Dolly Departed (9 page)

"You don't own the street."

They glared at each other.

A siren wailed in the distance. It grew louder. Kayla smiled a nasty, cold smile. A police car turned the corner and stopped in front of Gretchen's house.

A Phoenix police officer rose slowly from his squad car and hitched his pants. "What's the problem? I got a call for a disturbance at this address."

Gretchen's mouth fell open in surprise when she saw the smirk on her adversary's face. Kayla had called the police herself. The call she was finishing when Gretchen spotted her! What nerve!

"That's right, officer," the Wicked Witch Wife said, adjusting her face from smirk to faux fear. "I was walking along, and this woman. . "-she pointed at Gretchen-

". . ran out of this house. . "-another point-". . and started saying the most awful things to me. Crude and vulgar language like I've never heard before. There must be a law against verbally assaulting helpless women."

Where was Matt Albright when she really needed him?

Where was a good man when she needed one? The male standing right in front of her was smiling at hotsy Kayla. His shoulders straightened when the Wife gave him the helpless routine. He sucked in his gut.

After tearing his gaze away from her, he bent into the interior of his car and pulled out a clipboard. "Okay," he said, flicking open a pen. "Let's get started."

He smiled again at the curvy Barbie doll, a big, toothy, drooling grin.

"I don't believe it," Gretchen said to the teacup poodle inside her purse. She stood on the sidewalk looking through the window of Mini Maize. Nimrod peeked into the shop from the purse, ears perked as though he understood her mutterings.

Inside, Britt Gleeland and Nina were huddled together behind the counter, giggling like schoolgirls. From her position on the street, Gretchen saw no sign that anything productive had been accomplished in the last two hours. The same piles of mismatched dollhouse furniture still cluttered the countertops in the same haphazard, unsorted mess. Except for a space in front of the happy duo that had been cleared away to make room for Nina's latest hobby. Instead of digging in and working, Nina had her tarot cards scattered on the counter where the work in progress should have been.

Gretchen had been fending off an insane, evil woman and a love-struck, Barbie-admiring cop, and here sat Nina, doing nothing. Tarot cards. Geez.

Calm down,
Gretchen told herself, taking a deep breath.
You're just a little stressed from your brush with Arizona's legal system.
At least the smitten cop had been more interested in Kayla's address and her leopard halter top than in taking any real action against Gretchen or following up on the alleged assault. His eyes had never left the Wife's ample chest.

Gretchen needed to clean up her act. Dress better, slim down, figure out how to manage her unruly hair. Sleek. That's what she wanted. To become a true Arizona woman. A little suntan wouldn't hurt, either. Her skin looked like a polar bear's. White as Elmer's glue.

"Yoo-hoo." Gretchen turned to see April getting out of her car, arms filled with submarine sandwich bags and a large bottle of soda.

"It's not my day," April huffed, laboring onto the curb.

"I had a doll appraisal way over in Glendale, and after that I had another fender-bender."

April was prone to frequent but minor accidents.

"Anyone hurt?"

"Naw."

Gretchen glanced at April's car. Her old Buick's bumpers, front and back, were crumpled like accordions. "Looks the same as always to me."

April nodded in agreement just as Caroline walked briskly past April's car. "Sorry I'm late. The traffic was awful. What's new?"

"As far as I can tell, no progress at all inside the shop,"

Gretchen said, "but it's my fault for coming so late. I had a confrontation this morning right outside our house, and you'll never guess with who."

"Tell us." Caroline said, moving aside to let pedestrians pass.

"Matt Albright's wife."

"Whoo-wee!" April screeched. "That must have been something."

"It sure was."

Gretchen gave them the sordid details. April almost dropped her bags when Gretchen told them how Kayla had called the cops. Caroline had her hand over her mouth, speechless.

"I wish I had been there." April shifted her bags. "I would have fixed her wagon."

"Not only that, the cop gave me a warning."

"Let's ask Matt to step in," Caroline said. "She's going too far."

