“The cufflinks were passed down to me through the ages, and I have a letter to prove it. I’m not sure if there’s a Putnam in my family tree. If there is, then they need to be donated to the museum,” Grandpa said.
“You’re right. We’ll have to research that name,” I said, thinking it through. “What a quandary.”
“Your father wore them for your parents’ wedding, and our sixtieth anniversary photo. Aaron can wear them. By the time of your wedding, we’ll know if they should be donated.”
“Okay, but I plan to look at them soon. They need to be put in the bank deposit box. They shouldn’t be here, that’s for sure.” I sipped from my drink. “I want to look at the pictures of the stolen brooch and jewelry again.”
“Come here and take a look.” Aaron got up from the chair, and walked around to the side of the desk.
“Aren’t they beautiful?” I sat down. “The images of the brooch and gems are clear.” I stared at the monitor. The large dropped ruby gem with the smaller gems strung with tiny starred diamond necklace looked gorgeous and fit for a queen. The rubies, sapphires, and diamonds on the brooch, patterned a flag of the United States as it would’ve looked at the time, and similarly like the cufflinks. A gadroon encircled it, but the article didn’t say what the imprint read. A shiver raced up and down my spine as I further read the enlarged card next to the empty cufflink stand. “Given to Elijah Putnam, 1849.”
“What do you make of it, honey?” Aaron peered over my shoulder.
“That is her death date—1849. The picture of the cufflinks isn’t very clear, but there’s something familiar about it.” My brows narrowed as I got up closer to the picture. “I just can’t put it together.” I waited a minute and asked Grandpa, “Do the cufflinks you own have a gadroon imprint?”
“Yes, but I don’t remember what’s in it. It’s been so many years and because of the thwarted burglary, I haven’t really looked at them since our wedding. I’d like to know for sure about the ancestry. Did you know that my ancestors came from Virginia?” Grandpa asked.
“No. But, a lot of Scotsmen settled in that area. It’s not unusual.” I continued studying the image. “Interesting, though.” I got up and started walking over to the settee to rest beside Grandma. “I wish they’d call for me. I want to go to bed.” No sooner had I made the remark than the phone rang.
Aaron was logging out of the computer and shutting it down just then, and said, “You should get it.”
“Right.” I picked it up and the group listened to my one-sided conversation.
“The forensic team needs me to come down to walk them through the crime scene.”
“I’ll take her,” Aaron answered. “She’ll need a ride home, and I want to find out what’s happening.”
“Look after her,” Grandpa said.
“He will.” I turned to Aaron. I walked around the desk.
“You’re right.” Aaron set his soda down. “Good night.”
“I’ll be home as soon as possible.” I kissed Grandma and Grandpa on the cheek. “Don’t worry about me.”
We grabbed our coats and walked, arm in arm, to Aaron’s van out back. I was glad that Aaron would drive, since I clearly wasn’t in the mood. As we climbed into the van, my mind was elsewhere.
“What are you thinking about?” Aaron drove swiftly through downtown. Thankfully, there was little traffic this time of night.
“Jackie, my mom and dad, grandma, me. How does this all tie together?” I glanced at him. “We’re missing an important piece of the puzzle. Did Jackie die because she thought we had the cufflinks? That’s how I see it. Did she think that the dolls held the key? Are the cufflinks on the Mr. Madison dolls, the same as the stolen cufflinks?”
I thought a moment. “The company that makes the men’s clothing allows me to order the outfits for specific presidents. The new shipment of clothes has Madison’s slightly different because the cufflinks are already drawn into the shirt sleeve cuff.”
“Painted on? That’s what she saw and wanted a closer look. The cufflinks.” We turned onto Washington Avenue and drove across the bridge, then down Main Street and parked in the back.
“I saw the light on out front.”
“Hmm. Max’s truck isn’t here. He must be out for the night.”
“I’m not thinking about that right now.” I climbed out of the car and went to the back door, where we were greeted by a police officer.
“The detectives are inside,” the officer said.
