Deb Baker - Ding Dong Dead

The stage became noticeably quiet as the cast members dropped lines and listened to them instead. “Did they find the skeleton’s skull?” Bonnie said. Standing next to the six-foot Barbie, she looked like a mustached dwarf.

“Not that I’ve heard,” Gretchen said. Bonnie would be on the phone at the first opportunity, pumping her son for information, which was perfectly fine with Gretchen. “If you hear anything, let us know.”

Bonnie wouldn’t ever keep good gossip to herself. “I will,” she said.

“We have the metal doll head at home,” Gretchen said, going on to relate the events that led up to finding the head inside Caroline’s shopping bag.

“Caroline had it all this time and didn’t realize it?” Julie said.

“She’s been preoccupied with her work and the accident,” April said. “Can we see it?”

“I should turn it over to the police,” Gretchen said. “In case it’s important.”

“It’s time,” April called, putting down thread and needle and swinging her feet off the desk. “Let’s try it from the top with all the bells and whistles.”

Jerome walked past and acknowledged Gretchen with a stiff nod. He adjusted a light along the stage, realigning its angle. Then he flipped off the overhead lights from a switch by the entrance, casting the room into total blackness.

“Lights, camera, action,” April called. The stage lights popped on, and the mystery play began with the ringing of a doorbell.

For almost an hour, Gretchen sat transfixed, laughing at the antics of the characters. Her mother should write more plays. This one was going to be a hit. Caroline’s script was perfect for the luncheon-a campy, funny mystery with a surprise twist at the end.

When the women on stage got to the part where they were considering what to do with philandering Craig’s body, she saw a stab of light, and Mr. B., the owner of the building, took a seat behind them. Again, she thought of his generosity. They should do something special for him.

When the rehearsal was over, Gretchen noticed that she’d missed several calls on her cell phone, all from her mother. She hadn’t heard the rings over the sounds coming from the stage. So many calls from the same person suggested urgency. She promptly called back.

“I’m at This Great Coffee Place,” Caroline said. “You need to hurry over here. Don’t bring anyone with you.”

“Are you all right?”

“Just come. Now.”

The coffee shop was crowded with after-lunch coffee drinkers getting their last shot of afternoon caffeine. Caroline sat at a table near the door next to a man wearing dark sunglasses and an Arizona Cardinals ball cap pulled low over his forehead.

“Get a coffee,” Caroline said. “Then join us.”

While Gretchen waited in line, greeting some of the regulars, she kept glancing at the guy sitting at the table. He had both hands cupped around his coffee as though he was cold and was trying to keep warm. He glanced nervously toward the door every few seconds. Caroline kept up a steady stream of conversation while he listened. Several times, Caroline rubbed her neck, an indication that it still bothered her. Gretchen wondered if she’d made a doctor’s appointment.

Gretchen’s turn came. She ordered a latte. Coffee in hand, she went to the table and sat down.

“I’d like to introduce you,” her mother said in a hushed tone, “to Andy Thomasia.”

The man watched her face carefully as though he expected a negative reaction from her. Gretchen masked her surprise at meeting the dead woman’s husband. “Hi,” was all she could manage.

“Relax, Andy.” Caroline covered his cupped hands with her own. “She’s not going to do anything to hurt you. You can trust her.” Then to Gretchen she said, “Right before my car accident I was rushing home to meet a very demanding customer who refused to wait his turn to see me. I found out a little while ago who that customer really was.”

“I couldn’t give my real name,” he said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t see me.”

“Never, Andy.”

“When you didn’t show up, I thought you had blown me off.”

Gretchen noticed that her mother hadn’t removed her hands. They still cupped his. He hadn’t moved either.

“Where’s Nina?” Gretchen hadn’t seen her aunt’s car outside. “Weren’t you with her?”

“Andy followed us to the caterer’s and approached me before we went inside. Nina offered to handle the menu selections to give us time to catch up.”

“I’m in serious trouble,” he said. “And I’m asking your mother for help. No, I’m begging for help.”

Caroline removed her hands from his. “Tell Gretchen what you told me.”

“Allison and I were separated, but we were talking about getting back together,” he said. “She wanted to come to Phoenix and asked me if I wanted to join her. Of course I did! I was madly in love with her. I’d jump at any opportunity to spend time with her. That’s all I wanted, to be with her.” His voice broke and he paused to collect himself.

Gretchen looked away, feeling some of his pain. She’d lost her father, had almost lost her mother, and that had hurt immensely. But to lose a loved one to a senseless act of violence was unimaginable.

“When she didn’t come back to the hotel,” he continued, “I thought that she might have changed her mind, flown back to LA without telling me. That wasn’t her style, but still, I thought that’s what happened. The next morning while I was packing, I saw the news. A dead woman in a cemetery. No name. What if that woman was Allison?”

“That’s when Andy went to the police,” Caroline said.

“They treated me like their prime suspect after I identified her body. God, I can’t go through this again.” He hung his head.

“Let me explain the rest,” Caroline said, taking up his story. “The police told him about the words on the gravestone and about the fantasy doll. Andy, of course, recognized her doll and also felt that it was further evidence that the authorities would use against him. He had remained in his room the night she disappeared, so he didn’t have anyone to vouch for his whereabouts.”

Convenient, Gretchen thought.

“Allison was studying her family history,” Caroline continued. “It sounds to me, from what Andy shared, that she had become obsessed with tracing her family tree as far back as she could. She had located relatives across the country, shared her findings with other family members who were as interested as she was, and visited genealogy databases online.”

“Last year she flew to New York specifically to visit Ellis Island,” Andy said. “Through all this research she discovered that she had relatives who’d lived in Phoenix, so she decided to come here and learn what she could.”

“Which is why she was in the cemetery,” Gretchen said. “How did she get there? Do you know?”

“The police said that a cab driver let her out at the cemetery entrance with the understanding that he would return in an hour. He came back and waited fifteen minutes for her to show. When she didn’t, he drove off.”

“Was she meeting someone?” Gretchen asked.

“If she was, she didn’t tell me,” he said. “I wish I’d paid more attention to what she was doing, but I wasn’t very interested in family trees. I could have cared less that she was researching second or third cousins.”

Gretchen looked at her mother. “Flora Swilling,” she said.

“Yes!” Andy said. “That’s one of the names she mentioned. How did you know?”

“It’s complicated,” Caroline said.

“Oh God, I can’t believe she’s gone.”

Andy’s sunglasses were hiding more than his identity. He seemed distraught over Allison’s murder to the point of near collapse. Or else he was a very good actor. Gretchen saw a tear slide down the side of his face.