Madame Koska & the Imperial Brooch

by ILIL ARBEL

  “If you ask me, Vera, Inspector Blount has no idea what to think. After all, many Russians read French as well as they do their own language, particularly the upper classes; most of the nobility were entirely bilingual.”

  “Exactly…which is why I must start investigating, Annushka. I simply can’t allow these thugs, whoever they are, to interfere with my first collection in London!”

  “I see…” said Madame Golitsyn. “So what do you have in mind?”

  “I think the first thing to do is to find out, once and for all, how Gretchen was involved in the break-in, why she pretends to be a little fool, and where her father is hidden,” said Madame Koska.

  “And do you have an idea how to start?” asked Madame Golitsyn.

  “Only vaguely,” said Madame Koska. “I need to think about it a little longer. You will help me, won’t you, Annushka?”

  “Of course,” said Madame Golitsyn. “Is there even a need to ask?”

  “No, I know I can rely on you…thank you. Now let’s go and get some very hot coffee!”

  It turned out to be a particularly busy day, not only with the usual work done for the customers, and the added work for the show, but with a surprise visit from the Misses Plimpton-Anderson, who came in twittering in their youthful way and demanding to see sketches of Russian style clothing. Madame Koska would have greatly preferred to see them safely back in India, but a valuable customer was a valuable customer, and the sisters were quite ready to obtain very expensive clothes.

  “I just can’t remember the names of the outfits,” simpered the younger sister. “I am so silly sometimes…what was the name, Adelaide, dear?”

  “Oh, Helen, you really are such a goose…they were the Zipun and the Sarafan that Madame Koska told us about!” said the older sister.

  “Yes, of course,” said Madame Koska. “I can show you some sketches. They vill be different from the ones in the show, of course, but still very new and elegant. I don’t think anyone has them yet.” She knew that this would make them long to come to the show wearing such clothes, to show the world they were the first to wear her new styles.

  “How exciting! How thrilling! How marvellous!” The sisters were overwhelmed.

  “Miss Van der Hoven, vould you kindly bring the green portfolio from the middle shelf to the first fitting room?” asked Madame Koska. “Ve vill be quieter there. Let’s go there, ladies.”

  “But this is extraordinary,” said the older Miss Plimpton-Anderson as she was seriously examining the sketches. “Helen, I think we could wear similar outfits, but with different colours and embroidery.”

  “Absolutely,” said Madame Koska. “You vill truly stand out if you vear them vhen you come to the show. For your ensemble, Miss Adelaide, I suggest green, vhich vould bring out your chestnut brown hair, and for Miss Helen, who is blond, I favour dusty rose.”

  “And the embroidery?” asked the younger sister.

  “Complementary colours, since it’s for afternoon vear. If it vere for evening, I vould have suggested Russian pearl embroidery, since I have a great expert in this craft vorking here. But for daytime, I suggest Ukrainian style embroidery in subtle colours, but interesting textures. I think crimson and cream over the dusty rose, brown and beige over the green.”

  “Superb,” said the younger sister. “Indeed,” said the older sister.

  “So vould you come for measuring next veek?” asked Madame Koska. “Monday, perhaps? Miss Van der Hoven can take care of fixing the appointment. By then I vill have samples of materials for you to look over.”

  “Yes, we could come Monday. What kind of hats would we need?”

  “I’ll have sketches ready for you that could make suggestions,” said Madame Koska. “I think, perhaps just vide head bands instead of real hats, made of the same materials, but I am not sure yet…”

  “Can we look at the atelier a little?” asked the younger sister with a sweet, childish smile that did not belong on her mature face. “Oh, yes, Gretchen told us so much about it!” said the older sister.

  “Certainly,” said Madame Koska. “I vill take you everyvhere except vhere ve are preparing the secret collection!” The two sisters giggled like school children.

  Madame Koska showed them around the other fitting rooms, the office, one of the sewing rooms, and the areas where she kept the supplies. Gretchen followed them, chatting with the sisters, until finally, the younger sister looked at her watch and said, “Adelaide, we really must go or we will be so late to tea.” and Madame Koska breathed with relief.

