ALL ABOUT ANNE

Anne-Tiques was owned and run by a sweet, elderly woman named Anne Fitzgerald. She'd always loved porcelain dolls so her shop was like a dream come true. When she realized that the doll market wasn't all that high in Vegas, she branched out to other antique collectables.

Phoebe entered the store and was overcome by a musty, mothball smell. Apparently dusting wasn't something Anne took as much liberty in as her stock. Phoebe had arrived at the store alone, without a police escort, as she was armed with a warrant to access financial records to see who'd bought the doll Sara found at the park.

The bell above the door let out a jingle as Phoebe walked over the threshold. Moments later, a woman, who looked exactly how Phoebe had pictured Anne, walked through a curtain behind the register.

"Hello dear." She said in a warm tone.

"Hi." Pheobe replied, walking over to the front desk. She took out her badge. "My name is Phoebe Parker; I work with the Crime Lab. I was wondering if you could answer a few questions about this doll." Phoebe took out the photo of the re-made doll she'd been working on in the lab as well as a close up photo of the serial number on the back of its neck.

"Oh, Henrietta." The woman said with recognition in her voice as she took the photo.

Phoebe raised her eyebrows. "Pardon me?"

"Henrietta." The woman repeated. "All the dolls I sell are from the Grace Morrissey collection. She makes fifty of every doll, names them, and sends one to various stores around the country." Anne looked at the photo again. "This was Henrietta. A particularly fine doll we got in about five months ago. Sold her six weeks later."

"How much do these dolls sell for?" Phoebe asked.

"Well, Grace Morrissey dolls are in high demand so when we get a new one in, they sell quickly." Anne told her. "The prices range from around three hundred dollars to over two thousand. It depends on the size of the doll, the intricacy of the work, things like that." She paused a moment and looked more closely at the photo. "She was broken?"

"Yes." Phoebe told her.

"Shame." Anne shook her head lightly. "The value decreases by half as soon as there's even the slightest crack in the porcelain." Her brow suddenly furrowed. "Was this the dress you found her in?"

"Ah, yeah." Phoebe asked, confused. "Why?"

"It's not what I sold her in. A Morrissey doll's dress is always hand-made from silk and lace; that's part of why they're so expensive." Anne told Phoebe.

"That dress was definitely not silk." Phoebe understood. "Can I see the record of who bought the doll?"

After showing Anne the warrant and waiting for her to read it over, Phoebe was handed a large binder of receipts in remarkably precise order. "Wow, you are organized."

"It pays for times like this, my dear." She said with a light chuckle. "May I offer you some tea?"

Phoebe gladly accepted the offer and set about looking for the serial number in the folder. As Anne came back in with tea, Phoebe asked. "Y'know, if you had a computer, all of this paperwork would be easier."

"Ms. Parker, I'm seventy-three. It would take me five years to learn how to use a computer. And then there are all those programs and the internet...its just too much work." Anne smiled at Phoebe. "And why bother when this system works for me?"

Phoebe nodded. "Fair enough." Anne left her alone to continue looking through the folder. Twenty minutes later, she had what she was looking for. "I'll be damned." She said out loud.

Anne came back into the room. "Did you say something, dear?"

"Ah, sorry." Phoebe got to her feet and took the folder over to Anne. "This is the credit card receipt for the Henrietta doll. Do you remember this woman?"

Anne looked at the folder. "Oh yes, yes. It was for her daughter. She was so excited. We had three Morrissey dolls in stock and she didn't know which one she wanted to pick." Anne laughed at the memory. "I don't remember her mother's name…"

Phoebe saw it in the file. "Mindy Donahue."

Phoebe thanked Anne and left the store. As she headed for her car, she took out her cell phone and dialed Sara's number.

"Yeah?" was Sara's reply.

"Hey, what did Mindy have to say?" Phoebe asked.

"I'm on my way there now." Sara told her. "Just got the coroners report. The doll is definitely what killed Frank. David found porcelain in the wound and I matched it to the doll. How'd you go at the store?"

"Oh, you're gonna love me." Phoebe told her. "I'll meet you at Mindy's."

Phoebe reached Mindy Donahue's residence before Sara. When she arrived with a police officer in tow, she told her everything she'd learned from Anne-Tiques. Ms Donahue let them in when they told her of her ex-husbands demise, of which she claimed she knew nothing of. They sat together at her kitchen table.

"Frank and I haven't had a lot of contact in the past few years." Mindy told them. "Only when he sees the kids."

"Ms. Donahue, how old are your children?" Sara asked.

"Freddie is five and Lacey is eight." Mindy told them. "Oh God, when they wake up, I have to tell them their father is dead." She realized, covering her mouth in shock.

Phoebe pressed on. "Ms. Donahue, your ex-husband was murdered with this doll." She showed Mindy the photograph of Henrietta. "And we have records that show you bought this for your daughter about four months ago." She showed Mindy the credit card receipt.

Mindy nodded. "Yes, I bought this for Lacey. She loves these dolls." She looked up at Sara and Pheobe. "You don't think that I did this, do you?"

"We're just exploring all of our options right now." Sara told her.

"I haven't seen Frank in three months." Mindy told them. "He's missed all his visits with the kids accept for yesterday. Freddie's had the flu so he picked Lacey up from her friend's house."

"He tell you why he's been missing his visits?" Phoebe asked.

"No." Mindy said. "I could never get a hold of him. He lived in the damn drug-ridden hell hole. If the visits weren't supervised, I'd never let the kids go there."

"Was he involved in drugs?" Sara asked.

"He used to drink; that's the reason we broke up. I told him if he didn't clean up his act, he'd never see the kids. He's been sober, as far as I know. I don't follow his progress." Mindy said. "He's my children's father; that's all he is to me."

"Mummy!" a children's voice rang from upstairs.

"That's my son." Mindy said getting to her feet. "He has nightmares when he's sick. Are we done here?"

"Yeah, yeah." Phoebe told her as she hurried out of the room.

"She admits to buying the doll, answered all our questions...we got nothing to get a warrant for this place." Sara told Phoebe.

Phoebe sighed. "I believe they call that a dead end."