by Deb Baker
She hadn't confided in Nina. She wouldn't have approved of her plan to wander alone in a questionable area of the city at night. She would have tried to talk her out of it or would have insisted on going along. She hadn't mentioned it to April after she recovered from her frightening clown incident. Daisy must have known Gretchen would come looking for her, but the homeless woman wasn't exactly friendly with the local police force. She never would have talked to the detective.
Had Matt been driving around looking for her? If it wasn't so late, she'd call home and ask her mother if he'd been inquiring about her. Wait a minute. Why should she care? She didn't need or want another womanizer in her life. Gretchen liked to think she learned from past mistakes. It might have taken her seven long years to catch on to a cheating boyfriend, but when she finally did figure it out, she corrected the situation and moved on. She'd never waste her time again in a one-sided relationship. Men! They were their own brand of poison. Yet she couldn't help reflecting on Matt's buff bod as she trailed him into the hospital. And all the rest: thick wavy hair, darkly brooding eyes, and an intelligence behind them that fascinated her. Too bad.
She forced herself to be flippant, but she could still feel the hurt of rejection seeping through the bravado.
29
Sunday morning, Gretchen joined her mother and Nina at a table next to the pool. The air smelled as fresh as the coffee in her hand. She'd slept late. The morning was almost gone.
"Any word on Ryan?" she asked immediately, quite surprised that she'd slept as long as she had.
"Matt called while you were getting your beauty rest,"
Caroline said. "Ryan's going to make it."
"That's great." Gretchen leaned back in the chair, turned her face to the sun, and closed her eyes. What a relief. "I should have stayed at the hospital, but the doctor didn't think there would be any progress until later today."
And she didn't want to be that close to the womanchasing detective. Matt had produced a blanket and pillow for her before selecting a comfortable chair for himself and arranging his body for sleep. The twinkle in his eyes was certainly readable enough.
If she hadn't seen him with someone else last night, she might have enjoyed the attention. It was too late now. He had flashed a grin. No one else in the world could possibly have a smile that magnetic. She had bolted for the revolving doors, but she didn't miss the confused expression on his face as he watched her leave.
"It's time to have a reading done," Caroline announced.
"Gretchen, would you like to go first?"
"No, thanks." She didn't open her eyes. The sun felt so good, warm and soothing after the harsh desert night.
"Pick three cards," Nina directed her mother.
"You dropped one," Gretchen heard her mother say.
"I keep doing that," Nina said. "They're a little slippery."
Caroline chuckled. "I seem to remember hearing that there's significance in all aspects of a reading, including dropped cards." Two peas in a pod. Leave it to her mother to know tarot trivia. The two sisters took hunches and coincidences very seriously. Would her mother start seeing auras and reading futures?
"I've never heard anything about dropped cards," Nina said.
"You really need to take lessons," Caroline said. "Can't you find a class on tarot reading? You go from one New Age concept to another without taking time to research your topics and truly learn the skills."
"That isn't true."
"What about your dreams? You aren't able to interpret them."
"I'm just not that interested in dreams."
Caroline scoffed. "And your auras. You see them, I'm not doubting you, but you can't interpret the colors you're seeing. So what's the point?"
Gretchen opened her eyes. The two sisters were about to have a disagreement, and there was already enough conflict going around.
"I've figured out a few colors." Nina picked up the fallen card and held them out for Caroline to pick. Gretchen saw a firm set to her lips. "Auras and cards and dreams are lifelong learning experiences," Nina said. "You should take more time to delve into your own spirituality."
Gretchen joined the conversation. "That, sweet Aunt, is exactly what I'm going to do. Lie back, do nothing."
"Gretchen's hiding her true feelings behind indifference," Nina said to Caroline. "And it's all because of Matt Albright. She finally showed interest in a new man, and then what happened? He dropped her for another woman."
Caroline gave Gretchen a sympathetic look, which she didn't like at all. The pitiful glances were already starting.
"I think you're marvelous," Caroline said.
"You're supposed to say that. You're my mother."
Nina looked over at Caroline, who had three tarot cards clutched to her chest. "You have to show me the cards. This isn't rummy."
Caroline slapped the cards down on top of the deck and gave Nina a miffed glance. "I think Gretchen needs a reading more than I do," she said. "Come on, Gretchen, draw the cards."
Nina nodded encouragingly, and Gretchen reluctantly went along with their wish if for no other reason than to diffuse an argument. "Not good," she said, after looking at her cards and laying out a ghostly, black-clad figure. "I drew something bad."
"The death card," Nina said with significant meaning. Great. Just what I need. The death card.
Nina watched her lay out the remaining cards. "That isn't necessarily bad."
"But what can be good about dying? There isn't anything positive about it from my point of view."
"I'll tell you in a minute." Nina broke into a big grin when she saw the other cards. "I'm so glad you drew the two knights." She reached for her instruction booklet and paged through. Gretchen and Caroline exchanged looks, neither taking Nina as seriously as she took herself. After a few minutes, Nina set down the booklet and cleared her voice. "The knight of cups means an opportunity will soon arise. I'm thinking something like a proposal. A marriage proposal."
"Oh, come on. You made that last part up."
