Ding Dong Dead Part 6

"We're around back," Caroline called out. A minute later Matt unlatched the outer patio door, came through, and placed a bag on the table. Nimrod burst back outside and tried to crawl up his leg. Matt reached down and stroked the little dog, greeted Caroline, then addressed Gretchen.

"Too lazy to properly greet the man of your dreams," he said. "I expected you to rush to me."

"I'm paralyzed with pleasure," Gretchen responded. "I can't move a single muscle."

"We'll have to work on your welcomes." He kissed her.

Gretchen loved the casual banter between them. He was a completely different person when he relaxed-fun, witty, sensual.

She walked into the house and went down the hall to get Daisy, but found her sprawled on the bed, talking on her cell. She refused to budge. "I couldn't eat a thing," Daisy said. "I'm too excited."

The rest of them dined on Gretchen's favorite food-green chile stew from Richardson's Restaurant. While they ate she thought about her plan for their evening mountain hike. She'd packed a light blanket, two winegla.s.ses, candles, and a bottle of champagne. Tonight, she was going to have him all to herself. She had briefly considered faking a twisted ankle at the very height of Camelback to keep him up there. But knowing him, he'd call in a helicopter for a mountain rescue or attempt to carry her down. She'd better stay honest, if she didn't want him to heft her over his shoulder and find out that she wasn't a waif like his ex-wife.

"Let's go," Gretchen said when they finished, ready to implement her romantic plan.

"Gretchen, I'm very sorry, but I can't," Matt said. "As much as I want to, I'm working tonight. I was lucky to get away long enough to have dinner with you."

Gretchen's excitement transformed into major disappointment. She couldn't speak.

"Was the information I gave you helpful?" Caroline said after glancing at Gretchen and seeing her distress. "Did you locate Allison's husband?"

"Very much. At first we couldn't track him down-they had a home together in LA, but he wasn't there. Then he came into the station a little while ago to report his wife missing."

"Andy couldn't have taken the news well," Caroline said. "Those two were inseparable. I'd like to talk to him. Do you know where he's staying?"

"With us for the moment."

Caroline gasped. "You're holding him? The man found out moments ago that his wife is dead and you have him in custody?"

"We have procedures, Caroline. I don't make up the rules."

"I'm going down there immediately."

Matt shook his head. "That isn't possible. But I promise to notify you when he's released."

He had that all-business att.i.tude that Gretchen was learning to recognize. She could almost see his mind working when he said, "According to him, they were vacationing in Phoenix. Yet it took the guy almost twenty-four hours to notify the police that his wife had disappeared. That's a long time, Caroline."

"You can't possibly suspect Andy?"

"Everyone is a suspect until we can prove otherwise." Matt stood up. "It was a pleasure, as always."

Gretchen walked with him along the side of the house, steering the conversation away from murder and on to safer ground by relating Nina's escapade in the haunted museum and her mission to find a ghost's doll.

Matt put his hands up and crossed his index fingers as if to ward off evil. "Don't tell me any more. I'm getting sweaty just hearing about d-o-l-l-s. That fairy doll almost put me over the edge."

Gretchen wrapped her fingers tightly through his. "I've been thinking about that poor woman's final moments," she said. "I can feel them as though they were my own."

"Once you see a murder scene it stays with you a long time."

Gretchen thought her last image of the victim might be around forever. "I'd like to help, if I can."

"Thanks, but you don't need to worry about my cases. Tell you what," Matt said. "I'll figure out who killed Allison Thomasia and you find out more about the ghost in the museum. Our time together is so short these days, let's not waste it with shoptalk. Ok?"

One sweet kiss and he was off, leaving Gretchen frustrated and pretty sure that he'd just told her to mind her own business.

11.

The woman at the front door is like an all-terrain vehicle, solid, strong, rugged, in high gear as though she's had too much coffee. She's wearing a tentlike yellow top and matching cotton pants and white crew socks with leather sandals. He's annoyed by her presence this early in the day, having expected an opportunity to check out the hall before anyone arrived. He wants to shout out loud to blow off his building tension, but he's too smart for that. He holds it in.

"You just saved the show," she says all enthusiastic, reaching into his personal s.p.a.ce. At first, he thinks she is going to bear-hug him, she's so excited. So he steps back, dodging, but she's only extending her hand. He doesn't want to touch her, but he needs to fit in. They shake. "I'm April," she says. "And you say you have experience with lighting?"

He gives her a short nod, and she claps her hands together, like her prayers have been answered.

"That guy said you were looking for someone," he says, swinging his head toward the man standing at the street corner. The big guy doesn't cross the road in either direction. Instead he lights a pipe and loiters at the crosswalk. Who smokes a pipe these days?

