Deb Baker - Goodbye Dolly

That was an understatement.

Nina still had the repair hook in her hand and had begun to pick at the packaging tape with it. She worked her way through and pried open the small box. "This one is packed in newspaper," she said, removing a wad.

Some of the paper floated to the floor.

Gretchen, in spite of herself, leaned forward to peer into the box.

Nina removed an object wrapped in a brown paper bag and carefully opened it. "The bag's from Bert's Liquor again," she said, exposing the newest arrival, a chubby, smiling, four-inch Kewpie with a flag in his topknot standing on a small wooden platform.

"Chief Wag," Nina said, holding him up.

"Aw…" April said. "Isn't it cute? Butt naked except for the teeny red shoes."

"He doesn't have any markings," Gretchen said.

"Not all of the originals do. The platform is so he can stand up." April demonstrated by standing the Kewpie on the table.

"Well?" Nina picked up Sophie. "What's the verdict?

Does it have a message inside?"

"Like Message in a Bottle ," April said. "I loved that movie."

Gretchen reached out and ran her fingers over Chief Wag. She turned him over and searched every inch of his body.

"No breaks," she said, surprised. "It's in perfect condition."

April noticed someone waiting at her table for an appraisal. "See you later. Let me know what happens." She lumbered away. Nimrod, napping in his poodle purse, woke when April brushed past, and he poked his head out. Nina followed April to her table with both dogs, sliding a final glance at the Kewpie doll.

Gretchen stuffed the Kewpie back in its box, put it under the table, and turned to two new customers browsing her table. But part of her mind couldn't stop thinking about the newest arrival. Why was the package left at the Boston Kewpie Club table? Was Eric the anonymous sender?

She'd have to learn more about Eric Huntington and the Boston Kewpie Club.

Gretchen's eyes traveled to the box. The first delivery, the Blunderboo, had a message inside: "Wag, the Dog."

Maybe it was preparing her for this doll's arrival. And the note on the napkin. Was it from the same person who sent the packages? It wasn't clear whether it was the same handwriting.

Why go to all this trouble?

Gretchen could think of three possibilities:

One, the person who sent the dolls was playing some kind of strange joke on her. Considering the timing and the multiple deaths, Gretchen didn't appreciate the sender's warped sense of humor. She wasn't in the mood for a clever little scavenger hunt.

Two, both packages were sent by someone who wanted to share a secret but didn't want to reveal his or her identity. Three, someone was trying to scare her. Her knife was found in Ronny's back; now she was receiving packages from an anonymous source.

None of these possibilities made Gretchen feel any better.

Gretchen glanced down the aisle. She felt exposed. And watched.

A few doll dealers caught her staring at them and waved. She quickly looked away.

Should she turn the dolls over to Matt? Let him figure it out?

That seemed like the most reasonable thing to do. She should also tell him about Nacho's visit and the napkin she found in her purse.

"I'm back," April announced behind her. Gretchen turned to see April's arms filled with wrapped hot dogs, a smudge of mustard on the corner of her mouth. She handed one to Nina, and Gretchen watched her unwrap it and take an enormous, appreciative bite.

"Don't say a word, Gretchen," Nina warned, one cheek bulging like a chipmunk's loaded with nuts. "I can't stand one more minute without meat. I'm done eating grass."

"Thanks for treating," April said to Nina. "Isn't it good?"

"Better than lobster," Nina agreed.

April handed her two more hot dogs. Nina broke off pieces and fed some to the dogs. "Gretchen thinks someone's after her," she said, "because she found a napkin in her purse."

"I think someone's sending me messages, or warnings."

"Nina told me about your conversation with Nacho,"

April said. "Do you believe him?"

Gretchen nodded. "It substantiates the napkin. 'Pushed'

didn't mean anything to me until today."

"Maybe Nacho put the napkin in your purse," April suggested.

"I don't think so," Gretchen said. "The bar area was crowded, but one of us would have seen him."

"That's true," Nina agreed.

April bent down and came up with the Kewpie. "These aren't the original shoes," she said.

"Really?" Gretchen said, taking the doll from April and examining the shoes. "You're right."

April pointed at Chief Wag's legs. "The shoes and the platform have been added."

"I wonder why? You're the doll appraiser. Why would someone change it?"

"No particular reason," April said. "People do weird things to their dolls all the time, and then wonder why their collections aren't worth anything."

Gretchen finished her hot dog and wiped her hands on a napkin. "Nina, you had coffee with Eric Huntington. Tell me about him."

"Eric doesn't know much about the doll business," Nina said. "He's here mainly to watch after his mother."

"Eric said he knew my mother," Gretchen said. "Did she ever mention him?"

Nina shrugged. "Caroline knows everyone."

Gretchen picked up Chief Wag. Not a chip or crack anywhere on his body. So why send him addressed to the doll repairer? She rummaged through her toolbox and picked out a solvent. She sprayed a tiny amount on the platform around the Kewpie's feet. Then she sprayed some along the top of his shoes.

"What are you doing?" April asked.

"An experiment."

"He asked me out," Nina said.

Gretchen glanced up quickly and saw Nina blush. She couldn't believe it. She'd never in her life seen Nina blush.

"Eric did? He asked you out?"

Nina nodded. "Monday. I'm showing him around town."

"You go, girl," April said.

Gretchen worked more solvent into the glue and felt it soften slightly.

"What's that man over there doing?" Nina said.

Gretchen looked up and saw the photographer from the auction approaching her table. The Leica camera hung from his neck, and he looked paler and shabbier than last time she'd seen him, if that was even possible. Recalling his name, she greeted him. "Peter Finch."

"I remember you, too," Finch said, removing the lens cap from the camera. "You were at the auction. Mind if I take a few pictures?" He waved a hand at her dolls.

"You can't let him take pictures," April said, loud enough for him to hear. "I know this guy. He sells pictures of dolls on the Internet." She turned to the photographer.

"Get your own dolls."

"Okay, okay. I don't want to make trouble." He looked over at Susie Hocker's Madame Alexanders.

"Don't think of going there either," April said. Peter Finch slunk away.

"A few pictures wouldn't have hurt," Gretchen said, astonished at April's verbal attack on the photographer.

"He shouldn't be making his living from other people's dolls without offering them a percentage of the profits. There should be a law against what he does." April muttered under her breath to herself, but Gretchen caught the words, "Bottom feeder."

The platform holding the Kewpie in place came loose, and Gretchen eased it away from the doll. She tipped Chief Wag over. The bottoms of the red shoes were perfectly normal except for a little residual glue. She wiggled the Kewpie's bare legs and sprayed more glue around the shoe tops.

"What are you doing?" Nina said.

"Since the shoes and platform are modifications, I thought I'd see how they were applied."

"With glue," Nina said, exasperated. "Even I can tell that, and I don't know anything about doll repairing."

"I guess the real question is why someone changed the doll's appearance."