“Minnesota Nice, as in Norwegian?” I smiled and glanced at the older man’s business card. “Leif Erickson.”
“You betcha!” His eyes twinkled.
“And I’m the other half of the business, Sigurd Oleson.”
Thank heavens, you didn’t say Ole, I chuckled to myself, thinking of all the Ole and Lena jokes that are passed around, especially with all the Scandinavians in this area. “Max can answer just about everything. I trust his judgment.” I looked at Max.
“Let’s get started by looking the place over.”
“Right this way.” Max guided them outside.
I finally logged into the store’s website and brought up the images of the dolls and dollhouses. They were beautiful and made me smile. It gave me the strength and courage to read through the e-mails from the past few days. Most were sympathetic and hoped that I didn’t plan to shut down, or that the culprit wasn’t a nutsy stalker. I clicked out of the site and went into the daily newspaper, only to find a picture of Jackie facedown on the dollhouse as the lead story. The photo was submitted by Ronnie. Not wanting to read any more about it, I closed out and went to my personal e-mail account. I opened the link from last night about Dolley Madison.
After rereading the article, I became more confused. It didn’t make sense for Dolley to bequeath the cufflinks to someone other than her son. When I’d researched our lineage, it was apparent that Dolley’s son, John Payne Todd, was a gambler and always in debt to his stepfather. Mr. Madison continually paid Todd’s debts without telling his wife, and this became the reason for the sale of the estate after his death. After the estate sale, Dolley lived in Washington, and her income barely kept her alive. She relied on the goodness of people to give her food, including her former slave who helped save the George Washington portrait from the fire. Since she lived on a pittance, why hadn’t she sold the cufflinks and the rest of the jewelry? Maybe she was afraid that her son would gamble them away, and they’d be lost forever? With the saving of the George Washington portrait, it was apparent that she had a sense of future historical value. She’d rather preserve treasures than sell them even if it meant living as a pauper.
I uploaded the pictures from the article and studied them. The cufflinks on my President Madison doll were similar to the image shown in the article. Now I knew why the cufflinks had seemed so familiar. They were almost identical.
Just as I started searching the Putnam name, my phone rang. The cleaning ladies were out back, but the door was locked. I jumped up, and by the time I got to the back door, Max had opened it to let the two women enter with equipment and cleaning supplies.
“Come in. Thanks,” I said to Max who went out to the security team. “I’ll show you around.” I opened the restroom door and turned on the light as they set their stuff down. “That’s the only water supply in the store.” I then showed them the workroom. “Ask before you start in here. The other room is far more important.” We stood at the entrance to the showroom. “Are you ready? There’s blood which needs removing from the floor.”
“It’s okay. We know what to do. I’m Ruth.” The woman wore patched jeans plus a gray T-shirt, and her head was topped with a worn scarf. She was stocky with short, stubby fingers.
“I’m Suzy. We’ll be fine, don’t worry.” This woman was short and wiry, pinched face with her hair brought back in a tight bun. A scarf also covered her hair. She carried the largest tin bucket that I’d ever seen.
“This is worse than a few cuts and bruises.” When the two just looked at me like I was an idiot, I said, “Follow me and you shall see.”
I stood aside and watched as the cleaning ladies gawked and stared at the pool of blood under the table and the smashed dollhouse. “The house has to be removed, of course, and discarded. The blood has to be washed from the floor and table. We may just have to trash that too. You can see that the blood has flowed out across the hardwood floor. All those bumps and ripples that old floors have, you know?” I took a deep breath. “Do what you can. That’s all I can hope for.” I tried not to laugh. “You can start by removing the house.”
“This will keep us busy.” Ruth nudged Suzy. “We’ve done this before, so don’t worry.” She sighed. “Poor woman.”
“Yes, poor woman. Uff da,” Suzy said.
