“Sure. How about if I put out more decorations?”
“Go ahead.”
“I’m going to look through these heads that I ordered and get them lined up for carving. I also need to sharpen the knives,” Max said.
I began my chores by opening the cabinet doors and taking out the inventory notebook. Since the first assault and so many pieces had broken, I’d had little time to make sure that my inventory was in place. The next hour flew past when suddenly, Dorrie pounded on the doorframe to get my attention.
“Yes?”
“A woman here wants to inquire about purchasing the Obama White House.”
“Oh.” I slid my chair back and followed her out to the showroom. The young woman from earlier stood, beaming like a Christmas tree and beside her was a small, older woman who reminded me of someone from Grimm’s Fairy Tale.
“Hello again. How may I help you?”
“My granddaughter talked me into buying her a dollhouse for Christmas. This one here, I’ll take it. How much?”
I gave her the price, and she cocked her head, as if counting all the pennies held in her bag.
“Can I talk you down about fifty bucks?”
“Sure.” She seemed like such a nice little old lady and it was Christmas. She was probably on a fixed income. I would’ve loved one of these dollhouses as a present.
“It’s a deal then.”
“Go get Max,” I told Dorrie. I turned back to the customer. “Let’s get this written up while we wait for my employee to come and load it for you. Where’s your car?”
“Right outside.”
I glanced out, and my mouth dropped open. “The BMW?”
“Yep. Paid cash just last month. That’s why I’m a little strapped.”
“Okay. No problem. Tell your friends about this place for me, will you?” I rung up the bill and she paid the charges by counting out the cash from her bag.
“The Obama house,” I told Max when he’d entered.
“I’ll get right on it.” He turned and headed back to the workroom, where I presumed he was going to box up a house. Dorrie followed.
“The boxes with all the items are on the top cabinet shelf,” I called after her.
After all of the merchandise was carried out and the customers had left, we resumed our previous chores. The rest of the afternoon sped by without incident. I heard one or two other customers enter the store, but Dorrie took care of them.
As I counted items and made up boxes with furnishings for the various time periods, my mind wandered. Something still nagged at my mind, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. Dorrie had said something a little odd also, which stood out. It almost seemed as if she’d expected a different outcome from last night’s incident. Had she expected the two to kill me? Capture me? Then I wondered if I wasn’t putting too much thought into what she’d said.
At the close of the day, I wanted to check for messages once again. I checked my phone messages and Detective Erlandsen had responded “got it.” Aaron responded with, “be careful.” I already knew that. I deleted both. At the computer I logged into my e-mail only to find several more messages that needed looking into. When that was completed, I checked the website mail and was happy that there weren’t any messages. I was about to log off when a message popped on from the Boston Historical Society. It read:
Ms. Anderson,
As far as we can tell, there wasn’t any communication between the First Lady and Mr. Key. Thank you for your inquiry.
Mary Ann Olson, Director
I replied with, a “Thank you” and shut down the computer.
I felt as if I was back to square one.
Chapter Twenty-one
The following morning was hectic, which gave me no time to dwell on murder. Grandma had me running around the house like the proverbial chicken with its head cut off, getting ready for the wedding. Even though the cleaning lady would come later, we had furniture rearranging to do, removing books from the shelves and dusting, plus counting and polishing the silverware.
As I sat polishing, which was dirty and boring work, I wondered where the set of silver had come from. I could tell by the heavy pieces that it was solid silver, with a Victorian design. The silverware chest was lined in soft blue fabric, but the amazing part of it was that there was a writing drawer under the chest. If my hands had not been filthy from the polishing, I would’ve slid open the drawer. Frankly, I’d forgotten about the drawer because I spent very little time in the dining room. It took a couple hours to finish polishing before I hustled to another job.
The next chore on the agenda was hand washing the chinaware. As I stood over the kitchen sink, I let my mind wander. I went back to the night before which brought my thoughts to Wanda and Stone. Were they cold hearted enough to kill their boss? If so, then why? Why kill the hand that feeds you and signs your paychecks? This train of thought left me puzzled and with more unanswerable questions. Why didn’t they know the location of the brooch?