Right. Let Matt step in and rescue her. And prove how helpless she is.

April snorted. "No kidding. She's going too far. Boy, she's slick. Crazies usually are."

"I don't want this to get back to Matt or the Curves group," Gretchen said. "If Bonnie finds out, she'd tell Matt, and I just want to forget that it ever happened."

"I'd watch my back if I were you," April warned. "That woman is loony." She hefted the bags in her arms. "I brought lunch."

"I ate before I came. Thanks, though," Caroline said. Then, "Why are we standing on the sidewalk?"

"I can't eat another submarine sandwich," Gretchen said, opening the shop door. "Don't buy them for me anymore."

"You only had one for lunch yesterday, and you're done already?" April said. "You should be me. Breakfast, lunch, dinner, and all the snacks in between. I'm
really
sick of them."

"King of pentacles," Nina said to Britt as they entered. She had the tarot cards' instructions open on her lap and read a passage from the booklet. "A successful leader with business sense, strong character, intelligent, a loyal friend."

Britt clapped her hands together. "And you're my new friend. Wait until you see how loyal I can be."

They both giggled. Gretchen found it amazing that a woman dressed as severely as Britt could even accomplish a giggle. She wore another stiff-collared blouse, and every hair in her French twist was tucked where it should be. Gretchen started to speak, but Nina held up a finger in warning. "I'm almost done," she said, picking up another card. Gretchen looked over her aunt's shoulder. The picture on the card depicted an angel with red wings pouring water between two challises.

"Temperance," Nina read from her book. "Accomplishment through self-control, patience, bringing together into perfect harmony."

"I love that one," Britt said.

Finished, the two gypsy women finally looked up. Britt leveled a withering stare at Gretchen; the incident at the shop the other night hadn't made them best buds. But for Nina's sake, Gretchen had to make an effort. "Let's start over," she said to Britt. "I think we got off on the wrong foot."

"Of course," Britt said, but her body language remained tense.

They gave each other a stiff handshake.

"We've met before," Caroline said to her. "You were one of Charlie's dearest friends. I'm so sorry about what happened."

"Thank you."

"And this is April," Caroline said when Nina remained silent, refusing to be the one to bring April into the conversation. Gretchen cleared her throat and addressed her aunt.

"How are the room boxes coming along?"

Nina shuffled the cards in her hands. "I was going to start without you," she said. "Honestly I was, but Britt came along, and we really hit it off." She bent down to pick up a card that had fallen to the floor.

"That's a weird card," April said.

"The hanged man," Nina said. "See how he's hanging upside down? And he fell right by your feet, April."

April snorted. "Hogwash. I don't believe in that stuff. I suppose you're going to tell me that I'll be hanging from my toes."

Nina consulted her instructions. "The hanged man means it's time for rest and reflection. You should stay at home more." She picked up the remaining cards from the table and flashed the same card she had read earlier. "King of pentacles is a great card, Britt."

"We need to get back to business," Caroline reminded her sister.

"Do any of the pieces on the counter look familiar to you?" Gretchen asked Britt.

Britt stood up and wandered along the counter, picking up a piece here and there.

She shook her head. "Not really," she said, one hand fluttering to check her French twist, tucking an imaginary stray hair back into the tightly wound locks. She rearranged her bangs. April's thick fingers combed through the piles. "It's a strange brew," she said, holding up a Victorian dresser. She picked up another object with the other hand. "Here's another street sign. And another."

Gretchen took the signs from April. None of the street names were familiar to her.

"A broken-down wooden bench," Nina said, joining in the inventory. "A mahogany wall mirror. How do all of these fit together?"

"They don't," Caroline said. "Each box is unique. The differences in time periods and social settings will make putting them together easy."

Britt still fidgeted with her hair. "Bernard made the room boxes."

Gretchen glanced up at the shelves lining the upper part of the wall. Bernard's dollhouses. And the Victorian he had mentioned. She stepped closer.

