Dolled Up for Murder by Deb Baker Page B

left,” he said, his lips twitching in amusement. “I told her I’d wait for you.”
    “What?” Gretchen couldn’t believe her ears. Nina abandoned her? And left her trapped with the cop who wanted to put her mother behind bars? What was Nina thinking?
    “I can see by the look on your face that you aren’t happy with the arrangement.” He walked around the car and opened the passenger door. “My mother is helping Nina call the Phoenix Dollers club members together for an emergency meeting. I didn’t give your aunt a choice.”
    “Is this a trick?” Gretchen’s eyes narrowed. “If I get in the car, will you take me to Nina or . . .”
    “Or what?” Matt laughed. “Kidnap you for interrogation and lock you in the bowels of the police station? No. Better than that. I get to hang out with a roomful of people who know Caroline Birch, and I get to listen to them discuss ways to find her.”
    He still held the door open.
    “You can’t do that,” Gretchen said, sliding into the seat, careful not to jar her arm.
    “Yes I can,” he said. “I’m an honorary member.”
    “How did your mother get the club together on such short notice and on a Saturday night?”
    “Easy. She tempted them with the promise of food.”
    As they pulled out of the hospital parking lot into traffic, Gretchen wondered about Nina’s mental state. She had always been on the sidelines of rational thought. But leaving Gretchen with a cop, never mind his remote connection to the doll group . . .
    The detective must have intimidated her with his badge or threatened her in some way.
    Matt rolled up to a stop sign and looked both ways. “Aunt Nina’s trunk produced interesting new material in the Williams case. She turned over the items you found on Camelback Mountain—a shawl and doll picture—but she wasn’t happy about it.”
    “You searched her car?” Gretchen said.
    “Standard procedure when someone tries to smuggle contraband into a hospital,” he said. “Some might call it withholding evidence.”
    “So, arrest me.”
    “Can’t,” Matt said lightly. “I’m using you as a decoy.”
    “As in hunting for ducks.” Gretchen stifled a smile. He did have a certain charm. If you liked arrogant witticism and superficial friends.
    Matt nodded. “Just like that. I’m hoping your mother will spot you floating in the water and fly in for a reunion.”
    Gretchen didn’t like being compared to a sitting duck. “She’s too smart to think there’s any water in Arizona. She’ll know it’s a mirage.”

    Bonnie Albright attempted to call the meeting to order with flair. She banged a kitchen mallet on the stovetop. People milled around holding plates heaped with assorted appetizers. Cheeses, crusty bread, fruits, and tiny sandwiches.
    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