| |
I screamed, trying to keep my balance. Aaron dropped the chairs, and reached out to grab me before the lights turned. He enveloped me in his arms as people gathered and asked if I was all right. When the commotion settled down, I got my wits about me, and Aaron picked up the chairs. We were about to cross the street when someone nudged Aaron.
“Here’s a picture. See?” He showed the image to Aaron. “I’ll send it to you, if you want it? I think she was pushed.”
“What am I looking at?”“That guy, right there? See?”“Yeah.”“He pushed her. I only got the back, of course.”
“Sure. Send it to this account.” When Aaron confirmed he had received the photo we’d both said, “Thank you,” and swiftly walked to the car. “I’m calling for a squad car to pick me up at home. I don’t want you driving.” He made the call.
“Thank you, hon.” I no sooner had sat inside the car when I said, “I want to see it.”
“Here.” Aaron handed me his phone. “Tim’s picking me up. He has the squad car, anyway.”
“I’m sending it to myself.” I took a quick glance, but the street lamp had just turned on plus all the headlights, made the image hard to see. I decided to wait until I got home to take a closer look.
“You hurt?” Aaron asked, driving from the lot. “It scared the life out of me.”
“It didn’t do much for me, either.” I took a deep breath to calm myself. “What do you think? Was I pushed?”
“It’s hard to say. It happened so quick.” He drove toward the entrance, and yielded into the steady stream of traffic. “Let’s wait until we’re home. I’m frazzled over it.”
“Why would anyone want me dead?”“I think it was a warning, if that’s what happened.”
“Why?”“You’ve been asking around haven’t you?”
“Well...” I looked out the window and watched cars drive past. “I’ve been careful. I didn’t ask one question today.”
“That’s good, but what about the day before?” He glanced at me. “You’ve got to leave the investigating to the professionals.”
“We don’t even know if I was pushed.”
“True, but we’re not going to forget it. It could’ve been deadly.”
We soon exited and took the Hennepin Ave Bridge across and turned on Main Street. Driving past Pracna, I said, “Don’t forget that I saw Annie Oakley go in there last night on my way home.”
“It’s her life.”
“You know what else?” I said as he turned onto our street. “I didn’t see her today.”
“Maybe she was just sick.”“She looked fine yesterday. I don’t buy it.”We parked and I got out of the car, grabbing the box, and Aaron the chairs. We carried the items into the house. I set my box on the table because I planned to return the items in it to the store in the morning. Aaron set the chairs in the closet.
“I have to leave, but text once you’ve taken a closer look at that photo, especially if you recognize the guy,” Aaron said.
“Will do.” We kissed and Tim honked the horn. Aaron left the house, and I opened the refrigerator door.
With a full wine glass, I headed into the living room and sat down, turned on the TV, and decided on Survivor reruns. Glancing out across the street at Gina’s house, I found it pitch-black. That made me happy because then I didn’t have to worry about anyone sneaking around. I slipped my shoes off, and swung my feet up under me, and turned the small lamp light on beside me. I flipped open the phone and brought up the image, and studied it.
After reconfiguring it and tinting some of the light exposures, I almost dropped the phone. I saved the image and texted Aaron to call me as soon as possible. I no sooner sent the message, when my phone rang.
“Let’s hear it,” Aaron demanded.
“The picture is of the same man that was inside of Gina’s house.”
“Don’t tell me this—Liv—you could be next!”
“I’m scared.” I shivered. “First time, the aunt wanted me to look to make sure everything was fine and to look for the books, but I only peeked in the windows. That’s when I found the large yellow envelope. This is the man I saw fleeing from the backyard.”
“I’m reporting it to Erlandsen. Don’t you dare go in that house ever again. You hear me?”
“Yes.”“Promise?”“Promise.” I disconnected before he started ranting and raving at me. Secretly I was happy because I wanted to know what was happening. Even though the murder happened in St. Paul, Gina lived in Minneapolis. I also hoped that the same detectives whom I’d previously worked with would be assigned onto the case.
