The Dollmaker (10 page)

Something in the voice, a hint of familiarity, caused Charlotte to turn away from the window and walk across the bedroom. She stood listening unabashedly to the message as she tried to put a face to the caller’s voice.

“I’ll make this real short and sweet. Dave Creasy is back in town and he’s been sniffing around the Losier case. A guy like that could really fuck up an investigation, so I suggest we pay him a little visit. The sooner the better, if you get my drift.”

Claire stood in front of the shop window and tried to convince herself that the doll had only been put away for the night. The collectibles featured in such stores were usually quite valuable, and the owner might have felt it would be too risky to leave such a costly piece so prominently displayed overnight.

The other possibility, of course, was that the doll had already been sold, but that was a bridge Claire would cross when she had to. In the meantime she could do nothing but wait until the shop opened. The hours posted on the sign that hung in the door were Ten to Six, Tuesday through Saturday. Since it wasn’t quite nine yet, she had over an hour to kill.

Claire’s first instinct was to remain in front of the shop until someone arrived to open the door, but her stomach was still queasy and she felt weak-kneed and shaky. If she remained on her feet much longer, she might pass out and find herself right back in the hospital.

Keeping to the shady side of the street, she walked over to St. Louis Cathedral to wait. The sanctuary was quiet and cool, the glare of the hot summer sun muted by the small windows.

Someone had left a pink rose on the pew where she sat, and absently she picked up the stem and held the petals to her nose. The fragrance made her think of the dream she’d had last night, and the shattered face of the doll.

Shuddering, Claire glanced around. Coming on the heels of that nightmare, the quiet of the cathedral was a little too unnerving, and after a few minutes, she got up, placed the rose on the bench and left.

Outside, she used her cell phone to call her mother and let her know that she’d already left the hospital. Lucille wasn’t thrilled by the news, and when they finally hung up, Claire knew she hadn’t heard the last of it. But a scolding from her mother was the least of her worries. She wasn’t scheduled to work in the gallery until the following day, but she’d been counting on spending several hours in the studio. Now that would have to wait until her hand healed.

As she walked past the hotels and bed and breakfasts along St. Peters, Claire couldn’t stop worrying about what she would do if the doll had been sold or if the owner refused to give her the information she needed. What recourse would she have, since no one, including Charlotte, seemed inclined to believe that the doll looked like Ruby? Maybe if she showed the shopkeeper a picture of her daughter, the woman would be moved enough to help Claire.

And what if the doll was still there? What if in the bright light of day, she
didn’t
look like Ruby? Would Claire then be forced to concede that Alex was right? That her refusal to let go of the past was slowly driving her crazy?

By her watch, it was straight up ten when she arrived back at the shop, but the Closed sign was still in the window, and when she tried the door, it was locked.

Shielding her eyes with her hands, Claire tried to peer through the crack at the edge of the blind, but the interior of the shop was so dim and the sun outside so bright that she couldn’t see anything.

And then, as she started to turn away, she saw something move inside the shop. A shadow wavered, and Claire quickly lifted her fist to rap on the door.

“Hello? Hello? Is someone in there?”

She put her face back up to the window and peered inside. Someone stared back at her.

“C
laire, what the hell are you doing?”

At the sound of the voice behind her, Claire whirled. “Alex!” She put her hand on her heart. “You scared me half to death. I wasn’t expecting anyone to sneak up on me like that.”

“I wasn’t exactly sneaking, but I’m not surprised you didn’t hear me. the way you were banging on that door. What are you trying to do…wake the dead?” He’d draped his suit coat over one arm and rolled up his shirtsleeves in the heat. Claire could see a fine sheen of perspiration across his brow.

“I’m trying to get someone to let me in. The store should be open by now, but the door’s still locked.” Lifting the damp hair off her neck, she twisted it up and pinned the strands with a clip she found in her purse. “What are you doing here, anyway?”

“Just checking up on you. I swung by the hospital on my way to the station, and when I saw your clothes gone, I figured I’d find you here.” Slowly he removed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket, but Claire still couldn’t tell what he was thinking. She’d never been very good at reading Alex. He kept a lot of himself hidden. After six years of marriage, sometimes it still seemed that she barely knew him at all.

It hadn’t been like that with Dave. They’d grown up in the same neighborhood, and even as a kid, he’d worn his heart on his sleeve. From the very first date, Claire had always known where she stood with him…until Ruby disappeared, and then everything fell apart. He’d become someone Claire didn’t know anymore, someone who even scared her at times.

Alex had never frightened her, and in his own way, he loved her as much as Dave ever had. Maybe more. But Claire also knew that even if they stayed together for another twenty-five years, he would never understand her the way Dave had.

She glanced across the street, where the drowsy sway of asparagus fern hanging from a second-story balcony caught her attention. Through the thick curtain of green, she caught a glimpse of a couple embracing in the morning heat, and a moment later, laughter drifted down to the street.

Claire deliberately turned away. She didn’t know why Dave was on her mind so much this morning.