“We ask you both to refrain from touching anything. We just want you, Liv, to tell us the path you took this morning when you entered the building—beginning with what you touched. Then we’ll take it from there, and you’ll be free to go.”
“Try not to personalize it. Maybe it’ll be easier,” Aaron encouraged me.
“I’ll try.”
Aaron stayed behind as I followed the detective into the showroom. My heart pounded. My mind flashed back to the head, face down in my dollhouse. “What a miserable death. I feel so bad for her. No one deserves to die like that. No one.” I took a deep breath. “It still smells of blood.”
“Yes ma’am.” Detective Erlandsen glanced over to us. “Just take your time. We’ll be here all night, so there’s no need to rush.”
“Okay. Give me a minute.” I blew my nose and wiped my eyes. I knew that I could go through with the exercise. I took a deep breath before starting, “I entered the back way with a key, then flicked on the hall light before going into the workroom. I hung my coat and bag on the clothes tree. At least I think I did. I know I went into the workroom and turned on the light.”
“So far, two light switches.” He made a notation in his pad. “Touch anything else back there?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I had an eerie feeling. It was six o’clock and Jackie Newell was expected at ten. There still was plenty to do to get her dollhouses ready.” I looked at Aaron, who gave me an assuring nod. “Then I walked into the showroom and turned on the lights. That’s when I noticed the feet, legs, head, face down in the Madison house.”
“Where did you walk?”
“My footprints are still in the blood, by the table. You can see them.” I looked at the floor, now covered with a plastic tarp. My insides curdled. I clutched my stomach. “Just a minute.” Covering my mouth, I raced to the restroom and barfed. I moved to the sink and doused my face, then grabbed a paper cup to rinse my mouth. My cheeks were flushed when I returned to the showroom. “Sorry.”
“It happens to the best of us.” Detective Mergens shrugged.
I felt like an imbecile. I figured he probably wrote down that I chucked it all up, since he was making notations of everything I said or did.
“Continue.” Detective Erlandsen peered closely at the ruined dollhouse.
“That’s it. I reached for the phone—this one.” I pointed to it. I continued with my spiel of what I’d touched or what happened. “Done?”
“Yes. We’ll call you in the morning.” Detective Erlandsen glanced through his notes.
“Good night,” Detective Mergens stated.
“You too,” I said.
We took that to mean that we were dismissed. I yawned all the way home.
“You’re staying with me, aren’t you?” Aaron asked, parking in the garage.
“Of course.” With his arm across my back, we walked into the house.
I sat for quite a long while and wrote on my laptop to Maggie, to keep her up to date of the events.
It was midnight when we fell into bed.
I must’ve been exhausted, because I slept like a rock. I woke to Aaron frying bacon, and hurried to meet him. “Morning.” I kissed him. “Should I put down the toast?”
“Nope. I can handle it. I’ve got some good news.”
“What’s that?”
“Two suspects were questioned.”
“I bet it’s Wanda Brown or the bodyguard, Stone Rogers.”
“Probably, but I’m not part of the investi
gation.” He dished up the bacon and I buttered the toast. “I just hear little tidbits.”
“They’ll be behind bars soon, I hope.” We ate, and I said, “I’d better get home and shower, then get to work. What a mess ahead of me. I wonder if they’ll be done?”
“Should be. High profile like that? They’ll work through the night.”
I cleaned up the kitchen, and we promised to meet up later. I hiked across the backyard, and let myself into the house.
Grandma and Grandpa had already left for their early morning breakfast with some old grade school pals. Grandma had left two notes for me where she knew I’d see them. I believed she was a schoolteacher at heart and truly missed her calling when she married Grandpa. Almost every note she wrote was either multiple choice, true or false, or an essay. She’d cleverly line up the notes with answer choices. A letter was always printed in front of each choice such as a T or F for me to circle, or leave room for a short reply. Today’s note was multiple choice. It read:
A) Don’t want to see Grandpa’s family Bible:
B) Want to:
C) Want to but not until the murder gets cleared up: or
D) Drop the subject entirely.
