Ding Dong Dead Part 5

"I'm way too busy with the museum and my sewing project."

"But you have to."

"I don't know anything about lights, and I refuse to be bullied into it."

From the look on April's face, she wasn't going to budge from her position behind the sewing machine.

One more thing for Gretchen to take care of.

The afternoon went quickly, not exactly without hitches, but at least Julie fired the murder weapon at the right moment and Bonnie's mustache stayed attached to her face when she hit the floor. It was a statement about the cast that Gretchen was thankful for such small things. At four o'clock Nina hustled in, led by Tutu, who pranced along on her pink leash.

"Find out anything about the ghost?" Gretchen asked.

"I'm pointed in the right direction. Where is he?"

"Uh . . . where's who?"

"Brandon's picking me up here. I absolutely love that man, hair the color of wheat and green brooding eyes that speak of depth and danger."

"Oh, brother," April said.

Nina had been casually dating a Scottsdale detective, Brandon Kline, who was a good friend of Matt's. Brandon and Nina were made from the same cloth. He encouraged her when she went off on one of her New Age tangents.

"I haven't seen him," Gretchen said.

"I'll help you direct until he arrives." Nina swept toward the stage. The cast members saw her charging and were more nimble than usual in their race for the break room.

Gretchen had to think of a distraction quickly to keep Nina busy until her man arrived. "What's the story with the ghost? You didn't tell me what you found out."

April tee-heed.

"Are you smirking?" Nina confronted April.

"Nope," said April, bending over the sewing machine, making it roar to life.

Nina took a seat in Gretchen's director's chair. "I found a picture of the family that lived in the house in the early 1920s. Spanish Colonial Revival architecture dates back to around that time, so the family must have built the home. The owner's name was John Swilling, and, get this, he had a daughter."

April stopped the machine. "Well, that's it then," she said. "Either John or his daughter is the ghost."

Gretchen couldn't tell whether April was seriously considering the problem or subtly mocking the idea. Nina suspected hidden sarcasm and scowled at her.

"Go on," Gretchen said.

"Flora was the girl's name," Nina continued. "I found a sepia photograph of her. Flora must have been about ten years old at the time the picture was taken-it shows her holding a doll in her arms. And there's more."

"Do tell," April said.

Another scowl before Nina addressed Gretchen, completely ignoring April. "That doll's travel trunk is in the picture. I could even see some of the travel stickers."

She waited for a response.

"Is that important?" Gretchen asked, suspecting full well that it was. She couldn't put her finger on the reason, but something about the trunk intrigued her. She'd like to get another look at it.

"Don't you see?" Nina said, impatient with her. "Flora Swilling is our ghost! Something happened to her inside the house, and I'm going to find out what it was. And I suspect that it's equally crucial to locate the doll she's holding in the photograph."

"Why would we have to find the doll?"

"Flora could be haunting the house because she can't find it. Once the doll is reunited with the travel trunk, she might be able to rest in peace."

"The doll will rest in peace?" April asked.

"No! Flora."

"What does the doll look like?" Gretchen asked.

Nina slapped her head. "I forgot the copy of the picture. I stopped home and changed purses. I left it in the other one."

Gretchen mentally pictured the pile of repair work and play notes on her desk and wished she could help with the ghost hunting or arrange displays at the museum instead. She had been coerced into taking the most detailed and frustrating job. "Nina," she said, "I don't have time to help you with your search. In a few weeks, after the show, I'll be available, if you can wait that long. Right now I have to focus on the rehearsals."

"And you should." Nina gave her a look of compa.s.sion. "I'm going to take some of that responsibility so you don't have to take it on alone. You're absolutely right; the ghost has been haunting the house for over one hundred years. A few more weeks won't matter."

Oh, no. Nina was back. "I didn't mean you you should stop," Gretchen stammered, trying to rectify her mistake. "Bonnie thinks you should hire a ghost buster, and I agree completely." should stop," Gretchen stammered, trying to rectify her mistake. "Bonnie thinks you should hire a ghost buster, and I agree completely."

"Really? She thinks that, does she?" Nina raised an eyebrow and straightened her shoulders. "If Bonnie and the rest of the cast would ever get done with their snack break, I'd tell her that I'm going to make a great ghost hunter. This job," she said, "I can handle myself."

With a great show of dignity, Nina sauntered toward the doorway to meet her date.

Nina, Gretchen thought with a sense of accomplishment, Gretchen thought with a sense of accomplishment, will be gone for the duration of the rehearsals will be gone for the duration of the rehearsals.

10.

"Where were you all day?" Gretchen asked her mother from a lounge chair near the pool. After spending hours on her feet, it felt good to get off them. She appreciated all the months of the year they could sit outside as they were now. Arizona living had its advantages. Nimrod slept on her lap after a busy day of socializing at doggy day care.

Caroline sat down beside her. "I ran errands and dropped off completed projects. The business still needs some attention, if we don't want to lose customers. Work is piling up. I'll be glad when this project is over, and we can get back to our usual routine."

Her mother looked tired, pale, and anxious. With everything she had going-her work as an author, touring and promotion, the doll repair business, and now the museum restoration-no wonder she looked exhausted.

Wobbles purred next to Gretchen while staring intensely at the sleeping Nimrod, always on the alert for unwanted attention. He never let down his guard. The teacup poodle loved Wobbles, but the sentiment wasn't returned, although Wobbles did tolerate the energetic puppy. Tutu was another story altogether. Wobbles and Tutu defined the phrase fighting like cats and dogs fighting like cats and dogs.

"Daisy's staying with us tonight," Gretchen said. "She's freshening up in the spare bedroom."

"Wonderful. I've missed her company."