It felt good to have that off my chest, and not have to worry about it. The question was, who is this mystery guy? I stared once again at the image, but now wasn’t so sure. The image was of a normal height, white male who wore a baseball cap. Tall. Short cropped hair. I couldn’t make out the color. The back of his Tee shirt was blank. Dark knee length shorts and sandals. I saw nothing unusual which led me to believe that it might not be the same person, but had to admit to myself that it could’ve been anyone.
I got up, shut off all the lights and walked down the hallway, and plugged my phone into the bedroom charger. Finally, I took a long, warm shower before crawling into bed. I wondered when Aaron would next be off duty as I turned off the light. He surprised me by getting home shortly after I fell asleep and woke me up.“Honey, Detective’s Mergens and Erlandsen are assigned the case.”I sat up. “Really? I’m glad, though. I hoped those two would be on the case.”“To quote Mergens, ‘No one else will ever believe her’. That’s you, you know. This convoluted First Lady case that involves you, wouldn’t happen to anyone else.”
“I’m sure they’re right.” I yawned. “They’ll call or come by the store in the morning?”
“I assume so.”
Aaron gave me a kiss, and padded off to shower while I rolled over and went back to sleep. I didn’t heard him crawl into bed or snore during the night.
I woke to the smell of fresh coffee brewing and bacon frying. My stomach grumbled with hunger as I got up. I snuggled into my robe and went down the hallway to the kitchen where Aaron stood cooking.
“This is a pleasure.” I sat and watched as he poured me a cup. I smiled after taking a sip. “Thanks.” “We’ll eat, and then I have to report in. There are several reports I must write regarding what you told me.”“Lots of work for both of us, I guess. I’m anxious to get to the store.”We quickly ate and I filled the dishwasher. I scooted down to the bedroom and dressed, combed my hair and put on some lipstick before grabbing my bag and heading out the door. I was eager to resume my normal, boring routine. The previous busy few days made me realize that boring wasn’t so bad after all.
Once in the car, I raised the garage door and backed out, then turned onto the street. In a few minutes I was on Main Street and I thought how silly, I should’ve walked on such a beautiful day. I always tried to walk or run to work since it was located so close to home, but I’d gotten out of my routine.
Soon I was driving around to the back of the store and parking in the lot behind it, right beside Max’s beat-up truck. Why hadn’t he ever replaced it after all these years? The minis, I’d left at home. I was second- guessing my earlier plan to display them because the showroom seemed crowded. So many things, so much to do, and so much to remember. Running my own business took a lot of effort, but it was worth it. It felt good to punch in the back door code and enter my store.
“Max! You here?” I hollered at once on entering. I went to the workroom and found it empty. I dropped my bag onto the workbench and glanced around the room. I smiled at the new, unpainted heads on the stand. Painting the heads was my job. It took so much time and patience that I sometimes wondered if I shouldn’t pay Max to do it. I also did the costume sewing. I’d pretty much made up my mind to hire Max to paint the dolls once I had more cash in the bank. Max came and went on his own accord. As long as he took care of the heads, I didn’t mind. I knew better than to ring him. If he’d been busy all night carving, he wouldn’t want to be disturbed from his sleep.
I strolled into the showroom, stood with my hands on my hips, and smiled.
“I’m back ladies,” I said. I glanced around the room, taking in the sight of the beautiful dollhouses. I strolled to the historical house, and stopped. “Dolley, I’m back. I’ll help you make ice cream. After all, we could use a bowl since it’s so hot outside.” I swore she winked. I moved to Michelle Obama. “You did a very nice job with school lunches. More children are eating fruit and vegetables because of you.” She might have nodded. I continued to circle the room.
Grandma took good care of the houses. The houses were arranged as they should be. She’d had Max or Grandpa bring in a new item to replace a sold Historical White House, which meant that Dolley Madison was another person’s favorite First Lady. I meandered around the houses and grinned as I rearranged a few items. Upon coming to the Lincoln Civil War house, I noticed that the bedroom was out of order in the Lincoln Civil War House, and I straightened it. At the TR White House, First Lady Edith Roosevelt looked stunning in her inaugural gown. I imagined the robin’s egg blue color with the design of plumes and birds embedded into the fabric and laced bodice was lovely on her. I learned that she’d destroyed the pattern so it would not to be copied. It also was incredibly hard to piece together and make it authentic-looking.