I chose B, since I figured it would keep my mind off the situation and I might find it interesting.
The second note was a simple true or false question.
Will you be in the store this morning around ten o’clock to let the cleaning ladies come?
T or F.
I circled T.
I glanced out to the back window at Aaron’s house. His car wasn’t parked in the driveway. I hoped he’d be able to give me an update about the case when he returned home.
After my morning routine, I climbed into my car and headed toward the store. My anxiety ratcheted up a few notches as I parked. Several unknown cars occupied the parking spaces behind the building. When I stepped from the car, cameras clicked as Ronnie took one picture after another.
“Shoo! Go away!” I hollered as I marched up to the door. I glared at all the reporters and shouted, “Shame on you!”
“Just trying to make a livin’!”
“One was enough!” I shut my mouth and prayed that a video wouldn’t end up on Facebook or YouTube.
With shaky fingers, I unlocked the door and stepped inside, quickly locking it behind me. Quietly I walked in further, turning on the workroom lights. Everything seemed normal. The painted dolls still stood on the stands.
“Good morning, sweethearts. I hope you’re not too cold, honeybees. I’ll dress you as soon as possible.”
The fabric lay across the sewing machine ready for sewing. The boxes with the unsorted items were still stacked against the wall where we had left them. The workbench was also clean. I didn’t see blood on the floor. I was relieved.
“My poor girls,” I said. I stood inside the showroom, studying the mess. The historical houses were junk, of course. I glanced at Mrs. Lincoln, she had tears in her eyes. “Mrs. Lincoln, it’ll be fine. The cops will get the killer.” I walked to Mrs. Kennedy. “There, there now. You’re brave.” I ended by Mrs. Ford. “Shall we all dance on top of the table, just like you did on the presidential desk? It’ll liven everyone up.”
I frowned as I walked to the computer. I noticed more blood on the second newly built dollhouse. I didn’t notice that last night, probably because they were small specks. I went to the computer and started it. As it booted up, I gave Mikal a call to ask if he’d mind shooing away the press and go for coffee with me. He said he’d be delighted to stomp on them. I grabbed my bag, locked the door then tentatively stepped out.
“Hurry, Livvie.” Mikal placed his arm over my shoulder, blocking photographers from taking our picture as we hurried down to the coffee shop.
“How’s it going?” Mikal peered down at me once we were safely inside. “You look worn out. Not your cheery self. Sounds like the last few days have been stressful, with the break-ins and all.” He ordered his favorite—a Greek coffee—and an Irish cream latté for me.
“I’m tired and feel like I’ve been run over by a semi. Actually I’m full of anxiety and fear, but trying not to think about it.” I shivered. “There’s blood on the floor of my shop. Two of my dollhouses are ruined because of some splatters of blood. I had to come over last night to show the forensic team what and where I’d touched or stepped. Grandma’s lining up cleaning ladies.”
“Can Max still stay in his apartment?”
“Of course. He’ll speak to security when they arrive. We all have our projects. Out of my own curiosity, I’m going to do more research on Jackie Newell, plus I still have a lot of sorting to do from the first break-in.” I sipped my coffee.
“Keep washing your hands and pretend you’re washing your face, and brush yourself off all day long. That should help to rid all the bad karma surrounding you.”
“Never thought of that.” The man amazed me. He always came up with these weird ideas, but when he’d relay them, they make sense. If I told someone else to pretend to wash themselves, they’d most likely set me up with a psychiatrist. “I probably do have an awful colored aura.” I shuddered. “Finding someone dead definitely will stop you short. I never want that to happen again.” I held my coffee cup tight.
“You’re strong. You’ll manage. I have just the thing that’ll cheer you up. I bought two DVDs of Mitch Miller and his sing along television show.” Mikal sipped his coffee and glanced out. “Oh, good Lord. The vulture is still waiting for us. I’m surprised he didn’t follow us inside.” He took a deep breath. “Are you ready? We’ll go into my place, and I’ll give you the DVD and a reading.”