When Bernard had said he'd designed a Victorian, Gretchen had assumed it would be an English Victorian with dormer windows and window boxes filled with petunias and ivy. Her second guess would have been a Victorian farmhouse with a wraparound porch. Instead, she faced an enormous three-foot-high French Victorian with two sloped roofs, wrought-iron balconies, and molded cornices. The steep vertical slopes to the roofs and the heavy faux stonework gave it a sinister undertone.

April came up beside Gretchen. "It looks like a haunted house," she said.

"It sure isn't a painted lady," Gretchen agreed. "No vibrant colors and trendy painted trim work on this Victorian."

"It won an award," April pointed out, reading from a mounted plaque next to the dollhouse. "Designed and built by Bernard Waites. Kind of scary-looking, but the details are amazing."

"Bernard looks like a cuddly teddy bear," Britt called from the other side of the room, "but he has a dark side."

"What do you mean?" Gretchen asked.

"Bernard is always in the background like he's waiting for an opportunity to seize control," Britt said. "He's been hanging around Charlie ever since she retired last year."

"It looks like he contributed quite a lot to the shop."

Gretchen selected a miniature blue velvet hat from one of the piles.

"He built the dollhouses mounted on the walls. But what about everything else you see?" Britt grabbed a container. She had a firm set to her jaw. Determination. Gretchen recognized the box as one that Britt had been packing up when they had met at the shop. She'd forgotten all about it.

Britt opened it up. "Come over here. Feast your eyes on my contribution, and then tell me if you think that old man has done the most work."

All four women leaned in.

The box was filled with the smallest miniature dolls Gretchen had ever seen. Britt picked one up with the tips of two fingers and held it out for everyone to admire.

"A Shirley Temple doll," April said, excited. "It can't be over a half inch tall."

"Not a bit of detail was sacrificed," Britt bragged. "The mouth, the eyes, the fingers-all as perfect as the original doll."

Nina reached out with a jeweled forefinger and touched the Shirley Temple doll's blonde, curly locks. They all leaned in again and peered into the box. Dozens and dozens of exquisite, dainty, mini-miniatures were lined up in padded rows. Tiny beds of bubble wrap cushioned them from breakage.

"You can't imagine the work that went into these," Britt said. "Now I'll have to find another miniature shop to sell my creations."

Gretchen looked over at the room boxes. "Did you make any of the dolls for Charlie's special project? For these room boxes?"

"Charlie asked me to make some for her." Britt's face brimmed with self-pride. "And I obliged. She had very specific instructions on what she wanted. A clergyman sculpted at a precise height, a married couple for the Victorian era. She said she wanted to dress them herself, so I dropped them off here the day before when we had dinner together, before she. ." Britt's composure slipped, and she worked to restore it.

"Where are the room box dolls?" Gretchen hadn't seen any miniature people other than those with price tags in some of the other display cases.

"She must have them in the back room. Maybe she didn't have time to arrange them before she died."

"They were part of the display then?"

"Apparently," Britt said.

"You don't know for sure?" Gretchen watched Britt fuss with her French twist.

"Of course, I know. Don't be silly. We were best friends."

Britt's nervous fingers played over her bangs.

Matt appeared on the sidewalk outside of Mini Maize but refused to enter the doll shop. "I'm taking Gretchen to lunch," he said, doll phobia sweat shiny on his forehead. April tittered. Nina and Caroline looked on expectantly. Gretchen swung outside before her aunt had time to push her out.

"I thought you were in therapy," she said, as they walked down the street.

His humor came back as soon as they left the storefront.

"I am. Can't you tell?"

How could she be interested in a man who was afraid of her life's work?

They found a restaurant with an outdoor courtyard and sat down at a small, round table. A waiter took their orders-tortilla soup for Gretchen, who was watching her weight since her morning resolve to become a hot Arizona babe, and enchiladas for Matt.

Gretchen kept one eye peeled to the street and sidewalk. But chances were that the wacko wife wouldn't appear and cause trouble now. She'd wait in the background until he was gone.