The Wedding Doll

By Michael Duane

With the aid of a uniquely-engineered doll, a notorious jewel thief known as Honey Moon has been able to defeat security scanners around the world. Now determined to go straight as the result of a vow to a late husband, Honey Moon is threatened by a powerful criminal cartel determined to secure both her services and her doll.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Dec 14, 2016
• ISBN: 9781483590059

Book preview

tell:

Chapter One

Oh, damn the terrorists! snapped Tova at a neatly-uniformed screener pawing about her doll. Can we pretend this is the express lane?

No expedited screening! answered the woman, clearly annoyed. I feel for your pain but it’s not exactly a useful-for-diagnostics kind of pain, is it?

The woman handed back the doll and, in a softer voice, asked, What’s her name? Is she supposed to be a bride?

Her name is Honey, answered Tova. She’s not on her way to the altar but I’m sure she’d like to be on her way somewhere.

Rummaging through the rest of Tova’s belongings, the inspector quipped, So small, so polite, so modest! I see a rich widowhood in Honey’s future. You might consider her example.

The two Honey Moons, doll and owner, had just arrived in the United States via post-Castro Havana, and few indeed recognized the pair as the wiliest two rogues in the Western hemisphere.

If Honey and Tova had been less occupied with the sleight-of-hand and misdirection necessary to get past security, they might have realized that they were being watched by a silhouette in a blue blazer.

Blue Blazer lifted her eyes for a split second. Seeing that the TSA agent was taking her sweet time with Tova’s bag, she again pretended to talk into her watch-phone.

You can tell your dolly, the testy inspector said, there’s an art to combing for illicit items or weapons. Perfected my touch years ago. And, if little Honey thinks she can do a better job, she should fill out an application.

But it was the inspector who was mistaken. Of course, the woman had no way of knowing that she was venting on a daring duo who, in vintage costume, had ransacked the Tower of London in broad daylight. Official accounts vary as to which Honey Moon, adorned with the crown of Edward VI, successfully sailed past the distracted guards.

The inspector felt smugly confident as she bent again to her task and seemed not to care that she was creating a shambles inside Tova’s Louis Vuitton bag. She would have been more astonished if she had known that she was poking about the carry-on of the notorious jewel thief, Honey Moon.

To be more accurate, the inspector spoke to the person who once had been Honey Moon, but who no longer wished to play the role. Tova had made up her mind on returning to America that Honey Moon, a nom-de-criminelle frequently noted on police blotters, would forever be relegated to the name of a small doll in a white dress.

Only Countess Tova would live on.

Even if she and Honey Moon happened to share the same dog tags, so to speak, Tova had always managed, in her dual existence, to keep these two carte d’identite completely separated. The true identity of Honey Moon had been known to so few that it had to be a simple matter, she reasoned, to continue her new life as Countess Tova Ortega. And skip the awkward references to her seedier past!

Half lost in thought, Tova paid little attention to the inspector’s comments.

The elegance of shape-shifting, she reminded herself, was simply a matter of attitude. She no longer wished to be a professional thief, albeit one at the top of her game, always hip to the vibes around her. Otherwise, she would have quickly zeroed in on the woman in the navy blazer.

Blue Blazer, still loitering a short distance away, covertly studied Tova and her uniquely-engineered doll. Should she risk inching closer to glean more intel? With no intuitive nudge to move, she answered her own question.

Miffed with the delay, Tova gathered up her belongings, and whispered, Honey, we threaded another one but now we need a time check! I’m no longer sure what geologic epoch we’re in!

The spectacle of Tova and Honey cluelessly meandering about in a Miami airport would have raised many an eyebrow in the circles in which she had recently traveled. To encounter Tova was to envy her joie de vivre. The chic set saw only a bon vivant and wit of comfortable and independent means, a woman who spent her time traversing the world, admiring and collecting beautiful things.

Of course, there was another, quite different, corner of society, in which eyebrows would also have been raised if they had known of her perplexity. All members of thiefdom international, they were enviously aware of Honey Moon’s exploits and the riddle of her doll.

Is it conceivable, they might ask, that this cleverest of women should stand at the yawning maw of America, with its untold millions strewn about, and not know what to do? Equally, it was beyond comprehension that this freshly-minted penitent could part company with a successful vocation, simply because she had resolved to go straight.

