Dolly Departed - By Deb Baker Page 0,18

she was murdered."

"Looks that way to me."

Nimrod flew through his doggy door, ran past them, and dove into the swimming pool. Matt jumped up and followed him to the edge of the pool. He looked back quizzically at Gretchen and kicked off his sandals. "Do I have to jump in to rescue him?" he said.

Gretchen laughed. "Poodles are water dogs. My biggest challenge is keeping him out of the pool."

Nimrod paddled in circles before swimming to the pool stairs and climbing out. He trotted over to Matt and shook water on his legs.

"He's also a hunting dog," Gretchen said.

"What does he hunt? Ants?" He laughed at the tiny puppy.

"He's a ferocious hunter. Rubber balls, socks, my cat Wobbles."

The tomcat sat in a window overlooking the pool. While they watched, he rose from his position and stretched.

"He gets around well on three legs," Matt said. "You never told me his story."

"I was crossing a street in Boston when it happened. A pickup truck swerved around the corner and hit him, then it took off. I rushed him to the vet, but I never found out where Wobbles lived, although I put up posters and called the animal shelters. We've been together ever since the accident."

Matt slipped his sandals back on and sat down. "How are you adjusting to life in Phoenix? Do you miss Boston?"

"I don't miss it at all. I love the mountains and the desert air. February is wonderful."

They sat quietly for a moment. Gretchen had called Boston home for most of her life. But with her mother and aunt in Phoenix, and after a bad breakup with her longterm boyfriend, Steve, Phoenix had seemed like the perfect solution.

Matt sipped his coffee. "I want you and the others out,"

he said quietly.

"Out?"

"Out of the shop. Stay away from Mini Maize."

"That's ridiculous. Charlie's brother gave us permission."

"I'm insisting."

"You sound just like Steve. He was a control freak, too." Gretchen narrowed her eyes. Who did Matt think he was?

"This isn't about control," Matt said. "I'm concerned about your safety. Do you know about Charlie's sister and how she died?"

Gretchen felt herself growing angry. He isn't Steve, she tried to remind herself. "Sara died from a peanut allergy,"

she said. "She ate banana bread that was made from peanut flour."

"Sara wore a Medic Alert tag as a precaution. Strange, don't you think? That she went to all the trouble of wearing the tag, but she forgot to stock up on epinephrine? Not a single dose anywhere in her home."

"You think the deaths are related?"

"Yes. Want to hear the specifics of Sara's death?"

Gretchen shook her head. "Not really."

He continued anyway. "Shortness of breath, serious drop in blood pressure, swelling of her tongue until--"

"That's enough," she said. Was Matt's theory correct?

Had the two women really been murdered--one poisoned, the other . . . well . . . poisoned, too, by someone who knew about her severe peanut allergy?

"I can help," The same woman who fainted over bugs was about to offer to go up against a creature deadlier than any black widow spider. Gretchen heard the stubbornness in her voice. "I'm in a unique position. I can question doll collectors and dealers without drawing suspicion to myself. I'm one of them. And while we are restoring the room boxes, I'll pay attention. Something might turn up."

Like tiny bloody weapons!

"This isn't one of your reality shows," Matt argued.

"This is real life, and it isn't that canned."

"I'm going to do it."

She had let a man define her once. It wouldn't happen again.

"You're impossible," Matt said lightly, but Gretchen noticed the tension in his facial muscles as he worked his jaw.

"The more I insist, the more you're going to resist. Am I right?"

Gretchen smiled like Mona Lisa.

* 8 *

Tuesday morning Gretchen and Nina sat on patio chairs outside the cabana, sipping coffee, eating chocolate croissants, and admiring the warm February morning. The sun glowed, illuminating the red clay of Camelback Mountain. Caroline joined them.

"You look well-rested," Nina noted.

Caroline smoothed back a few strands of silver hair, the aftereffects of chemotherapy in her battle against breast cancer. When her hair had grown back, it came in this amazing color. Six years and counting since her last treatment. Gretchen's mother was one of the success stories.

"Perfect weather at last," Gretchen said, looking into the sparkling blue pool water.

"February is the month of love in Phoenix," Nina said somewhat slyly.

"Is that your way of telling us you have a man in your life?" Caroline asked her sister.

"Don't be silly. I'm talking about