“Okay,” Eloise said, her voice gaining in confidence. “I can do that.”
“Good. After that, if you’re so inclined and we have no other pressing matters, you should visit your mother. You won’t be that far from home.”
“That’s very kind,” Eloise replied, her tone uncertain. Didn’t she want to see her mother? Or did she suspect this was Richard’s way of ending her association with the Bureau? If so, she was wrong. Richard didn’t operate like that. If he wanted her out of the FBI, she’d be gone.
Phillip surreptitiously eyed her, but for once her expression gave away nothing. He didn’t know what she was thinking.
“Thank you,” she continued. “I might do that.”
“It’s your decision, of course.” Richard rose from his chair. “Special Agent Schilder has arranged accommodations for us. I suggest we freshen up a little then enjoy a nice dinner. Any objections?”
“Not from me.” As he stood, Phillip started to extend his hand to Eloise, then grabbed his hat from the coffee table instead. He didn’t dare meet his uncle’s sharp-eyed gaze. He should also do his best to avoid being alone with Richard. Or he needed to come up with an explanation why his attentions to Eloise seemed to be more than simple gentlemanly gestures before that happened. He wasn’t sure what explanation he could give when he refused to acknowledge the reason himself.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
“I’m not sure I can do this.” Eloise played with the pearl necklace she’d been outfitted with for her visit to the doll store. Wearing the expensive jewelry tied her stomach in knots. What if she lost one of the matching earrings or broke the clasp on the necklace? The horrible thought caused her to flatten her hand against the pearls to ensure they were safe.
Phillip turned around from his position behind the steering wheel and rested his arm along the top of the front seat. He wore his chauffeur’s hat at a jaunty angle that, along with his reassuring smile, would have her heart pitter-pattering at any other time. Now all she could think about was how many ways this visit could go wrong—and she’d be to blame.
“Tell me who you are.” His encouraging tone prompted her to take a deep breath.
“My name is Elena Piperton from Cape Cod.” They’d specifically chosen the popular Massachusetts destination because Eloise had vacationed there with a friend’s family one summer when the two girls were in high school. “I want to purchase a special gift for a close friend.”
“And?”
Eloise stared at him. “And what?”
“Elena Piperton is wealthy. Confident. A woman who knows what she wants.” His eyes softened. “That’s you.”
There went her heart. Pitter-patter.
To avoid his gaze, she peered across the street at the spacious storefront housing the doll shop. The blue-lettered sign above the entrance read:
VELVALEE DICKINSON
ANCIENT DOLLS – FOREIGN – REGIONALS
Assorted dolls in a variety of costumes were tastefully arranged in the large window, which was draped with a thick valance.
“It reminds me of a puppet theater,” Phillip said.
“Does that make Mrs. Dickinson a puppet master?”
“She’s an ordinary woman.”
“Who may be a traitor.”
“Elena Piperton knows nothing about that. So, you know nothing about that.”
She scoffed. “Easier said than done.”
“Uncle Richard believes in you.” He shifted his gaze toward the windshield and lowered his voice. “So do I.”
Three simple words, but powerful enough to bolster her confidence. She’d spent the previous two days at the FBI’s New York field office working on her cover story, finding enough details in her own life to create someone new. A familiar place. Same educational accomplishments. Same marital status. Same family history—an absent father, a dead brother, a grieving mother.
According to her instructors, such details created authenticity and kept deception to a minimum. “The less lies you tell, the less lies you have to remember,” one of them stressed. They helped her dig deep into her childhood to remember the comforts she’d taken for granted before Black Tuesday disrupted her life. To tap into her mother’s indifferent attitude toward money before she was compelled to pinch pennies. They were memories that gave her the resources to become a socialite.
She took another deep breath, closed her eyes, and allowed those memories to wash over her. Elena Piperton is a wealthy, confident woman who knows what she wants. I am Elena Piperton.
And Phillip believed in her.
She opened her eyes and met Phillip’s gentle gaze. “I’m ready,” she said in an imperious tone.
“Then I’ll get your door, Miss Piperton.” Once he was out of the vehicle, he tugged on the hem of his chauffeur’s jacket, strolled around the front of the burgundy Cadillac provided by the Bureau, and gallantly opened the passenger door. Eloise took his extended hand and stepped from the car.
“I’ll be right outside the shop.” He held onto her hand, his back blocking the view of anyone who might be watching from across the street. “If anything goes wrong, scream.”
“Isn’t the chauffeur supposed to stay with the car?”
“He’s supposed to be close enough to carry the lady’s purchases back to the car.”
“Heaven forbid the lady carry her own purchases,” Eloise said in mock horror.
“I suppose that depends on the number of her purchases.” His face was set in stone, appropriate for a member of the fictitious Piperton staff. Eloise adjusted her own expression.
I am Elena Piperton. Wealthy. Confident.
He didn’t give her any last words of encouragement. The electric warmth of his skin against hers was enough.
She crossed the street, walked past a bookstore, and paused before the doll store’s display window. For the benefit of anyone inside who might be watching, she considered the various dolls, feigning special interest in two or three of them. On a raised platform in a corner of the window stood two dolls similar to one she’d seen in Barbara Clark’s collection. They wore emerald dresses trimmed in lace and matching hats with black feathers. One doll had blond ringlets while the other had auburn curls.
