“No. I’ve gotten over that. Inga asked about the hatbox. I only mentioned the newspaper. She’s at home today because of the mess with the plumbing. Her floor arrangement is different, so it’s understandable.” I squeezed Aaron’s hand tightly before releasing it. “By-the-way… The stuffed bear I ordered will be coming by registered mail in a day or two. I also just happened to order a miniature dollhouse to go with my collection. We can display them in the store, and guess who gets to put up a new shelf?”
Aaron gave a mock groan.
I continued babbling. “I can’t wait to get the new purchases. It’ll be so much fun to have them. I’m so lucky to have found them.” I remembered something, and added, “Frances at the House said not to worry about the dress and hat. The police have been keeping her informed about the investigation. The dress and hat aren’t considered important. Frances figures that they date from when she was trying to sell her clothes in New York City.”
“That’s a lot of news,” Aaron said. “Now, about my new shelf?”
“I know who will have to put up a shelf.” He grinned. “Should I mention tonight to Tim or not?”
“Sounds like a good idea. Get what you think we’ll need at the grocery store.”
“It’s a deal. I have only a few hours left of work.” He fluffed my hair. “See you in a few.”
After Aaron left, I made out a check for the Mary Lincoln House. There were a few remaining e-mail messages that needed attention. Afterward, I made a new e-mail folder and titled it, Lost Speech. I clicked out of my e-mail account and logged into my website where I added a bit of information concerning President Lincoln and the Lost Speech. Since so little was known about it, I placed a message for the public, Has anyone heard or seen a copy of Abraham Lincoln’s lost speech? and then logged out of the site. I hoped for a few positive responses.
“I’m here!” Grandma hollered.
“Great.” I heard her drop her outerwear in the workroom before entering the showroom. “You look great.”
“Thanks.” She was wearing a period dress similar to mine but with a shawl over her shoulders, a buttoned down front with long sleeves, and of course, it was of a different vintage than mine. My sleeves were puffy, but her silver hair matched the style better than my red head.
I glanced over at the door and smiled as five women entered. My heart pumped. “Good morning, ladies. Help yourself to cider and cookies while you take a look around at the dollhouses. Any questions, just ask.”
Grandma meandered around the store, quietly murmuring tidbits about the various First Ladies whenever someone asked a question.
I stayed near the checkout counter and spoke to customers as they came and went. Occasionally, someone asked about a particular house, and I was pleased to be able to answer. By early afternoon, we had sold five houses, which was quite pleasing. Max helped pack and load them into the customers’ cars. A few other women expressed interest in purchases but needed to confer with their spouses first.
“Grandpa’s coming for me in a few minutes.” Grandma gave me a kiss, and I thanked her as she went to get ready to leave.
I realized late that afternoon that only a dozen cookies were left. Remember to order more the next time, I told myself. I strolled around the houses and tweaked the placement of items before sitting by the computer. The Pennies for Our Troops jar was full again, so I placed a call to Trisha. She’d come for it in the morning.
I was about to check my e-mail one more time and think of closing, since it was already four, when two ladies entered the store.
They looked at me and asked, “We’re not too late, are we?”
“Nope! Take your time!”
As they strolled around the showroom, I noted they seemed most interested in the Lincoln Civil War dollhouse, especially after examining the uniform from Tad Lincoln. It was too bad I wasn’t a gambler because I would’ve bet the ladies would both purchase a house, and they did. After the ladies left, I changed back into my everyday clothes. I gathered the garbage and set the full bags near the door for Max to bring out. The last of the cider was dumped and the table cleared. The few remaining cookies were put in a plastic resealable bag, and then I refolded the uniform. With the chores completed, it was time to go home. Since I was relatively sure that the cleaning women would show up tomorrow, I left the floor cleaning to them. I carried the penny jar to the workroom and hid it in the usual place. I wondered if I should leave for home, or stay and research the meaning behind the quote in the June 8, 1925, issue of Time magazine by a Honore Willsie Morrow-Stokes from Bloomington, Illinois. Research won.
