of the dolls in the picture.
27
Acknowledgments
I’d like to thank the Phoenix Dollers for their overwhelming contributions to this book, especially April Lehman, doll appraiser extraordinaire, Bonnie Albright, who manages to keep the club members on task and supplied a wealth of valuable information, Rita Phyller for her extensive Barbie doll expertise, and Larry and Julia Gerney, owners of the China Doll Shop. They took me under their wings and shared many secrets of their success.
I am eternally grateful for the love and encouragement of two wonderful women: my sister, Nina, who can make me laugh even when I want to cry, and my daughter, Gretchen, who remains, always, the light of my life.
—From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch
Gretchen stared in horror as Larry Gerney stepped from his protected position against the mountain rocks, a gun hanging loosely at his side. Strands of hair from the silver wig he wore blew in the gentle breeze, reminding her of her mother.
Or a caricature of her mother.
The picture should have warned her.
She remembered picking up the Schoehut wooden doll and admiring it in the back room of the China Doll Shop. At the time, she had noted the slight crack around its nose, and she remembered that Larry had watched her intently.
The wooden doll’s picture was among those she had found hidden behind the false cabinet wall.
One of Martha’s.
Larry’s financial problems and the threat of losing his doll business could be strong motives for stealing valuable dolls and murdering Martha.
His talent for making human-hair wigs was exhibited in the intricately fashioned replica of her mother’s own hair that he wore on his head. The hikers who had witnessed Caroline’s descent from the mountain must have pointed accusatory fingers based solely on the color of her hair.
As Larry walked toward her with a gleam of triumph in his madly blinking eyes, everything fell into place.
He was the Inspector.
Another epiphany realized too late.
Inspector Dreyfus, Clouseau’s boss in The Pink Panther, had been driven crazy by Clouseau’s bumbling antics, resulting in wildly twitching eyes just like Larry’s. Martha had made a mockery of Larry’s involuntary facial spasms by comparing him to a slapstick comedy character.
“You had to interfere,” Larry said without emotion. Quietly. “You couldn’t leave well enough alone.”
“All I want is to find my mother. I don’t care about the dolls.” Gretchen stole a glance at the ledge she stood on. Too close to the vertical drop. She edged away from the precipice toward Larry.
“The dolls. Yes, thank you for finding the French fashion doll. I searched Caroline’s house several times and couldn’t find it.”
Gretchen thought of the times Larry had offered to check on the animals as she sat at the hospital waiting for news. Of the unlocked door and her personal items slightly out of place. Of how easily he could have planted the parian doll while feigning concern. “You tipped off the police,” she said. “You told them about Martha’s doll and the list.”
Larry grinned, pleased with himself, while Gretchen tried not to stare at the gun in his hand. “Martha entrusted all her dolls to me while she slowly drank herself to death. Always talking about how she’d get a place of her own again and take them back. My business dying with well over a million dollars’ worth of dolls wasting away in the storage room.”
Larry’s mouth contorted in contempt, and he shook his head. “I sold one of her dolls to pay the rent and keep afloat a little longer. I didn’t expect her to notice, but she did. She started stealing them back, if you can believe that, and I had to stop her.”
“What does any of this have to do with my mother?” Gretchen asked.
“Caroline helped her. I got that much out of that drunken sad excuse for a human being.” Larry’s eyes flickered; his hand that held the gun seemed unsteady. “The pathetic woman begged me to let her go, thinking she could buy her life in exchange for information. She told me she had hidden the Jumeau Triste doll at Bonnie’s house one day when she was away. I don’t fault Bonnie for that. But Caroline . . .”
Larry looked off over the city lights. “Caroline willingly aided Martha in destroying me, and now it’s my turn to destroy her. I followed them one night when they drove