Alex flung his jacket over one shoulder. “So where is this doll that has you so worked up?”

Claire tried not to let his tone irritate her. He probably didn’t even realize how condescending and impatient he sounded at times, or how annoying it was when he got that placating look on his face.

“I don’t know where she is. That’s what I’m trying to find out. It’s after ten. The shop should be open by now.”

He glanced at his watch. “It’s just a few minutes past. Maybe whoever opens up is running late this morning. Probably got stuck in traffic or something.”

“No, I saw someone in there right before you walked up,” Claire said. “I kept on knocking. Maybe if you show your badge, we can get in.”

Alex took her by surprise when he walked over and peered through the glass. “I’m not opposed to flashing my badge, but I don’t see anyone in there.”

“I spotted someone there just a minute ago.”

Alex still had his face to the window. “Are you sure you didn’t see your reflection in the glass?”

“Yeah, that’s probably it. Because, Lord knows, I’m so crazy I can’t tell the difference between another person and my own reflection.”

He swung back around and Claire saw him take a breath, as if he was having a difficult time hanging on to his temper. His fingers drummed impatiently against his thigh as his gaze scoured the street. Except for a brief moment when he’d met her eyes directly, he didn’t seem to want to look at her this morning.

“I’m sorry, Alex. I shouldn’t be snapping at you like that. It’s not your fault the doll isn’t here. But I really don’t know why you keep coming around like this. Every time we’re together, all we do is fight. Why can’t you just let it go?”

“Damned if I know, Claire.” His voice sounded tired. “I never ran across anything or anyone I couldn’t give up if I didn’t think it was worth my time. But I don’t seem to have it in me to walk away from you.”

“You’d be so much happier if you did,” she said softly.

“Oh, I know I’d be happier, that’s not the issue. Thing is, though, I’m not the kind of guy who likes to lose.”

“You make it sound like our marriage was a game.”

“Not a game, Claire, a farce.”

Now it was she who had to hold in her anger. Down the street, the spires of the cathedral glistened in the hot white light, and she concentrated on the glare. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

“I shouldn’t do a lot of the things I do, but that never seems to stop me.” He walked back over and glanced in the shop window. “I still don’t see anyone in there. If you ask me, it’s time to give up the ghost.”

“You do what you have to do, Alex, but I’m not leaving until I see her.”

He turned at that. “Do you hear yourself? You keep saying
her.
Do you even realize you’re doing it?”

“It’s just a figure of speech. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“That doll is
not
Ruby.”

“I know that.”

“Are you sure?”

Claire frowned. “Yes, I’m sure. Have you been talking to Charlotte?”

His gaze faltered and he looked off down the street. “Why?”

“Because she seems to think I’m confusing the doll with Ruby, too. I’m not. I know in my heart that my daughter is dead. But I also know that the doll means something. It’s not a coincidence she looks so much like Ruby.”

“So what are you going to do, Claire? Buy the damn thing and take it home with you? Because I have to tell you, there’s something a little morbid about that.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. The anger inside her was too strong. She didn’t want to lash out at Alex again, but
damn
him for not understanding. Damn him for making her feel guilty about clinging to the memory of her daughter.

“Maybe you should be asking yourself what you’ll do,” she said. “What if the doll looks as much like Ruby as I say she does? What if even you can’t deny the resemblance? Won’t it be a police matter then?”

“Come off it, Claire. You don’t think NOPD has enough to worry about without investigating dolls?”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are, and that’s what scares the hell out of me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “This heat’s starting to give me a migraine,” he muttered.

The heat wasn’t the cause of his headache and they both knew it. “The doll is a clue, Alex.”

“A clue to what? You said yourself Ruby is dead.”

“I still want justice. I still want to know what happened to her.”

“Bullshit. Maybe you can lie to yourself, but I know how your mind works. You’ve already decided somewhere in that thick head of yours that the doll is going to lead you to Ruby. That’s not going to happen.”

“I’m not deluded,” she said angrily.

“You may not be deluded, but you’re still grasping at straws.” He moved toward her in the shade and placed his hands on her shoulders. His eyes were level and unblinking and they stared straight into Claire’s. “I’m worried about you. You could have been killed yesterday, and now here you are again. You keep putting yourself through this same shit over and over, and it never ends well. This time won’t be any different.”

“Maybe it won’t. But I’m not giving up until I find out for sure.”

“And so you’re going to stand out here in this heat until you keel right over from exhaustion. Is that it?”

“If I have to.”

He shook his head in disgust. “Have you seen yourself in a mirror this morning? You look like hell. You’re as pale as a ghost and your hands are trembling like an old woman’s. You need to get out of this heat. At least go with me down the street to get something cold to drink.”

“You go if you want to.”

“Claire—”

“Just leave me alone, Alex. Please.”

“Damn it.” He dropped his hands from her shoulders and turned to stare at the traffic, his mouth a thin, straight line. Then he started walking away. “Wait here.”

“Where are you going?”

“Next door. Maybe someone there knows something about when this place normally opens.”

