"… a friend," she said. "It's not nearly as nice as this one."
That was the understatement of the year.
As she finished speaking, she spotted a man moving through the packed hall ahead of her. Something about his stride and his white hair seemed familiar. Could it be Duanne Wilson?
"Excuse me," Gretchen said to the group of collectors.
"I need to get back to my table."
Still carrying Nimrod, she turned and followed, weaving through the crowd as fast as she possibly could.
The man ahead of her must have been moving almost as fast, because she wasn't gaining quickly enough. She walked faster, clutching Nimrod to her chest, his tiny ears flapping wildly.
Determined to catch up with the man, she jostled her way down the aisle. She called his name, but he didn't turn around or give any sign that he'd heard.
That has to be him. I'll get my Ginnys back yet. He stopped at a table, his back still to her. Gretchen came up behind him and grabbed his sleeve, cradling Nimrod in her other arm.
The man turned, and Gretchen stared into his eyes. She'd never seen him before.
9
"Man, those doll collectors in there are a bunch of kooks,"
Ronny Beam says. He leans against the side of his car, eating a salami sandwich he pulled from a cooler in the trunk. Sandwich in one hand, can of iced tea in the other. What he really wants is a sip of whiskey from the coffee mug in the front seat, but that will have to wait, considering present company.
" 'Sweet cheeks,' I say to them, 'upchuck some juicy gossip for my paper,' but they're a tight-mouthed bunch. Tight something else, too, if you ask me." He waves the can in his hand. "Look at you, stuck out in this parking lot all day with the sun hotter than a cattle brander. What a job you got, huh?"
Ronny grins and takes another bite. Chews.
"I have it on them, though. Something bigger than anything I got so far. Somebody made a lot of money in the black market during Double-U Double-U Two. The big one. I happen to know there's a treasure hidden away. And guess where?" He nods knowingly and pops the last of the sandwich into his mouth. "Inside dolls, that's where. All's I need is a little more background, and it goes to press," he says through packed cheeks.
Ronny realizes he has raised his voice. He looks all around, hoping no one has overheard.
"That's all the preview I can give you for now. Better subscribe to Phoenix Exposed if you want to read a Pulitzer Prize-winning story."
He pushs away from the car. "One thing I know. Hanging around inside doll shows with a bunch of doll nuts 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.