Lincoln had given his Lost Speech in Bloomington. I had run across the article about the Lost Speech, and since I had bookmarked the site, I easily found it again.
My eyes opened wider after the second reading of the article. The article referenced Ann Rutledge, another name that sounded familiar. A quick search online confirmed my hunch. Abraham Lincoln was deeply in love with her, but she died of typhoid fever before they could become engaged. A passionate poem dedicated to Ann was published in a local paper three years after her death. Though anonymous, it was widely believed to have been written by Lincoln. It was more than half a decade after Ann’s death that Abe became smitten with Mary Todd, whom he had wanted to “dance with in the worst way.”
I wondered if Mikal had time to give me the analysis so I gave him a phone call. He did, so I bundled up and went to his office.
“Hi Mikal,” I said, entering.
“Brr! Shut the door quickly,” Mikal said. “You know the routine. I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.” I took the pad and pen in front of me and wrote:
Another crazy murder concerning a first lady. How can this happen to me once again? Oops! It’s not me! I’m alive. It happened to Blanche. Poor Blanche. But the concentric puzzles? What of them? I hate puzzles. Always have. Haven’t been able to put one together on my own since kindergarten and I’m in my thirties. Yikes! Help!
Yours truly, Dolley Madison descendant Olivia Reynolds.
No sooner had I finished writing, when Mikal entered the room.
“I’m ready.”
“Let me read it,” Mikal said. He used his overly large magnifying glass to study the writing. “Oh my goodness, Olivia. You’re up to your eyeballs again, aren’t you? When will you learn to keep out of the way of the First Ladies?” He winked at me. “Keep an eye out at all times. No one wants to see you get hurt.”
“Hurt? Really? As in dead hurt or just plowed under?”
“Plowed into a cornrow.”
“Can you tell me anything else?”
“You still have your humor. Look how you’ve made your ‘o-s’, they’re great.”
“That all?”
“One more thing. Stay warm so you don’t get sick.”
“I’ll try to remember that since it’s winter in Minnesota.”
“Good night, Liv.”
“Thanks, and you too.”
I headed out the door and toward home.
Chapter Seven
True to form, Aaron had stuffed the refrigerator with four steaks, the same number of large russet potatoes for baking, fresh vegetables for salad and a bottle of wine. The wine bottle sat open on the counter along with two full glasses.
“Hi, honey!” I kissed him. “I would have been home sooner but got caught up on the computer. Guess what I found out? Actually, it’s kind of spooky.” I dropped my boots by the door and pulled off my warm jacket. “Hurry up and guess!”
“Not a clue.” He chopped the green pepper and dribbled pieces into the lettuce-lined salad bowls. “Go ahead and tell me before you split.”
“One of the reporters who was present when Lincoln gave the Lost Speech compared it to the Sermon on the Mount. One reason there’s no transcript is because the reporters present quit writing as they were all so mesmerized by his words.” I accepted a glass of wine from Aaron and took a sip. “Can you believe it?”
“Int
eresting but it still seems far-fetched. What was the speech about?”
“Well, it’s my conclusion, based on what I’ve read of it, that it was about uniting the states and avoiding a civil war over the slavery issue.”
“Wow. That’s incredible.” Aaron glanced at me. “Was it really that important a speech?”
“You bet it was. It really did make Lincoln a national figure.” I reached for a carrot. “Here’s the spooky part – another death comes into the story. Lincoln was in love with someone before he met Mary Todd, but she died.”
“It is sort of creepy. Another death? They’re stacking up like cordwood.”
“Exactly.” I took another bite. “When are Tim and Maggie arriving?”
With perfect timing, the doorbell rang.
“Come on in!” I called upon entering the front room. Tim and Maggie walked in. “Hey you!” I gave Maggie a hug. “You look wonderful!”
Maggie and I followed Tim to the kitchen where we found chef Aaron was seasoning the steaks.