"That's Mr. B. He owns this banquet hall," she says, squinting toward the pipe smoker over the top of her reading gla.s.ses, the sun hot and bright on her round face. "He lives upstairs. Good thing I mentioned to Mr. B. that we needed someone to do our lights, otherwise he wouldn't have pa.s.sed it on to you. What a break for us."

"I was an electrician before I retired," he says. Yeah, right. Yeah, right.

"What's your name?"

"Jerome." He doesn't try to think of an alias. It doesn't matter now and it won't matter later. He smells pipe tobacco, a light aroma of cherries, coming from Mr. B., who is greeting a woman walking by. He should get inside before the man decides to join them and says something to make this April woman suspicious.

"Why are we still standing here?" she says as though plucking his thoughts from his brain. "Come on in."

They enter the building and go down a hall to a banquet room, their footsteps echoing like thunder in a canyon. Dolls and teddy bears are in display cases on a stage; a heap of pink material is on a sewing machine. No one else around but the woman. And a small, nasty creature like a rat, that barrels at him. It snarls.

If it keeps coming, he'll kick it. The woman must sense his intention because she grabs it when it rushes by her to attack him.

"A local theater group is letting us use their stuff," she says, tucking the animal under an arm and leading him to a corner where lighting equipment is boxed, the flaps open like they looked inside but realized right away that this job was beyond them. One long black cord hangs out of a cardboard box.

"I better get busy stringing lights and running power." He doesn't have a clue how to start, but it can't be that hard. Hang them over the stage-the hooks are already in place he sees-focus the beams, flick them on and off at the right times. Not rocket science, and he's a smart guy.

"Where's the script?" At least he knows to ask. He should study it.

"I suppose that would help," she says digging through papers on a small table, finding what she's looking for, unbelievable considering the mess. "The director will be here soon. She can answer any questions you have. I made a pot of coffee if you want some."

She's at the sewing machine, making room among the folds of fabric to find her chair, muttering to the dog, tucking it into a bag hanging from the chair, picking up a pair of scissors. "Here," she says, coming at him with the scissors pointed right at him. "Let me take care of that for you." Right then he thinks he will have to hurt her. He doesn't have much time to consider his options. Before he pulls out his own weapon, she says, "I do that all the time. Leave tags on new clothes. Let me snip it off."

Jerome relaxes slightly, hand still stuffed in his pocket, gripping his switchblade just in case. He is taking a chance, letting someone get behind his back. She's quick. Holds the price tag up so he can see. Goes back to her machine.

That was close.

He helps himself to a cup of coffee before tackling the boxes of equipment. His first captured bird pops in his head, just like that, for no reason. When he was a kid he liked to sneak up on birds. He'd wait patiently, motionless, then strike like lightning. The first time, he took the bird home in his backpack, proud of his accomplishment. His mother wigged out, made him release it.

"That's not normal behavior," she said. "You should be playing ball with the rest of the kids."

But birds, he discovered, were much better companions than people.

He gulps the last dregs of coffee, wipes his mouth, and gets to work.

12.

The majority of metal-head dolls were made in Germany, although some came from the United States and France. Metal although some came from the United States and France. Metal heads were primarily produced from 1861 to the mid-1920s. heads were primarily produced from 1861 to the mid-1920s. Materials ranged from copper and zinc to bra.s.s, pewter, tin, Materials ranged from copper and zinc to bra.s.s, pewter, tin, lead, and aluminum. Gold and silver were used in rare and lead, and aluminum. Gold and silver were used in rare and valuable cases. The heads were nearly indestructible. Metal doll valuable cases. The heads were nearly indestructible. Metal doll heads could be purchased through Sears, Roebuck and heads could be purchased through Sears, Roebuck and Company, and Montgomery Ward until the early 1930s. Company, and Montgomery Ward until the early 1930s.

-From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch

Thursday morning Gretchen was on her first round of exercises on the Curves circuit when the subject of the haunted house came up, thanks to Nina, who couldn't concentrate on anything else.

And Gretchen had thought her aunt's fascination with tarot cards had been intense!

"April's not here," Nina pointed out unnecessarily, suspiciously. "She isn't at the museum, is she? I don't want anyone over there. I made it quite clear."

Bonnie glanced up from the abductor machine. "She's at the banquet hall finishing up her sewing project."

Aside from Gretchen, her aunt, and Matt's mother, the only other women in Curves at the moment were Julie and Ora, the manager. The doll collectors had studied the crowd patterns and had picked a time to exercise when they had more s.p.a.ce and privacy.

"What a relief," Nina said. "Thank goodness we aren't planning to open the museum to the public soon. I don't want anyone near the place until I get to the bottom of our problem."

"April thinks your ghost is really a genie," Bonnie said. "She wants to rub the travel trunk to see what happens."

Nina frowned. "She's still on that kick? I can't decide if she's making fun of me or not. April doesn't have any experience with ghosts. She isn't qualified to make a statement like that. Genies! That's ridiculous."

