The Blood Spangled Banner: A First Ladies Mystery Read online

  The Blood Spangled Banner

  by

  Barbara Schlichting

  THE STAR SPANGLED BANNER

  A First Ladies Mystery

  by

  Barbara Schlichting

  The Star Spangled Banner

  All rights reserved

  This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance between events, places, or characters, within them, and actual events, organizations, or people, is but happenstance.

  No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Copyright © 2016 by Barbara Schlichting

  ISBN 978-0-9961828-8-1

  Published May, 2016

  Published in the United States of America

  Darkhouse Books

  160 J Street, #2223

  Niles, California 94539

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter One

  The front window rattled against the wind as I unlocked the door of the First Lady White House Dollhouse store and walked inside toward the dollhouse tables. Dolley Madison and I were distantly related, so greeting her first seemed natural.

  I wore a new pink dress to match Dolley’s inaugural gown. After two months of interest in several White House dollhouses for her national chain store’s toy department, Jackie Newell, was coming to get a firsthand look. She was scheduled to arrive within the hour, which left me with just enough time to spruce up the showroom and ensure that my 1814 White House dollhouse arrangement was in perfect shape. This was my chance to make the big time.

  “There, there, now Dolley.” I straightened her because she’d tipped slightly. “Mr. Prez? You need to be on your best behavior today. No chasing Dolley around the house with my perspective buyer coming soon! No pinching her bum.” I wagged my finger at him.

  “Mrs. Lincoln? You’re looking marvelous today. How’s the headache after that awful carriage ride? It was an attempt on your life, wasn’t it?” I’d had an awful one after the car accident that killed my parents when I was eleven. Now, it’s an ache in my heart, still—twenty years later.

  I glanced over to the First Lady pictures hanging on the wall.

  “Why are you crooked, Barbara?” I stopped to straighten the first Mrs. Bush’s portrait.

  “I’ll return shortly to fix your hair.”

  “Mrs. Carter, I hope last night was worth it. All that Billy Beer.” Something isn’t right. Mrs. Carter has never been this tipsy.

  “Don’t worry, ladies, you’re back to looking good.”

  I winked while passing.

  Near the backroom, I gasped at a crunch underfoot. Another step. Another crunch. I gazed across the hallway floor, and the bottom sank from my stomach. My eyes opened wide, I’d walked across broken furniture.

  “Hello?” I flicked on the light in the workroom. Boxes and boxes lay strewn across the floor. Miniature chairs, tables, dolls, vases, desks, and beds were scattered. The workbench was littered with broken dollhouse pieces. My sewing items were tossed about.

  I screamed.

  I was sure that it reached the psychic shop next door. Mikal, the proprietor, kept his window open for fresh air.

  I heard a noise, as I began backing out toward the bathroom. Meaty, strong arms came from behind and covered my mouth, pulling me against a firm chest. I smelled a slight vanilla scent as I bit into the assailant’s fleshy fingers. I struggled, biting harder, trying to stomp his feet, but he held tight.

  Grandpa’s open toolbox full of hammers, nails, and box cutters lay almost within reach. I tried inching closer, but my captor jerked my head back, clutching my hair. I twisted to see him. A black ski mask covered his face.

  “NO screaming.” His icy tone sent fear up my spine. “You hear?” He slowly brought down his hand after I tried to nod.

  “Where are they?” He wrenched my left arm up behind my back. Pain seared up my arm, as I leaned closer to the toolbox. “I want them now.”

  “Ouch! You’re hurting me!”

  “Where are they?”

  “You’re breaking my arm.” He loosened his grip. “I’m not psychic here. Just tell me what you want.” Slowly I moved my right hand while inching closer to the toolbox. “I don’t understand.” I grabbed a box cutter from the workbench and quietly snapped it open. “My fiancé is a cop, so—.”

  “Shut up!”

  The toolbox tumbled over, sending its contents skittering across the floor. My assailant’s hand loosened from my back, giving me enough time to turn and thrust the blade into his forearm. He yelped and grabbed at his bleeding arm.

  I dashed out the back door. “Help!” Scrambling down the alley and rounding the building to the front of the store, I screamed again then ducked inside the doorway of Mikal’s shop.

  “Liv, calm down. What’s wrong?” Mikal walked toward me with a client following. “Another mouse?” He grinned and glanced at his client. “Stephanie, my neighbor, Liv.”

  “I don’t have time for this stupidity,” I said.

  “Excuse me!” Stephanie said. The short, stocky client peeked out from behind Mikal, narrowed her eyes and crossed her arms over her flat chest. “Listen, missy. I was in the middle of a reading. It was just getting good! I found out about my husband’s little girlie friend with the big boobs. Now this!” She threw her arms in the air. “My reading is botched. I want a refund.”

  “You haven’t paid.” Mikal glared at her.

  “I won’t either.” She marched away, but not before giving me the finger.

