Spangled to Death, page 9
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Cleaners?” Aaron typed on the keyboard before he looked at me.
“Came and gone. Ruth and Suzy. Two older women. Very professional—wonderful job—but they reminded me of Swedish babushkas. The wood floor still needs looking after. The blood soaked into grooves in the wood, and you can still see it in several places. The table that the house was sitting on either needs replacing or painting because the blood soaked into its legs. Actually, it still kind of stinks, too, so let’s get rid of it.” That was my news flash. Now I hoped I could think about getting back my dolls.
“Okay. Cleaners are checked off the list, but I will add a floor work crew,” Aaron said.
“Good grief! It’ll take forever to get it all set back to rights,” I said.
“It won’t be much longer,” Grandma said. “Another couple of days.”
“What’s the secret?” I said.
“I wish we knew more.” Grandpa drained his glass of wine. “What do the police say?” He looked at Aaron. “What can you tell us?”
“Yes. Please tell, Aaron.” Grandma spoke up. “Who are the suspects? What happened to that woman and bodyguard?”
“I’m not part of the investigation, but the two are under suspicion. Let’s leave it at that.” Aaron looked at me. “Everyone is a suspect.”
“Thanks. Now I know why the cops hammered us with questions today. I thought Dorrie was going to quit. They questioned Max too. I don’t know what to think, myself.” I finished my drink. “But what I don’t like is that Jackie took the dolls in such an underhanded way. That’s at the core of all of this, I believe. When we figure that out, we might have a motive.”
“Let’s get back on track.” Aaron turned back to the computer. “Last night, we ended our discussion with finding the article about the Montpelier break-in. August, you mentioned that your family came from that area before moving to Minnesota, correct?” He looked back to Grandpa, who nodded. “What does your family tree have to do with the Madisons?”
“The answer is right in here.” Grandma reached over to the large Bible sitting on the corner of the desk and set it between us. “Grandpa’s descendants were definitely Putnam’s, and the Bible proves it.”
Chapter ten
“I believe we’re beginning to get to the bottom of all of this, but what is it? We’re not any further ahead. All we know for sure is that Grandpa was a Putnam.” I glanced at him. “Did you take the cufflinks to the bank today?”
“Yes. We did just that, right away this morning,” Grandpa said. “Grandma made sure of it.”
“Thank heavens for Grandma.” I knocked my forehead in jest.
“It’s time for bed,” Grandma said. “Good night.”
I gave each of my grandparents a smooch good night and watched them leave the room.
“What next?” I said and turned back to Aaron.
“My sarge needs me to work, honey,” Aaron said. “They’re short-shifted.”
“Shoot.”
“I know. I’ll text later.” Aaron kissed me and left.
I plugged the Mitch Miller DVD from Mikal into the player. I’d wanted to watch it since he gave it to me—now was my chance. I carried the Bible over to the chair and began digging through the pages. Mitch’s band played “You Are My Sunshine” while the ball bounced on the screen under the song lyrics. As I dived deeper into the pages of Grandpa’s Bible, I found his name listed under the names of his parents, along with his siblings, who were deceased. Grandma had entered their birth and the dates of their deaths. Searching further, I found that Grandpa’s great-grandpa was Elijah Putnam. I jotted down the dates and his other information before closing the book. When I glanced up at the TV, I saw that the program was over. I shut it off and set the Bible aside and went upstairs to get ready for bed.
Once I’d showered, I stood under the attic trapdoor and peered up at it. It had been ages since I’d been up there to explore. It seemed a lifetime ago since Maggie and Dorrie and I went up there to play. I barely remembered what was in the trunks. I did recall the large, old Victorian-style women’s hats, an old birdcage, and Victorian dresses. And there were a number of old cardboard boxes.
I clicked off the hall light, went into my room, and crawled into bed. My mind was filled with Mitch Miller marching songs with the ball that bounced over the words.