  When the sisters left, Madame Koska sat in her office for a few minutes, thinking. From her window she could clearly see the police officer that Commander Blount placed across the street. She was rather happy to see him. It did not escape her attention that the sisters were looking around with a certain efficiency that did not match their fake and youthful silliness. They seemed to even look in the direction of the safe, quite pointedly. She could not forget that they were dear friends of the Howards—whom she did not trust at all.

  By the end of the day, Madame Koska and Natalya were alone in the atelier, after everyone else went home. They finished setting up the little ironing room to Natalya’s satisfaction.

  “It’s raining,” said Natalya, looking out of the window that was the main attraction of the ironing room, since the fresh air would allow her to work there without choking on the ashes of the chemically treated mousseline. “Nasty cold rain, which is such a pity—I meant to check the shop for more ironing cloths, since they are the only thing we miss for this arrangement.”

  “Time enough,” said Madame Koska. “You should go home, Miss Saltykov. It’s dark and unpleasant, and you must be tired after such a long day. I vill only stay for an hour or two for the accounts, and then I just have to go upstairs, I don’t have to travel. But you should not exhaust yourself; ve have so much to do and I don’t vant you to be ill.”

  “Yes, this is true,” said Natalya and shook her head ruefully. “I know I am foolish… When I start on something I am so anxious to go on…to finish…you should have seen me when I was sewing my new suit, the one I wore to the Christmas dinner. I worked well into the night, for days!”

  “It vas a beautiful suit, I truly admired it,” said Madam Koska. “So elegant vith the simple, clean lines you achieved; it vas very becoming.”

  Natalya smiled. “Thank you, Madame Koska. Auntie gave me this beautiful shot silk…and can you imagine, Miss Wilma gave me her hat that was perfect for the suit! She said she had changed all her wardrobe, and will never again wear such an old-fashioned hat.”

  “It is hardly old-fashioned,” said Madame Koska. “It is the height of fashion. But I know what she means. Miss Vilma is, vell, hmm, she is following different fashions now.”

  “She is a flapper,” said Natalya with admiration. “They have so much courage, such daring style…”

  “Yes, indeed,” said Madame Koska. “But I liked your suit better; much more refined and elegant.”

  “Really?” said Natalya, visibly gratified. “How wonderful…thank you! Did you think the sleeves fitted? I had some trouble with them.”

  “Oh yes, they fitted perfectly; you never make sewing mistakes, Miss Saltykov. Vell, run along home. Tomorrow ve’ll get you all the ironing cloths you vant, I’ll send Miss Van der Hoven to the suppliers.”

  “I will, but I pass them anyway, so I might just look and see if there is anything else…”

  Madame Koska laughed. “You are incorrigible, my dear. Good night.”

  When Natalya left, Madame Koska toyed with the idea of going straight up to her flat and leaving all the bills and paperwork for the next day. However, she knew she would have absolutely no time and not a moment’s peace during the day. So after turning off all the lights other than the small lamp on her desk, so no one would think the place was open and try to bother her, she sighed and sat down to do her bills. At least, she thought, she now knew where Natalya’s expensive suit came from…but sti
ll…did Natalya make a deliberate effort to tell her about it? Did she have a reason to think Madame Koska would suspect her of something? Ah, well. It would be easy to find out if Annushka really gave her the shot silk…she turned to her bills.

  As always, the mound of paperwork never seemed to end, and she became absorbed in the work. After about half an hour of hard work, Madame Koska raised her head in surprise—she heard a very soft sound from the main sewing room. It was no more than a faint rustle, something like a cat rubbing against soft material, but there were no cats in the atelier. Could it be the wind? Was a window left open? No, that could not be. Every night the seamstresses made sure not a single window would be left open and she looked afterwards to be doubly certain. It was not the wind. She waited without moving, listening carefully. She heard the faint sound again.

