Boone, Ill.   Tuesday, P.M. My dearest Louise: Louise, the goddamndest thing happened here about an hour ago. I was killing time here in the office trying to keep warm; was pushed back in the old swivel chair with my feet on the desk, as a matter of fact, when this husky stranger eased in. For several minutes I had been trying to decide where to go for lunch, unable to choose between chasing across the street to Thompson’s or going over to Milkshake Mike’s on the other side of the courthouse square. That’s the way The CHINESE DOLL starts. If you’re kind of reader who peeks of the end, restrain yourself. You’ll lose the fun of the chose from Boone to Chicago and back, of the ride in the train to Croyden and back by ambulance to Boone, of uncovering a very neat double-cross; and, above off, of proving that you’re as smart on the author. There’s a trick here that Mr. Tucker has planted, and planted well. You ought to be able to figure it out for yourself, but don’t blame us if you can’t