As if making a decision, she entered the store and smiled at the petite woman coming from behind the counter to meet her. Despite her desire to stay in character, she couldn’t help thinking how unlikely it seemed that this person could be a traitor. Even in her red heels, she couldn’t be much more than five feet tall.
“May I help you?” she asked as she subtly appraised Eloise’s appearance. In an odd way, the appraisal strengthened Eloise’s resolve to portray Elena Piperton as perfectly as possible.
“I believe so. Might I speak with the owner of this establishment?”
“I am she.”
Eloise’s haughty expression turned to all smiles. “How fine! I was passing by and noticed your beautiful display.” She gestured toward the window. “Could I have a closer look at the two Irish dolls in the window, please?”
“I’d be honored to show them to you, Miss…?”
“Piperton. Elena Piperton.”
“Do you collect dolls?”
“Oh no. Not me. But I have a close friend who has expressed interest in the hobby.”
“You wish to make a purchase for her?”
“Perhaps.” Eloise gave her an enigmatic smile. “Don’t appear too eager,” the instructors had warned. “She’s courting you, not the other way around.”
Mrs. Dickinson returned the smile then walked toward the window. Eloise strolled to a glass display case that served as an additional counter, browsing the shelves as she did so. The assortment of dolls was nothing short of amazing. From plain and drab to elaborate and glamorous, there seemed to be a doll for any taste. When she arrived at the counter, she removed her white gloves.
When Mrs. Dickinson joined her, she set three dolls on the counter, the two Eloise requested and a third dressed in purple satin
. “Is your friend by any chance a redhead?”
“She’s a brunette,” Eloise replied, imagining her schoolgirl chum whose family had taken her with them to Cape Cod. Stick to the truth as much as possible.
“I once had a third doll similar to these. She had the most luxurious red hair gathered together into a chic cascade bound with the loveliest tartan plaid.”
“Is that so?” You mean the doll in Barbara Clark’s collection? Eloise shooed the question from her mind. Elena didn’t know anything about Barbara Clark, yet she couldn’t seem to keep the woman out of her thoughts.
“I may have a photograph of it. I do that sometimes, take pictures of my favorites. If you’re interested in the complete set, I’d be more than happy to contact the owner on your behalf. I’m sure we could work out an arrangement beneficial to all.”
“That’s a kind offer but totally unnecessary.” A superior smile lingered on Eloise’s lips as she fingered the lace on the auburn doll’s jacket collar. “I’m partial to this one. She is what I imagine when I think of an Irish lass.”
“An excellent choice.”
“Though this one is lovely too.” Eloise turned her attention to the blond doll. “The ringlets remind me of Shirley Temple. I loved her movies when I was a girl.”
“People say that all the time.” Mrs. Dickinson moved the blond doll slightly closer to Eloise. “Since your friend is new to the hobby, you could surprise her with both. They’d make an excellent addition to her budding collection.”
“That is a thought.” Eloise pretended to consider the idea then smiled again at the tiny woman. She let her gaze roam over the doll-filled shelves behind the counter. “This store is fabulous. How did you get your start?”
“Like everyone, one doll at a time. Though I actually began with two.” Velvalee’s laugh sounded rehearsed. She’d obviously told the same story a thousand times before. Elena Piperton listened with rapt attention as if fascinated by the anecdote.
“About eight years ago, a friend gave me two dolls from the Philippines. They were beautifully dressed in native costumes. Other friends added to my growing collection. Then one year, over Christmas, I worked as a salesclerk in Bloomingdale’s doll department. I’m not too proud to admit that I sold more dolls than anyone else that year.”
“How industrious of you.” Eloise measured her tone so the words were a compliment while also suggesting a woman of her status would never brag about working in a department store.
“I realized I could do the same on my own.” Velvalee failed to keep a reflexive defensiveness from her voice. “I developed a clientele by publishing lists of dolls I had for sale. Eventually, I opened this.” She waved her hand in a graceful gesture to encompass the store. “Right here on Madison Avenue.”
“That is so admirable,” Eloise cooed. “More women should follow your example instead of depending solely on their husbands for their financial security. Not me, of course. All I know about money is how to spend it.” She gave a careless laugh. “But women such as yourself, those with intelligence and ambition. Especially with this awful war disrupting all our lives. Do you think it will ever end?”
Velvalee hesitated, as if unsure how to respond to all that Eloise had said. She lowered her gaze to the counter then picked up the third doll she’d brought from the window. “I had the good fortune to acquire a few dolls from the Charles Jopp Collection last year, including this fashionable lady.”
“Charles Jopp?” Eloise asked.
“His collection was a doll enthusiast’s dream. Filled with rare dolls one couldn’t find anywhere else.” She eyed the doll with regret. “I never thought to part with this particular one, but she certainly would be a coup for a new collector.”
“She is lovely,” Eloise replied.
“Her value is more than most are willing to spare, especially during these hard times.” Velvalee emitted a long sigh and set the doll to one side.
