Madame Koska & the Imperial Brooch

by ILIL ARBEL

  Madame Koska took the key and pulled out her chatelaine. Suddenly, just as she was going to attach it, she suddenly started and stared at it. “There is a bigger problem here than ve think,” she said. “I just noticed it. This is a copy, it’s not my key. You see, I always put a small sign on my keys as to which door it opens, since I find I always fumble to find the right one. I put tiny paint dots on them. My key had a vhite dot on it. Also, this one is shiny and clean and looks newer than the other one. Even though the original is not very old, still, it took on some patina, and had the vhite dot. This is a different key.”

  The officer slowly put out his hand to take the key again. “Madame Koska, I will need to talk to each of the women here alone. Everyone who worked here after you left could have taken the key and copied it during her break. Would you mind going to the other room for a little while? I will start talking with Miss Saltykov, since she is already here, and then I will summon the girls, one by one. I’ll only need a few minutes with each of them.” For a moment Madame Koska wanted to protest, then thought the better of it, and left the room quietly.

  Annushka, you must get a cloche hat,” said Madame Koska.

  “Why in the world would I care about a hat in the middle of these troubles?” asked Madame Golitsyn with mild astonishment.

  “Because one must be fashionable no matter what,” said Madame Koska. “Hats with wide brims are out. Cloches are in. Therefore, you must have a cloche.”

  Madame Golitsyn laughed. “And you also think that a small woman like me does not look quite right in a large brim hat? Too much like a mushroom?”

  “Well, I would never call you a mushroom, but I do think the cloches are more appropriate for you, yes,” Madame Koska admitted.

  “You are absurd, my dear,” said Madame Golitsyn. “I am now so terribly worried about Natalya, she thinks the police officer suspected her of breaking in, and she is moping and her nose is constantly red. I cannot abide red noses… Who has got time to shop for hats?”

  “Well, my dear, I let you lecture me about my slips with the Russian accent, so you must allow me to lecture you about fashion.”

  “I must admit you look splendid despite all these aggravations,” said Madame Golitsyn. “This suit is most becoming. But speaking of Russian, how are the lessons going?”

  Madame Koska looked at her suit with professional satisfaction. It was made of dark brown, extremely soft wool. With the long narrow skirt and a slim jacket that ended exactly above the knees, it was the epitome of elegance and definitely the latest fashion; many women looked at it with admiration as the two friends sat sipping their tea at one of their favorite cafes. Madame Koska’s small hat, decorated with clusters of material in orange, red, brown and yellow that suggested luscious autumn fruit, surely could never make anyone look like a mushroom. It lent a subtle glow to Madame Koska’s aristocratic face. “They are going very well,” she said. “Mr. Korolenko thinks I am advancing properly; he simply can’t get over my accent, he says it’s perfect.”

  “It is,” said Madame Golitsyn. “Le Cochon did a good job, teaching you.”

  Madame Koska laughed. “Good old Grigory…poor man, probably died fighting in the war, and we always call him Le Cochon… I do wish I could remember the name he had on his real passport. It’s ridiculous to forget your own husband’s real, though secret name.”

  “Well, you only saw it once,” said Madame Golitsyn. “And it’s not terribly important, though technically, I am not sure if you were legally married, if he gave the wrong name… But more important, about Mr. Korolenko, he turned out to be a good teacher? You like him?”

  “He is a splendid teacher, but as for liking him… I am not sure. To tell you the truth, I am a little uncomfortable with what he said about his students. I believe he has some unsavory characters among them.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” said Madame Golitsyn. “But you should not be concerned about it. No one knows you are studying with him and I can’t think of a more discreet teacher.”

  “Oh, certainly,” said Madame Koska, putting a cigarette into a long ebony holder and lighting it. “Goodness, I only have the black cigarette holder with me…with this suit I should have the ivory or amber. Ah, well. Professionally, Mr. Korolenko is excellent, and I am certain he would never gossip about me, which is what counts the most at the moment.”

  “Exactly,” said Madame Golitsyn, and took another pastry.

