“Hold on. I want to hear what’s happening,” Max called, walking down the outside steps. He gave me a puzzled look but stood near me. “What’s missing?”
“An outfit for the James Madison doll. It makes no sense. Did you happen to sell one outfit? Usually, if someone needs more doll clothes, they’ll purchase a set. You know, one for both the Mr. and Mrs.”
“I don’t recall selling it. You might want to question Dorrie.”
“I will when she arrives. There isn’t much time until Jackie Newell of New York stops by.”
“That’s right.” Max took a moment and said, “I forgot to put on a decent shirt. I’ll be right back.” He left for his apartment to change clothes.
I noticed two plainclothes officers approaching, one older with gray hair, the other younger and blond.
“We’ll take over. There’s been a rash of burglaries in the area, centering around patriotic memorabilia,” the detective stated, showing his badge. “Detective Mergens. Ms. Anderson? Olivia Anderson?”
“Aaron is my neighbor and I had told him about it. I’m Olivia, Liv, Anderson.”
“Detective Erlandsen,” the other officer said, showing his badge. “We’re curious about this possible theft.”
“Let’s go inside for some privacy,” Detective Mergens said.
“I’ll follow.” My phone buzzed, and I read Maggie’s message. Stay safe. Keep me updated.
Quickly I sent her an emoji of “ok.”
“How does the showroom look?” Mergens asked.
“Great, actually. This morning is very important to me.” I stuck my hands in my pockets and went back to the front window. “Jackie Newell from New York is due here in less than an hour. She owns a chain of department stores that are located all over the country and in Canada and beyond. She’s very well known and her houses are highly praised.” I smiled. “I hope her interest in the houses will spike sales.”
“Never heard of her, but I don’t play dolls,” Mergens said. He rolled his eyes.
“You use a key for entrance,” Erlandsen said. “How many people have a key?”
“For sure Max and my other employee, Dorrie, plus my grandparents. The temp office that sends the cleaning ladies has it. That’s about it.”
“Let’s jot down names,” Mergens said.
“Do you have items of much value?” Erlandsen asked.
“Plenty. Look around the room. I have my Penny dolls and First Lady photos, and they sell for several hundred dollars, at least.” I nodded at them, placing my hands on my hips. We stood by the glass counter in front of the register and computer. I swung my attention back to the officer’s question. “Max carves doll heads in the workroom or his apartment at night. He sets his own hours. I tell him what style of house I need and which First Lady. The pieces need to be glued and, in some instances, stapled together. They’re fragile, but sturdy. He fills in when needed.”
“You trust him?” Mergens asked.
“Yes. He has a key. He lives here. I’ve known him for years.” I crossed my arms.
“I see.” Mergens wrote down information. “Was he home?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where do you live?”
“With my grandparents, Marie and August Ott.” I scratched my head. “Dorrie takes care of customers when I’m too busy sewing the gowns.”
“Any cause for alarm?” He studied me. “You know. Anything unusual. Pattern change such as misplacing a key?”
“We want this Dorrie’s info,” Erlandsen said.
“I can’t think of anything unusual at the moment.” I shook my head. “I keep my purse in the workroom, and it’s usually hung on the clothes tree.” I looked up Dorrie’s contact information from the list beside the computer. “Here’s her info. Can we hustle here? I’m expecting my very important client pretty soon.”
“One more question.” Erlandsen held up a finger. “Anyone you might have a beef with?”
“I can’t think of anyone.” I frowned, massaging my chin. “Unless this has something to do with Max. He gambles and often loses.” I thought a moment. “Why are you guys so concerned over a small item that I’m not sure was stolen?”
“The burglar is after something in particular,” Erlandsen stated, glancing up at me over the edge of his notepad.
“That alone raises our curiosity. And presidential? I can see artwork by a famous artist or antique books,” Mergens said. “Well, we’ll be in touch if something comes from the investigation.”
“Make sure the doors are locked when you leave,” Erlandsen said.
“I will.”
They closed their notepads and left.
I glanced in the tiny restroom mirror, fluffed up my knotted, curly red hair and dabbed on some red lipstick. Hopefully, I look presentable for Jackie Newell’s arrival. The back door opened just as I stepped from the bathroom.
“Hey, babe.” Aaron walked toward me. “I don’t really know much more than you do right now. Tim and I are leaving on our rounds.”
“Thank you.” The front bell jingled.
“I’ll call you later.” Aaron tweaked my chin and left.