Gretchen could have mentioned that April had as many credentials as Nina, which were none at all. Nor was she going to tell Nina that Caroline had left before sunrise to work at the very place that Nina was warning them to avoid. Bonnie and Julie knew, too, but were sworn to secrecy.

"An apparition is a very serious phenomenon," Nina said, running in place on a mat. "It's the disfranchised body of a displaced person, stuck between this plane and another one. We have to help her get unstuck so she can finish her journey."

"How did you actually see a ghost?" Ora called from the front desk. "Aren't they supposed to be invisible?"

Bonnie nodded her bewigged head. "I'm wondering the same thing."

"I thought I heard a sound coming from the vicinity of the trunk," Nina said, continuing on to the next machine. "Once I opened the lid, something swished past. I felt it touch my cheek on the flyby. It was very cold and silver. Yes, it absolutely, positively was silver."

"Why don't you go back and photograph it?" Bonnie said.

"That's a good idea," Nina said. "I'm one hundred percent sure I was touched by an apparition and it has something to do with the girl and her travel doll. Want to see a picture of Flora when she was young? I remembered to bring it."

Everybody did.

The familiar programmed voice reminded them to switch stations while Blondie belted out "One Way or Another" from a speaker on the wall. Nina left the circle, dug through her purse on a shelf by the entrance, and came back with a sheet of paper. "The historical society people wouldn't let me take the actual photograph out of the building, but they made a copy of it."

She handed the sheet of paper to Gretchen. "That's her father, John Swilling. And that's Flora."

An unsmiling man with dark, neatly parted hair stared at the camera. He sat next to a young girl. Flora wore a chiffon dress with ribbons and a large bow on the right side of her short, dark bob. She held a doll in her arms. Part of the travel trunk was visible in the corner of the frame, not all of it, but enough to tell that it was the same trunk from the museum.

"Let me see," Julie said.

Gretchen pa.s.sed the photo to her.

"A metal-head doll," Bonnie said, viewing the photo from behind Julie. "Those metal-head dolls really held up well, much better than porcelain," Bonnie continued, giving Nina a lesson in doll history. "Too bad the paint they used in those days wasn't better quality. You can't find a metal head today that doesn't need major repainting. The heads were sold separately from the bodies, did you know that? And some were made from tin."

"And a cloth body," Gretchen said. "Probably homemade, as most of them were in the 1920s." Since working with her mother, Gretchen's doll knowledge had improved tremendously. She'd recently repainted a metal-head doll, and the owner had liked her work.

"Just like a bunch of doll collectors," Nina said, not sounding pleased at all. "The first thing you notice is the doll. Keep the picture, Gretchen. I made extras."

"I wouldn't try to take a picture of the ghost," Julie said. "What if it's a bad ghost?"

"I don't think ghosts can be bad," Nina said, looking unsure.

Until recent events, Gretchen hadn't had strong personal opinions on any of Nina's past delvings-tarot cards, auras, her conversations with the universe, the telepathic communications she'd tried to share with Gretchen with limited and questionable success. Throughout all of it, Gretchen usually had a wait-and-see att.i.tude.

"I heard," she said to the doll collectors, "that almost half of the population believes in ghosts."

"And one in five has seen a ghost," Nina added. "Ghost hunters have doc.u.mented sightings that have been verified by other people who were with them at the time."

Unlike colored auras and Nina's other pursuits that were all based on her testimony alone, ghost sightings were group activities. Was there truth in numbers?

Gretchen didn't know and she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. It was exciting to think about, though.

The cemetery murder came up next. Gretchen had made a point of avoiding the subject. Since Bonnie was Matt's mother and the club's biggest gossip, all Matt needed to hear was that Gretchen was discussing his cases with his mother and her other workout buddies.

She needn't have bothered, though, since Bonnie chimed in with, "My Matty is working on a tough case, a murder in Eternal View Cemetery. He can't tell me a thing about it, because it's highly confidential. However, my friend Anne works in the office at the cemetery and she gave me all the gory details."

Bonnie's red wig was adjusted properly for a change, and her penciled eyebrows were straight. Recently she'd switched to half-decaf, half-regular coffee. It had been Nina's suggestion, a "psychic moment" she called it, and the results were amazing. No more jitters for Bonnie. No more crooked wigs or wobbly eyebrows. "Want to hear the details?" she asked.

"My. More juicy gossip," Ora said. "You girls are energized today."

Gretchen was all ears. Anything she could learn might help solve the crime and put a killer away. And as an added benefit, getting the case wrapped up quickly would get Matt back in her arms with his mind focused completely on her.

"We're ready, Bonnie," Nina said. "Don't leave out a thing."

"Well, Gretchen was there when it happened," Bonnie said. "She should help tell it."