  Madame Koska did not know what to do. If this was a burglar, and she disturbed him, her life would be in danger. If she stayed where she was, sooner or later he would enter her office to try to break into the safe. She had to do something. Her hand went almost automatically to the telephone, to call the police, but if she did, the burglar would hear her…she stopped herself and folded her hands together nervously, waiting. Five minutes passed and everything was completely quiet; Madame Koska could not bear the tension anymore. Slowly, she took off her shoes, one after the other, pushed her chair back with great care, and got up. She crept to the door and put her ear on it. Everything was quiet again. Did she imagine the sounds? She must have… It had to be all in her mind, but just to make sure, she very carefully, very quietly, opened the door about an inch or two into the dark room. There were no sounds, no movement of any kind, the place was dark and silent.

  “What nonsense,” Madame Koska thought angrily. “You must stop these sick imaginings, Vera! Pull yourself together!” Throwing the door wide open, she walked into the room, intending to go the other wall, turn on the electric light, and banish the fear, but suddenly she sensed something behind her. Before she could turn, move, or scream, a strong hand stopped her mouth and a cloth saturated with something that smelled very sweet was firmly pushed against her nose. Struggling for just a few seconds, Madame Koska fell to the floor.

  When Madame Koska came to, the lights were on, and Natalya’s face was very close to her own as she was leaning over her. Madame Koska tried to say something, but her throat was scratchy and dry and she could not talk. She pointed to it and Natalya seemed to understand, since she ran away and came back quickly with a glass of water. She supported Madame Koska to help her sit up, and let her sip the water.

  “For the love of God, what happened?” asked Natalya with a tinge of hysteria in her voice. “I just came back, I was going to ring the bell when I saw the door was open! I walked in and turned on the light and there you were, on the floor!”

  “I don’t quite know,” Madame Koska whispered. “Someone pushed this substance in my face…and I think I fainted.”

  “I will call the doctor and the police,” said Natalya. “Right away.”

  “One minute,” said Madame Koska. “How come you are here?”

  “I passed by the suppliers and got a big box of ironing cloths. I did not want to carry them home in the rain, and since I knew you were going to stay late to do the accounts, I came back, and there you were…but I must call the doctor!” She ran to the front desk to find the number of the doctor that was listed there. Madame Koska lay back on the floor, feeling dizzy.

  In a short time, the doctor came, and it seemed that Natalya called her aunt, too, since Madame Golitsyn was suddenly there. Madame Koska felt rather disoriented, and did not question any of the proceedings. Police officers were roaming the atelier, too. She did not notice when anyone called them.

  “She will be all right,” the doctor said to Madame Golitsyn and Natalya. “She just needs rest. She will have a bit of a headache in the morning, that is all.”

  “What was it?” asked Madame Golitsyn.

  “I believe it was surgical ether,” said the doctor. “From the way she is behaving, I believe the quantity was not very large, only enough to make her lose consciousness and sleep for a short time.”

  “Thank goodness,” said Natalya feverishly.

  “Madame Koska,” said the doctor, who knew the arrangements of the atelier and Madame Koska’s habits. “Please go upstairs and rest. Take tomorrow off and relax, drink some strong coffee in the morning, and you should be fine. If you feel unwell, call me.”

  “I will be staying with her,” said Madame Golitsyn. “Thank you, Doctor.”

  The doctor disappeared, and Madame Koska, still in a daze, allowed Natalya and Madame Golitsyn to take her upstairs and help her get to bed. She closed her eyes and fell asleep almost immediately, a drugged, uncomfortable sleep.

  When Madame Koska woke up, she felt quite well other than a slight headache. She got up carefully and after refreshing herself by splashing cold water on her face, put on her dressing gown and went to make coffee. On her way to the kitchen she saw Madame Golitsyn sleeping on the large sofa in the living room. Dear Annushka, she thought, staying to protect her, but from what? Who was after her like that? She had no idea, nor did she know when the police would want to question her, but she was sure that would happen soon. She sat at the kitchen table, sipping her coffee and thinking, when Madame Golitsyn came in. “Well, well, Vera” she said. “I am so glad to see you on your feet.”