I tried to calm my nerves.
He walked to his patrol car and drove away. I noticed a familiar car parked out back and realized it belonged to an old schoolmate, Ronnie Berg. He earned his living by taking pictures of local stories and writing news articles for the local paper. I cringed. At the same time, my girlfriend Maggie drove into the lot and parked. She climbed from the car with a box in hand.
“I have something for you,” Maggie called.
“Hey you! Come on in.”
“Here,” Maggie said.
“Thanks,” I said. She handed me a box of chocolates. “Can you stay?”
“No, I’m late for work. Hope this helps,” Maggie said. She gave me a big hug.
“You always know what I need to calm me down. I’m a nervous wreck waiting for her.” I slipped off the box cover and we both removed a candy, popping it in our mouths.
“Call me,” Maggie said.
I locked the back door after she walked out, then turned to go out to the show room.
I removed another candy before setting the box under the counter near the register. A car door slammed nearby. I stuffed the candy in my mouth and went to the front window.
A long, black limousine was parked in front of the store. Jackie Newell and a thirty-ish woman climbed out, followed by a big, burly man wearing aviator sunglasses and a black suit. I figured him as a bodyguard or escort.
“You can do this,” I told myself, gulping. Opening the front door, I willed my racing heart to slow down. “Good morning.”
Both women stood about the same height. Ms. Newell wore a ritzy black dress coat and the younger woman was dressed in a tastefully simple navy suit. Ms. Newell’s hair was black with purple highlights. Her practiced smile shone as she walked toward the store, the other woman following two paces behind. The bodyguard had his eyes glued on the passersby. Why does she need a bodyguard?
“Ms. Newell, I hope you’ll like the store.” I pretended to be calm as my fast beating heart slowed to a normal pace. I jutted my hand out. “Olivia Anderson, but you can call me Liv.”
“Jackie. So nice to meet you.” She shook my hand before glancing around the room. “Very nice. Yes, indeed. Love your pictures of the First Ladies. Who’s your fave?”
“Dolley, of course.”
The woman beside Jackie cleared her throat.
“My secretary, Wanda Brown. She’s invaluable. Don’t know what I’d do without her. She’s the person who caught your website when researching dollhouses. Your website is fabulous the way that the houses are depicted and the dolls. Your web maven is very good.” Jackie gave a winning smile.
“Thank you,” I said. “I’ll tell her that.” I’m the web maven. I’ll pat my back later, after she leaves.
“I always hire a bodyguard when I’m traveling to help with baggage. I’m going on a buying spr
ee during this trip.”
Calm my pumping heart. Yes! Maybe a dozen or more houses purchased by her highness.
Wanda held out her hand. “Nice to meet you.” Her eyes shifted around the room. “Nice store you have.”
“Thank you.”
Jackie’s eyes lingered on the heritage-style White House.
“I see you have Dolley Madison as the First Lady in this house.” Jackie tucked her small pouch under her arm before reaching into the house. “May I?” She picked up the six-inch doll and began examining it. “Tell me about the gown. It’s gorgeous. I see it’s layered with crinolines and even has a pantaloon.”
“I sew the clothing with as much authenticity as possible.” I smiled. “The dress Mrs. Madison is wearing is representative of what she wore for the inaugural ball. It’s made of buff-colored velvet with ropes of pearls and a fashionable turban with Bird of Paradise flowers. She was the first to have an inaugural ball. Leave it to Dolley.”
I spoke with confidence. I’d studied the First Ladies in college, read the history books as well as the gossipy ones. I could have entertained Jackie all day with my grasp on White House minutiae, but I wasn’t sure if she was an enthusiast like me.
“Very informative.” Jackie’s eyes lit up as she gave the doll a closer inspection. “I hear you’re a descendant of Dolley Madison.”
“Yes I am, as a matter-of-fact. How did you know?”
“I’m related to her, also.” Jackie grinned.
“How fun! She was amazing.”
“I agree.”
“The sampler on the wall,” I nodded toward it, “is a replica of my grandma’s who inherited it from Dolley. Should I say, we presume it had once been Dolley’s and embroidered by her.” We walked toward the wall-hanging. “It’s identical, strawberries down the side and their wedding date in the center.”
“Very interesting.” Jackie peered closer at it. “May I take a picture?”
“Sure.” Before I could say “boo,” she’d taken at least five of the sampler and several of the store.
