“Why,” Nina asked, slowly, “would he go to all the trouble of planting evidence against Caroline, almost kill Daisy, and then turn himself in?”
“Because he didn’t do it,” Daisy said from the doorway, her head wrapped in bandages and tears in her eyes. “He wouldn’t do it.”
Daisy slumped over the worktable, her head held in her hands as though it was too heavy to carry, and listened silently while Gretchen repeated what she knew of Nacho’s confession and arrest. The dogs wandered in, spotted Daisy, and bounded over, with Wobbles following at a discreet distance.
Daisy perked up at the sight of them and bent to stroke each one.
“Nacho wouldn’t harm Martha,” she said. “He loved her more than anything in the world. Not that she deserved it.”
“How can you be so sure he didn’t kill her?” Nina said.
“Because he’s the gentlest human being I’ve ever known. He helps everybody he meets, and his only problem is his drinking. He speaks all kinds of languages, which is pretty amazing. He’s not so gruff once you get to know him. He wouldn’t hurt a flying cockroach.”
“Maybe he drinks because of that cancerous tumor on his head,” Nina suggested.
“That isn’t cancer,” Daisy said. “He says he’s had it his whole life.”
“Why would Nacho confess to a crime he didn’t commit?” Gretchen asked, lifting each picture and studying it before adding it to a pile on the worktable.
“He’s protecting someone,” Daisy said with confidence, confirming Gretchen’s own suspicions that he was creating a smoke screen. Possibly so the real culprit would remain undiscovered.
Something about the dolls’ pictures bothered Gretchen, tugged at her memory in a disturbing way. What was she missing?
“Have you heard of somebody called the Inspector?” Nina asked Daisy, scooping Nimrod onto her lap. “Martha complained about someone she called the Inspector.”
Daisy waved dismissively. “Martha had names for everyone. She called me Marilyn Monroe because I want to be in the movies.” She knit her brow in concentration. “I don’t remember any Inspector though.”
“Maybe she meant April. She’s an inspector of dolls, if you think about it.” Nina stared into space. “Gretchen, let’s not get April over here to see this collection until we can eliminate her as a suspect. The more I think of it, the more likely it is that April was the Inspector. Are you paying any attention, Gretchen?”
After hearing her name for the second time, Gretchen glanced blankly at Nina. “There’s something about the pictures,” she muttered, tossing those in her hand onto the table. “Something familiar. I’ve seen some of them someplace before.”
“Yes,” Nina said, gesturing to the French fashion doll. “Like this one, for example. And the Kewpie at Joseph’s store. And the one the police hauled away. You have seen some of them.”
Gretchen frowned. Of course, Nina was right.
“We’ve managed to do it again,” Nina announced. “We found more evidence against Caroline, digging her grave by the shovelful. This is one more thing we can’t show to the police because it only proves what they already believe.”
“With friends like us…” Nina said.
“Who needs enemies,” Daisy added, and they finished in synchronization and high-fived each other.
Gretchen stared out the window at Camelback Mountain. She had tentative answers for many of the problems surrounding the death of the alcoholic doll collector. But she didn’t have an explanation for one important question burning in her mind.
Two witnesses saw her mother on the mountain when Martha died.
What was she doing up there?
Nina drove off for a prospective client appointment with all the dogs in tow, leaving Gretchen to ponder the pictures before her in an attempt to find solid answers to fluid questions. Daisy, appearing worn and pallid, shuffled off to her room.
Gretchen rummaged on the lower shelf of the workshop cabinet, removed the doll trunk, and gently reunited the doll with its trunk. She closed the lid as the doorbell rang.
Gretchen smelled Chrome cologne as soon as she opened the door, wondering what bad news the detective carried with him. She had his number. He lured her in with feigned concern and a dazzling smile, then zapped her with the current turn of affairs, which was never advantageous for her. She cringed to think of what he had to say this time.
Yet she had to know.
She panicked briefly when she thought of the French fashion doll’s trunk and the assorted pictures lying in plain view in the workshop, but then remembered his phobia.
He’d be the last one to suggest they meet in a workshop brimming with dolls and assorted doll parts.
“Since you seem to thrive on exercising in horrific heat,” he said. “I thought you might like to take a walk. As long as we don’t go that way.” He motioned up at Camelback Mountain. “Uphill and hot don’t mix well with me, but there are two kids selling lemonade down the street, and I’d like to buy you one. My treat.”
Gretchen slid through the door and closed it behind her. “Sounds like just the thing.”
They walked up the street, turned the corner, and bought two lemonades from the young entrepreneurs. The sun, slowly descending in the west, filled the sky with streaks of brilliant orange. Gretchen wondered where the day had gone and checked her watch. Six thirty. It would be dark in an hour. They started walking back to the house.
“Any word from your mother?” Matt asked, sipping from a straw.
“No,” Gretchen said. “Sometimes I’m filled with dread thinking she’s dead and will never return. Other times I think she’s okay and expect her to walk in the door any minute. I can’t understand how she could simply disappear without contacting me.”
“Your feelings aren’t unusual,” Matt said. “In my job I see people all the time who are dealing with the same issues you are. Besides, I have irrefutable proof that your mother is alive.”
Blood rushed to Gretchen’s head, and her heart began to beat so loud she thought he would hear it. “Tell me.”
“Caroline Birch requested a credit card transaction for a large sum of money. So large that the credit card service required verbal approval from her. We traced the call to a motel near O’Hare International Airport.”
“She went to Chicago?” Gretchen was incredulous.
“She purchased a doll online for an exorbitant amount of money.”
Anger flashed through Gretchen. After the relief of knowing her mother was safe, Gretchen felt an intense anger toward her. “She’s out buying dolls while I’m worried sick about her?”
“Everything I’m telling you right now is confidential,” Matt said. “I’m giving you a heads-up because of our family friendships, but you can’t interfere with the arrest process.”
“Aren’t you worried that I’ll find a way to warn her?”
“She’s on a plane as we speak,” Matt said, glancing at his watch. “She can’t receive phone calls in the air, and she’ll be landing in less than an hour. Two plainclothes agents are waiting at the gate, and they have orders to arrest her quietly. We don’t want a spectacle in the airport.”
Gretchen felt light-headed, and her steps slowed.
“This is her opportunity to clear her name,” he said quietly.
A squad car slid along and parked in front of the house, and an officer got out and hitched his belt.
“He has orders to make sure you stay in the house until further notice.” Matt nodded to the officer.
“You can’t hold me hostage,” Gretchen said, aghast. “This isn’t a police state.”
“Arrest her if she tries to leave,” he said to the officer and hurried to his car. “I have to go to the airport to meet your mother when her plane lands.”