Then how did Julie know she should be afraid of Richard? How did she know about John Swilling’s collection?
Although Julie had been researching on her own. That’s why she had wanted to meet them at the banquet hall, to share information. What had kept her away? What did she know?
Gretchen heard footsteps coming back down the hall. She hastily put down the phone. Julie slung the tote over her shoulder, put the phone in her pocket, and headed for the stairs. “Let’s go visit a ghost,” she said. “I can’t resist.”
“I thought you were afraid to go up there.”
“I am, but curious as well. What if the spirit is Rachel’s? Wouldn’t that be something? To speak with her?”
“How do you know that Rachel is dead?”
“I looked it up. That’s part of what we need to talk about. But right now, let’s visit the upstairs.”
“I’ll wait here.”
Gretchen watched her make her way up the staircase. What was the woman up to? Was she going to steal something? She better not take the travel trunk. Instinct told Gretchen to be careful, that the woman knew more than she was letting on. Gretchen had to try to find out what she was hiding.
On the way upstairs, Gretchen walked quietly along the edge of the risers careful not to make any sound that would warn Julie of her approach. The woman might have wanted to find a way into the house to recover an object. But what?
Gretchen slid along the hall and peered into the storage room where she had left the trunk on top of a display case. It was still there. Julie hadn’t been after Flora’s little travel trunk.
What then? Was she helping Richard? But Julie seemed so sweet, always making sure the women got along, smoothing ruffled feathers.
She should get out of here. Why hadn’t she waited outside? But what good would that have done? Julie hadn’t called the police. They weren’t coming to rescue her.
Fear crept into Gretchen’s thoughts. Julie had wanted her inside the house. Why? Was Richard here? Julie had coaxed until Gretchen had fallen right in with her. She’d followed like a lamb to slaughter.
Ghost, she thought, why didn’t you warn me like you did when Jerome broke in? Where are you?
“Gretchen.” Julie stood in the doorway. “There you are. I’ve been looking for you.”
54
The proper tools and supplies are an important part of a doll restoration artist’s trade. You never know when and where they will come in handy, so my advice is to have equipment for simple repairs readily accessible. When traveling, a small kit or toolbox fits compactly in the trunk of a car. Portable repair items should include the basics: restringing elastic, a variety of hooks, cleaning products and cloths, needles, threads, glue, and cotton swabs. Most restoration artists find themselves adding other useful items to their traveling inventory as they expand their services.
– From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch
Julie’s eyes narrowed as she came into the room. Gretchen thought everything about the woman had become more sinister, darker and more suspicious, as if she could read Gretchen’s thoughts and found them unacceptable. But Gretchen had to play along for now. “I’m going back down to wait,” she said.
“There’s nothing to wait for, but you suspected that already. No one is coming to rescue you.”
“What do you mean?” Gretchen backed up, squeezing through the tightly stacked boxes, trying to put distance between them.
“Richard is going to kill you the same way he killed his mother.”
Richard was inside the museum! And Julie was helping him!
“Where is he?” Gretchen asked, straining to hear the sound of another set of footsteps.
“All the clues will point to him. I even have his pipe and tobacco.” Julie produced a small pouch from a pocket. Gretchen recognized it as the same kind that Mr. B. used. She’d watched him stoke his pipe, knew his preference. “That nice cherry aroma should cling in the air long enough. That’ll be the end of him.”
“Who are you?” Gretchen said. This wasn’t the same doll collector that she’d known through the club. This woman’s face was flushed with rage, almost unrecognizable as Julie’s.
“I went out of my way to set up that woman’s husband,” Julie continued. “That bumbling fool I hired stole his license and was supposed to drop it near the body. He botched the job, but there’s still hope.”
“And now you intend to kill me and blame Richard?”
Blame Richard. The elderly neighborhood women had talked about how they’d learned of Richard’s violent nature through stories told by Rachel. Isn’t that what they’d said? Had the sister been lying to everyone about her brother?
Several things clicked into place at once. What proof did Gretchen have that verified Rachel’s death? None at all. All it had taken to convince her of the woman’s demise was an obituary in the local paper.
Julie came closer, weaving through the storage boxes, carrying something that Gretchen hadn’t noticed at first, some kind of hammer with a sharp, pointed end. “You had no business coming into my home,” Julie said. “It belongs to me. You and your mother deserve whatever you get. You had your warning, just like that woman from California had hers.”
“The note on my windshield?”
“You still wouldn’t stop, even when you knew what would happen if you didn’t.”
“How could I know?” Humor her. Gretchen had to try to get through to the Julie she had known.
“The first time that woman visited the attorney, I knew that Rachel had to die. The California snoop wouldn’t go away, wouldn’t stop asking questions about my mother. I’d been toying with the idea of permanently assuming Julie’s identity. You can’t imagine how tiring it was to keep up two roles. It turned out to be easy to kill off Rachel as well as my past. Just like that…” She snapped her fingers. “Everything erased.”
Julie’s eyes looked wild, like those of a rabid predator. She was a large woman with a lot of bulk. If she struck Gretchen with the hammer, that would be the end for her. But Julie seemed content to tell her story. At least for a few minutes longer. “Allison wasn’t next in line to inherit the house, so she wasn’t a threat in that respect. But she was trying to get inside the house. For what? She must have suspected something. Then she started talking about Rachel, wanting to get a copy of the death certificate. She wouldn’t quit. When she wanted to see the graves, I offered to meet her in the old part of the cemetery and introduce her to the end of a family line.”
“You struck her with that?” Gretchen pointed at the hammer. Julie had such a tight grip on it, her knuckles were white.
“I didn’t want to dishonor my family’s resting place, but I had to act fast.”
“That’s why you tried to kill her at a different grave site? You didn’t want to desecrate their graves? She was crazier than Gretchen had first thought!
“The little fool crawled in spite of her injuries.”
Stay calm. Play for time. “Why did you write the words on the tombstone? Why Die, Dolly, Die?”
“My dear little relative had several phone conversations with the new me. We were very chummy. She told me that Dolly was her husband’s pet name for her. The police were so inept. It should have been their first indication that the husband was involved.”
“I had no idea what was going on.” If only the woman would stop staring at her with madness in her eyes. “I’m sorry we caused you so much anguish. Of course, we will return the house to you immediately.”
“Turn and face the wall,” Julie said. “It will be over quickly. You won’t feel a thing. One minute you’ll be alive, the next you’ll be gone, no conscious thought left. Won’t that be a relief, to be out of this cruel world forever, just like Mommy?”
Gretchen needed to find a weapon of her own. Her mother had left a few doll supplies on top of one of the boxes, but they weren’t a match for the heavy hammer.