  “Hey! I’m in trouble, loser! I was assaulted just now.” Just because I’d evicted a live-in mouse family from my shop a few weeks ago didn’t mean it was back. “Someone trashed my shop and grabbed me.” I pulled my cell phone from my pocket and called Aaron, my fiancé.

  “Sit down, right here,” Mikal ordered. “I’m calling the cops.”

  My boyfriend picked up the call. “Aaron, someone just attacked me at the shop.” I sank into the chair.

  “Are you hurt? What happened?”

  “I’m fine, I’m at Mikal’s.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Aaron said. “Have you called 911?”

  “No, I called you.”

  “I’ll take care of it, then I’ll be right there.” Aaron disconnected.

  “I’m going back. The Gorilla must be gone by now.” I took a deep breath and headed for the door.

  “Stay and wait for Aaron,” Mikal urged.

  “Nope. I’ve got to check on the store.” I had to protect the ladies. The First Ladies had already been through so much in their life, now it’s up to me to make sure nothing else happens to them. Mommy always said they were special, like being the Nation’s Mother. As First Lady, she’d make sure that the President looked out for our interests and needs like food for th
e hungry.

  “I’ll stay outside, I promise.”

  I texted my best friend, Maggie, as I walked out the door. My knees felt weak, like I might sink to the ground. Where were the police? My feet crunched in the snow, and I started to shiver. I could’ve been badly hurt. Where was Aaron? My arm ached as I massaged it, trying to ignore the pain. Was the man gone or still in the store? What did he mean? Where are they? Where’s what?

  I stood to the side to wait.

  Where was Max?

  Max worked part-time for me and rented the apartment above the shop. He should be around here someplace, but who knows? Max often gambled away his money. I was always getting cryptic messages from parts unknown, asking how to reach him, presumably to remove body parts.

  A reassuring chuckle from behind made me grin. Max’s voice boomed from above. “Livvie! Now what? Another mouse in the house?”

  My headache suddenly grew to the size of Texas. I glanced up and massaged my temples.

  “Someone broke in, and assaulted me. The workroom’s a mess.” Tears streamed down my cheeks. I wiped my nose with the sleeve of my heavy sweater just as Aaron’s squad car drove up.

  Aaron’s smile made my toes curl. I knew that I could make through this day.

  Tim, Aaron’s partner, went around to the back while Aaron stayed out front.

  Finally, sirens blared in the distance and soon stopped. Two police officers climbed from the car, as Aaron and Tim secured the premises. People gathered to stare at the building while other shopkeepers popped out to gawk.

  “Everyone move on and go about their business. Now!” Aaron said.

  Max walked down the outside steps. He gave me a puzzled look, lit a smoke, and stood near me as an officer approached us.

  “You the owner?” the officer stated.

  “Yes.”

  “You?” he turned to Max.

  “He’s my upstairs renter and employee.” I noticed two plainclothes officers approaching, one older with gray hair, the other younger and blond.

  “We’ll take over. There’s been a rash of burglaries in the area,” the detective stated, showing his badge. “Detective Mergens. Ms. Anderson? Olivia Anderson? You called it in?”

  “My fiancé called it in, but I’m Olivia, Liv, Anderson.”

  “Ms. Anderson,” he said. “My partner, Detective Erlandsen, and I, are curious about this theft because of its nature.”

  “Yes, let’s go inside for some privacy,” Detective Erlandsen said.

  “I’ll follow.” My phone buzzed, and I read Maggie’s message, “Stay safe. Keep me updated.” The showroom appeared unscathed. I took a deep breath and looked toward the historical White House and saw Dolley. I breathed relief, knowing it was unharmed. The other houses appeared unscathed, but I’d check on the Ladies as soon as possible. Hold on girls, I’m coming.

  “How does the showroom look?” Mergens asked.

  “Great, actually. This morning is very important to me.” I stuck my hands in my pockets and went back to the front window. “Jackie Newell of Jackie of New York! Department Store is due here in less than an hour.” I shook from deep inside.

  “Who?” Mergens asked.

  “She is the owner of the national department store chain, Jackie of New York! You know, from the Home Shopping Network.”

  “Oh! My wife would probably know,” Mergens said, rolling his eyes.

  “I hope her interest in the houses will spike sales.”

  “The back lock was picked,” Erlandsen stated. “Know anyone who’d want to break in? Have anything valuable in here besides dollhouses?”

  “Plenty. Look around the room. I have my Penny Dolls and First Lady photos, and they sell for several hundred dollars, at least.” I nodded at them, placing my hands on my hips. We stood by the glass counter in front of the register and computer. I swung my attention back to the officer’s question, and crossed my arms. “Max carves doll heads in here or his apartment at night. He sets his own hours. I tell him what style of house I need and which First Lady. The pieces need to be glued and, in some instances, stapled together. They’re fragile, but sturdy. He fills in when needed.”

  “You trust him?” Mergens asked.

  “Absolutely. He has a key. He lives here. I’ve known him for years.” I crossed my arms. “His workbench is in the workroom—underneath all that wreckage.”