Nina looked offended. "The card holds the meaning; I'm simply the interpreter. I have to read the significance of the card. Don't think for a minute it's easy." She turned her attention back to the cards. "And the knight of swords signifies courage, so you will have the strength to handle whatever is coming your way."
"And the death card?"
"Means you must clear away the old to make room for the new."
Caroline clucked. "I like Gretchen's reading."
Nina nodded. "Me, too. It sounds like a romance is in your future. And you'll have the courage to overcome your fear of men."
"I'm not afraid of men."
"Or. ." Caroline offered, "it could mean you are on the right path in your quest for the truth, and you will handle the outcome just fine."
"What about the death card in that case?" Gretchen asked her mother, keeping an eye on the blackness of the card. She had goose bumps on her arms in spite of the warming rays of sun.
"Nina's right," her mother said, dodging. "It doesn't have to be in a physical sense."
Nina glanced up from her booklet. "But sometimes it does mean death."
Wonderful! "I should take a vacation," Gretchen said.
"Why don't you go shopping with Nina?" Caroline recommended.
"Okay."
"And tomorrow you can help me in the workshop."
"Terrific idea." A day in the workshop with her mother always made Gretchen feel whole again.
"According to the cards," Nina stage-whispered to her, still pondering the three cards, "you have to follow the trail of the incriminating wallpaper. It's the key to everything."
Gretchen stared down at the cards. "Where does it say that?"
"Nina," Caroline said sharply. "I've had time to think over Charlie's murder and the potential danger. We should let the police handle everything."
"Okay, okay." Nina scooped up the three cards and returned them to the deck. "Let's take the pooches to the Biltmore Fashion Park for
doggy treats. We'll even pick up April and Enrico."
"We'll talk strategy after we pick up April," she whispered later, surrounded by an enormous amount of baggage in the form of two little, bitty animals. Gretchen climbed into the passenger seat of the Impala, thrilled that April was back in Nina's good graces and all was as it should be.
Gretchen chuckled to herself as the trio strolled through the open-air mall with their pooches skipping along beside them. They weren't the only ones out with their dogs. A Great Dane sniffed curiously at Tutu, who stuck her nose in the air. Nimrod passed the enormous canine with great caution. Enrico snarled menacingly. Foolish, considering that the Great Dane could wolf him down in one gulp. Nina headed into the doggie bakery and purchased cookies for the dogs.
"I'm buying Gretchen a new doggy purse at the boutique," Nina said.
"What's wrong with my old one?"
"Nimrod is growing. He needs his own carrier."
Nina selected a black carrier designed to look exactly like a purse. "See," she said, twirling with it on her shoulder
"It has a removable bottom and mesh side panels, so he can go incognito anytime he wants to and still see out."
Gretchen scooped up the miniature teacup poodle and placed him inside the carrier. "He likes it," she said, when he stuck his head out the top and wagged his tail.
"It's yours then," Nina exclaimed, heading for the checkout counter. "Your purse can be free for your own things. No more sharing."
"You mean I need two purses now?" This wasn't good. Soon she would have as much to tote as Nina. Gretchen preferred being as unencumbered as possible.
"Of course," April piped up, feeding a doggie cookie to Enrico. "That's the whole point."
The white cotton purse with the embroidered black poodles had also been a gift from Nina. For the last few months she had carried all her belongings in it as well as Nimrod, so it was looking a little worn. "I think I'll buy a purse to match Nimrod's," she said. "Something small and black."
"After that," Nina announced, handing Gretchen her new puppy carrier, "I have a surprise. We're going over to Britt's house for coffee. She invited me, but I thought it would be fun to take you both along. She won't mind."
April clapped her hands in glee. "Oh, goody. I want to start making my own dolls. Britt's going to help me get started. This is exciting."
"Shouldn't you call her and ask if you can bring guests?" Gretchen asked. "We can't just barge in."
"Sure we can," Nina said. "Besides, we're investigating kitchens, and we haven't seen hers yet."
"That Maize kid did it," April said with conviction. "End of story."
"I'm not so sure," Gretchen said. "But I'm really through traipsing around. We didn't sign on to get blown to bits. Our job was over when the window exploded and the display disintegrated."
April laughed. "She's just as dramatic as you," she said to Nina.
Nina laughed along, considering that a compliment. Gretchen glared at her friends. "And I was almost macheted to death by Bernard's wife."
"Macheted isn't a proper verb," Nina said. "But I get your drift. Some people aren't cut out for extreme adventure."
"You weren't the one facing that wacko, with no place to run."
"Trust me," Nina cooed. "We're only going to peek at Britt's kitchen while we visit. What's the harm in that?"
"If I recall correctly, you said the same thing right before Bernard's wife tried to butcher me."
"The cards were clear; the quest must continue," Nina said. "If you aren't up to it, I'll carry on without you."
"I'll help because we're friends." April said. "But the kid did it."
"I heard," Nina said, "that killers who use poison usually get away with their crimes unless they continue to poison victims. Then they start leaving trails."
"Like Arsenic Anna," Gretchen agreed. "I've been reading about her, and the psychology behind killers like her. Arsenic Anna was a psychopath, and according to what I'm reading, psychopaths aren't insane. They kill because they lack a conscience."