***
I awoke to Grandma singing, “I’m Looking Over a Four Leaf Clover.” Her high-pitched voice was like an alarm clock. In my mind I pictured Mitch Miller’s bouncing ball again while hoping it wouldn’t stick in my mind.
I got up and dressed. My earrings were on top of my dresser beside two miniature dollhouses, which I’d considered showcasing in the store. I hadn’t found a suitable arrangement for them so decided to wait. Aaron buzzed me, and I answered him back. We planned to meet for a bagel at the Loon Cafe nearby before he went to bed and I to work.
After Grandpa handed me the check for the security team, I gave him a smooch. I headed out the door. I pulled my car in beside Aaron’s in the Loon’s parking lot. He saw me pull up and gave me a kiss as we entered the café.
I sat at a cozy booth while he picked up our orders. As he slid in beside me, we kissed again.
“I miss you. When do you get a night off?” I leaned into him and drew in a deep breath. I wanted all of him. “I’m lonesome.” I spread strawberry jam on my bagel and took a bite.
“I know, baby. Next week we rotate shifts.” He reached for his bagel and spread cream cheese on it. “I have something to tell you, but you have to stay calm.” He drank his orange juice.
“Now what?” This didn’t sound good. “Give it to me straight.”
“Wanda Brown flat out denies having the dolls and claims Jackie never took them. There’s no cause for a search warrant because there’s no evidence working against her.”
“She is lying. I knew that already, but not about the evidence. I don’t stand a chance in getting them back, do I?”
“Sorry about that, I wish there was something I could do to help you out, but there isn’t.” Aaron placed his arm over my shoulder and pulled me close.
“I know she took those two dolls—I saw it. Why would Wanda lie about this? Do you think she had something to do with Jackie’s death?” I glanced up at the clock. “I’d better get to work. The remaining houses need to be moved out before the floor people begin working. Grandma is arranging the work crew.” I thought of drinking down the remainder of the juice but decided against it. “By the way, I found Grandpa’s name and Elijah Putnam’s in the family Bible.”
“Talk about coincidences.” Aaron cocked his head and looked at me.
“I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Are the cufflinks in the bank?”
“Yes,” I said. I nodded. “There are a couple of pictures we can study if we need to.” I frowned. “How does this fit into the investigation? The cufflinks. Dorrie might be right. The sampler is a little odd. It might have clues too.” I sighed. “All known facts are disjointed.”
“How true, but it has to lead to the motive, then all questions will be answered.” Aaron yawned, then kissed my forehead. “I’m going to bed. The graveyard shift is enough to do anyone in.”
We went our separate ways. I wondered if it helped or hindered my case to have a fiancé on the police force because I felt more out of sorts. It didn’t take long before I parked and entered the back door, flipping on the lights. Dorrie was right—the scent of blood was faintly evident.
“Morning, girls. I’ll be out there in a minute-and-a-half,” I called to the dolls.
I definitely was not ready for new customers. I plunked in a CD of Christmas music even though it was still a few weeks away. The first song was “White Christmas” by Bing Crosby. I began humming along as he crooned, “I’m dreaming of a...” while entering the showroom.
“Look at you, Mrs. Hoover, all dressed up for the inauguration. I bet you’re more comfortable in your outdoor get-up, aren’t you?” I smiled at her then moved on to Mrs. Carter. “You’re lookin’ good, so’s Mr. Carter. Rosalynn and Jimmy, sitting on a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!”
I headed to the computer. While the computer hummed through its login script, I sang “White Christmas.” I had forgotten some of the words. Wish I could see that bouncing ball like on the Mitch Miller program. Finally, the desktop appeared on the monitor, and I clicked on the Internet browser’s icon. Back to digging into Jackie Newell’s personal life. I Googled Jackie and several sites appeared. Perusing the links, eventually I learned she was a highly requested speaker, mostly on savvy, popular trends and the buying public. At last I found a listing of her speaking engagements over the previous six months. My heart pounded as I stared at the screen. She’d spoken at a convention near the Montpelier Estate the day before the heist.
