Deb Baker - Goodbye Dolly

"Did you tell the police that?"

"Oh, yes, an officer came by after the accident, and I told him just what I told you."

The photographer clicked on an icon, and one of Chiggy's dolls appeared on the screen. Gretchen wasn't past the wincing stage every time she saw one of Chiggy's poorly made copies.

"See all the stuff in the background," Peter said. "I haven't had time to play with the photographs, fading out all that extra stuff. These aren't scheduled to hit the Internet for a few more weeks. I like to play with light and color for a while first."

Gretchen studied the photographs as Peter scrolled through them. Not the best quality, she thought. And he hadn't been careful with his backdrops. Gretchen could see other dolls from the flatbed behind the posed doll. He continued clicking until pictures of the crowd appeared.

"I thought you said you didn't take pictures of the accident," Gretchen said, recognizing other bidders from that day's auction.

"I didn't."

"What are these then?" Gretchen pointed at the screen.

"You asked if I took pictures of the accident. I didn't. These are from afterward. See that one? That's the back of the ambulance as it drove off. Finally got my wits about me by then and started shooting."

"Could I have copies of these?" Gretchen asked, keeping any sign of eagerness out of her voice.

"I shoot quick and often. There must be a couple hundred shots. Do you want to go through them first?"

"No, I'd like to buy them all."

Peter looked surprised. "Tell you what, you have a computer at home, right?"

Gretchen nodded.

"I'll download all the pictures, and you can look at them on your own computer. I won't charge you much."

Gretchen nodded. "Great."

Peter efficiently zipped through the files.

"When did Chiggy tell you to stay out of the boxes in her room?" Gretchen asked while she watched him work.

"Wednesday night. She was bossing the mover around, and she gave everyone strict orders to stay out of her bedroom, because the only things in there were her personal belongings."

"Who else did she tell this to?"

"Howie was at the house, but he spent most of the time out by the truck getting organized. But I thought Brett heard her for sure. That's why I can't understand how he could have mixed up her personal boxes like that. He must have picked that box up before the mover got to it, and hauled it out to the truck. Like I said, he must not have listened. And me, I was there, of course. I called Chiggy up as soon as I saw the ad in the paper and asked permission to take pictures of the dolls."

"Anyone else?"

"That newspaper reporter, Ronny Beam, who wanted to write a story about the dolls." Peter tapped more keys, and the screen went blank. "Oh, yes, and that guy from Boston."

Gretchen, rising from a seat next to the computer, froze.

"What guy from Boston?" she managed to ask.

"Tall, blond, about your age, maybe a little older. Can't remember his name." Peter rubbed his rough face. "Steve something, I think it was."

It took Gretchen three tries before she punched Nina's phone number in correctly, only to learn that Nina had turned off her cell. Where could she be? Gretchen checked her watch. Six o'clock. Ah, yes, the big date with Eric Huntington at one of the Phoenician's exclusive restaurants. Cocktails beforehand in his suite. No wonder she found herself connected directly to Nina's voice mail. She walked down Southern Avenue so Nimrod could sniff and go about his business. She tried to organize the events of the last six days, starting with Wednesday, the day before the doll auction and Brett's death, and the subsequent chain of unexplained occurrences. The news that Steve had been in Phoenix a day earlier than she thought, and that he had been at Chiggy's house, disturbed her greatly. Her confidence in his innocence dissipated like the daylight now leaving the city. What had he been doing there?

Now that Gretchen had discovered that Steve had been at Chiggy's home along with Brett, it seemed that Steve had possible connections to all of the murdered men, even Percy O'Connor, since both of them lived in Boston. As for Steve's connection to Ronny Beam… well, he had shoved the reporter around in front of a hall full of shoppers. Maybe the police had arrested the right man. She shuddered at the thought. How little we know the people closest to us.

Nimrod spotted a woman ahead of them walking a great dane. The mighty hunter wagged his tail and gave two sharp yips. Gretchen quickly turned around and headed toward the car to avoid the enormous dog and its owner. Who else could it have been? Howie Howard, by his own admission, had a dispute with Ronny over Chiggy's personal belongings and had thrown him out. He also was present when Brett died. And Albert, the homeless eyewitness, saw the killer get out of a blue truck, and later Gretchen observed Howie getting into a blue truck and driving away after the ambulance left. As far as murdering Ronny, Howie easily could have waited for him in the parking lot. But so far, he, like Steve, had no real connection to Percy that she knew of. Yet. Gretchen loaded Nimrod into the Echo and pulled away from Peter Finch's home.

Of the small group who had assembled at Chiggy Kent's house to prepare for the auction, two were dead and two were at the head of her suspect list. Only the photographer and Chiggy, aka Florence, remained beyond scrutiny-for the time being.

But what about the incriminating note that Gretchen found in Ronny's file? It was addressed to Chiggy from a family member eager for what he saw as his inheritance. Despite its implication that Chiggy was involved in a fraudulent scheme, the old woman suffered too many debilitating medical problems to kill two strong men like Brett and Ronny. From what other members of the Phoenix Dollers said, Chiggy and her oxygen tank could hardly make it across the room.

Tomorrow Gretchen would visit the woman at the nursing home. Who else should be on her list of suspects?

What about the members of the Boston Kewpie Doll Club?

Eric Huntington had delivered the second package to her. He'd known Percy and was also a lifelong Bostonian, like Steve. For Nina's sake, Gretchen hoped Eric wasn't involved. Then there was Milt Wood. Something about him gave Gretchen the creeps.

She shook her head, chiding herself, as she drove in circles trying to find her way to Camelback Road. She couldn't add Milt Wood to the suspect list just because of a feeling. That was too Nina-like. She'd leave auras and energy fields to her aunt and proceed with hard facts.

Fact one, regarding Milt Wood. He tried to buy two Kewpie dolls from her, becoming increasingly offensive and pushy when he didn't get his way. He remained persistent even when told that one of the dolls had been extensively repaired and wasn't worth purchasing. Fact two, Milt had easy access to Percy, just as Steve and Eric had. Who else? Detective Matt Albright. Not that he was on the suspect list. He certainly had an air of arrogant selfconfidence about him, but last she heard, that wasn't a qualifier for murderous intent. Although the promise of treasure might trip a latent trigger. Who knew what went on inside a killer's mind?

And Albert had been beaten by a cop. That cop could have been Matt.

Her opinion of the detective was sinking as rapidly as a rock thrown from the summit of Camelback Mountain. He was probably gathering evidence to make his case and earn himself a big promotion, and he had chosen a brutal, cruel avenue to the top. Assaulting helpless indigents was as low as anyone could stoop.

So much for the men in Gretchen's life. Once this situation was firmly behind her, she vowed to distance herself from the entire male population and focus on her career. Men had already taken up too much of her time and energy, and the only thing she was getting for her efforts was disappointment.