"That qualifies as crazy in my book," April said.
"Arsenic Anna maintained her innocence right up until the very end when they threw the switch. But she wrote letters that weren't opened until after the execution. In them, she explained how she killed those old men. Rat poison in oysters, in orange juice. She even tried to kill a woman who lived near one of her victims by poisoning an ice cream cone."
"Do you think a psychopath murdered Charlie?" Nina asked.
"I don't know," Gretchen admitted. "That's why we should stay out of it."
"Better yet," April said. "Don't accept any food or drink from anyone."
"Here poochies," Nina called. "Let's go. Should we drop you at home, Gretchen?"
Gretchen sighed, remembering that there was safety in numbers. "I'll come along."
"She's back in," April said, grinning.
30
Melany Gleeland has a truly horrible secret. It's almost bigger than she can handle by herself, which is why she has to get away from Phoenix-any way she can, by any means available.
Whatever it takes.
Melany fingers the knot of the black do-rag in her hand. Do-rags. Everybody's doing do-rags: cancer patients hiding bald heads during chemo treatments, hip-hop groups, bikers to prevent helmet head. Black is the hot color. You've seen one, you've seen them all. Her biker boyfriend wears one under his helmet. This could be his. She can't get out of this city fast enough. She hates everything about it: the brown smog that hovers over Phoenix, breathing in toxins right along with oxygen, unbelievable pollen counts, new allergies assaulting her sinus passages daily. Then there's the blinding, unrelenting heat from the sun, no shade anywhere, the weather forecasters predicting a significant change in temperature, as if a drop of four degrees is national news.
And her mother. If she doesn't leave right now, she might do something to hurt the witch. Like set her hair on fire while she's bent over her precious kiln. Give her head a blast of flammable hair spray, and whoof. Up she goes. Problem solved in one big incendiary moment.
She really hates her mother's perfectly symmetrical face.
Melany is homely, according to Mommy Dearest, because her features aren't balanced properly. Look at Melany's face from one side, then the other, and you can see the problem. Symmetry is the secret to real beauty. Draw a line down the middle of your face. The sides should match.
How unfortunate for Melany.
Poor girl.
31
The first step to becoming a doll maker is deciding what type of doll to cast. That determines what mold to use. Modern dolls are created from sculpted molds. Then they are finished off with contemporary clothing and synthetic wigs. Antique reproduc- tions are cast from existing antique dolls. Every effort is made to re-create the look of antique painting. Costumes for antiques are natural fibers such as silk or cotton, and wigs are mohair or human hair. Make your selection, and let the fun begin.
– From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch Britt Gleeland had converted a wing of her home into a dollmaking studio. Gretchen didn't see any dolls on display when she walked through the living area, which she considered unusual for a doll collector. She did manage to get a glance at the kitchen and saw wallpaper in colors that seemed to match the unknown room box, but she was too far away to see the pattern. She had to find an opportunity to get closer.
Nina jabbed her in the ribs and raised her brow. She'd seen, too.
"I'm so excited to be here," April gushed when she saw the dollmaking workshop. She headed for a long table in the center of the room, which was filled with tiny projects in various stages of completion.
"My class meets every Thursday," Britt said. "I have seven students at the moment, but they are in the middle of their projects. It would be impossible for you to catch up at this point."
"When does your next class begin?" April plopped down and dreamily fingered the miniature pieces.
"In a few weeks. I like to
have a full table of students before I start. Why don't I call you?"
April barely heard her. She was completely mesmerized by her surroundings.
Gretchen had to admit that the miniatures were extremely captivating. She'd devoted her career to restoration of fullsized antiques, but she understood April's fascination. Someday she might take a miniature dollmaking class herself.
"Who would like coffee?" Britt asked. Every hair in her twist was right where it should be.
Nina cast a sly eye at Gretchen. "We all would love some," she said. "I'll help you in the kitchen."
"No need; it's right here. Come sit." Sure enough, a carafe filled with coffee and all the trimmings sat on a round table to the side of the worktable.
Gretchen and Nina exchanged warning glances. Now what? Britt would expect them to drink the coffee. Gretchen solved the problem by offering to pour, after which the women watched Britt take small sips. Once she had drunk half of the coffee in her own cup, the others joined in. While they chatted, Gretchen tried to think of anything that might be missing from the coffee supplies so she could follow Britt into the kitchen to retrieve them. But the doll maker had been thorough, even including honey, rich cream, and raw sugar on the service tray.
Gretchen was determined to get a good look at the kitchen. "Excuse me, please," she said. "May I use your bathroom?"
"Of course; it's right over there." Britt waved toward the back of the studio.
Foiled again, Gretchen went through the motions now required of her and entered the bathroom. The room was starkly functional, designed for Britt's students, not for her personal use. None of the cabinets contained potions or poisons.
When Gretchen came out, the coffee klatch had moved to the kiln. "This kiln can reach well over two thousand degrees," Britt said to an impressed audience. "The control is mounted on the wall over near the door to keep it safe from the heat. I lock the kiln for safety when the class isn't using it."