By Deb Baker
For Gretchen Birch, her mom Caroline, and her aunt Nina, doll accumulating is a kin affair. they might disagree on different issues, but if it involves dolls, they proportion a keenness for the main beautiful (and dear) creations in historical past. yet they've got by no means imagined that doll gathering may perhaps motivate foul play.
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Additional resources for Dolled Up For Murder (A Dolls to Die For Mystery)
Gretchen. M. your time. You have four hours. ” “But, but…” Gretchen searched her repertoire of excuses for the perfect response, but Nina had disconnected. “I have to look for a new job,” Gretchen said aloud to no one in particular. What day of the week was it, anyway? Friday. With luck, she’d be back in Boston by Monday, following more weak leads to full-time employment. Gretchen flung aside the covers and began throwing cosmetics into her travel case. Three fifteen in the morning. What was she thinking?
Gretchen gestured down the sidewalk. “He told me to get out while I still can. ” Nina asked. ” Gretchen shook her head. “He was unkempt, dirty, a street person, I think. Shabby clothes. Hairy cheeks. ” She cupped her hand over her ear to show Nina what she meant. ” She didn’t say that he looked like he had lost himself inside his head, that he had the tormented eyes of the mentally ill. The homeless. The renegades of society, unequipped for the demands of everyday life. She would never understand their choices to live without the steady assurance of food, water, and a safe place to sleep.
According to her mother, who was a well-respected doll expert and published author, doll heads were much easier to replicate than period clothing. The shawl couldn’t be mistaken for anything other than an intricate, antique doll accessory. It was the picture of the doll that interested Gretchen the most. April lumbered into the workshop wearing a muumuu the size of a Volkswagen Beetle. White crew socks and beige sandals completed her ensemble. “Hey, Gretchen,” she called and heaved herself onto a stool.