“Do I have a choice?” Gretchen responded. “If you have a better idea, please share it.”
Wobbles made a brief appearance but stalked away when he spotted Nimrod and Tutu. If he was developing a friendship with the dogs, Gretchen couldn’t detect it.
“What are you doing?” Gretchen asked, staring at the dolls.
“Preparing in case Bonnie’s son shows up here again. Detective Albright is in for a little surprise. No more hiding while his backup crew does his dirty work for him. With these dolls as sentinels, he won’t dare step foot in here again.”
“Like gargoyles? They’ll scare him away?”
“Exactly.” She rubbed her hands together and checked the watch on her wrist. “Heavens! It’s two o’clock. We missed lunch, and I’m starving. Let’s see what we can come up with. Come, Tutu and Nimrod, for a leg stretch on the patio.”
They bolted off, and Nina returned while Gretchen poked in the refrigerator and pulled out the leftovers from Larry’s visit that morning. Nina sliced a papaya. They made bagel sandwiches and a pot of herbal tea and ate in silence.
When Gretchen let the dogs back in the house, she saw that Nimrod was soaking wet. “Nimrod fell in the pool,” she called to Nina.
“Oh, no. I forget that poodles are water dogs.” Nina thumped her head in exasperation. “I bet he jumped right in. Now I’ll have to have him groomed before he goes home.”
After towel-drying Nimrod and complaining about the stench of chlorine and other pool chemicals, Nina set off with the promise to return in a few hours for the trip to the Phoenix Rescue Mission. Gretchen checked the answering machine after she noticed its red light flashing. “I’m making progress on these repairs.” Larry’s voice boomed through the room. “If Caroline turns up, give me a call. Otherwise, I’ll keep at it.”
Gretchen was grateful for Larry’s help, whatever his underlying motives might be. Meeting deadlines was an important part of restoration. Again she went through the motions of checking for messages at her apartment in Boston, but the effort felt mechanical and wasted. Whatever her mother was up to, it didn’t include confiding in her family members.
She changed into her swimming suit and lowered her body slowly into the blue, sparkling water. Wobbles, a true sun lover, basked contentedly on a lounge chair. He lifted his head to the sun’s rays with dreamy eyes, and Gretchen envied his relaxed, worry-free existence.
She thought about Steve and their future together. She had lost her job permanently and her mother temporarily, and now she had to face Steve’s lack of commitment to her. He didn’t seem particularly interested in the events that sent her to Phoenix or the details associated with her mother’s disappearance.
For the first time in seven years, she realized that he marginalized her, that he thought his concerns and worries and actions were more important than hers.
If she didn’t call him, how long would it take him to call her? Interesting, she thought, to conduct a test.
The doorbell rang, interrupting her calculated decision to outwait Steve. She stepped from the pool, wrapped a beach towel around her waist, and padded through the house, trailing chlorinated water. Matt Albright stood on the porch.
“Come in, Detective,” Gretchen said, swinging the door wide after passing the two Shirley Temple dolls. Nina and her pranks. But he deserved it after his cold, callous handling of the search and his false friendliness.
He seemed surprised at Gretchen’s warm greeting, took a step forward, and smiled. Once again Gretchen admired the way his face lit up. “I caught you in the pool,” he said. “And call me Matt. Our mothers are good friends. No need to be so formal.”
When he saw the dolls on the bench, the smile slid from his face, and he stopped in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” Gretchen said with mock concern. “Are you ill? You look feverish.” He did look pale and slightly unsteady. Panic flickered in his eyes.
How could a buffed-up cop exhibit such fear over a harmless doll? Nina’s trick didn’t seem so funny after all, and Gretchen felt mean-spirited for going along with it.
“Give me a second,” she said, snatching the dolls and quickly transferring them to a shelf in the closet. “Would you like some iced tea?”
He nodded wordlessly and followed her into the kitchen. Gretchen poured two tall glasses. “Lemon?” He nodded again.
Gretchen handed him a glass and led the way to the patio, choosing a table under a wide umbrella. She fluffed her damp hair and sat down, still wearing the towel around her waist. The sun sizzled overhead, instantly sucking the moisture from her skin. The swim a few minutes ago seemed like a distant memory as her body temperature climbed.
Before sitting down next to Gretchen, the detective stopped to stroke Wobbles, running his hand over the cat’s long body several times. At least he doesn’t have some feline phobia, she thought.
“You probably will regret offering me iced tea when you find out why I’m here,” he said.
“Try me.”
“We’ve issued a warrant for your mother’s arrest,” he said. “We want her for questioning in the death of Martha Williams.”
“Quit beating around the bush,” Gretchen said with exaggerated sarcasm. “Get right to the point. All this small talk is killing me.”
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t think of an easy way to break it to you.”
“You’re making a big mistake.”
“All the signs point to her.”
“Expound on that,” Gretchen said tightly, working to dredge up some of that Birch inner strength.
Strength. That was something she and her mother knew about. A malignant tumor like Caroline had encountered inspired courage and resolve in the face of adversity.
She twirled her mother’s pink bracelet.
“First, we have the note Martha managed to write before she died. That’s damaging. We have the first evidence of a motive. Money. That doll from your mother’s workshop was worth three thousand dollars. The entire list could be worth a half million dollars or more.”
“The entire collection of dolls on the list, perhaps,” Gretchen agreed. “You’re forgetting that they no longer belonged to Martha when she died. For all we know, the collection was broken up and the dolls sold as individual pieces. One three thousand dollar doll is hardly a motive for murder.”
“That remains to be seen.” He studied Gretchen. “Your mother also had means. Martha died on that mountain.” He pointed up to the peak. “Practically in Caroline Birch’s backyard. And where is she when we want to question her? She’s disappeared.”
“Circumstantial evidence, Detective.” Gretchen followed his gaze upward. The red rocks glowed in the sunlight. “I can’t believe you got a warrant on those grounds.”
He held up his hand, and with his other hand ticked off each point. “She had means-it happened on her home turf.” He tapped a finger. “She had a motive-valuable dolls.” Tap. “And she’s missing-no alibi.” Tap.
“She’ll explain everything when she comes home,” Gretchen insisted.
“We have witnesses,” he said, dropping his hands to the table and spreading his fingers wide. “A man and a woman were hiking together on the mountain at the time it happened.”
Gretchen felt light-headed. “They saw it? They saw my mother murder Martha Williams?” Her voice climbed several octaves.
He shook his head. “They didn’t see Martha fall. But they saw your mother fleeing. She came from the exact spot where Martha Williams was pushed.”
“Martha Williams committed suicide,” Gretchen said weakly.
“I’m afraid not. Martha Williams was murdered.”
Gretchen stared at the mountain blankly. There had to be a logical explanation. All the strength she had summoned threatened to seep away. Two witnesses saw her mother on the mountain when Martha died. She could no longer dismiss his theory as pure speculation. Something awful occurred on Camelback Mountain, and her mother was there at the time. What explanation would she give for running away? Did innocent people run?