I stopped for a moment to give the store a call. Max was carrying out a vintage house and Dorrie had just finished ringing up the purchase. I said I’d call later.
Convinced that I needed to dig back into my memory for more clues, I started with Ronnie. That man was a bit crazy, taking all those pictures, and the stories he prints were usually only half-truths. I didn’t think he was paid well, but he knew about the attic. Both Maggie and Ronnie had played up there when we were little bitty kids.
That led me to Dorrie. She obviously didn’t get paid much but knew about the attic. Did that make her a killer? She’d known me since we were little kids too. Why would you want to hurt a classmate? It just didn’t seem to ring true, but I still had that niggling feeling about what she’d said last night about Wanda and Stone. She used ‘they’ plus something else. What was it?
It took quite awhile before I’d finished washing and drying all the chinaware. When finished, I filled the teapot and turned on the flame. I called, “Grandma! Time for a break!” I walked from the room only to find her wiping office shelves.
“Grandma?”
“Got the kettle on?”
“Yep. I’m worn out.” I motioned for her to follow. “I’ll put on the teapot. You have a seat. It looks like we’re both exhausted.”
“Sounds good to me.” She sat by the table while I reached for the cookie jar.
“Thanks. I’ll make some sandwiches a little later.”
While the hot water heated, I replaced the remaining items in the dish cabinet. I poured the tea when it was ready.
“Where’s Grandpa and Aaron?” I wanted to know, because of my idea.
“Ice fishing.” Grandma smiled at me. “It’s a great way to get rid of the menfolk when there’s plenty of cleaning to be done. They only get in the way.”
I choked on my drink and coughed. When I’d composed myself, I laughed. “Grandma. You’re hilarious sometimes.”
“It’s the truth. They’d be watching TV or eating, and you would have to work around them.” She reached for a cookie and took a bite. “Mmm, good, even if I did bake them myself.”
“Tell me your reasoning behind the murder.”
“It’s like this. Whoever is doing this must know about my connection to Dolley, right?” I studied her as I bit into a cookie. “Yummy.”
“Our connection, Liv.” Grandma nodded. “Continue.”
“Jackie knew about the ‘secret’, which is a rumor, but we know nothing about it. Her employees must’ve known that also. Or, is the ‘secret’ a cherished but unknown fact?”
“What’s your point, hon? We’ve been through all of this before.” Grandma narrowed her eyes as she studied me over the rim of her teacup. She took a sip. “The two employees knew all about it, or else had an inkling. That’s why they murdered Jackie. They also suspected that the cufflinks may be in the store, which explains the break-in. The motive was money and selfish reasons. Greed. Just like the Bible says, one of the seven deadly sins.”
&nb
sp; “Are you satisfied that it was the two employees?” I wasn’t. Not by a long shot. I had to come up with a likely reason for them to return last night.
“If the police are satisfied, then we should be too.” Grandma frowned. “Let’s have this discussion when the boys return from fishing.”
“Where’d they go?”
“Either Lake-of-the-Isles or Calhoun.” Grandma finished her drink. “They wanted to stay nearby in case—”
“—of an emergency,” I finished the sentence for her. “There have been too many lately, but they all circle around this house. That’s what I’m getting at.”
“You think on it, and we’ll go over it later.” Grandma stood. “Time to finish the kitchen. I’ve got lots to do before the big day.”
The day drifted past while I spent the time thinking about my wedding and dreaming of becoming Mrs. Aaron Reynolds. I’d finished the dishes, dusted all the books and shelves, and even dusted everything on top of the cabinets. It wore me out. I wondered how my two employees were doing in the store.
I gave Dorrie a call. “How’re ya doin?”
“That darn Ronnie.” I heard her sigh. “He thinks he’s some kind of a detective. He wanted to know if I’d been up in your attic lately. Why would he say that? Brad told me not to talk to anyone.”
