All ignored Bonnie.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Tutu coolly surveyed the scene from her throne on the sofa, and Nimrod entertained the club members, who passed him from lap to lap, by being cute and cuddly.
Gretchen counted three purse dogs waiting patiently in their uniquely customized bags. All, Gretchen guessed, graduates of Nina’s fine purse school. Nina really knew how to sell a product.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
“Give it up, Bonnie,” Nina said, “before you pound a hole in my stove. Pop the cork on that champagne.” She pointed to a bottle and a line of flute glasses. “And come and join us.”
Bonnie shook her head, and her red lacquered flip moved in sync. “The last time you popped the cork, social hour went on for hours, and by the time we started with actual business, no one could focus on the task at hand.”
“This,” Nina replied, “isn’t a normal, boring meeting filled with hours of tedious planning. The agenda for this evening is Caroline, and she’s a worthy reason to stay sober. But I still need a drink. Matt, would you open the bottle, please?”
Nina clapped her hands together. “All purse dogs outside. Rita, please let them out.”
Pandemonium reigned while miniature dogs swarmed through the room like greyhounds off to the race.
Nina gestured at the champagne bottle, and Matt moved around her and worked the cork until it exploded like a gunshot. He filled glasses and handed them out. Gretchen, refusing a glass because of the painkiller she’d taken earlier, raised an eyebrow when he held up a glass, met her eyes, and took a sip.
“Aren’t you on duty?” she asked.
“Yup,” he said. “I’m undercover, remember? I’m blending in. Don’t tell anybody, but this is only water.”
Gretchen surveyed the group. She counted twelve heads, most of them familiar from past visits. Larry and Julia stood in the far corner in a small group of specialty collectors. Gretchen remembered each of them by their areas of interest. Rita Phyller collected Barbie dolls. Susie Hocker, the youngest member of the club, had an extensive collection of Madame Alexander dolls. Karen Fitz bought as many contemporaries as she could afford on a kindergarten teacher’s wages-Lee Middletons and Zawieruszynskis were her favorites, if Gretchen remembered right.
Nina pulled her aside. “How’s your wrist?”
“Broken,” Gretchen said.
“You’re not mad at me, are you?”
“What? For dumping the detective on me? Or for giving him the shawl and doll picture?”
“I tried to resist, but he threatened to call for backup and arrest me. I’m sorry. I really am.” Nina sipped from her glass. “He’s very charming in a rugged sort of way. He was only doing his job.”
“If I remember right, you called him ‘the enemy’ earlier today.”
“I was distraught. I overreacted a little.”
“He’s a parasite. I can’t get away from him. Every time I turn around, he’s right behind me. How did he know I was at the hospital? Did you call him?”
“No. When that nasty nurse escorted Tutu and me out of the building, he was parked at the curb like he knew we were inside.”
Gretchen thought it over. “He’s been following us.”
“I never noticed. I’m sure I would have noticed.”
Gretchen glanced across the room and met the detective’s eyes. He saluted her with his glass. She looked quickly away. “We have to be more careful from now on.”
Nina worked her arm through Gretchen’s. “Let me introduce you to Joseph Reiner. He’s an antique doll dealer from Mesa and is a brand-new member of the Dollers.”
Gretchen followed Nina’s gaze. She would have remembered if she had met him in the past. Dark and swarthy, with diamond studs in both earlobes and a goatee, he wore a short-sleeved pink button-down shirt tucked into yellow shorts.
“I know,” Nina said. “You’re wondering if Joseph is gay. No one knows for sure. No hard evidence, and I would be the last one to start a rumor.”
Gretchen grinned at Nina. “Of course you wouldn’t.”
“Just don’t offer him a glass of champagne,” Nina said.
“Why not?”
“He spent three months in jail. DWI. His fourth one. I hear he hasn’t touched a drop since he was released.”
Nina pulled Gretchen along and made the introductions. Joseph clutched a can of Diet Coke in his left hand, while he asked about the cast on her wrist.
Bonnie called out. “Yes. Tell us what happened. How did you break your wrist?”
Matt had a smart-aleck grin on his face as Gretchen gave them an abbreviated version, leaving out the part about the footrace. Even if Matt had been following Nina’s car, he couldn’t know about her encounter with Nacho, which took place behind a building off the street. So there was no accounting for the smirk on his face at the moment.
Then she remembered the chase across the busy street. Had he been there?
“Clumsy of me,” she finished, lamely. “I must have fallen on it wrong.”
“Speaking of falling wrong,” Nina said addressing everyone in the room. “Martha Williams took a serious fall wrong. I called this meeting to discuss Martha’s death and to ask for your help in locating Caroline. It’s no secret that a note was found with Martha that had Caroline’s name on it.”
Several heads nodded in agreement. Gretchen saw Matt scowl at his mother. She surmised that Bonnie wouldn’t be privy to any more juicy bits of evidence thrown her way by her son.
“And a valuable doll parasol was found in her pocket,” Nina continued.
Detective Albright slapped a hand against his head and looked up at the ceiling.
After a whispered consultation with Gretchen, Nina told the club members about the paisley shawl and the photograph of the French fashion doll and trunk, and about April’s evaluation of their worth. Gretchen heard the appropriate oohs and ahhs when they learned that the doll was designed by the world-famous Bru.
Gretchen could tell that the detective was disturbed by the direction the discussion was taking. It threatened to expose his shrouded secret evidence, and she planned on making her own contribution.
“Detective Albright,” Gretchen said. “Why don’t you show the club members the picture you confiscated. Maybe someone will recognize it.”
“Good idea,” Bonnie said. “Matt, you should have thought of that.”
After sending a scathing look at his mother, Matt went out to his car and returned with the bubble-wrapped package. He pulled at the tape until the items inside were exposed to all the club members.
No one from the Phoenix Dollers owned a Bru French fashion doll, nor did they know of anyone in the valley who might possess such a rare find. Murmurs of appreciation filled the room when they saw the photo.
“I heard that Martha owned a French fashion doll years ago,” Rita Phyller said.
“That’s an old rumor,” Joseph said. “I knew her quite well before she took to the streets, and she never said anything to me about owning a Bru.”
“What was a Bru parasol doing in her pocket then?” Karen Fitz wanted to know.
“Caroline has some answering to do,” Bonnie added, glancing at Nina. “I know she’s your sister, and I don’t want to say anything bad about her…”
“That would be a first, Bonnie,” Nina said, glaring at Bonnie then holding up a hand. “I know it doesn’t look good. But Gretchen and I are convinced that if we can locate her, she will be able to clear this up. Has anyone seen her since Martha died?”
Gretchen listened in dismay as she realized that no one in the room had any helpful information. They threw around theories, careful not to insult Nina or Gretchen with innuendos, but in the end, nothing new came to light.
“Joseph,” Matt said. “You said you knew Martha well?”
Joseph rubbed his fingers on his right ear, a nervous gesture, Gretchen thought.
“She’d come around to see what I had in stock. We’d talk shop.”