  Madame Koska tapped the cigarette ash into the onyx ashtray, and said thoughtfully, “What I don’t like, or even understand, is Natalya’s assumption that the police officer suspected her.”

  “Natalya is afraid of any authorities, probably a reaction to the Revolution,” said Madame Golitsyn. “But let’s face it, if I were the police officer I would have some suspicion regarding her activities that night. Of course she is my niece and for us the notion is simply ridiculous, but the police do not care about that. She had the key for the entire afternoon; she did not go straight home, so it does not look good.”

  “I hope you did not tell her that, Annushka,” said Madame Koska. “If she is going to be incapacitated by her fears, I am in big trouble…she is really my chief embroiderer and if I am to get on with planning the collection I simply can’t do without her.”

  “Of course I did not tell her; on the contrary, I tried to make her forget the whole sordid business. How are you getting on with the collection?”

  “As you know I bought all the materials, but a few days ago I also ordered the extra beads and pearls and some wonderful new style combination beads. What I really need to do now is find the proper place for the show. Everywhere I visited up to now was so unattractive—too dark, too old-fashioned. I want a big, light, airy place that would showcase the delicacy of the colors for the Mistral collection.”

  “Do you need to get it so early? It’s going to be months before the show is put on, isn’t it?”

  “These places need to be rented a long way in advance, if you want a good one. Have you done with your tea?”

  “Yes, I could not eat another bite,” said Madame Golitsyn. “I ate too much, as usual. They do make excellent pastries here.”

  “Not as good as yours,” said Madame Koska, “but then, who can surpass your artistry with pastries?” She put on her gloves carefully, switching the rings from her hand to the top of the gloves. “Well, Anna, since we are ready, let’s go before they close.”

  “Close? Where are we going, Vera?”

  “To my favorite hat shop, where I am going to treat you to a new cloche hat. It’s going to be your Christmas gift, only a little early; you need it now.”

  “You are incorrigible, Vera,” Madame Golitsyn laughed. “Very well, thank you, dorogaya. Let’s go.”

  “Miss Van der Hoven, did the beads arrive?” asked Madame Koska as she walked in.

  “Yes, Madame Koska, they are here, they are heavenly! Everyone is enchanted with them…the girls are sorting them out, as you requested.”

  “I vill go and look,” said Madame Koska, and entered the sewing room. On a large side table, the new selection of beads gleamed under the sunlight. “Vell, ladies, vhat do you think?” she said.

  “They are magnificent,” said Natalya, so lost in admiration that she forgot herself enough to speak without blushing or trembling. “Madame Koska, I have rarely seen such pearls, even in the Tsarina’s work basket. They are almost entirely round! No imperfections to hide when I embroider with them! And the combination beads, I have never seen the like!”

  “Yes, they look like ready-made jewelry, don’t they? I thought they vould save time, since you can use them as centerpieces directly, vithout much construction. And the colors were perfect. Just look at the blue and purple, they look just like real gemstones.”

  “Oh, yes, they will save hours of work, and they are so big and impressive! But I just can’t get my hands off these pearls…so smooth. I think we should put them in boxes lined in velvet, Madame Koska, to save them from
scratching.”

  “Yes, excellent idea. Ladies, help Miss Saltykov to cut bits of velvet to line the boxes vith. Let’s organize everything so they vill be easily accessible vhen ve start embroidering for the collection.” The seamstresses gathered some bits and pieces of soft materials and set to line the containers intended for sorting the beads by shape and color.

  “These silver bugle beads are perfect with the Mistral colors,” said Gretchen, who came to take another peek. “Oh, and these look like tiny diamonds and rubies. How they sparkle! May I help? There is so much work to sort them. I’ll run to the front room as soon as the telephone rings.”

  “Certainly,” said Madame Koska. “But put on a smock, Miss Van der Hoven. You don’t vant your dress to get covered with bits of thread.”

  Gretchen ran off to get a smock, and Natalya said, “Madame Koska, I have an idea. I wonder if you will think it a good thing…”

  “Vell, tell me, Miss Saltykov,’ said Madame Koska. “I like innovative ideas.”