When he was done he suggested we go to the living room before starting the grilling. Aaron poured two more glasses of wine for our guests, then topped off our glasses
Maggie and Tim sat cozily on the sofa while Aaron and I claimed our favorite chairs.
“The hat and dress Blanche wore when she impersonated Mary Lincoln actually had belonged to Mrs. Lincoln. They’re in the back room. Tad Lincoln’s uniform is in the store. My guess is that the folks at the Mary Todd Lincoln House will want them returned after the investigation.” I sipped from my glass. “The detectives want me to inspect the seams, but any extra time has been hard to come by.”
“Wow,” Maggie said. “I’d like to see them.”
“This way,” I said. Maggie followed me to the back bedroom. “The dress box is huge. So is the hat.” I flipped on the light as we entered the room.
The dress box was perched on a large stool. I removed the lid and set it aside. I held up the satin carefully. It was a light blue dress with its many gathers and folds, and expertly embellished with fine lace.
“It’s gorgeous!” Maggie’s eyes were as large as saucers. “Can I touch it?”
“Gently.” Carefully she reached out and smoothed her hand down the fabric. “Let’s go into the other bedroom.” I held the dress tight, and Maggie followed me down the hall. I laid it out on our bed while she turned on the overhead light. “There. Now we can inspect it closer. I’ve been waiting to do this.” I lifted the hem and carefully ran my fingers across it. “The knots stand out from the even stitches. The detectives want me to inspect the seams before I return it. The hat needs returning, also.”
“Let’s see.”
I turned the seam around to get a better look, and we both gazed down at a huge knot of white thread. “This doesn’t seem right at all.”
“Look. Here’s blue and white, then about two inches of just white thread.” Maggie touched the area, gently running her finger along the stitching. “Feel this.”
“We need a pair of scissors,” I said.
“Look at the hem. There are stitches in two different colors. Why? Those days, women knew how to sew and wouldn’t mess it up like this.”
“Exactly,” Maggie agreed. “Nor would we be able to feel the knots.”
“And, on top of that, you’d expect the stitches to be more evenly spaced.” I smoothed the hem down. “It’s time to open this up and see what the deal is.”
“Chow time,” Aaron called from the doorway.
“Later,” Maggie said.
“Agreed.”
I helped carry the salads and dinner plates over to the table while Tim filled our glasses once again. Aaron brought the steaks to the table and set the platter next to the bowl of baked potatoes I’d set there earlier.
“What do you suppose is hidden in the hem of the dress?” Maggie asked, taking a bite of steak.
“Hard to tell.” I filled Tim in about finding the staircase drawing in the hatbox.
When we had finished eating, we each carried our plates to the sink. “It’s my job to do the cleanup—that’s how we do it around here.” The dishes could wait. “Hold on a sec.”
I found my little sewing kit in a cabinet drawer and told the others, “Follow me.” All three followed me to the brightly lit bedroom. Holding my breath, I carefully snipped off bits of the odd thread and poked my baby finger inside the hemline. “Hmm, there might be something hidden, but I don’t want to cut the thread any more than necessary.” My finger wasn’t long enough to reach it.
“Let me try,” Maggie said, reaching out.
“Nope. Let her do it. The detectives will ask about it later,” Aaron stated and nodded at me. “Go ahead hon.”
“Thanks for your support, sweetie.” I bunched the fabric up while inching my finger farther inward. “Got it!” At last the small bit of paper between the fabric and my nail was maneuvered toward the opening. Gradually, I slid it out. Holding it between shaky fingers, I said, “It’s just one letter, a capital G.”
“Are you serious?” Tim asked.
“Serious as I’ll ever be.” I shrugged, holding it so they could see it. “What do you suppose this means?”
“Why on earth…?” Tim scratched his chin.
“I’m calling the detectives. Wait here,” Aaron said. He left the room to make the call.
I studied the paper until Aaron returned.
“We need a copy,” I said, removing my phone to snap a picture. “There.”
“What did they say?” Tim asked.
“The dress needs to be returned with this note in the morning.