Did Jackie Newell steal Dolley’s brooch?
Next, I searched the web for Elijah Putnam and learned that at one time he’d been a medical doctor and lived near the Madisons. He was younger than Madison, making it highly possible Putnam had been his doctor. Since money was a grave issue for Dolley, she certainly could have bequeathed the cufflinks to Mr. Putnam upon Mr. Madison’s death as a payment for services rendered.
I was starting to see a beginning, but the trail was mystifying.
As I clicked out of the site, voices from the back of the shop caught my attention.
“Right over here.” Max clopped into the showroom with the security team close behind. “The lady has the check, right?”
“You bet. My bag’s in the back. Hold on a sec.” I jumped up and skirted past the men. I removed the check from my bag and handed it to the man with the outstretched hand. I’d forgotten their names. “Give me the final bill when you’re finished.” They set to work.
Max hadn’t moved. “Well? When’s August coming over to help?”
“Grandpa? Anytime. He was reading the paper and eating when I left home.”
“Ahh—retirement.” He started walking away, then stopped. “I’ll start carrying the houses into the back room, and with any luck we won’t have to carry them all up to the apartment. We’ll see.”
“You’re a treasure, Max. Thanks.” I no sooner responded to another customer requesting a set of Madison dolls when three people entered the store. I walked toward them.
“We’re kind of a mess right now to be open for business,” I said. “I do have catalogues if you don’t see what you’d like.”
“I want a Dolley Madison house.”
“I don’t have one on display to show you,” I said. “You’d have to look in the—”
“Right here,” a woman dashed to the vacant area. “Look!” She glanced downward.
The other two women followed right behind.
“Is this where it was?” a woman asked, looking down at the spot.
“How may I help you?” I asked, slightly annoyed.
“I still want a house,” the first woman said.
“Right over here, and I’ll make the sale. Follow me to the counter, please.” I texted Max. “Cash or credit card?” The two women stayed back. “Right over here, please.”
“This is right where she landed. See that? Blood splattered on the table legs.” Two of the three women walked over to the counter, finally.
“How will you pay? Cash or credit?”
My head was spinning as more people entered through the front door. I heard footsteps from the backroom and was relieved to see Max enter.
Max ushered the spectators out of the store and turned to the women before me. “You want a Madison house?”
“Yes. I’m paying for one.” The woman pushed her glasses farther on her nose.
“Where are you parked?”
“Right out the door.”
“I’ll carry the boxes out.”
After taking care of the sale and Max finished, I glanced at my inbox once again, and there were already five more orders for a Madison house. People also wanted to know if Jackie’s brain gushed out all over it. I deleted the gruesome messages.
I presumed Max planned to make room across the workbench and countertops for the houses, but I didn’t think they’d all fit. The houses were large. In its early years, the White House was smaller simply because the additions hadn’t happened. In the newer dollhouse styles, features were added such as the Rose Garden, which was always a beautiful attraction and selling point.
Supervising the shifting of the dollhouses shot my sorting project for the day, but I was close to being done, and my assigned investigation was completed. Grandma’s job was to locate the floor crew. I heard Grandpa’s voice in the back of the shop, so I went to meet them.
“You came, too?” I asked. Grandma stood to the right of Grandpa. “Great.”
“Just wanted to check things out and make sure my granddaughter doesn’t need any help.” She glanced at the shelves and noticed the boxes were stacked, labeled neatly, and trimmed. “You’re all caught up.”
“Pretty much. I haven’t sewn the Dolley dresses, though. I thought since you were coming, I’d leave you to mind the store while I go to a fabric store to purchase what I need to sew the dresses. Sometimes I’m lucky and find the buff colored material in town, otherwise I have to order it. I have several orders waiting to fill at the moment. Do you mind?”
“No. I’ll stay for the rest of the day. Go ahead.”
“Thanks. Have you contacted the floor crew?”