She meandered back to the heritage house where the Madison dolls perched. “It’s beautiful.” She carefully picked up the President doll, then set the piece back in its original position. “Ever hear of the ‘family secret’?” She removed a magnifying glass from her purse and leaned over to peer closely at the interior walls.
“A ‘family secret’? No. Never heard of it,” I said, startled.
“Are you certain?” Jackie eyed me suspiciously.
“Yes.” I nodded. What is she talking about?
“Most interesting.” She looked me square in the eye.
Is she trying to figure out if I’m telling the truth?
“How long have you known you’re a descendant?” I asked.
“Last year. I’ve done plenty of research into it. There’s definitely a family secret,” she said. “Back to business.” Ms. Newell straightened up. “Are the wall decorations identical to how Dolley decorated?”
“What do you mean?” I asked, raising a brow. “Of course they are. The interior is decorated as shown in the pictures from the White House Historical Association.”
“Gorgeous.” Wanda leaned closer to Jackie. She held up china from the Madison house.
The bell jingled. The bodyguard entered and stood in front of the door. He crossed his arms. “Problem solved.”
“Stone, good.” Wanda nodded.
What is he talking about? Problem solved? These people from New York seemed to talk in riddles, or else I was losing it. This conversation is giving me the jitters. I glanced out the window and noticed the chauffeur behind the steering wheel. I didn’t have any idea of their identities. When Wanda cleared her throat, it jerked me back to attention.
“She's concerned about historical accuracy.” Wanda looked me in the eye. “She's interested in all things Dolley, plus Mr. Madison.”
“No family rumor or secret heard of, eh?” Jackie stood and dropped the magnifier into her little purse. She glanced at me once again. “Sure?”
“Positive.”
“Is every adornment on the clothing accurately portrayed on both Mr. and Mrs. Madison?” Jackie asked.
“She wants to know if this is exactly what was worn during the inaugural ball?” Wanda clarified.
“Yes. Dolley’s dress. Everything on it is accurate as well as his, but his is purchased. Men’s clothing are very tough to sew.” What is with the tag-team between the two? It’s making me nutsy.
“I’m interested in a family secret, but if you don’t know of one—” Jackie said.
“I don’t.” I shook my head. What is with her? What secret? I had to change the subject to get back in control. “All the dollhouses are made by hand. I have two employees, one who carves the dolls’ heads and my showroom assistant who helps arrange the interior settings.” Isn’t she going to purchase a few houses?
Jackie held up President Madison and scrutinized his cufflinks. I blinked. This woman confused me.
“Mr. Madison’s cufflinks are missing from the Madison Museum. You know? Montpelier? The Madison Estate. It’s part of the secret, my dear.” She cocked her brow and stared right through me. “They need finding.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, running my fingers through my hair. “I know the du Ponts purchased the estate some years after it was sold by Dolley. I have no knowledge of cufflinks.”
“Excuse me,” Wanda interrupted. “You have thirty minutes until your next appointment.” Wanda looked at me. There was something in her eyes, but I wasn’t sure what. Curiosity? “We’re booked at the Twin City Hotel. It makes getting around easy. Only a couple blocks from here.”
“May I take Mr. and Mrs. Madison with me today for further scrutiny? I’ll place my order on Wednesday and then return them. Day after tomorrow.” Jackie opened her little pouch and dropped the dolls inside before I could say, “Boo.”
“Wait a second, here. Those dolls cost me. I need a credit card number.” I was beginning to think she was a magician, the way she made those dolls disappear.
“We’ll pay upon our return.”
“When will that be?”
“In a couple of days.”
“Let’s make an appointment? Ten tomorrow morning?”
“It’ll be either tomorrow morning or the following. Matter of fact, let’s make it for two days from now at ten o’clock.”
“Sure, but I want payment now, not later.” Confused, I started to take care of the paper work. “How many houses do you think you’ll purchase? I’d like to know so they’ll be ready.”
“Maybe two historicals. Not sure. I’ll pay for the dolls upon my return, I said.” To Wanda, she said, “Time to leave.”
At the window, I watched Jackie with her purse tucked tight under her arm like a million dollar bank vault. First Jackie, then Wanda climbed into the car. The bodyguard held the door open, shutting it behind.
What is the deal about cufflinks? Family secret? Nothing makes sense. Is she going to purchase houses or not? Are we really related? What about the dolls? Will I get paid?
I turned around and plunked down by the front desk.
Word to Death Page 24