The other item,” Aaron glanced at me, “we’ll still research.”
“What other item?” Maggie asked.
“It’s part of the investigation. Can’t say,” Tim responded. “We still have the hat.”
“I’ve already started a file on the store’s website about the Lost Speech titled Mary Lincoln, and I’ve added one in my e-mail account. Every little tidbit that I drum up is going into it.”
“I’d bet her pantaloons that Blanche was killed for this information,” Maggie said.
“I agree. At least the images are stored. The dress, hat and note will go with Aaron in the morning. What we should do is try to compare this letter with the handwriting inside the hatbox.” We peered down at the shaky scratches. “Let’s go.”
Maggie and I stepped into the other room and headed straight to the hatbox. Maggie held up the lid while I smoothed the newfound paper down right beside the drawing and handwriting.
“What do you think?” I asked. “Pretty shaky.”
“Deranged?”
“Or elderly.” I peered closer at the penmanship. “It appears to be the same—from the same person. I don’t see anything to make me think otherwise. Do you?”
“Mmm, yeah pretty close.”
I placed the message inside the box, and Maggie set the lid on top. “Let’s go find the men.”
We found them in the living room, finishing their beer. “I’m tired, hon. Shall we?” Maggie reached for her coat. “Does the handwriting look the same?” Aaron asked.
“Yes,” I replied. “I’ll ask Mikal to compare the writing on the lid and the message.”
“Let me know what he says,” Maggie said.
“Ready?” Tim stood up and held Maggie’s coat as she slipped into it. He slid his arms into his own heavy coat and said, “See ya tomorrow.”
Once they’d safely walked to their car, we locked the front door and shut off the outside light.
“Let’s hit the sack.” Aaron took my arm. “I forgot to tell you that I bought a shelf plus the hardware to put it up over the computer at the store.”
“Wonderful. When can you install it?”
“Asap tomorrow.” He kissed me. “How’d the day go? You never did say.”
“Great. Grandma was perfect. In her soft manner, she managed to sell five houses while I stayed at the counter and rang up sales. Then in t
he afternoon, we sold two more.” I grinned. “Can’t believe it!”
“Now you can pay for the miniature house and stuffed bear you ordered.” He placed his arm over my shoulder.
“It’s been a good day.”
Together we walked down the hallway to our bedroom. Within minutes, we had fallen asleep.
In the morning, our blankets were strewn around from tossing and turning. I dressed for work quickly in heavy warm clothes. The bathroom mirror image of my hair was reminiscent of a hurricane. I splashed water on myself, applied makeup, and then struggled to capture my hair in a clasp.
My outerwear was handy to slip into and soon I was on my way to work. The air was brisk, hurrying me along.
The hair on the back of my neck bristled as I stepped inside the slightly opened back door of the store. I still smelled the sewage and hoped the cleaning ladies would soon arrive. A light shone from the workroom, and I called, “Max!” When he didn’t answer, I figured he’d forgotten to shut off the light.
I walked into the workroom and gasped. It took a few seconds for me to find my voice. “Help!” The workbench and tabletop were filled with a conglomeration of miniature items. Boxes were upended. The sewing machine table was covered in a hodgepodge of my miniature inventory. “Help!”
I heard footsteps overhead and knew Max was on his way. I slumped into the nearest chair, placing my head in my hands.
“For the love of…” Max groaned. “Did you call it in yet?”
“No.” I shook my head, removed my phone from my pocket, and called it in to the precinct to report it.
“I came downstairs in a hurry.” Max studied me. “Been any farther into the store?”
“No.” I held my head between my palms. “I can’t bring myself to look.”
“Want me to?”
“You can come along, but it’s my store, I’ll go too.” We walked into the showroom together.
“Looks okay.”
“Thank heavens the houses weren’t touched.” I wiped my eyes. “This makes me so sick.”
“Anything stand out?”
I opened the cabinet with the Pennies for Our Troops jar and shook my head. “This is still here. They weren’t after cash.” I couldn’t help sniffling.
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