Goodbye Dolly - By Deb Baker Page 0,80

so glad you're working with the police," Nina said, brightly. "Detective Albright will figure it out. He has resources."

"You're not kidding," April agreed. "His buns, his . . ."

She started giggling.

"Does he have any suspects yet?" Nina asked. "I mean besides Steve, who we know didn't do it."

"Suspects? Ah . . . not yet." Gretchen couldn't say for a fact, but she was pretty sure she was the latest suspect. And she wasn't about to tell I-told-you-so that news. Nina and April waved goodbye, leaving a vacuum of silence in the house. Gretchen called Information from the workshop bench and waited for the connection to go through.

"Don't hang up," Gretchen said quickly into the phone. They were the first three words out of her mouth. She said them again from the stool she perched on inside the workshop. "Please don't hang up."

"I'm paying my attorney a lot of money to advise me,"

Steve said. "And he insisted that I stay away from you."

"You're far away from me. Lots of airwaves between us. Your attorney can't complain. Anyway, I'm glad they released you."

He sighed heavily into the phone. "What do you want?"

"Just wondering how you are," Gretchen said. Partly true. She did wonder.

"Considering that I have to stay in Phoenix until this is resolved and consequently had to find other attorneys to handle my clients and caseload--and considering that I've been charged with murdering Ronny Beam in spite of the lack of evidence and glaring proof that the knife in his back belonged to you--and considering that your new boyfriend happens to be the one gathering evidence against me, I couldn't be better."

No bitterness there.

"At least you're free for the time being," she said.

"Things could be worse."

"Things could always be worse. A boulder from the mountain could fall and crush me. I'm not sure, though, that crushed bones would be worse. Death might, but even that's starting to sound more appealing."

An awkward silence fell between them, their onceupon-a-time comfortable familiarity a distant memory. Gretchen cleared her throat. "Steve, I'm really sorry about what's happened."

"About my legal situation or about us?"

"Both. And I'm trying to help you. I discovered some things that might clear you."

"Like what?"

"I don't want to tell you right now because I have some loose ends." An understatement, if I ever heard one. "Letme work on it a little longer. But I need to know if you were at Chiggy Kent's house the day before the auction."

"Why?"

"Were you?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"It could be important."

"I haven't told the police that I was there. The only one who knows is my attorney. I don't know how you found out. But I suppose you shared that information with your detective?"

"I haven't. Why don't you want him to know?"

"Because Ronny Beam was at the house that day, too. I wasn't introduced to him, and we didn't exchange words. I didn't even recognize him on the day of the doll show until afterward, but the police will try to use that against me if they can."

"I'll keep your secret, if you tell me what I need to know."

"What?"

"I need to know why you were at Chiggy Kent's house."

Gretchen fiddled idly with her repair tools.

"Why do you want to know?" he asked again reluctantly.

"Please, tell me."

"Okay. It isn't a big deal. I was delivering a doll to her."

"A doll?"

"Yes, some kind of Kewpie doll from her brother."

She almost dropped her tools on top of Nimrod, who slept curled nearby. Stay calm, Gretchen thought, her heart beating to the band.

"From Percy O'Connor?" she asked.

"Yes, how did you--?"

Gretchen interrupted him. She had to know the rest.

"What kind of Kewpie was it?"

"Gretchen, you should know better than anyone that I don't know the slightest thing about dolls. I wouldn't recognize a Kewpie doll if it wore a name tag, let alone figure out what kind of specific Kewpie it was. I didn't even know there were different kinds. Besides, it was inside a sealed box."

"Then how did you know it was a Kewpie?

"I met Percy through one of the attorneys at the firm. The three of us had lunch one day, and the subject of the Boston Kewpie Club's expedition to Phoenix came up. When I told him I was planning a trip to Arizona, he asked me to deliver the doll to his sister. She lived in Phoenix, and he said he couldn't go to the show himself--health reasons--and he didn't trust the postal service. He said I should tell her it was his favorite Kewpie