Goodbye Dolly (26 page)

"The reason you can't see anything is because of your skepticism," Nina retorted. "You have to let go of your rigid thinking, learn to use your third eye, and embrace the visual that doesn't necessarily follow human logic. Logic, I will remind you, that is flawed to begin with."

"Here it is." Gretchen turned into the driveway of an institutional building that was well-disguised as a senior community for well-heeled Arizonians. She pulled up to a guard station and lowered her window.

"We're here to see Florence Kent," she informed the man when he stuck his head out of the door. "Please open the gate."

He poked his head back inside, pulled a radio from his belt, and spoke into it. He returned the radio to his belt and opened the door wide, framing it with his considerable bulk. "No visitors," he informed them. "No names on the list for Florence Kent today, so you can't go in. Call for an appointment. Then your name will hit the list, and I'll open up. That's the way it works."

"Can I call and talk to her?" Gretchen asked.

"You have to pass it through the switchboard, but I think she's restricted."

"Is this a prison or what?" April called through the open window. "I never heard of a lockdown like this in all my life."

The guard hiked his pants and leaned over to peer in at the passengers, taking in April, Nina, and the festival of canines crowding the car window. "The privacy that our residents receive at Grace Senior Care is the exact reason they come here. They don't want every Tom, Dick, and Harry rolling in whenever, like you women are trying to do."

He frowned when another car pulled in alongside of the Echo. "Now back up and pull away before I get annoyed. You're blocking traffic."

Gretchen backed out of the driveway and drove out of sight of the guard station before finding a parking space.

"Now what?" she asked. "Either Chiggy doesn't want company, or someone else is making sure she doesn't have any."

"We can walk in," April suggested. "They probably don't have much security inside because of the guard at the gate. We can walk down that sidewalk over there," she pointed along a walkway. "And go right in."

"Okay," Gretchen agreed. "What do we have to lose?

But... you'll have to stay in the car, April."

"Why?"

"Because you look like a mutant orange tulip."

Gretchen saw April's face caving in and beginning to register a look of anguished hurt, so she added quickly. "Beautiful and vibrant and totally memorable. The last thing we want is to stand out."

April glanced down at her dress and beamed. "I see what you mean." Then, a little sheepishly, "I didn't want to go anyway."

"I suppose you think I should do this instead of April?"

Nina piped up. "What you're planning is probably against the law. Since when did you start sneaking around?"

"I guess since I started getting threatening letters."

"That's melodramatic." Spoken by Nina, queen of the dramatic actors association. She crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm staying here, too. If you're in jail, somebody will have to take care of Nimrod and Wobbles."

"Fine," Gretchen said, opening the car door.

"Leave the air-conditioning on," April suggested. "It's hot as French fry oil out there."

"This sounds like something that bumpkin aunt of yours would come up with. You haven't been getting advice from Gertie Johnson again, have you? I bet-"

Gretchen slammed the door and stalked off.

How does your aloneness feel now?
she asked herself, as the building loomed ahead of her where Chiggy, aka Florence Kent, resided.

Sometimes life really was a very lonely venture. Once you veered from the safe and familiar path, no one wanted to follow anymore. Instead, they stood on the sidelines hoping you'd trip over a rattlesnake so they could say,

"See? I told you so."

She refused to look back at the parked car loaded with former followers.

- From
World of Dolls
by Caroline Birch Gretchen walked along the side of the building, making sure she wasn't visible from the guard's station. Once she neared the main entrance, she stopped and wondered what to do next. Her answer magically appeared in front of her. Today might be her lucky day.

She spotted the car that had pulled up beside her when she tried to get past the guard. Its occupants were walking from a parking lot on the opposite side of the building, a man, a woman, and two small boys about four or five years old. The man opened one of the massive doors leading into the building, and Gretchen slipped in behind them as they gave their names and the name of the resident they were visiting through an intercom system. She heard the door lock click, released remotely by someone inside the building, and the group moved past a reception desk. One of the boys glanced at Gretchen, and she looked away, trying to keep the right amount of distance between them-far enough not to arouse the parents' suspicion, close enough not to alert the receptionist to the fact that she wasn't part of the visiting group. She was careful not to make eye contact with anyone.

You certainly are clever,
she thought, her heart beating as fast as a revved-up jet about to take off, excited and afraid at the same time. The same feeling she had at the doll auction when she was bidding on the Ginny dolls. Gretchen waited for the receptionist to call out to her and demand an explanation and the proper credentials, but soon she was past the desk and approaching a long corridor. The only sound was hushed voices from the family she had infiltrated.

Gretchen was inside.

Not that it helped her much, since she had no idea where Chiggy was staying in this vast senior complex. As soon as she was out of sight of the entrance, she turned a corner, disengaging from the group ahead of her. She dug her cell phone out of her pocket and called Nina's cell. "Find out what room Chiggy's in," she said.

"Humph," said Miss Suddenly Righteous. "You should have thought of that before you so brazenly flaunted the center's rules."

"Just do it."

Nina must still have had some residual anger over her broken date with Eric and planned on punishing her for the rest of the day in subtle, annoying ways.

"And how am I supposed to find out?" Nina said curtly. Gretchen could hear April say something in the background. Then while Gretchen walked briskly down another hallway, Nina filled April in. Gretchen hoped no one would stop her if she looked as if she knew where she was headed. Nina came back on the line. "April says she'll call and pretend she's with UPS and has a package that requires a room number."

"Whatever works. I'll call back in a few minutes."

She forced herself to wait several long and excruciating minutes before calling back, all the while striding down one corridor after another. When she did call Nina back, she learned the room number.

