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looked heavenward. Then she gave a slight nod before scurrying, slipping and sliding in her white vinyl boots, over to an Altima parked three spots away from his Diamante. She was driving a rental car. Enterprise had slapped a substantial sticker advertising its website on the car’s rear bumper.
    The man knew he had information that would likely mean something to those investigating the crime. He also knew he was not quick to get involved in situations that might prove troublesome.
    Until he was ready to come forward—if and when he was
ever
ready—what he witnessed would be filed away and forgotten. The only problem he really had now was how to kill sufficient time until forensics cleared out of the parking lot and he was free to get in his Diamante and head home.
    He looked down at the book he was carrying and realized he had over 120 pages left to read. Glad he had brought a good novel with him that day, he moseyed off in search of a coffee vending machine and a more comfortable place to sit than the window nook he’d been resting in.

10
    Apparently nonplussed by the fact Caresse was nearly sitting in his lap, Todd continued to talk. “All right. ’Cause the reason I brought it up was, I was listening to Sammy Stoudt’s show the other day on KVEC, and he had a show on sexism in the restaurant industry, about the way women are made to look in some restaurants, and one of his callers said, ‘well, you know, you should have a Barbie expert on.’”
    “No kidding.” Caresse was genuinely interested. KVEC was right in San Luis, and if she remembered correctly, her pal Marilyn in Classified Ads was Sammy’s good friend.
    Todd continued, “Because he saw one being connected to the other, right? That here we have a doll that’s not like Raggedy Ann or anything. This is a good-looking, California, full-bosomed babe.”
    “Right.”
    “And is that the image women have to ascribe to as they’re growing up now?”
    “No, they don’t, but the whole thing is that when you’re a girl and you’re playing with dolls, you don’t want to play with an ugly doll. So if you’re going to make her pretty, why not make her the ultimate of what’s conventionally considered beautiful?”
    Todd studied Caresse’s face. “You’ve got the most amazing green eyes I’ve ever seen. Would it be all right if I kissed you before I went back to my side of the table?”
    Manda the waitress had terrible timing. She was hovering, holding two plates of ribs, a copy of
USA Today
tucked beneath her left arm.
    “Were you guys talking about Barbies?”
    She placed the ribs on the table and unfolded the newspaper.
    Caresse’s gaze went straight to the bold headline, “Sister Claims Gayle Murdered For Barbies,” and her hand was out to take the paper before it was even offered. Immersing herself in the story, she finally looked up to see Todd dabbing rib juice from his beard. She hadn’t seen him return to his side of the table and had forgotten about the proffered kiss. Entranced by the bounty before him, Todd was fully absorbed in his meal, so she continued reading.
    The byline read, “Megan Dailon Says Valuable Collection Ravaged.”
    As recorded in the first news report she’d read, which was subsequently corroborated by Ilene on the BBB, Megan Dailon had lost her sister Gayle and her brother-in-law Mike Grace in a “suspicious” car explosion.
    This story, however, offered additional details about Gayle’s collection.
    “We updated my sister’s inventory list only six months ago,” Dailon told a reporter for
USA Today
. “She had a choice vintage collection, but she was particularly attached to her American Girl Barbies and outfits from the mid to late ’60s. The robber chose to take at least one example of each rare outfit and the best of Gayle’s dolls, leaving those that were less mint or wearing duplicate or more common outfits rearranged uniformly, three to a shelf. I will have to go over the list, but I estimate