“Thanks. I could use one.”
We dashed outside, still clinging to our coffees and rolls. Mikal stepped aside as we reached his store, letting me go inside first after he unlocked it.
“Finally. When will they go away?” We locked the door and made sure the front shades covered the windows.
“Probably not for a few days, sweetie. Sorry.” He sat in his chair and crossed his arms. “What a nightmare.” He giggled. “It is kind of funny but horrid at the same time, isn’t it?” Mikal shook his head. “You’d think Ronnie would move onto more news, like fish stolen from Lake Nokomis. Even in death, the woman needs privacy.”
“You do have a point. People are rude.”
“Second thought, let’s do a handwriting analysis. That’ll tell us more about the present situation.” He reached for a tablet and pen, and slid it over to me. “Write five lines. It can be anything—even nonsense, but not the same thing over and over.”
He went for the DVD then sat back down and sipped his coffee as I wrote: Max is worried and so is Aaron. Grandma is a sweetheart. Jackie was a distant relative of Dolley’s and thought there is some sort of a family secret and it’s connected to Mr. Madison’s cufflinks. I think this is what got her deader than a doornail. I have no idea what the secret’s about. Why would Grandma want me to look through Grandpa’s family Bible? Maybe he’s related to Dolley too. Wouldn’t that be a stitch? Both grandparents related to Dolley? That would make them distant cousins. Kissing cousins. Eeew! Don’t want to go there! Where are my two Madison dolls?
“Here.” I slid the tablet back to him. “Now you can see that my mind is going around in circles.” I slipped the DVD into my bag. “Thanks.”
“Circles. Swimming is more like it. But that’s okay, because writing it out helps you to clarify and put order into your thinking.” Mikal took out his large magnifying glass and studied the handwriting. “You haven’t lost your sense of humor through this ordeal, which is good. I believe that’s what will keep you going—that and your fine wit. You’d better be careful.” He frowned and looked at me over his glasses. “You must not go into small rooms. Stay away from them.” His brow knit together like a brush as he further studied my writing. “You’ll do fine as long as you remember that.”
“Small rooms?” I finished my coffee, and neither of us said anything for a few minutes. �
�That’s settled. I won’t hide under a bed.”
“I believe it’s referring to your quest for the dolls. Under the bed is a small place and so are closets.” He offered me the paper, but I waved it away.
“What are you saying?” I stood and dropped my empty cup in the garbage.
“If you plan to pursue the dolls, find another way to go about it. Don’t sneak around. Your red hair and freckles are memorable.”
“I get it. Find a disguise.”
“Not that I know what you’re planning to do.”
“Neither do I.” I took a deep breath. “Time to run.”
I sneaked out the back way. Ronnie was standing at the corner, and shouted, “What was it like to find a dead person? Why was she in the store? How was she killed?”
The door opened from the inside and Max jerked me in.
“Want me to pop him for ya?” He pulled me close, and kicked the door closed. I saw anger in his eyes and his gentle touch was full of concern. With the latching of the door lock, I felt relief.
“Right in the kisser.”
Chapter Five
I thought it was my heart pounding and beating loudly, but it was someone at the backdoor. “Answer it,” I whispered to Max. “Pop the vulture in the mouth.” The person knocked harder.
“Listen, Livvie.” Max caught my arm. “Everything will work out.”
“I hope so. This is one huge nightmare, and one that won’t go away for a long time, I fear.” I went into the showroom as he opened the door.
“Dolley?” I whispered near the doll. “Don’t worry because I won’t let any harm come to you.” I greeted each of the dolls as I strolled to the front counter.
No sooner had I sat down in front of the computer when Max entered with two men who were dressed in blue shirts and jeans.
“Here’s the lady in charge.” Max stared at me. “I’m here to supervise.”
“Minnesota Nice Security System. We’re here to take a look and get you the best system possible for your business.” Each man showed his credentials and shook my hand. The logo on their shirts was a Viking ship.
The Blood Spangled Banner: A First Ladies Mystery Page 5