Thoughts from Mark "Hat" Rackley

Editor’s Note: This story has been percolating for over twenty years of road trips.  My wife had found an article in a newspaper or magazine, back when you got information that way.  It seemed across the United States, criminals would spot single traveler’s from out of state.  They would be followed to their hotel, killed, and then everything taken: credit cards, car, etc.  She started riding with me so that I would not be alone.  But I started thinking about what if she was no longer there.  She had said that some people went to the trouble of placing a manakin in the passenger seat or a blow-up doll.  That got me to thinking.  A manakin could be posed to sit in the seat, or simply remove the legs and strap the torso into the seat with the seatbelt.  But a manakin would take up a lot of space when not in use.  A blow-up doll could be deflated, but it could not be positioned into a sitting position.  So, I thought about an inflatable doll that could be manipulated like the posable action figures that the boys played with: GI Joe, Star Wars, etc.  There was never any single thought to a blow-up doll for its designed prurient purpose.  In fact, the participants in this drama were extremely averse to such an idea.  If you buy into what happens, thinking of this “doll” as just a life-sized posable action figure, then I hope you enjoy a good story.  Over the past twenty years, I have thought of a multitude of scenarios, really a variety of endings.  The physical attraction aspect was always palpable, but it only brings a touch of tension among the two people travelling around the country.  As I went to Tennessee recently to babysit the grandchildren, God communicated with me, at least I pray it was God.  I came up with a scenario that might lead to another series of articles, Bible studies using fictional characters having a conversation while travelling or in odd situations.  I personally do not think that this story would ever happen (pure fantasy).  Many might argue theological issues with the story.  But in seeing where I think God wanted me to go with the story, I was moved by it, even to tears.  But before we hear about an inflatable, posable action figure, Deviled Yeggs gets a call from a nosey neighbor, one that has video proof that something strange was happening in the house across the street …

I’m Lieutenant Deviled Yeggs.  I work homicide in the big city of Tracy.  Working for me are my old partners: Detective Sgt. Jim Wednesday and Detective Poached Yeggs, my nephew who is slowly becoming a good detective.

I provide a summary below, but if you missed the first episode, here is a link.

This is a continuation of the interview with Harold Dykstra regarding his travelling companion Bountiful Babs.  According to Harold, she was a posable action figure, life-sized, anatomically correct, exact duplicate using latex molds of a porn star from 20-30 years ago.  But to Harold, who had just lost his wife to a prolonged illness, she became animated and started talking after driving a few hours down the road on his first business travel after his wife’s death.  Then he told this amazing story about how this doll knew things that no human should be able to know, but then said “I don’t know” to any questions about her origins or why she was alive.  The story was unbelievable, but Jim, Poached, and I had no evidence that the missing Babs was dead.  We had the posable action figure, but it would not inflate completely.  There was a leak.  But how did this doll appear to be real in the neighbor’s video?  And who was she really?  And where is she now?  All those questions would be answered shortly, if you dared to believe it.

Harold had just had his first successful sales call.  Then that night the doll slept in one bed, fully-clothed, and Harold slept in the other bed.  Harold had always gotten a hotel room with two beds, with or without his wife being with him.  At least, that was Harold’s story, and if he was a liar, he was the best I had ever seen.

Harold again had tears fill his eyes, “That’s when she asked me why I sold things for my company.  I explained that I got bored with being an engineer and I asked to be considered for the spare parts sales manager.  Engineers usually like working with the equipment and the customer personnel often get in the way.  I liked working with people.  I got the job as a sales manager.  I loved my customers, and I wanted to help them.”  That’s when she frowned and shook her head.

“She said, ‘No, Harold, you used to love them, but not so much anymore.  You loved your wife up until the end.  You still love her, but then you started to simply go through the motions about your work.  It is admirable to be a good caregiver, but your caregiving was all consuming.  You spent all your time caring for her.  There was no energy left for the customers, other than shaking a few hands once each year.  It’s similar to the way you love God.  When you first accepted Jesus, you were on fire.  What happened?”

“I exploded, ‘How do you know all this?!  You say you don’t know, but then you know things about me that I don’t even know.  And if I am going through the motions, how did I make that sale yesterday?’

“She said, ‘I just knew you would do well.  Watch what happens, Harold.  And yes, I know you do not like being called Harry.  But this year will be your best sales year ever.  I think four ten-million-dollar jobs will make you the best sales year of any sales manager ever, but the stuff yesterday was just the start.’

“I asked, ‘And how do you know?  The economy is terrible.  They are not going to pay for big jobs like that in this economy!  How do you know?!  No.  Do not say, ‘I don’t know!’