Tova qualified her current thoughts.

The few who knew the truth, she recalled, were either on the wrong side of the flowerbed, or showering in some dank Cuban prison. Immersed in her own personal calculus, she failed to notice that Blue Blazer had ended her non-conversation and fallen into step behind her. Tova headed toward her ride, a limo and driver hired for the day.

Settled into the rear of the limo, Tova replaced her unusually acute awareness with brooding, leaving her innocent of any suspicion that she was being followed. But the Countess, a courtesy title from her second husband, the late Count Ortega, was beset with other concerns.

To begin with, there was the recent unpleasantness in Nassau, followed by more of the same in Cuba.

Tova had barely escaped Cuba with her life, fleeing in such haste that she landed in Miami with barely more than a large doll, a handbag, and a few credit cards. One overnight bag qualified as luggage.

She had hardly shuffled past airport security before an agent of Florida’s SBI discreetly pulled her aside. Unofficially informing her, amiably but quite firmly, he said, We know who you are and you can avoid more grief if you leave the state within twenty-four hours.

And the only reason that she had been awarded this grace period, instead of a perp walk to the nearest holding pen, had been a letter of introduction forwarded by Chief of Police Dresden of Nassau. The Chief, a sympathetic acquaintance, was convinced of Tova’s determination to mend her ways.

In her former profession, she had stood without peer, an easy admission for both the police and her competitors-in-crime. But she had made her decision, and she was unshakable. It was a deathbed promise to her late husband, but that was another story.

Her present problem was one familiar to a many an honest woman, for honest women must make a living.

Easier said than done, thought Tova. How does one go about making an honest living? To help organize her thoughts, she allowed her best friend, companion and doll, Honey Moon, to conduct a mock interview:

"You seek a position, Countess? Very well, what can you do? Purloin spoons? Marry sick old men with money? What are your true talents? Any experience? Any references?

Tova pondered these queries with misgivings, then answered her inquisitor:

"What are my talents? Let me see! I can open any lock that will take a key with only two hairpins. Show me to a safe, and I can defeat the tumblers faster than the locksmith who set the original combination. I can appraise gems and artwork at a glance. No jeweler’s loop required!

"Thanks to a youthful stint with the Israeli Defense Force, I am better than fair at a self-defense technique known as Krav Maga. I know more than a few tricks with edged-weapons, pistols, and knots. I know how to render an attacker unconscious without killing him. And I’m familiar with a few things, such as the forging of travel documents, which even the IDF did not teach.

"I can speak English, French, Spanish, and Hebrew, each after a fashion.

As for experience and references, one might consult the vice squads in a few resort areas where real estate is expensive.

Not a very impressive list of accomplishments, Tova regretted, for one seeking honest employment. Her mood improved only slightly when her limo dropped her in front of a small, unpretentious, but comfortable hotel. La Florida, at last! She had lodged here a time or two in the past when visiting Miami.

Tova tipped the chauffeur and followed the doorman into the lobby.

Blue Blazer, having discreetly followed, parked her Carrera across the street, and turned off the ignition.

Chapter Two

Before registering for a room, Tova headed for the hotel gift shop. Once inside, she sauntered about, picking up a few female necessities. As the sales clerk was busy with another customer, Tova used the time to peruse the hotel’s selection of inexpensive wigs.

As she approached the counter, the sales clerk blurted out, Oh my god! That poor woman just walked out without her passport and credit card.

Let me see! answered Tova. She may be with my party!

Examining the card and passport, Tova immediately recognized them as fraudulent, but very professionally done. She also knew that the blonde in the photo would not risk exposure by returning to reclaim her property.

Yes, I know her, said Tova. That’s my friend, Carol Baker. I’ll see that she gets these."

Thank you so much! said the clerk. My boyfriend picks me up in a few minutes and I can’t afford to wait for Ms. Baker to come back.

No problem! answered Tova. And I’ll need a wig. I like that shoulder-length blond one in the showcase.

The hotel registration clerk glanced at the large doll in Tova’s arms and then at the Louis Vuitton bag. In an attempt at humor, he asked what her doll would require.

A single, answered