Dolly Departed - By Deb Baker Page 0,14

gather every single item before we start guessing what Charlie had in mind."

The team paused for a lunch of submarine sandwiches, which April insisted was the answer to her years of obesity. She remained convinced that her new diet plan would transform her into a sexy, curvy shell of her present self. Nina refused to cooperate, stomping down the street in search of "real food." She returned with a salad.

"Detective Albright should be back soon," April said, munching on a foot-long sandwich while she looked out the window.

"Fat chance," Gretchen replied.

"I completely understand his phobia." April placed a few tiny articles of doll clothing into one of the bins. "I have my own fears, you know."

"We know," Nina said with a hint of distaste. "Clowns."

"Half the world's population is afraid of clowns," April said, defending herself. "And you know it."

"Yes," Nina agreed. "The half that's under four years old."

Gretchen couldn't believe what she was hearing. It wasn't like Nina to be so spiteful. "Isn't it potty time for the dogs?" Gretchen said to break up the next round of pointed barbs before one of them was fatally stabbed. Nina checked her watch, then stuffed the pups in carrying totes. She slung Enrico over one shoulder and Nimrod over the other, ignoring Enrico's throaty growl. She clipped the pink leash to Tutu's collar and disappeared down the street.

"What's with her?" Caroline said. "I've never seen her behave like that before."

"I'm not sure what her problem is. April, just ignore it, if you can." Gretchen sat down, removed her flip-flops, and wiggled her feet.

"I'm going for a walk," Caroline said. "Maybe it will perk me up."

Gretchen watched her classy mom walk down the street in the same direction her aunt had chosen and wished she had inherited more of her features. Beautiful shoulderlength silver hair, delicate nose, green thoughtful eyes, and a slim body, even at twenty-six years older than Gretchen.

"I found something interesting," April said, digging in her pocket. "I thought I'd wait until we were alone to show you."

She held up a miniature dagger. The tip had been dipped in red paint.

"Terrific. Another piece for the backyard scene."

"And . . . ," April paused. "There's a smudge of red on the floor of the Victorian bedroom, but I'll try to clean it off if you think it will upset Caroline."

"Let's leave everything as it is for the moment,"

Gretchen answered. "You don't seem upset by all these flashes of blood."

"Blood doesn't scare me."

"But clowns do?"

April nodded. "If I even see a clown in the distance, I get all sweaty and dizzy, and I worry that I'll pass out. It's a horrible feeling. I know it's irrational, but I can't control how I feel."

"I think you have to work through it," Gretchen said, sorting through some of the tiny pieces of furniture.

"Maybe it would help if you exposed yourself to your fears more often, like Matt's trying to do." She didn't mention what a bad job the detective was doing.

"I've tried that, but clowns are not nice people. They scare kids, and they're ugly and evil. Have you ever seen a clown helping a little old lady across the street?"

Gretchen thought it over. Actually, she hadn't.

"See?" April said, reading the expression on her face.

"I ran into a clown yesterday at Parada del Sol,"

Gretchen said, remembering the green-haired clown and her fall to the sidewalk. He hadn't bothered to help Gretchen up.

April grimaced. "That's exactly why I didn't go to the Scottsdale parade. Clowns are my absolute worst nightmare."

April looked around as though they might be overheard.

"That's not all I'm afraid of, but don't tell Nina. Promise?"

"Promise." Gretchen felt childish.

"Ventriloquists scare me to death, too. And sometimes in the dark, I'm afraid that something is lurking under my bed."

"I used to think something scary was under my bed,"

Gretchen said, remembering how afraid she was, almost paralyzed with fear. But that was when she was a kid. She headed for the back room to search for boxes to separate and temporarily store the pieces, once they determined where each of them went. Gretchen rummaged through several small boxes, removing their contents and stacking the items neatly on a shelving unit. When she came back into the shop, she spotted something behind the storage room door.

She bent down and picked up a tiny pistol.

* 6 *

Britt Gleeland stands across the street and watches the women through the shop window. She remains motionless, arms crossed.

Almost five o'clock, and the sun slowly edges over the desert horizon,