Following her instincts, Eloise’s knowing expression indicated that Velvalee’s sales tactics wouldn’t work on her. “Value is often in the eye of the beholder,” she replied. “But price? There’s usually room for negotiation.”
Velvalee gave her a begrudging though respectful smile. “My dear Miss Piperton, you have a head for business after all.”
“I’m perhaps freer with my money than my banker would like,” Eloise replied, “but I’m not flippant with it.”
“An interesting distinction.”
Eloise gazed at each of the dolls in turn. “I’m afraid I can’t make up my mind.” She suddenly stared at Velvalee. “I have a fabulous idea. Why don’t you join me for tea this afternoon? I’m staying at the Waldorf. Bring all three of the dolls with you and perhaps a couple of others. I’ll make a decision then.”
Velvalee appeared startled by the unexpected invitation. “I don’t know if I can get away.”
“Please do. I’m returning home tomorrow, and I don’t want to leave empty-handed.”
“Naturally not.” Velvalee took another moment, obviously wrestling with the possibility of losing an important sale if she didn’t make the appointment, then made her decision. “What time should I arrive?”
“Is four thirty convenient?”
“Very convenient. Thank you for inviting me, Miss Piperton.”
“I’m the one who should be thanking you, Mrs. Dickinson, for indulging my whims.” Eloise slipped on her white gloves. “I really should run along now.”
As she turned to leave, the door opened. A bulldog of a man wearing a three-piece suit and carrying a box stormed in followed by a police officer. Phillip stepped in behind them. Eloise glanced at Velvalee, who appeared both shaken and aggrieved by the man’s appearance.
“You should have called for an appointment, Mr. Danvers,” she snapped. “As you can see, I have a customer.”
The man shifted a few dolls arranged on a different display case and set the box beside them. “I can wait.”
Unsure what to do, Eloise turned toward Phillip. “May I be of assistance, Miss Piperton?” he asked.
“Would you like us to stay?” Eloise asked Mrs. Dickinson, who seemed befuddled by the question.
“Why would you?”
Eloise didn’t know how to answer her. Had she asked so that they could witness the confrontation firsthand? Or because she was genuinely concerned? She hoped the latter, but she couldn’t dismiss the former. Right now, the only fact she could hold on to was that Phillip had remained in character and so should she.
“As a new friend,” she said simply.
“Thank you, but no. Mr. Danvers and I have dealt with each other before.”
“I’ll say we have,” Danvers blustered. “Cheat you, she will, if you’re not careful. That’s why I brought along this copper.”
Eloise narrowed her eyes, communicating without words what she thought of the man’s strong-arm tactics. Then she turned a gracious smile toward Velvalee. “I’ll see you at tea. Bring six dolls with you. I’m sure I’ll want at least three.”
Without waiting for a reply, Eloise exited the store. Phillip followed her close enough to whisper as soon as they were out of earshot. “Don’t say anything until we’ve driven away. She’s distracted, but I don’t want to give any of them a reason to suspect I’m not your chauffeur.”
“Just let me know when I can be Eloise again.”
Phillip chuckled. “Soon, Miss Piperton.”
Eloise slid into the backseat and rested her head on the fine leather. As they drove away, she speculated on what was happening inside the store. So many questions circled through her thoughts. What was in Mr. Danvers’s box? Was the policeman there to arrest Velvalee? On what grounds?
Most important of all was the question that had taken Eloise there in the first place. Was Velvalee a traitor?
After all that preparation and pretense, they still didn’t know for sure. Hopefully, the Bureau would be closer to the truth once Velvalee joined Eloise for tea at the Waldorf. During her abse
nce, Phillip and another agent planned to sneak into the doll shop and look for evidence of her guilt.
She hoped they found something, anything, that would bring the investigation to an end, though her hope was bittersweet. Proof of guilt meant an end to her association with the FBI and a new beginning for Phillip as he headed overseas. Proof of guilt meant she no longer had an excuse not to visit her mother. Proof of guilt meant she might never see Phillip again.
Her thoughts too often returned to Phillip these days. He focused on navigating the crowded Manhattan traffic on their way to the Waldorf. Richard would be waiting for their report. And later in the afternoon, Eloise would once again transform into Elena—a wealthy young socialite tasked to engage Mrs. Velvalee Dickinson long enough for her store to be quietly ransacked.
God be with her.
God be with them all.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Under the watchful eye of the police officer, Velvalee wrote a check for the amount she owed to Danvers for his collection. He had some nerve coming to the shop during business hours instead of arranging an appointment. And to involve the police was the icing on the cake, not to mention the embarrassment he’d caused her in front of that lovely Miss Piperton.
“That concludes our business.” She slid the check across the counter. “You may leave now.”
“Don’t take that high-and-mighty tone with me.” Danvers examined the check before pocketing it as if to ensure each i had been dotted and each t had been crossed.
“The bank will cover it,” she said firmly.
“You better hope they do. I’m going there now, and if they don’t, we’ll be back.” He wagged his thumb between him and the officer.
“You’re not cheating me again.”
“I never cheated you before.”
“So you’ve said, but I know better. And so do my clients.”
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