“Brad? Hmm… what did he mean?” That’s odd about Brad. Was he part of this?
“Because of the police and stuff,” Dorrie tried to explain.
“We all did go to school together except Brad,” I said, trying to needle her.
“I’m not talking anymore about the case,” Dorrie said. “We’re busy right now.”
“Good.” We disconnected.
How odd. I only wanted to think about my wedding. Not Brad or anyone else.
I was surprised I hadn’t heard from Aaron by this time. It was five o’clock. I still didn’t know where we were going on our honeymoon, which bothered me. I didn’t know what to pack or buy. Men!
Grandma’s heavenly smell of a pot roast with the trimmings, made my stomach growl. I went upstairs to shower, slipped into pants and a fresh top, and applied fresh makeup. By the time I’d finished dressing, Aaron and Grandpa were home.
I kissed Aaron, then set the table. Aaron went downstairs for a bottle of wine.
“Where are the light bulbs? The bulb’s burned out.” He came back up.
“Spares are down in the laundry room.” Grandma set out the roast. “Better hurry, supper’s ready.”
“I’ll help change it.” Grandpa got up. He went after Aaron with a flashlight in his hand.
“Those two are like two peas in a pod.” Grandma grinned, wincing when a speck of hot potato landed on her hand. “Ouch!”
I continued dragging out the needed items from the refrigerator and cabinets. Once all were placed on the table, I sat down. The wine was poured, and by the time the guys had returned from the basement, I’d set the four full goblets down on the table.
“Glad that’s done.” Aaron sank into the chair beside me. His eyes sparkled when he gazed at me, which gave me a warm feeling. “You look like there’s something deep going on up there. Let’s hear it.”
“About last night.” I took a sip and waited to see if he’d say anything about it.
“Back to that again, eh?” Aaron offered up his glass, and said, “Let’s toast to us.”
We clinked our four glasses together and in unison said, “To us.” We each sipped from our goblets.
“I’ve figured out a motive.” I raised my chin with confidence as if I was an expert. “It’s something really important that Dolley hid as kind of a retirement fund, to use a modern-day term.” I glanced around the room, noticing that everyone looked at me with curiosity. “What would she have hidden? Suggestions?”
“What about the Federalist Papers?” Grandpa suggested. “It’s what Madison wrote—laws and so forth for the Constitution.” He shrugged. “Any better ideas?”
“The Federalist Papers were essays promoting the Constitution.” Aaron took another swallow. “Surprised?” He grinned at me because my mouth had dropped open.
“Wow! I might make an historian out of you yet. Impressive. Any other ideas?”
“It couldn’t be anything about her son, could it?” Grandma dished up the roast and then sat down. We started passing the food around and helping ourselves. “It has to be something simple. Why not the first draft of the Constitution?”
“I think we have it somewhere, like the Library of Congress or with the Declaration of Independence. Nice try but wrong. Sorry.” I took a bite of the roast and soon gobbled my helping of it down. “Really good.”
“What do we know?”
“All the clues are nameable except that we don’t know how to tie them together.” Aaron chewed on a bite of potatoes.
“We haven’t had a chance to research the embroidery nor her handwriting.” I took in a deep breath before continuing, “I swear, the letters are the key.”
“We’ve read three of them together and you’ve read three others, but we can’t seem to string a common thread.” Aaron dished up another spoonful of carrots. “I think the key is with the gadroon, the imprint. Polly, where she’s buried.”
“Nope. It’s gotta be the candle reference with the first two First Ladies that was in the letters,” Grandma stated. She took her last bite and placed her dish over on the counter. “I say we finish eating, then reconvene in the office.”
“Where we can analyze handwriting and embroidery.” I swished my hair behind my ears. “We must compare the samplers. Maybe draw sketches of the known three.” I glanced over at the dining room walk-through and remembered the silverware chest. “When was the last time you pulled out the drawer on the silverware chest?”