“I’ll let you two get started.” Where on earth had Grandma dug up these old Norwegians from? Had she looked them up in the Runestone Museum in Alexandria, or dug them out from under the Hjemkomst Museum in Moorhead, which contained a replica of the original Viking ship? Or maybe they ate too much pickled herring? “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”
“Jumpin’ jiminy.” Suzy glanced at Ruth and said, “Let’s get started.”
“Are you all set?” I asked, looking at one and then the other.
“Of course.” Ruth eyed Suzy. “Let’s take care of the house first. We’ll round up the disposal bags. The big ones are in the truck.”
“You betcha.”
“You’ve done jobs like this before?” I asked, raising a brow. “There can’t be much of a market in Minneapolis for blood removal.”
“You’d be surprised,” Ruth said.
“We can do it,” Suzy said.
“You two seem to know what to do.” Watching them, I noted how they carefully walked the circumference of the table. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.” I moved over to the computer and sat down, covering my mouth to stifle my laughter. When they left the room, I let go. It felt so good to laugh that I couldn’t stop.
“The cleaning ladies are a stitch-in-a-half,” I whispered to Max who just entered.
“They must be. They each had a drink from their very own flask when they thought I wasn’t looking.”
“Oh my. I’ll have to keep a lookout for that.”
It didn’t take long before the crew returned to remove the house. Both carried the remnants of it outside.
Dorrie was soon to arrive to help me sort through the box of disheveled pieces from the break-in.
I sat once again by the computer and watched as Ruth entered the room wearing heavy gloves, dragging something that reminded me of a vacuum cleaner.
“I think, they’re the cleanup crew from a Seven Corners watering hole. They’re old enough that they may be able to give you first-hand pointers on the dollhouse furnishings.” Max raised his brow and looked down at me.
“They’re just what I needed this morning.” The Seven Corners section of Minneapolis was located near the West Bank of the Mississippi River where several streets met, making seven corners. In close proximity to the University of Minnesota, the area was notorious for its many bars. “The mayor is trying to clean up the neighborhood. It’s called revitalization,” I sarcastically said to Max. Then I remembered he needed to ask a question about the security company. “The Minnesota Nice squad?”
“The cleaning ladies do look like they know what they’re doing,” Max eyes crinkled.
“They amuse me,” I said.
“Oh yeah.” Max grinned and pulled a sheet of paper from his pocket. “The security guys need a down payment of five hundred. You or Grandpa?”
“Let me see.” I grabbed the paper and perused it. “Wow!” I folded it before shoving it into my pocket. “When will they be back?”
“They’ll start wiring tomorrow.”
“Okay.” Just then the bell jingled over the front door. Fortunately it was Dorrie. “Lock it, will ya?”
“Sure.” Dorrie’s tree-shaped dangling earrings fit with the rest of her dress, green in color with gold wreaths printed on it. “These the cleaning ladies?” Dorrie nodded toward the women, mouthing “them”?
“Yep.” I rolled my eyes as I bit back a giggle.
“That stench kinda gets to ya, ya know,” Dorrie said. “I’m glad it’s almost cleaned.” Dorrie brushed her hands together. Looking at me, she asked, “Workroom?”
“If you would, please?” I logged out of the account, and let the computer sleep. She was
already setting a box on the workbench when I entered.
“Should I take the dolls up to my apartment for now?” Max leaned against the counter, his arms crossed. “It’s probably the safest, so they won’t accidentally get broken by Suzy or Ruth.” He cocked his head.
I had to steer my gaze off of the women. “Good idea. Do you want Dorrie to help carry them?”
“I’d be more than happy,” Dorrie piped up. She held out her arms as he loaded them with small boxes.
I got started sorting as they walked out together. I piled up miniature emerald green velveteen curtains. Red velveteens were to be used in Dolley’s drawing room in the White House, the place where she exercised non-partisanship and won the hearts of many politicians. It’s now called the Red Room.
I paid no attention to the time as it slipped slowly by, nor did I notice the comings and goings of Max, Dorrie or the cleaning ladies. I turned when I heard my name.
“Want to come and see?” Suzy asked. I noticed her tired eyes as she leaned against the doorframe. “What a nightmare this mess is.”