  “You know the seamstresses are so kind as to think that I embroider a little better than they do, and said that they would like a few lessons,” said Natalya. “So I thought it would be a good idea to teach them, it will be helpful if the atelier becomes famous for its embroidery…and now that I am looking at these lovely beads, I thought that with your permission, I could teach them the way I was taught, from instructional samplers.”

  “This is a vonderful idea, Miss Saltykov. Could you prepare the samplers?”

  “Yes, but I thought… I didn’t want to take time from working on the atelier’s dresses since we have so many orders. Maybe I could come early in the morning and put in an hour or two until I finish them? Or stay after hours?”

  “Von’t you be terribly tired, my dear? Ve vill have to put in many hours vhen the show comes closer. I don’t vant you to exhaust yourself.”

  “No, not at all,” said Natalya. “This type of sampler embroidery is like a game, a hobby. I will enjoy the work, it will remind me of my childhood. Let’s see… I think I should make one with the arabesques you so kindly liked when I did it, on chiffon. Another one I can prepare with strictly traditional Russian pearl embroidery, couched with a gold thread on stiff velvet, and a third with perhaps the sequins and pearls together, and two or three jewel-like large combination beads; this should be done on heavy silk. I think that would be enough, and I will try to make them not too big and with very clear designs. I can use leftover materials, there will be no expense involved, except for frames. It will be best to put them under glass since they will be spoiled by handling. But they would look well on the wall, and can be used again when more girls are hired.”

  “My dear Miss Saltykov, you are a treasure. I have to thank your aunt again for getting you to vork here. Yes, by all means prepare the samplers and teach the seamstresses. I vould say, stay a little after vork, because then you can simply bring me the key if I am not here, the vay ve did when the place vas ransacked, and put it in the mailbox. Of course I vill pay you for the extra time and no, don’t argue, you shall get paid, my dear. It’s vork like any other vork and all of us vill benefit from it.”

  “Thank you, Madame Koska. Just one thing…you know the police officer was very suspicious of me because of the key…if anything happens again, and I stay after hours, he will arrest me…”

  “This is nonsense. No one could possibly suspect you of anything wrong. A vell-brought up young gentlevoman, the niece of Countess Golitsyn, a friend of the Tsarina…and if this idiot suspected you, vhat of it? It’s all over! Ve vill concentrate on the show, on getting the name of the atelier famous. It is so much more important. However, if you prefer, vhy not take the materials home with you? Do you have good lighting and a comfortable working arrangement?”

  “Oh yes, I have good working conditions at home. It will be wonderful, Madame Koska. Just wonderful. I won’t have to worry about this stupid police officer.”

  “Vell, then, you can tell the seamstresses that since they vant to take lessons, they can!”

  Natalya nodded happily and seemed perfectly satisfied, but Madame Koska was not sure she believed her own words; she did not think it was all over. Unfortunately, she was right. The next day a visit from the police officer made Madame Koska very uncomfortable.

  “Madame Koska, someone is not telling the whole story,” the police officer said. “Would you kindly call Miss Van der Hoven here? I wish to speak to her, and in your presence.”

  Gretchen came in, with a surprised look on her beautiful face. “Sit down, Miss Van der Hoven,” said the police officer. “I need to ask you a few more questions about the day of the robbery.”

  Gretchen sat down and looked a little alarmed. “Yes, officer,” she said meekly and folded her hands in her lap like a little girl in school.

  “You told me that four salesmen came to see you, and you gave me their names and their business.” He consulted his notes, scratching his nose absentmindedly. “Yes… You had the lace person, the shoe salesman, the buttons manufacturer representative, and the thread salesman. Yes…they all corroborated your story, the time of each visit fairly matched.”

  “So vhat is the problem?” asked Madame Koska, feeling mildly annoyed. She did not like to have her girls frightened, and poor Gretchen was a mere child, she would be so scared.