With the shop door unlocked, the sign turned from ‘closed’ to ‘open’, I went behind the sales counter. I sat behind the computer and it hummed while I opened the cash drawer and began making my deposit. After completing it, I hid it back in the workroom inside my bag, locking it in a cabinet. Back out front, I logged into my webmail and began reading new messages. There wasn’t many. Most came from those who had met me at the exposition. I wrote a quick reply to each, thanking them for stopping by. One message grabbed me. It read: Mind your own business. What did that mean? I heard car doors from out front, and closed out of the webmail.
I smiled as a new customer entered.
“Hello. I’m Liv, if you have any questions, just ask.”
“Just taking a look.”
“Go ahead.” I turned my attention back to my webmail. I read through the message once again, and decided to move it to a new file titled: ERoosevelt. The last time I was caught up in a mysterious murder, the clues pertained to Mary Lincoln and an unknown speech her husband had written. The killer hacked into my account and successfully removed important information. Fortunately, the police, with my assistance, were able to apprehend him before I became the next victim.
“Liv?!” the young woman called from across the room.
“Yes?” I logged out and went over to her. “Can I help you?”
“I really like the Jackie Kennedy White House, but I think my grandma would like the Historical White House, you see? It’s for her.”
“Why not buy two? One for each of you. That would take care of the problem.” I grinned. “Kidding. Why not wait and bring her in when you can for a look around? She might surprise you and like the same house.”
“That’s a good thought. I think I will.”
“I’ve got a card. Let me fetch it.” I went over to the sales counter and removed it, bringing it to her. “My website shows my store hours, also.”
“Thanks!”
After she’d left, I gave my neighbor, Inga, a call. She owns the antique store on the corner, Inga’s Antiques.
“Got time for a chat?”“Be right there.”I knew there was plenty for me to do, but I wasn’t ready to buckle down in front of the sewing machine or get busy painting the heads. Inga always had plenty of gossip to fill me in on and she was a good friend. She’d also landed in the hospital over that hidden speech of Abraham Lincoln, the Lost Speech, and was a longtime, dear family friend of my grandma’s.
The bell jingled overhead and I glanced up as her smile lit the showroom. A long, silver-hair ponytail lay over her shoulder and her blue thick-framed glasses accentuated her green eyes. Did I mention, vivacious? She had more energy than a tadpole.
“Missed you.” I got up and went around and gave the little lady a massive hug. “It’s not the same around here without you.”
I noticed tears in her eyes when I released her. “I missed you too,” I said. She held onto a small grass basket. “What on earth do you have?”
“I should’ve brought the matching figurine to yours, but forgot it at home.”
“Start from the top.” I nodded to my chair and said, “Go ahead and sit. I’ll bring out another.”
“Nah, I’ll wait,” Inga said.
It took about a minute before I returned with a folding chair, and set it right beside her. “Have a seat.”
“A deal came up on Amazon, which I couldn’t pass on.” She held up the basket. “This was woven by a Sioux woman. Isn’t it gorgeous?”I inspected the lovely woven grass basket. “It’s quite old, I can tell by the brown sheaves, but in very good condition.”
“I haven’t had a chance to look up the bottom, center symbol meaning. Do you have any idea?”
“It’s in the shape of a small cabin and these are teepees. Okay, that would mean home and cozy,” I said after studying the symbols lining the outside of it. “Is that your conclusion?”
“I thought so too, but didn’t want to say until I heard what you thought.” She glanced outside, around the room, then reached out and grabbed my hand. “This came from a Teddy Roosevelt collection.”
“Oh my....” I sank back in my chair. My head seemed to spin and I reached to give my temples a massage. “This can’t be happening.”
“Honey, you’d better hold on tight because the next thing I have to tell you is —the figurine is of TR wearing his cowboy outfit.”
“Same size as the jingle doll figurine?”
“Exactly. We have to put them together and take a closer look.”
“There should be one of a Native American man.” “But there isn’t. I’ve checked in all of my books.” “Are you sure the basket is from the TR collection?”“Yes. An auction house out of New York verified the items and the authenticity of all things presidential.”