"She said she has important news but wanted to wait until we were both together before announcing it. Something special, she says, and she's very excited."

"My ears were ringing." Daisy came outside, all radiant and scrubbed, wearing a terry robe from the closet. Gretchen had gone out of her way to stock the spare room with luxuries to lure their occasional guest. "Hey, doggie." She scooped up Nimrod.

The homeless woman had an affinity with animals. Even Tutu loved her.

"Sit down and tell us your news," Caroline said.

"First tell me about the museum. How is it coming along? When will it open?"

"We've only begun," Caroline said. "But I'm thrilled with the results so far."

"I wish I could say the same about the fundraiser," Gretchen added. "Today I learned that we don't have anyone to handle lights. But I'll figure out something." She patted the seat of the lounge chair next to her. "Sit down and tell all."

"I can't sit. I want to bounce right off the stars." Daisy whirled, robe twirling. "Nacho proposed!" she said. "We're getting married."

Gretchen and Caroline yelped with pleasure. Daisy blushed. Her middle-aged face took on a young girl's glow.

"I'll have to put my acting career on hold," she said. "But it will only be temporary."

"Sure. You can always go back to acting later," Gretchen agreed.

One of Daisy's consuming delusions was her belief that Hollywood scouts would discover her on the crowded streets of Phoenix and she would become an Oscar-winning actress. It hadn't happened so far, but Daisy remained optimistic.

Today, the bride-to-be was more grounded than usual.

"When and where is this extraordinary event taking place?" Caroline asked.

"At the courthouse on the first of June. We don't want a lengthy engagement, but we need to give our out-of-town friends time to arrive. Everyone we know is invited."

Gretchen could picture an entire homeless community descending en ma.s.se to converge on the Phoenix courthouse.

They'd never make it through security.

And where would the couple honeymoon? In Eternal View Cemetery? Would they dine at the rescue mission? She couldn't completely wrap her mind around their future together, but they'd coexisted until now in perfect contentment.

Caroline winked at Gretchen. She nodded back, knowing what was coming.

"Why don't we have the wedding right here?" Caroline said. "We could find someone to perform the ceremony on the patio and have a reception afterward. And everyone would still be invited." She grabbed Daisy's hand. "Please say yes."

Daisy radiated happiness. "I'd love that!" she said. "I have to go call my friends and tell them about the change in plans."

And off she went, bouncing on a dreamy cloud with the teacup poodle in her arms. "Daisy is a mystery," Gretchen said. "Where did she get the cell phone? And who is maintaining the service for her?"

"Who knows? I think she came from a good home life. She's kind and generous and has impeccable manners when it suits her."

"I wish she'd agree to accept psychological help and get off the street."

"It's her choice. She's the only one who can make a change happen. All we can do is support her decision and help in small ways. Besides, she is is working on improving herself. She's trying a new medication." working on improving herself. She's trying a new medication."

"Really!" No wonder Daisy seemed so rational lately. "The pills are working."

"She told me about her doctor's visit last week, but I wasn't supposed to tell you."

"Why not?"

"You tend to get too involved."

"Marriage will be good for both of them. Now if only-" Gretchen was about to voice her concerns about Nacho and his battle with alcoholism when her mother interrupted.

"All we can do is support them," Caroline reminded her. "When is Matt picking you up?"

"He's bringing dinner in an hour, enough for all of us." She glanced up at Camelback Mountain, appreciating the view from the patio as much today as the day she'd moved into her mother's cabana. "Then we're hitting the mountain ridges."

"The quest for another bird?"

Gretchen nodded. Something like that. Something like that.

"Listen, we have to have a conversation before Matt arrives."

"Sure, what's up?" Her mother looked too serious. Please don't tell me your cancer is back. Please don't tell me your cancer is back. That particular fear hung on the edge of Gretchen's mind all the time. That particular fear hung on the edge of Gretchen's mind all the time.

"Don't look at me that way," Caroline said. "I'm perfectly fine. It's about the woman in the cemetery."

"What about her?" Gretchen had kept the dead woman at the back of her thoughts most of the day. Staying busy had helped.

"The fantasy doll looked vaguely familiar to me. I thought about it all night, and this morning I knew for sure I was right. It was so long ago, I didn't believe it could be possible. But unfortunately, it was." Caroline reached for her gla.s.s on the table-her favorite c.o.c.ktail, a single-malt scotch, ice, no water. "I know who the murder victim is."

"What?" exclaimed Gretchen.

"I met Matt at the police station. He showed me photographs and I identified her. She was older than I'd pictured her. It's strange, when you haven't seen someone for a long time, you expect them to remain looking exactly the same." Caroline's face registered fear and sadness.

Gretchen rose and bent over the back of Caroline's chair, kissing the top of her head and rubbing her mother's shoulders. "Who was she?"

Caroline went limp under Gretchen's fingers, giving herself over to the ma.s.sage. "We met at a national doll convention long before I married your father. We kept in touch for a number of years, then lost track of each other, but every once in a while, I'd get news and see pictures of her fantasy dolls. Her name was Allison Thomasia." Caroline smiled, remembering.

"I wonder what happened in the cemetery," Gretchen said, feeling her mother's muscles tighten again, sorry she had said anything.

"Matt told me someone struck her several times, crushing her head. The murder weapon hasn't been found." Caroline's voice cracked.

Gretchen thought of the blood stains on the desert floor and Matt's observation that the woman had crawled before collapsing. She'd keep that knowledge to herself.

"Did she live in Phoenix?" Gretchen asked.

"I doubt it, or I would have heard."

The doorbell at the front of the house rang. Gretchen heard Nimrod, the family gatekeeper, raising the alarm from inside.

"It's Matt," Gretchen said. "Nimrod will shake him down."