“Sure. I’m coming.” I wiped my hands on a towel before following her. “Where’s Ruth?”
“She’s taking a break.”
“Oh, I see.”
“Not too bad, eh?” She stood next to the computer counter and watched me as I walked the perimeter and checked out the floor. The table legs still had blood smears near the bottom. “Can’t you get the stain out?” I touched the small marks with my shoe.
“No. Pretty tough.” She walked to one certain area and tapped the floor. It was the spot where the pool of blood had been the thickest. “Soaked in, here. The floor needs stripping and polishing in order to get it out properly, ma’am.”
I knelt down and peered closely at the hardwood planks. She was right. The brown spot was large, and it would show with direct light. It needed professional care.
“You’re right. You two did a wonderful job, better than hoped for.” I stood up and looked at her. “Thank you.” I started for the cash drawer by the computer, and went to open it.
“You’ll get billed. We’re paid through the cleaning service, so we’re good.”
“Here’s a tip,” I said, handing over a fifty-dollar bill. “Split it, will you? Thanks again.”
I followed her to the door. I could see through their van window that Ruth’s head was rolled back with her jaw hanging down. Bet she’s snoring! “Take care.”
“Will do,” Suzy called.
I closed the door with relief and went back into the room and sat down. A headache was starting, but I reached for the phone instead of looking for a pain reliever. I called Grandma.
“Grandma, the cleaning ladies just left.” I walked out to the showroom and rolled up the shades. I told her about Ruth and Suzy and how professional they were. “We need someone now to take care of the floor.” As we disconnected, I glanced at the clock. It was already two o’clock and I hadn’t eaten. No wonder I had a headache. I was thinking about asking Dorrie and Max if they wanted to order some takeout when I looked out the window and saw an unmarked squad car parking. I put the phone into my pocket. “Shoot! So much for lunch.”
I watched the two detectives exit from the car and walk up to the store.
Dorrie entered from the backroom and walked over to stand beside me. I was happy to see her as I opened the door for the detectives.
“Dorrie Fillmore, correct?”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you and Ms. Fillmore go into the backroom where it’s more private?” Detective Erlandsen said to Mergens.
“Oh. Whatever.” Dorrie gave me a puzzled look as they walked away.
“I’d like to run through the questioning once more. Maybe something will trigger something useful.” Detective Erlandsen cleared his throat and repeated his question about where the body was found.
“Yes, it was right here.” We were standing beside the spot.
“You had a break-in two days earlier, my notes tell me. Do you think the two crimes are related?” He arched his brow.
“I don’t know,” I said. “Isn’t that your job to figure out?” I placed my hands on my hips. “Don’t you have anyone else to pester? Someone who stood to gain from her death?”
“We’re checking alibis at the moment, ma’am.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m at my wits end. I was at home in bed sleeping. We’d pulled an all-nighter just to get the dollhouses ready for Jackie. I came back to the store early that morning to put the finishing touches on them as well as sew the dolls’ dresses. That’s when I found the body. I don’t have anything else to say.”
“She was killed by a blunt instrument.”
“It had to be the hammer which I’d left on the counter the night before.”
“So it’s not a surprise?”
I shook my head.
“We’re waiting for the lab results.” Erlandsen looked deeply into my eyes and I gulped. “Tell me about the missing two dolls.”
“Jackie Newell took Mr. and Mrs. Madison for some unknown reason when she visited the shop earlier. The dolls are handmade. Everything in my store is. Max carves the heads, I paint them and sew the women’s clothing but purchase the men’s. They are my creation and should be treated like that. As a matter of fact, I should look into copyrights.”
“Valuable dolls.”
“They’re collector’s items.”
“Oh, I see.” He jotted down a few notes on his pad. “Who was with Ms. Newell when she came into the store the first time?”
“Her secretary, Wanda Brown. Her bodyguard, Stone Rogers, came in a little later.” I thought for a moment and remembered something. “It was strange, because he stood right inside the door and said, ‘problem solved’.”