Gretchen had been noting room numbers on the doors as she turned another corner. Not only was she inside, but she was moving in the right direction.

Aunt Gertie would be so proud.

At first, Chiggy Kent thought she was one of her caregivers. Gretchen figured the bottled air running from the tank to her nostrils wasn't doing the job it should. The lack of proper oxygenation was affecting her mind. Then she realized that Chiggy had a vision problem.

Blind as the proverbial bat.

"It's Gretchen Birch," she said, identifying herself. "Caroline Birch's daughter. We met two months ago at Bonnie's house during one of the Phoenix Dollers Club meetings.

"Oh, yes. I remember." Chiggy sat up straighter in a chair next to her bed.

"It wasn't easy getting in to see you. We were worried that there was a conspiracy going on to keep you secluded." She laughed lightly.

"I specifically said no visitors," Chiggy said, annoyed.

"I thought I was firm about my requirements when I moved here." She brushed back a few gray strands of hair falling on her face, and Gretchen thought that, at one time, she must have been a beautiful woman. Nicotine and excessive Arizona suntanning had taken a toll. "No matter. I'll take it up with the staff later. You're here now."

Chiggy spoke slowly, pausing to wheeze and allow the extra oxygen to kick in.

"I have a few questions about your dolls." Gretchen took a seat beside her and glanced around. The room was stark, containing only the essentials, exactly like a hospital room.

"Do you mind talking about your dolls?" Gretchen prompted.

"Ah." Chiggy forced a weak smile. "You were at the auction?"

"I was, along with half of Phoenix. I thought your dolls moved well. There was quite a turnout." Gretchen didn't mention Brett's death. If Chiggy didn't know about it, Gretchen didn't want to be the one to tell her.

"I had admired your handmade Kewpies," Gretchen lied. "But they were sold before I got there."

Chiggy looked surprised. "Really?" she said.

"April Lehman said she appraised your collection for you before you planned to auction them off, and she didn't remember any Kewpie dolls."

"That's right."

"But some were sold at the auction."

"I thought they were some of my poorest work." Chiggy shook her head. "I couldn't get the reproductions right, so I didn't include them with the dolls I decided to have appraised. Basically, I wanted April to tell me which dolls I should keep and which I should sell. In the end, I kept very few. You liked the Kewpies?"

"Very much. I was hoping you had more."

Chiggy shook her head. "That was the last of them."

"I also received several Kewpie dolls in the mail. Did you send them, or do you know who might have?"

"No. I hardly know you. Why would I send you anything? And I don't own a single Kewpie anymore."

Gretchen watched Chiggy's impaired eyes carefully and saw something...

Had
the old woman sent the dolls? What would have been her motivation? And why, if she had, wouldn't she admit it now?

Chiggy slid further down in her chair, appearing weak and helpless.

How could her condition have deteriorated so quickly?

According to Howie Howard, Chiggy was supervising her own move from her home less than a week ago. What had happened to make her suddenly infirm? A stroke?

"How are you doing?" Gretchen asked. "I hear you just moved from the assisted living section over to this area."

Chiggy waved a dismissive hand. "I'm fine. I like the security better here; we have the guard at the gate and a locked door. But look how easy it was for you to get in. That disturbs me." She squinted at Gretchen, appraising her integrity. "You seem like a nice person."

Chiggy held up an object that looked like a remote control, which had been buried in the folds of her dressing gown. "But if I press this button, I'll have someone in this room in thirty seconds flat. I didn't get that level of care in the apartment. Want to see how it works?"

"No thanks. I believe you."

Gretchen recalled the letter found among Ronny's papers, the one addressed to Florence. Don't double-cross me, it had said, or you'll become prey for a hungry predator. Had Chiggy ignored the warning? After the recent deaths, was Chiggy next on the killer's list? Did she know it? That would explain her preoccupation with heightened security.

She wasn't isolated because of any administrative rules. She was hiding.

"I bid on a box of your Ginny dolls at the action and-"

Gretchen stopped when she saw the expression of shock and disbelief on the old woman's face.

"Impossible," Chiggy managed to croak. "That box wasn't supposed to be sold. I gave strict instructions on the handling of my Ginny dolls. That box should be in storage along with several other personal belongings that I chose to keep. Where is it? Tell me." Chiggy was rising from the chair, her face turning red from lack of air. "What are you after? Why did you come here?"

"I... I don't have it. It seems that the boxes were mixed up somehow, and I ended up, accidentally, with the Kewpie dolls. I'm looking for the person who bid on the Kewpies. I think he has the Ginnys. His name is Duanne Wilson."

Chiggy hesitated, her face frozen in a horrific grimace. It crossed Gretchen's mind that she might be out of oxygen. She quickly looked down at her feet to be sure she wasn't standing on the connecting tube. Maybe the machine that was Chiggy's lifeline had run dry, and she was strangling to death from lack of air.

But the horror on her face contradicted that theory. No one would have the energy for that kind of fear if they were running out of oxygen.

"What's wrong?" Gretchen moved closer to the woman.

"Get away from me. Tell him to leave me alone."

Chiggy screamed at the top of her wasted lungs. A canister of pepper spray appeared in her left hand. She stopped screaming abruptly, gasped for air, and screamed again.

Then she jammed her right thumb down on the security button and let loose with the pepper spray.

Gretchen scrambled for cover before the troops arrived, grateful that Chiggy's poor eyesight had resulted in a direct miss. She burst through a fire exit door and ran as though her life depended on it. Hearing the alarm wailing behind her, she cleared the senior center grounds and sprinted to the curb where she'd left the getaway car.

She whirled and looked down the street in both directions. The car was gone.