“About a hundred years ago. Why?” She looked perplexed. “Go ahead—take a look. No idea when I last looked in there. Don’t think I’ve looked in it since my mother died. It was hers, you know?” She began clearing off the table, piling the dishes in the dishwasher. I helped by putting the food away and wiping off surfaces.
The men went into the office. I smelled the cigar smoke as soon as one was lit. I presumed Grandpa offered them. I realized that Aaron was developing the same habits as Grandpa, which meant that our lives would end up similar to theirs. They were happy, and my heart fluttered in response. We’d be happy also.
“I’m going into the dining room to see what’s in the silver chest drawer. Want to come too?” I’d started for the doorway and waited.
“Sure.”
I stood in front of the chest, which sat perched upon the tabletop. The chest belonged down inside on a buffet cabinet shelf, but since the wedding was next weekend, we’d left it out.
Grandma joined me in the dining room. “Here goes nothing.” I flexed my fingers like safecrackers did in the movies before cracking open a safe. Slowly I began sliding out the two-inch deep drawer. Dust filtered in the air and I sneezed. The drawer slid hard, as if something was blocking its passage. I jerked it from side to side until finally it was completely opened, revealing an empty space. I wasn’t exactly sure what to expect, but the cartoon characters of Tweedledee and Tweedledum came to mind. Ronnie had nicknamed me Tweedledum after the old English nursery rhyme characters when I’d almost failed ninth grade algebra.
“I’m so sorry, Olivia.” Grandma wrapped her arms around me. “It’s been so hard on you, and you had your hopes up high that you’d find the missing clue. Now there’s nothing.”
“I feel miserable,” I frowned. “Let’s go.” Once I closed the drawer, we left right away for the office.
“What did you find?” Aaron questioned. Between his two fingers he held a lit cigar. He swiveled the computer monitor around for all to see as the two of us sat down on the settee.
“Nothing was inside the drawer.” I shook my head, reached for a tissue to blow my nose. “One less place to concern ourselves with.”
“Hon? You were hoping the answer was there, and t
hen all this mess would disappear so we could get on with our lives, but it didn’t happen.” Aaron pointed out the flower prints that lined the computer screen. “We’ve done some research on embroidery, which shows we’re right on about a Dolley connection. The Quakers used the same style of stitching. Marie’s and Hamilton’s appear to match the stitches from Montpelier.”
“That’s another score for our side.” I blew my nose and leaned back in the settee to relax. “I’ve already confirmed that it’s her handwriting. I know it’s not authenticated, but we’re onto something.”
“And the rose?”
“Robert Burns, the Scottish Bard.” I cocked my head, remembering reading it from English Lit. “Robert Burns’ poem. A Red, Red Rose.”
Aaron punched in a few keys. “You’re not going to believe this.” His eyes lit up. “Burns’ birthdate is January 25, 1759, and he died on July 21, 1796. The dates work. The publication of the poetry fits the Madison birthdates. Dolley easily could’ve owned a copy of his work.”
“I’m not surprised. The pieces are coming together. But to what?”
“We have to find out about the brooch gadroon.”
“It’s time to wade through more letters.” I went to get the letterboxes. Upon my return, I set them down on the small table. “Where are the six we already read?”
“I carefully stacked them. Now they’re down in that rose cavity here on the desk,” Grandpa said. “I showed Aaron how to get into it.”
“Good place for them.” I tended to think that it was a perfect place, since no one but the four of us knew of the hidden pocket. “Should we each read another letter aloud?” I opened the box, and drew out four more to pass around. “Who would like to go first?”
“First let me run home to fetch four sets of plastic gloves.” Aaron jumped up from the office chair and was out the door within seconds.
While we waited, I picked up my cell phone to give Dorrie another call. “Hi. How did it go this afternoon?” She explained that two customers came to look at the dollhouses. One was interested in the Eisenhower, and the other, the Kennedy dollhouse. Before disconnecting, I said, “What about Ronnie?” Her reply left me speechless.
The Blood Spangled Banner: A First Ladies Mystery Page 20