Goodbye Dolly

sure beats standing in a parking lot all day wearing a uniform like you have to do.'

He takes a swig of the iced tea. 'Tough job you got. You'd think they could hire a kid to watch the lot for a few bucks instead of wasting taxpayers' money. You should be busting bad guys. Maybe someday I'll write something good about you. Let me get you one of my business cards. Here, hold this.'

He pops the last of the sandwich in to his mouth and hands over his empty can, then pulls his wallet from a back pocket and picks through it. He extracts a card.

'Here ya go. Whew, it's hot out.'

10

When attending a doll show, a repair artist must be prepared for any doll emergency. Aside from standard stringing tools such as elastic cording, rubber bands, and S hooks, it's a good idea to carry baby wipes for washing dirty faces and wig glue for fixing loose wigs. A great deal of patience is also an absolute require- ment, especially when several collectors are demanding your expertise at the same time.

– From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch

'Here comes a mailman,' Nina called from her table. 'I didn't know they delivered at doll shows.'

'Looking for the doll repairer, whatever that means. Someone over by the door said that's you?' the man said, stopping at Gretchen's table and holding a small package.

'The world is filled with weirdoes. No name, and they think I'm a magician.' He tipped his head back and looked down the length of his nose at Nina. 'And we aren't mailmen anymore, in case you haven't noticed. I'm a postal carrier ever since you women libbers changed everything.'

'I guess that's me,' Gretchen said, taking the package and looking at the address on the label. 'That's all it says.

'Doll repairer' and this address. Who sent it?' 'Fragile' had been stamped across the package in bold red lettering. The postal carrier shrugged. 'What you think I got? A crystal ball? I just deliver the stuff.'

He walked away.

'Friendly sort,' Nina muttered.

'Open it,' April said eagerly. 'I love presents.'

'Must be from Steve,' Nina surmised. 'A take-me-back gift.'

'Too big,' April observed.

'Steve would have addressed it directly to me,'

Gretchen said.

'Oh, right,' Nina agreed.

The smell of Chrome cologne distracted Gretchen from the package. She laid it on the floor next to a cardboard box that was quickly filling with damaged dolls in need of repair. She knew before she looked up that Matt would be standing in front of her.

Up close, the blue T-shirt had a darker blue and white dream catcher etched into it.

'I'm investigating an altercation,' he said. 'It appears that you are the cause of a major disturbance. I'll have to take you down to the station and drill you unmercifully.'

Nina sighed loudly from the next table. 'You're such a tease,' she called to him.

Matt's eyes riveted on Gretchen.

'Drill me instead,' April said. 'I give in easily.'

'Rake her over the coals,' Nina said. 'She is easy.'

Therapy must be helping. Gretchen had seen firsthand what the presence of a little doll could do to the muscular cop. He'd been reduced to a pale, sweating shell of the man who stood before her. But the large number of dolls surrounding him hadn't stopped him from walking directly down the aisle today.

'Ronny Beam's on a rampage, Nina,' said the new, improved Matt. 'He just lodged a formal complaint against you at the same time that he filed one against Gretchen's… um… friend, Steve.'

'A complaint for what?' Nina looked surprised.

'An alleged pepper spray attack yesterday. Unprovoked, according to Ronny.'

'Unprovoked!' Nina fairly shouted. 'That worm is spreading rumors about me, and he was leaning on my Impala. I'll have to have it washed to get the crud off.'

'Then you admit the charges.'

'I admit nothing. His word against mine.'

Matt flipped through a notepad. 'He went into Curves after the alleged incident, and he's listed thirty-nine witnesses who, he claims, saw the whole thing.'

'Oh,' Nina said, suddenly subdued. 'Are you going to arrest me?'

'I'd gladly haul you in if I was on duty today.' Matt closed the notepad. 'I covered for you with the responding officer, so you owe me. Now…' He turned to Gretchen. 'I did think about arresting Steve Kuchen. What do you have to say about that?'

Gretchen shrugged. Matt's idea certainly would buy her time. It was an intriguing solution, even if it was only in fun. 'Can I think about it for a while?'

Matt attempted a grin. 'Sure. In the meantime, I have to get out of here. The dolls are closing in. When I come back, I'll track down Ronny and escort him out before he gets himself hurt. Has anyone seen him?'

Nina shivered. 'He's around here someplace. He's like a boomerang, keeps coming back every time you try to throw him away.'

Milt Wood leaned his solid body against Gretchen's table. A high school wrestler, Gretchen guessed. And a middle school bully.

'I insist,' he insisted again, the gums above his teeth exposed from the stretch of his good-natured smile. Gretchen's eyes wandered to Nina and April's table in a hopeless appeal for interception, but both women were involved with potential clients. April paged through one of her value books, her reading glasses edging closer to the end of her nose. A Shirley Temple doll lay before her, and a woman and young girl waited patiently. Nina held Sophie while Nimrod entertained several dog-loving fans, including the two waiting for the appraisal. Gretchen sent a silent plea to her so-called psychic aunt. But Nina was apparently on break from mind reading, because she demonstrated Nimrod's hiding trick without even glancing at Gretchen.

A customer approached, and Milt hovered off to the side as Gretchen sold a Ginny doll.

'Mr. Wood,' she said, when the transaction was complete. 'I really-'

'Please, call me Milt.'

Gretchen forced a smile. 'Why would you want to buy a doll that you've never seen?'

'Fine. Fine. I'll take a look at it if that will make you happy, but from your description, I know it's exactly what I need to finish off my collection.'

'The Blunderboo isn't for sale,' Gretchen repeated, knowing that no collection is ever really finished off. Most likely, Milt Wood was an amateur collector trying to keep up with a group of experts, and his inexperience was showing.

'It doesn't belong to me. Until I speak with the owner, I can't offer it to you.'

'Price is no object. I'll pay whatever you ask.'

'But as I've explained, even if the owner is willing to sell the doll, it's a reproduction.'

'Yes, I heard you. Insignificant.' Milt Wood was an expressive talker, his hands keeping time to the beat of his persistence.

'The doll isn't for sale at the moment,' Gretchen said firmly. She regretted having mentioned the doll earlier to the collectors gathered at the Boston Kewpie Club table.

Who would have guessed that anyone would be interested in an imitation doll?

'Very well,' he said, no longer quite as jovial and friendly. His smile remained, but his eyes darkened. 'We'll discuss it again later.'

Before Gretchen could think of a response that would send Milt Wood away permanently, she heard sirens screaming outside the building. Instead of growing fainter, the sound grew louder.

Bonnie Albright ran by, her red wig more than a little askew. 'Ronny Beam's been murdered,' she