“She started crying.  Tears started flowing.  She asked, gasping between sobs, ‘What did you do?  I’m broken.  I am having a hard time breathing.  My eyes are getting water in them.  What is happening?!”

“I apologized for raising my voice.  I said she had an emotional response to me shouting.  She said for me to not do that anymore.  There were some things that she had not figured out, but I could trust God and I could trust her.  I was going to be the top sales manager of the year.  After we calmed down, I remembered what she had asked me.  I told her about becoming a Christian in college, but after I started my job, I was trying to make my mark.  I then met my wife, Margaretha.  We got married and started a family.  Our money got tight, and I was doing whatever work I could do to keep the family afloat.  At first, my wife and I went to church, but then when I went on the road as a salesman, we hardly ever made it to church.  My new ‘travel buddy Babs’ then insisted that every Sunday, no matter where we were or even if we had a long drive to the next town, we would go to church.  She was this weird combination of innocence and a tough customer that was going to get her way.  And she either knew things no one could ever know unless they were inside my head or looking over my shoulder and a constant barrage of saying ‘I don’t know.’ ”

“A few days later, she complained that her stomach hurt.  She said her stomach was growling.  She was a life-sized posable action figure.  She was not real.  I touched her and she had no internal heat and her face felt of latex and her arm felt like a balloon.  But she kept fussing about being hungry and if I did not stop at a particular restaurant, she would get out and walk.  The restaurant was one of my wife’s favorites.  The memories of stopping there were too recent, too raw with emotions.  I had no intention of stopping, but she insisted, and she said that we were just going to the hotel.  We could arrive a little later than planned.  It was two hours later.  She ordered a couple of appetizers, a huge entrée, and dessert.  She ate everything as if she had never eaten before in her life.  She even said it was her first time, but I kept wondering.  She was a posable action figure.  Why did she get hungry?  Where was the food going?  That night, she insisted on having a shower.  I was about to argue the entire lunacy of a posable action figure who neither sweated nor got dirty, but she was already complaining about being dusty.  But I wondered if she had a means of evacuating the undigested food, since she ate twice as much as I did for lunch.  I knew better than to ask such questions.  She would tell me that she didn’t know, but then she could quote Scripture better than the pastor, and she knew every inch of the car.  And then, it dawned on me that Morrie had said she would deflate if I unplugged the cable, but she didn’t deflate.  She had unplugged the cable herself, walking into the hotel with me.

“But she kept her formal business attire on until I went by a store, at her insistence, and got her a few washcloths.  She felt her lingerie was too revealing.  She took washcloths to cover certain private areas.  Afterwards, she would hang out her business clothing, and wear her modified lingerie to bed.  She said it was more comfortable.  That made no sense since a doll has no senses.  She could not have feeling, but then maybe she was starting to.  She had never cried until I got angry with her constantly saying ‘I don’t know.’  But I will have to admit, her body in that skimpy lingerie was desirable.  I thought of getting her some frumpy pajamas to keep me from impure thoughts, but I settled on some T-shirts and some men’s boxers that were about her size.  Being a widower, I did not want women’s clothing added to my credit card bill and having the wrong person reading it.  I used the company credit card exclusively on the road.  I enjoyed watching her walk and dance around the room.”

Harold went on for another couple of hours talking about what they talked about.  Then he added, “She pinched me the first day, and it felt like a balloon rubbing against my skin.  After the second and third great sales calls, she would kiss me for good blessings before I went into the mill.  It felt like those wax lips you got as a kid.  But three months later, the wax lips felt real, just no warmth.  At six months, warmth was starting to form.  At about that time, her shape changed when she laid in bed.  You know what happens to a woman.  Gravity changes the shape of her chest.  It only started doing that after six months.  By nine months, I could not tell a thing different between her and a real human.  By a year, she had a distinctive heartbeat and digestive noises could be heard.  The neighbor may have seen her from a distance, but up close, he could have seen she was not real until nine months, but then she was real from the beginning, I just did not know what or who she was.”