  “Have some coffee,” said Madame Koska. “I think we are going to have a full day of police questioning.”

  “Why would they want me?” asked Madame Golitsyn, surprised. “I do wish I could help the police, but I only came when Natalya told me she found you on the floor.”

  “That’s just it, my dear,” said Madame Koska calmly. “Natalya. They are going to be very unpleasant to her about her story and she will need your support.”

  “What? Natalya? What has she got to do with it?”

  “They will want to know the exact time she bought the ironing cloths at the suppliers, the precise moment she came back here, did she go out and come back again, and so on. And they will try to find witnesses, though I suspect they already know most of it since there was a police officer watching the place.”

  “What are you driving at, Vera?”

  “They are going to suspect her of committing this little burglary, my dear, perhaps administering the ether to my face. They will think she is the cat burglar, or at least, his accomplice, since he is French, not Russian. Or at least that is what Inspector Blount thinks. I am not sure I agree, though.”

  Madame Golitsyn sat down with her coffee. Her face was white with terror. “You don’t think so, do you, Vera?” she whispered. “You don’t believe Natalya would attack you…”

  “Of course I don’t! I would never suspect your niece of doing me any harm. But the police will and therefore they will concentrate on trying to prove it, instead of looking for the real criminal. They will try to find motives, which of course she does not have. So, my dear, the burglar, whoever he is, has forced our hand. We must get Gretchen to reveal her side of the story.”

  Madame Golitsyn did not speak for a few minutes. She seemed deep in thought as she turned her cup of coffee in her hands, warming them. “You are getting to be very good at it,” she suddenly said.

  “At what?” asked Madame Koska.

  “Figuring these things out, getting into the bottom of the strange events,” said Madame Golitsyn.

  “I told you we will have to do our own investigation,” said Madame Koska.

  “What am I going to do about Natalya? This situation will destroy her. She was doing so well and now this… I don’t know how to help her.”

  “If only she had listened to me last night,” said Madame Koska. “I told her to go straight home. Why did she have to come back with those stupid ironing cloths?”

  “She is obsessed with the work, Vera. You know that,” said Madame Golitsyn.

  “The only good thing that happened is
that Natalya is not the only one who might look bad. It is a little strange that the sisters Plimpton-Anderson came yesterday to the atelier, without making an appointment, and requested to be shown around the premises. And they are such close friends of the Howard family—and of little Gretchen. I must telephone Inspector Blount right away, Annushka; I would like him to be here when Gretchen comes to work.”

  A little before nine o’clock the seamstresses started arriving. One of the first, as always, was Natalya. She seemed quieter than ever, if that was possible, Madame Koska thought as she watched her through the open door. Natalya took off her coat, put on a clean smock, and sat at the table, immediately taking up her work and bending over it.

  Madame Koska herself was sitting in her office, perfectly groomed and dressed. She no longer felt any effects from the drug, since after drinking two strong cups of coffee and eating a small breakfast, even the headache disappeared. She knew she had to steel herself to the events of the day, and her weapon, as always, was her professional appearance and demeanour. As she sat at her desk, every hair in place, delicate makeup carefully applied, wearing an elegant mauve suit and tasteful day jewellery, no one looking at her would have suspected the ordeal and the terror she had experienced the night before, and she meant to keep it like that. Upstairs, Madame Golitsyn was waiting for her summons, which would happen very soon, the two ladies surmised, since after telling Inspector Blount the details of the events, he informed them that he would be there at nine-thirty. Of course he knew all about it from the night before, since the officers, and the man he kept in front of the establishment, kept him informed.

  At precisely nine-thirty Inspector Blount arrived, accompanied by Mr. Korolenko. The inspector had told Madame Koska on the telephone that he meant to bring Mr. Korolenko, since his presence was necessary when Gretchen was to be presented with the memories of her childhood, to which only Mr. Korolenko had been a witness. They sat quietly in Madame Koska’s office, with the door ajar.