Goodbye Dolly

the Dog'

didn't matter.

Her cell phone rang. The number on the caller ID was unfamiliar. She answered.

'I haven't been charged with anything,' Steve said.

'But your boyfriend is holding me on suspicion.'

'Can he do that?' Gretchen asked, ignoring the boyfriend reference.

'My fingerprints on the knife, and a public fight with Ronny right before he was killed aren't helping my case.'

'I'll find you an attorney.'

'Not yet.' Steve sounded stressed but cautiously restrained. 'I haven't told the police everything, if you catch my meaning.'

'You have to tell the truth, Steve. You're an attorney. You should know that.'

'I'm committed to you, and I won't put you in a bad spot.'

'You're the one who took the knife. You have to explain how it got in Ronny's back.'

'If I tell him that I gave it back to you, you'll be the one sitting in jail instead of me. Unless going out with the detective assigned to the case exempts you from the suspect list.'

Gretchen rubbed her weary eyes. 'What are you talking about? You took my knife.'

'I was sort of tinkering with it on your worktable and became distracted by our conversation, and later I found it in my pocket. But during the doll show I threw it down on your table. You know that.'

'I know nothing of the sort.' Gretchen thought about the clutter at the repair end of the table. Was he telling the truth?

'Don't worry, I'll protect you as long as I can.'

'I don't need protection. I didn't do anything wrong.'

'If you didn't kill Ronny, you better find out who did, because I know I didn't, and one of us is in serious trouble.'

'Tell the truth, Steve. That's all I can recommend right now.'

'Gotta go. Your boyfriend's back.' Steve disconnected without hearing Gretchen's next comment.

'He isn't my boyfriend,' she said into the dead phone.

14

Tulip Ray shades her eyes with the back of a tattooed hand.

'I don't usually, like, get involved. Nothing personal. I like to, y'know, like, mind my own business.'

'Just a few questions.'

'Maybe someone else can, like, answer them. I have to get to work.'

'It'll only take a minute.'

Tulip sighs heavily for the dramatic effect. All right, she hopes the sigh implies, but you're taking up my valuable time.

'What?' she asks, tapping a foot against a privacy wall. Hurry up, the foot implies. Make it quick. She watches a lizard slink up the wall and duck behind a withered vine.

'You were standing on the curb?'

'Yeah, that's right.'

'What did you see?'

'Not much. The deed was done when I looked out in the street.'

'The deed?'

'That's an expression. I didn't, like, see a thing.'

'How about the box? Did you see the box?'

'What kind of box?'

'Cardboard box.'

'Maybe.'

'What do you mean, maybe? Either you saw it or you didn't. Which is it?'

She narrows her eyes. 'Yah, I saw a box. That guy who got killed had a box when he ran up.'

'What happened to it?'

'You said this would only take a minute.'

'We can continue our conversation downtown.'

'Some other guy picked it up.'

'What did he look like?'

'Like he's been sleeping on park benches for about a hunnert years. He had a bunch of blue clothes on, y'know?

Smelled, too.'

'Ever see him before?'

'Do I look like someone who'd know a bum?' She kicks aimlessly at the curb, then looks down at her black toenails.

Man, how she hates cops.

15

Everyone at the doll show was talking about Ronny Beam's murder in the parking lot yesterday. The vendors spoke quietly among themselves so their customers wouldn't overhear. Nothing like murder to draw people together, Gretchen thought, observing a renewed camaraderie among the competitors. People lined up for admission, many of them arriving out of curiosity. Thrill seekers. Nina bought the Sunday newspaper, and they quickly scanned it together behind Gretchen's table. 'Murder Among Dolls.' Ronny, always in search of the story of a lifetime, had finally found it. Page one, front and center. Many of the customers wanted to know the sordid details, hoping to hear more at the doll show than they'd learned from the local news. Gretchen kept her ears tuned to the rumor mill, hoping to learn something that might exonerate Steve. If only he'd stayed in Boston.

At the first chance she had since arriving at her table, Gretchen keyed a number into her cell phone.

'Howie Howard, please,' Gretchen said.

'Speaking,' he said. 'Who is this?'

'Gretchen Birch, remember me?'

'Any relation to Caroline Birch?'

'She's my mother.' Gretchen thought again of the responsibility her mother had given her, and how she'd botched the task of acquiring the Ginnys.

'Wonderful woman.' Howie's voice was rich and deep, perfect for an auctioneer.

A customer picked up a Barbie doll, lifted its dress, and peeked under. What was the fascination with Barbie's bottom? Nearly every potential buyer had to see what she had on underneath.

'You were at the auction at Chiggy's,' he said. 'I saw your name on the registration list.'

'I'm sorry about Brett. I know how close you two were.'

'I don't know what I'll do without him.'

A customer approached with an armful of dolls, and Gretchen signaled Nina for help. Nina trotted over with Nimrod under her arm, and Gretchen turned away so she wouldn't be overheard.

'I wanted to confirm an address on the registration list,'

she said. 'I must have written it down wrong. Brett gave me the wrong box of dolls, and I'd like to return it.'

'You can give the box to me. I'll take care of it for you.'