Harold continued, “I could talk for days, but I am finally to that last night, the one in question.  She sat at the edge of the bed.  She again complained that I had never gotten her an upgrade for her wardrobe.  But then, I saw the tears flow.  Her tears had been flowing for weeks.  She said, ‘Harold, tomorrow morning, this doll body will not be animated ever again.  In fact, it probably won’t even inflate.  My boss has told me that my job is finished, but only after I tell you one more thing.  I am your guardian angel.  Remember the wibble-wobble that came into your lane right before I started talking to you?  Your reaction time was not fast enough.  You have lost a step.  I had to push against the truck to keep him from crushing us.  And I see it in your eyes.  I am a guardian angel.  I am not a little slip of a girl as you have said.  I have strength that you will not understand in this life.  And remember my first time ever eating a big meal?  There was a big accident on the highway.  Our two-hour meal and wonderful conversation allowed us to miss the wreck and the traffic jam afterwards.  We only caught the tail end of the traffic jam.  I could go on with other examples, but know that I will still be at the job.  It is just that you will not be after tomorrow.  You make a modest salary, but you get a bonus after you reach your quota of sales.  You received almost as much income this past year as the company president.  You are the sole reason they have hired people instead of laying them off this year, but I had something to do with that myself.  God knew you were getting laid off tomorrow, and he wanted you to have ample Social Security benefits, taking them now when you will be taking a penalty.  Without that bonus, you might not make ends meet, but you will do fine there.  You can collect unemployment, but when you go on interviews, you will never get a job offer.  But wait, Harold, God has work for you to do.  Wait for His voice, and do as He says.  You will be blessed both here and in the next life.  That is my one message, but as for tonight, can you stay with me and hug me until we both go to sleep?  I love you, Harold Dykstra.  Not many angels could ever say that.  We just do as the Lord commands us, but I have been in this body too long and I am starting to feel too human.’  So, I hugged her as we laid in bed.  She and I were both fully dressed, and in the morning, I was by myself and the briefcase was locked next to me.  I quickly wanted a final kiss, but I inflated the doll, and she was right.  It was not animated anymore, and the doll had a leak.”

Jim said, “We found the leak.  There was a small hole about the location of where the heart is.  The wound came from the inside, clearly an exit wound.  I can’t believe I am saying this, but she died of a broken heart.”

Poached added, “And I went back through archive photos of the original Bountiful Babs.  Her photos from twenty or thirty years ago match the photos of the doll’s face and the video capture photos taken by your nosey neighbor.  The three are the same person, although they can’t be the same.  And I scraped the residue from the doll face.  She must have cried a river of tears.”

I shrugged, “No body.  No evidence of foul play.  We’ll tell the neighbor to not bother you anymore, and that we confirmed that the woman is alive somewhere else.”

Poached said, “Lt. Deviled, the original Babs is in Arizona, living a quiet life in a gated community.  I doubt if we have to call her.”

Harold said, “If there is no crime, then I can go.  Right?  Oh, I did see Babs one more time, sort of.  When I got laid off, our chief competitor wanted to hire me.  I went to Kansas City for an interview.  It was one of those team interviews.  I interviewed each of the company officers, the ones I would work with, and one woman from the corporate office in New York City.  I answered all their questions and I felt good about the interview.  I came out of the  men’s room at the same time that the corporate big wig exited the ladies room.  She checked the hallway and we were the only ones there.  She cupped her hand around my ear and suddenly I saw Babs instead of the woman from NYC.  She said, ‘I told you that God wants you to retire, and you wowed those folks.  They really want you, but don’t worry, Sweetie, I have the deciding vote.’  She then went into the conference room.  I was supposed to leave, but the door to the conference room was left ajar.  I lingered.  Everyone wanted to learn what I supposedly knew, meaning how I cornered all the major sales the year before.  I did not know.  God did that, but they thought I knew.  Then, back with the woman sounding like the New Yorker, she said I would be trouble.  I knew the other company’s ways and I would resist being trained to learn their ways.  She told them to mark me as overqualified and hire the young guy who was willing to work for peanuts.  But, I told you everything.  I have not gotten any grand oracle from God.  I have no clue what to do!”

I suggested that Harold write down all his adventures with Babs, maybe even every conversation.  Someone might buy it, but I knew a few bloggers that might take him on as a contributing writer.  It may not be what God has intended, but it would be something to keep his mind active until God spoke to him.

He nodded that if for no other reason, he could capture what he could remember of their conversations.  He was still dedicated to his wife, but he also loved his “travel buddy.”

This concludes our interview.  We marked it down as a crank call.  No body, no crime.  But my heart went out to Harold Dykstra.  I followed up to see how he was doing, and I had a dream.  But that will have to be in an epilogue in a couple of days.

Credits

The concept of a murder without a body has been done before.  Agatha Christie had a Miss Marple story, 4:50 from Paddington.  Dorothy L. Sayers had Have His Carcass, when Lord Peter Wimsey’s love interest finds a body on the beach that then washes out to sea.  But what if there never was a body in the first place?

The idea of Bountiful Babs came to me out of the blue.  It sounds like a porn star name, but I have searched for it and nothing pops up, so I took it.

And of course, a doll that comes to life and little by little starts becoming real sounds an awful lot like Pinocchio.  Honestly, Pinocchio never entered my mind until I was editing this story.