The Doll

The Doll
WC: 296

“Andy, come here,” my cousin Nate calmly said.  “I think I found it.”  His last sentence was said in hushed tones.

I crossed the threshold, and shook my head.  “God,” was all I whispered in shock.

“If there was one, would you think he’d allow this?”

I walked up and touched the doll hanging from a rope tied to an exposed beam, twisting, its motion mimicked by a floating dead man.  I couldn’t answer him.


“An-driz,” the redheaded detective fumbled, trying to pronounce my first name. 

“Andy is fine.”

“Thank you,” she said, her gaze never leaving her notes.  “When you and Nathan entered the premises, were you specifically looking for the man or did you happen upon her accidentally?”

“Accidentally,” I said, looking up at her from the ground. 

“What was the nature of business which brought you here?” she asked, still looked at her notebook.

“We received an anonymous tip that the doll which we were hired to find.”

She interrupted me with her hand.  “Doll?”  She finally looked at me, her light green eyes catching me off-guard.

It took my a moment to answer.  “Yes, the Victorian porcelain one your officers are currently trying to avoid over there.”  I pointed to a cruiser, the doll was gently perched on the hood, several nervous uniforms looking at it from a distance or walking away in the opposite direction.

She looked at her notes, ready to ask another question but let it die on her lips.  “Did you know the decedent?”

I shook my head.  “The tattoo on his left forearm suggests that he was a member of our client’s clan.”

She gently touched my arm and handed me her card.  “We’ll be in touch later,” she added before joining officers around the haunted objected.