“Yes, dear.” Grandma’s eyes blinked, I knew she had something up her sleeve. “One of the book club ladies knows someone who refinishes floors. All of my lady friends from the book club are trustworthy, so I’m sure the two men she referred me to will be perfect.”
Grandma’s explanation left me a little edgy. “What’s the name?”
“Name of what?” Grandma giggled.
My gut flip-flopped. “The work crew.”
She inhaled deeply. “The Two Jims.”
“Two Jims?” There was nothing wrong with two men named Jim, I told myself. “Why are you giggling?”
“They’ll be fine. Remember now, they were recommended by the book clubbers.”
“Oh, my stars. What are their last names?” Max asked.
“One Jim is a Tew.” Grandma looked me straight in the eye. “The other is Flowers.”
“This is beginning to sound like that Abbott and Costello skit, ‘Who’s on first?’” Max winked at me and nodded to Grandpa. “Well ladies, August and I have plenty to do if you want to get the tables and houses out of the showroom before the Two Jims arrive.”
“See you back home.” I grabbed my coat and bag. While climbing into my car, my thoughts went to the hotel. It was now or never to get the dolls. I needed a disguise.
Perfect timing, I reflected as I crossed the bridge over the Mississippi and drove into the downtown shopping district. Before long I was turning into a small parking lot.
I raced across the street to the five-and-dime store and found a brown, long straight-haired wig. I thought it best to look for a different top. I chose a frilly one that sparkled with sequins, making me feel like a dancer. The bright red color went with my white jeans. Now all I needed were some dangly earrings, which I purchased with the other items.
Now I had my happy hour costume.
I found the bathroom and slipped into my new outfit.
Back in the car, I used a marker to draw a tiny heart on my ankle to finish the costume, then I shut off my phone before climbing out of the car. A noisy phone while stealing back my dolls from a killer would not be smart.
Out on the street, I decided to stand to the side and watch and wait and hope a cleaning lady or two dressed in uniform would walk past so I could follow them inside. I glanced at my watch. Another five minutes went by, and I watched two women wearing Twin City Motel uniforms stomp out their cigarettes.
“Hey, there! When’s happy hour?” I rushed up and started talking. I hadn’t wanted to enter alone. “Heard that Brad Pitt’s here.”
“Really?” The gal wearing tattoos for sleeves looked at me. “I ain’t seen him.” They went into the elevator and I kept going toward the bar.
The clinking of glass plus murmuring voices propelled me farther until at last coming to the dark room. Several individuals lined the bar while couples sat side by side around tables. On top of tables were candles, some lit. I looked around the room but didn’t see the two I searched for. I decided to order from the bartender and sit in a far off corner to wait and see if they’d arrive.
As I sipped my drink, I wished I knew if Wanda Brown and the bodyguard were still in their rooms, and if they were together. The wig made me warm, and sweat beads dotted my forehead and brow. Where were they? My heart skipped a beat as I watched the couple enter and stop near the bar. It was them!
They seemed to be arguing, so I kept my eye on them and moved slightly closer without them noticing. Eventually, they moved to a table nearby, their voices rising.
“I tell you, we have to leave this town. The police are getting closer,” the man said.
“Stone, those dolls. They keep asking about them. I can’t afford to leave them in the hotel room anymore. What if they get a search warrant?” Wanda said.
“That damn shopkeeper, Liv. Whatever her name is. Where are they now?” Stone asked.
“Right in my purse. Then I’ll always know where they are,” Wanda said.
“Let me look at them again. Maybe there’s something we’re missing,” Stone said.
“You never know,” she said, taking them out. “Here.” She grabbed her purse and said, “I’ll be right back.”
It was my cue. I waited a moment, knowing full well she’d go to the bathroom. It didn’t take long before I was right beside Stone. As I tried to figure out how to get my hands on the dolls, an opportunity arose. The waitress coming in our direction carried a tray with two drinks. When she was close by, I slid my chair out as she reached over to set the drinks down. Instantly, the drink tipped over and Stone was covered with the beverage.
