Gretchen opened Nimrod's white poodle purse. His tiny tail beat madly in anticipation of a ride.
The tail thing.
If the dog isn't smart, the tail wags the dog. Gretchen and Nimrod strolled through the hall, taking the show in for the first time. Yesterday's lunch break and a visit to the Boston Club's table had both followed the shortest, quickest routes.
Doll dealers nodded and greeted her, although most didn't know her well. Two months wasn't much time to establish contacts with the entire doll community. They accepted her because of her mother. Caroline was the center of everything related to dolls in Phoenix. She was an active member of the Dollers Club, a dealer in quality dolls, a successful author with the publication of World of Dolls, and she had a reputation as a gifted restoration artist.
"Where's your mother?"
"When's she coming back?"
"What about Ronny Beam? Wasn't that awful?"
"Come check out my Betty Ann dolls."
"Cute dog."
Gretchen made her way down each aisle, stopping to talk, offering up a willing Nimrod for infinite head pats. Finally she skirted the line of people coming into the hall and burst through a rear door used by the exhibitors, welcoming the late-morning sun reaching out to her. She closed her eyes and turned her face upward, enjoying the warmth permeating her skin after the chill of the air-conditioned hall.
Fresh air. She took it into her lungs and felt slightly better.
She found a few clumps of pampas grass at the back of the parking lot and released Nimrod for a short romp. He did the two-yard dash back and forth in front of her, ears flapping comically. Then he lay on his back waiting for a belly rub.
Gretchen shaded her eyes, crouched down to oblige him, and tried not to look toward the area where Ronny's body had been found. She didn't envy Matt. The list of suspects would be longer than the lines that kept forming to enter the doll show. She hoped he wouldn't overfocus on Steve and thereby stall the investigation.
In the distance, she spotted two forms moving toward the parking lot. The one wearing purple clothes and a red hat was pushing a shopping cart.
Gretchen grinned as she rose. She hoped Daisy's companion was the missing Nacho, and after another minute, she knew for sure.
Nimrod sat up on alert as they drew closer.
Daisy scooped him up, while Gretchen hugged Nacho.
"Welcome back," she said, ignoring the ripe odor of stale alcohol and unwashed body.
"Quite a vacation I took," he said. "Ended up in Nogales."
"Trying to cross the border into Mexico?"
"I always liked foreign cultures."
Gretchen studied Daisy's friend. Scruffy beard, hair popping out in unlikely places on his cheeks, a strange growth on the side of his head that Nacho insisted was benign.
Gretchen should try to convince him to have it removed. There you go again. Trying to change others to suit yourself. Worrying about your own comfort level, instead of accepting him for what he is.
"How's the little doggie?" Daisy had a special way with animals. Nimrod would have gladly abandoned Gretchen and followed Daisy's shopping cart forever.
"What brings you two to the doll show?" Gretchen asked.
"Looking for you," Daisy said. "I knew you'd be here. We have news you might be interested in."
"Street talk?"
Daisy nodded somberly.
The network among the homeless was a far-reaching cache of information. The latest Internet technology had nothing on the street people's information highway. Gretchen could only marvel at it.
"Tell me," she said.
"Word on the street is that Brett Wesley was murdered."
"Brett accidentally walked in front of a car," Gretchen said. "I was there."
Nacho shook his head. "He was pushed."
Pushed! The word from the napkin found in her purse at Garcia's.
"It was you," she said. "You put the napkin in my purse."
Nacho looked at her like she was crazy. "Didn't you hear what I said? He was pushed."
Gretchen blinked and shook her head hard. "I don't think so."
Daisy shrugged as if it didn't matter to her one way or another whether Gretchen believed them.
"Someone saw it happen," Nacho said. "We have a witness."
"Who?"
"I can't tell you that," he said. "You'll have to take my word for it and work with what I'm offering."
Nacho's word carried weight with Gretchen. He'd been right in the past. She trusted him. "Tell me more."
Nacho leaned against the shopping cart. "Brett Wesley was agitated, pacing, behind the truck. All of a sudden, he walks to the curb and looks down the street. Another guy, who's sitting in a parked truck, gets out and walks up behind him. They argue. Then the other guy practically picks Brett up and throws him into the moving traffic."
"Why didn't anyone else see this happen?" Gretchen pictured the scene, and the large crowd. A thin line of perspiration inched down the side of her face and she wiped it away. Heat? Or fear?
"Maybe the truck blocked the view," Nacho said. "Who knows?"
"What did the guy who pushed him look like?" Gretchen asked.
Daisy cooed to Nimrod, paying little attention to the conversation going on.
"Don't know. The person who saw it happen was sitting on the curb and couldn't see behind Brett. Also, he was a little… uh… incapacitated."
Great. Gretchen's "reliable" source of information was a lush.
"That doesn't help much," she said. "Could your witness remember anything significant?"
"The guy who pushed him got out of a blue truck. That's all we have."
Gretchen looked up, thinking.
"Why are you telling me all this?" she said.
"You were at the auction."
"Along with a lot of other people. Shouldn't you go to the police?"
"Yeah right." Nacho snorted. "Very funny. I'm telling you as a friend. If you bring cops around, we'll deny it. And you'll lose my trust."
Gretchen's eyes narrowed. "Wait a minute. How do you know I was even there?"
A slight grin flickered across his face. "Talk on the street."
"Good to know I'm thought of among your friends. But…" She hesitated and looked at Nacho. "Something you said."
"I said talk on the street."
"No, not that. What color did you say the truck was?"
Gretchen had watched Howie Howard get into a truck after the accident.
"Blue," Nacho said. "The truck was blue."
"Yes," Gretchen said, feeling feverish. "It was, wasn't it?"
16
The Kewpie characters have delightful personalities, and all of them play an important part in their make-believe community. The cook, the carpenter, and the intellectual Kewpie make living in Kewpieville a wonderful experience, while the soldier with his rifle protects them from fears and tears. Other adorable collectibles include Always Wears Overshoes, Kuddle Kewpie, Blunderboo, a Kewpie dog, and Chief Wag, their fearless leader.
– From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch
"You can't be taking this seriously," Nina exclaimed from the next table. "They're homeless for a reason, Gretchen."
She tapped a ringed hand against the side of her head.
"I thought you were working on compassion," Gretchen said. "And on accepting those who are different from you."
"Compassion I can do, not gullibility."
"I believe him." Gretchen scooped a doll from her to-do pile and began to restring it.
"You think Brett was pushed in front of a car and that Howie had something to do with it?"
Susie Hocker turned her head and stared at Nina from her Madame Alexander table across the aisle.
"Shhh," Gretchen said. "Keep your voice down. I don't know about Howie. He and Brett go way back. And what about the napkin? Someone had to have slipped it into my purse."