Ding Dong Dead

3

Fantasy dolls are the latest rage. Unicorns, dragons, mermaids, fairies, and wizards. They are the three Ms-mystical, magical, and mysterious. For those who enjoy working with clay, creating fantasy dolls can become an addictive hobby. Kits are available for the novice enthusiast. Or dig into the clay and cast your own forms. Fantasy dolls are replicas of immortal earthly spirits with supernatural abilities. Add feathers, fibers, and fairy glitter to your newly sculpted piece and watch her come to life.

– From World of Dolls by Caroline Birch

Detective Terry Vascar arrives at the crime scene and parks behind a line of vehicles. Two women are greeting each other next to the car parked ahead of him. He recognizes one of them, even in the dark. It’s the woman his pal Matt Albright has been dating, Gretchen Birch.

Terry swings his head and spots Matt talking to a forensics team. When he looks back, the women are moving in the opposite direction.

Terry follows, staying in the shadows, curious. They stop at a headstone, not even noticing him.

Three words appear on the marble when the younger woman shines a flashlight beam on it.

Die, Dolly, Die.

“It’s not blood.” Gretchen is breathing fast, rushing her words as she speaks. “It’s lipstick.”

A cop walks toward them, with Matt trailing behind. Terry steps in beside Matt, who nods so slightly Terry almost misses the greeting.

“Caroline,” Matt says, moving forward to shake the older woman’s hand. “Thanks for coming to get Gretchen.”

“I don’t like this.”

“None of us do. Listen, we found a doll. Would the two of you take a look?”

“Of course,” both women respond.

Terry watches his buddy slide away, stopping a good distance from where an officer holds up a clear bag containing a doll.

What’s up with Matt?

The flashlight in Gretchen Birch’s hand illuminates the doll for a moment, then swings wild, erratic. Terry takes the flashlight from her. She doesn’t resist, instead giving him a look of gratitude. He shines it on the object with a steady hand.

The doll’s face is exquisitely chiseled. She has long copper hair that falls to her waist. Ivy snakes up a perfectly formed leg.

A second bag contains gold wings. In the murky light, the wings sparkle like gemstone dust.

“A fantasy doll,” Gretchen whispers. “Her wings have broken off.”

“Yes,” Caroline agrees.

“Have you seen this doll before?” Matt asks from outside the small group. “Or one like it?”

“No,” Caroline says, but Terry catches something in her voice, in the startled expression on her face. Matt senses it, too, because he glances sharply at Terry.

“Thank you again, Caroline, for coming,” Matt says after a pause. Terry waits while Matt escorts the women back to their car, opening doors for them and muttering reassurances. The women drive away.

“Gretchen’s mother?” Terry asks.

“Yes.”

“She recognized the doll.”

“Maybe. I’ll talk to her again.”

Terry gestures toward the body, covered and strapped to a gurney. Strobe lights everywhere. “What’s going on?”

“A murdered woman.”

“Name?”

“No purse and no identification.”

“But we have a doll.”

“Just my luck,” Matt says.