Claire wished she’d thought of that. “Alex?”

He glanced over his shoulder.

“Thanks.”

His face tightened. “Don’t thank me. It’s not like I’m doing you any favors. I’m just prolonging the inevitable, is all.”

He disappeared into the neighboring shop, and Claire stepped back into the deeper shade of the doorway. Putting her face to the glass, she tried to peer through the sliver at the edge of the blind again, but Alex was right. The interior was so dim she could barely see anything. Maybe she really had glimpsed her own reflection earlier.

But in the split second before Alex showed up, Claire had been certain that someone stood on the other side of the door, staring back at her. She hadn’t seen a face, at least not clearly, but she’d glimpsed a silhouette that seemed distinct from the other shadows in the shop. And even now she still had a strange feeling that someone was in there.

Leaning a shoulder against the wall, she fanned herself with her hand. Alex was right about something else, too. If she waited out here much longer, the heat might do her in.

A young woman came toward her down the street, and Claire watched her curiously, wondering if she might be the one to open up the shop. But before she reached Mignon’s, she turned down a narrow alley that ran between the two buildings.

Claire left her spot in the doorway and walked over to stare after her. At the back of the alley, the woman knocked on the door of the adjacent building, and a moment later, someone let her inside.

The alley was like any number of passageways that ran between narrow buildings in the Quarter, many of them leading back to the hidden courtyards for which New Orleans was so famous. At the rear, a wrought-iron fence ran between the two buildings, and the smell of wet brick and damp moss mingled with the scent of the yellow roses spilling over the scrollwork.

As Claire stood gazing after the young woman, she thought again of her dream last night and wondered if she might have glimpsed the alley a split second before the car hit her. Maybe the image had been stamped on her subconscious, only to surface hours later in her sleep.

Her grandmother would have claimed the dream was a sign. In spite of her devout Catholic upbringing, Maw-Maw Doucett had been a big believer in omens and presages, and had been buried, at her request, with the silver dime she’d always worn on a string tied around her neck.

Claire was more inclined to think that the shock of seeing the doll and the trauma of the accident had produced her strange visions. She entered the alley without hesitation, sidestepping a puddle left from the night’s rainstorm.

But as she slowly walked down the weathered pathway, she couldn’t get the dream out of her head. The sound of a child crying from behind a closed door. Dave’s silent warning as he stepped out of the shadows. And then the shattering of that porcelain face—a face that looked so much like Ruby’s—against the stone floor.

She might not share her grandmother’s faith in dreams and second sight, but Claire was Southern enough to believe that there were things in this world that couldn’t be easily explained, things that couldn’t be seen or felt, but were no less real and true. As she neared the end of the alley, a chill swept through her, and for one brief moment, she had the strangest sensation that her grandmother was somewhere behind her, calling her back before it was too late.

The feeling was so strong that Claire couldn’t resist glancing over her shoulder. She could hear voices from the street, and from somewhere nearby, music drifted through an open window. The sky overhead was clear and blue, the air all around her as still as an indrawn breath.

But there was no one behind her. She was all alone in the alley. Her grandmother was dead and so was Ruby. Yet at that moment it seemed to Claire that she felt them both. The tug on her hands was as real to her as the pounding heartbeat in her chest.

She didn’t retreat, though. Instead, she walked to the back of the alley and peered through the iron gate into a courtyard that looked lush and cool after the night’s downpour. No one was about, so Claire turned away.

The rear entrance to the collectibles shop was set in the brick wall directly across the alley from the door the young woman had disappeared into earlier. Claire lifted her hand and rapped loudly enough for anyone inside to hear her. When no one responded, she tried the knob. To her surprise, it turned in her hand, and she pushed open the door. “Hello? Is anyone here?”

Even with light spilling in, the back of the shop was dim and shadowy, and it took Claire’s eyes a moment to adjust. Then she stepped inside and glanced around. The space was apparently used as a storage area and workroom. One side was equipped with a sink, microwave and an old refrigerator, and on the other side, shelves were crammed with cardboard boxes and packing materials.

And scattered across the surface of a worktable was a grotesque tableau of doll heads, torsos, and a pile of glass eyes.

The mangled dolls were creepy and unnerving in the gloomy light, and when the door closed behind Claire, she jumped in spite of herself.

The room was
cold.
Someone had turned down the thermostat, and at first the frigid temperature was a relief from the relentless heat outside. But as Claire lingered just inside the door, she had to rub her hands up and down her arms to ward off a chill.

Strings of crystal beads covered the entrance to the shop, and tinkled softly in the air that flowed from a nearby vent.

“I’m sorry to bother you,” Claire called as she moved nervously toward the beads. “I’ve been waiting outside for your shop to open. Your sign says ten. It’s after that now.”

No one was there. Whoever she’d spotted earlier must have stepped out and left the door unlocked. If the person came back, Claire could be in big trouble for trespassing. But now that she was finally inside, it would take more than the prospect of jail to deter her from searching for that doll.