“Here we go again. Just what I didn’t want.”
“Yeah, well—honey—we’re up to our eyeballs. Like it or not.”
“I hope not. The police are coming sometime soon to talk to me about Gina. I just found out that she was poisoned. Another murder that I’m exposed to. It feels like the murders that circled around Dolley Madison or Mary Lincoln. I hope it doesn’t involve First Lady Edith Roosevelt.” I shivered and continued, “Even though it happened in St. Paul, Gina’s house is here and there’ve been a few things which don’t add up. The same two detectives were assigned to the case since we have this history.” I rolled my eyes. “We’re like old friends by now.”
“That sounds mighty suspicious. I’d be concerned for my own safety if another murder occurs involving people from the expo.”
“Now I’m really getting scared. Let’s change the subject,” I said. “What were you going to say about the basket and figurine?”
“I’ll leave the basket, and bring in the figurine tomorrow. You have yours here, don’t you?” When I nodded, she said, “Okay. See you in the morn.”
I began a search of Native American symbols and discovered that my idea about home and hearth was right. At least I had something concrete to tell the detectives should they ask. I reached down for the figurine and studied it closer. The figurine showed jingles along her waistline and the coloring of the belt and headband was familiar. I did another search and found it was from the Sioux tribe. I held it closer and very slowly turned it while studying the waistband design. It was different than the basket. This symbol was clearly of a blanket waved over a fire. Burning a blanket? Just as I began to search the site, the door opened and in walked the detectives.
“Detectives.” I got up from my place and walked around the corner toward them. I thought they looked just as they did two years ago. Detective Erlandsen was still crumply like he’d slept in his clothes, and Detective Mergens still had a sternness about him. I smiled.
“Mergens,” he showed his badge and shook my hand. “Erlandsen.” He did the same.
“We meet again.”
“Yes, I’m not sure if we’re lucky or not, eh?” Detective Erlandsen winked. He took out his notepad, as did Mergens. “Let’s start from the top.”
“Are you alone?”
“Yes.” I shrugged and drew in a deep breath. “Where should I begin?”
“The morning of the murder.”
“It all started when we headed toward the ‘X’ Center. We stopped here first to pick up the boxes...” I continued by telling the whole entire story, which included my going into the house and being hit by a flying shoe. “Since then, I’ve tracked Annie Oakley, and found that she hangs out at Pracna.”
“Oh yeah? What else?”
“John Muir’s impersonator, Ed Parsons, is the brother to the owner.” I waited as they both wrote before finishing by saying, “And Gina, Sunflower, a jingle dancer, and Ranger Harry, are closely related. The family ranch is in Gina’s name. Sunflower is scared. Gina had a friend named Bambi who is a jingle dancer from the same area. Both John Muir and the TR impersonator asked about seeing the Alice purse, which is here in the store. I never brought it to the expo.”
“This is all interesting, but it doesn’t make sense,” Mergens stated.
“Just like the last two times.” Erlandsen shook his head. “Topsy-turvy.”
“There’s something else. Not sure how it all fits.” “Let’s hear it all.”I swallowed before proceeding, “It’s this grass
bowl that Inga just brought to my store.” I held it up, handing it to Erlandsen. “It was in a TR collection and also a figurine of TR in his cowboy duds, which is the same size as my doll,” I said. “I haven’t seen that, but she’s bringing it in the morning.”“The three items are from the collection?”“I don’t know about my doll, but she looked it all up and contacted the presidential historian who said that the two items, this bowl and the TR doll, came from the presidential collection and are authentic.”
“Okay...,” Mergens grumbled. “Back to this stuff again.”
“It appears that way.”
I watched them finish writing a few more words before looking up to me.
“What’s your theory?” Mergens asked.“No idea.” I shook my head.“Here we go again.”“When will I ever learn to mind my own business?” My eyes opened wide. “I almost forgot! I got an e-mail stating that same thing—to mind my own business.”
“Let me see it.”
I showed them, and then forwarded it to their phones so they had a copy of it before they left.
For the rest of the day, I straightened stuff and began painting the dolls heads, and wondered what First Lady Edith Roosevelt’s past had to do with the murder of my friend.