“What,” he raised his brow, “do you suppose was meant by that?”
“Not a clue.” The workroom door opened, and Detective Mergens and Dorrie walked toward us. Dorrie’s once happy face looked a little anxious.
“I believe we’re done, for now.” At the front door, they stopped and turned around. “We’ll be in touch.”
Chapter Six
When the front door closed behind the detectives, I locked it with a flourish. My cheeks burned, and hot tears streamed down them. I sniffled and blew my nose as I walked over to the computer counter only to slump into the chair. My mind was swimming with what ifs.
What if I hadn’t researched our lineage and found that Grandma and I were related to Dolley Madison? Then Jackie wouldn’t have been murdered.
But, where did all the second-guessing lead me?
What did this all mean? I wondered if I shouldn’t try to sneak into the hotel room where Wanda and Stone are staying? I wondered if Jackie saw something different on the doll clothes from what’s pictured in photographs? I glanced at the clock, and it was already mid-afternoon.
Dorrie’s voice interrupted my thoughts.
I looked at her. “Say what?”
“Can I just leave? I’m exhausted. I feel like a traitor and a horrible person along with the fact that I should just go home and slit my wrists.” She stared at me. “But, I do feel horrible for answering questions about you.” She was beet red, and I felt sorry for her. “He bugged me. All those questions.” She stared ahead for a moment. “He wanted to know how you’ve acted. Happy, sad… If you’ve been nervous today. Drop any hints? Said anything weird, like “glad that’s done with.” That sort of thing.” She blew out a long a breath. “It’s given me the creeps. Also, I keep thinking about the missing dolls.” She looked hard at me. “You were so excited and nervous about Jackie coming here. Why did she want them?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
“What was Jackie after?”
“I wish I knew, but it might have something to do with the cufflinks on Mr. Madison,” I said, wondering why she was so curious. “Hold that thought.” I held up a finger before picking up my phone. I gave Aaron a buzz. When he answered, I said, “Hey. W
here are you and have you heard anything about Jackie’s death?” I hoped he’d tell me something good about the situation, but he had nothing to add. I disconnected and looked back to Dorrie. “Aaron, me, Grandpa and Grandma are going to discuss matters tonight.” I frowned. “I really don’t have anything else to say.”
“What’s eating you?” Dorrie asked.
“I’m not sure.” I sank deeper in my chair. “I have this niggling feeling that this murder runs deeper than anyone could imagine. You already know that I’m a descendant of Dolley Madison, so was Jackie.” I looked at Dorrie, whose mouth was shaped like an ‘O,’ but she had an odd look in her eye. “And that’s not all. There was a break-in at Montpelier a few weeks ago. Also, a few of Dolley’s gems were stolen.”
“It might all be a coincidence, you know, the cufflinks.” Dorrie raised a brow. “What else is on your mind?”
“Dolley had to adhere to the expectations of the day, such as embroidery and other handiwork.” My thoughts went to Grandma’s First Lady dolls and the embroidered sampler adorning her wall. “I’m willing to bet that the Dolley Madison connection is somehow central to the investigation. Dolley kept many secrets and rumors to herself, you know? She was an amazing woman and First Lady.”
“Yes, she was.” Dorrie’s eyes flashed. “Oh wow! She did embroider your grandmother’s sampler, right? Maybe the secret’s right in the words on the sampler, and you don’t even know it.” She studied me. “Ever thought about that?”
“I haven’t a clue about what Jackie referred to when she asked me about the family secret, but I’m going to give it some thought as well as the cufflinks.” I watched Dorrie closely because I wanted to catch her reaction. Dorrie and I never did hit it off as friends when we were kids. She was jealous of me. Whenever I got something new, she did too. For birthday parties, she’d always invite more people than I. She’d stick her tongue out at me when I’d get a good grade or the teacher would say something nice about me. It seems that we’ve always been slightly at odds with each other.
The Blood Spangled Banner: A First Ladies Mystery Page 6