  “The problem, Madame Koska, is that a witness I have interviewed saw five men coming in. Who was the fifth person, Miss Van der Hoven?”

  Gretchen looked at him with obvious bewilderment. “But there was no fifth man,” she said. “I have no idea what the witness is talking about. Who is this witness?”

  “For the moment I would rather not name the witness,” said the officer. “Perhaps the fifth came in when you were not looking? Did you leave the front desk at any time?”

  “Yes, for about ten minutes, when I went to freshen up. One of the girls sat for me and she did not say a word about a visitor.”

  “Would you please call her in?” said the officer.

  “Certainly,” said Gretchen and went to the door. “Miss Saltykov, would you come in for a minute? The officer wants to see you.”

  Natalya walked in, and looked passively at the officer who got up to greet her. “Yes,” she said curtly. “What can I do for you, officer?” Madame Koska could tell Natalya was extremely frightened by the way she held her hands together tightly, but she kept herself under control.

  “Miss Saltykov, I have just heard from Miss Van der Hoven that you took the position at the front desk for ten minutes or so during the afternoon before the attempted robbery,” said the officer. “Is this correct?”

  “Yes,” said Natalya, “I sat there for about ten or fifteen minutes, to give Miss Van der Hoven a break. There were no telephone calls, but one visitor came in, bringing a package from the leather company. I took the package and wrote it in the book. I think the package is now in the sewing room, unless someone needed to use it.”

  “Why didn’t you tell us?” asked the officer.

  “Tell you what?” asked Natalya.

  “That someone came in when you were at the desk.”

  “What is there to tell?” asked Natalya, surprised. “I mean, deliveries happen all the time, this is an atelier.”

  “Officer,” said Madame Koska, “No one told any of us that you vere particularly interested in people who visited in the afternoon. Miss Saltykov is not familiar with police procedures and it did not cross her mind.”

  “Quite so,” said the officer. “Quite so…but I would like to see the book where you entered it. I assume you wrote the name of the firm? And do you know the messenger’s name?”

  “I know the firm, but not the man’s name,” said Natalya.

  “It does not matter. I can verify it with the firm. May I see the book?”

  Natalya brought the book, and the officer noted down the details of the firm on a piece of paper. “May I use your phone, Madame Koska?” he said. “I will do it right now and it will
put all our minds at ease.”

  Madame Koska nodded. The officer went to the front room and closed the door behind him. She sat drumming her fingers on the table, while Natalya just stood silently, holding her hands so tightly that her knuckles were white. After a few minutes, he came back and said, “Yes, it seems to be all in order. A man was sent by the firm with a package of leather pieces. Well, this is a bit of a wild goose chase, Madame Koska. I simply can’t make head or tails of this robbery.”

  “I suppose there is little ve can do now,” said Madame Koska. “Unless something happens again, I vill not vorry about it. They probably vere just frightened avay before getting to the safe.”

  “Time will tell,” said the officer. “We shall keep our eyes on the establishment. By the way, Madame Koska, you told us you had two appointments that afternoon, one with Lady Victoria, for the dress, and the other with a certain Mr. Korolenko. We checked him, and found out he teaches languages…among some other things he engages in doing. May I ask why did you visit him?”

  For a moment Madame Koska’s heart leapt up into her throat and fell down again with a thud, but no one could have seen it on her impassive face. She took out her cigarette box and opened it. “I go to Mr. Korolenko to improve my English, of course. I vould like to get rid of the accent, speak like a regular Englishvoman. Cigarette, officer?”

  Mr. Korolenko, I need your help…this is a troublesome situation,” said Madame Koska as she settled down at the desk for her lesson.

  “What is it?” asked Mr. Korolenko, looking up from the books he was arranging.

  “I do hate to involve you, really,” said Madame Koska. “It’s so delicate…”

  Mr. Korolenko put his hands on the desk and looked at them. Madame Koska noticed his habit of doing so when he was thinking, and she waited for what he was about to say. He raised his head and looked at her. “Madame Koska, I will not ask you to trust my virtue, but you can rely on my discretion,” he said.