  “I see.” Mergens wrote in his notepad. “Was he home?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “With my grandparents, Marie and August Ott.” I scratched my head. “I’ve never given Dorrie a key. She’s my other employee.”

  “Any cause for alarm?” He studied me. “You know. Anything unusual. Pattern change such as misplacing a key?”

  “We want this Dorrie’s info,” Erlandsen said.

  “I can’t think of anything unusual at the moment.” I shook my head. “I keep my purse in the workroom, and it’s usually hung on the clothes tree.” I quickly looked up Dorrie’s contact information from the list beside the computer. “Here’s her info. I’m sure it was a man because of his strength and low voice. Now can I see the damage?” I became more worried with each passing minute.

  “Anything you can tell me about the guy who attacked you?” Detective Mergens cocked his head. “It’s pretty nasty in there. We thought we’d get all the information before you see it.” He frowned. “It’ll be a shock.”

  “I saw some of it before he grabbed me.” I sank into the nearest chair and reached for the tissue box. I thought of Jackie Kennedy and all the pain she’d endured as I wiped my nose. “He was big. A gorilla. HUGE. His fingers and hands were beefy. His biceps pumped up when he tightened his grip on me. He wore a ski mask. His voice sounded like it had potholes and icebergs.” I glanced at the clock and suddenly my brain kicked into gear. “Can we hustle here? I’m expecting a very important client pretty soon.” I blew my nose.

  “One more question.” Erlandsen held up a finger. “Anyone you might have a beef with?”

  “I can’t think of anyone.” I frowned, massaging my chin. “Unless this has something to do with Max. He gambles and often loses.” I thought a moment. “The beefy guy asked, where are they? I don’t know what he was talking about. Where is what?”

  “He was after something in particular. Now, we’re getting somewhere. That’s more than what the other victims could tell us.” Erlandsen glanced up at me.

  “What other victims?” I stared at him. “I’m not the first?”

  “There’s been a rash with break-ins,” Erlandsen said. “Ongoing investigation.”

  “Dollhouses?” I asked. I glanced at each detective. “Good grief. This doesn’t make sense. I’ll keep a closer watch.”

  They closed their notepads.

  “Now are we done?” I asked. “I’ve plenty to do.”

  “Almost.” Erlandsen stepped aside. “We’re in the process of checking for prints.”

  I waited a beat, my stomach tied in knots, as the door opened and closed. They left. I got up and forced myself to go to the workroom, stopping just outside the doorway. My gaze swept across the floor of the workroom. The poor first ladies. Broken china dishes. Pieces scattered from one end of the room to the other. Poor Mrs. Monroe with the French furniture. Tears streamed down my cheeks. It’d take hours to sort through everything and decide what was salvageable.

  “What a mess. It’s a disaster,” I whispered. “What were they after? Will they be back?”

  I went into the restroom, glanced in the tiny mirror, fluffed up my hair, dabbed on some red lipstick, and noticed a chipped nail. A file was handy and soon the chipped nail was smooth. Hopefully, I look presentable for Jackie Newell’s arrival. The back door opened just as I stepped from the bathroom.

  “Hey, babe.” Aaron walked toward me. “Don’t worry about a thing. I’ve requested a few days off but don’t know for sure if it’ll be approved. I also wouldn’t be surprised is if the sarge calls me in fo
r a half shift. We’re short officers right now due to the flu season.”

  “Thank you.” The front bell jingled.

  “I’ll call you later.” Aaron tweaked my chin. “By the way, I put a box of chocolate under the register.”

  “Another, among many reasons why I love you,” I said.

  He left.

  I tried to calm my nerves by taking deep breaths.

  Aaron stepped back in. “Don’t forget to call the insurance agent.”

  “Already on my to-do list.”

  He walked to his patrol car and drove away. I noticed a familiar car parked out back, and realized that it belonged to an old schoolmate, Ronnie. He earned his living by taking pictures and writing news articles for the local paper. I cringed.

  I went to the register, slipped off the box cover and removed two chocolate pieces, stuffing both in my mouth. A third piece sounded good, so I shoved it into my mouth before setting the box under the register. A car door slammed and I went to the front window.

  A long, black limousine was parked in front of the store. Jackie Newell and a thirtyish woman climbed out, followed by a big, burly man wearing aviator sunglasses and a black suit. I figured him as a bodyguard or escort.

  “You can do this,” I told myself, gulping. Opening the front door, I willed my racing heart to slow down. “Good morning.”

  Both women stood about the same height. Ms. Newell wore a ritzy black dress coat and the younger woman was dressed in a simple navy suit. Ms. Newell’s practiced smile shone as she walked toward the store, the other woman following two paces behind. The bodyguard had his eyes glued on the passersby. Why does she need a bodyguard? I swept the hair back from my face, smiling.

  “Ms. Newell, I hope that you’ll like the store.” I pretended as if all was well as my fast beating heart slowed to a normal pace. I jutted my hand out. “Olivia Anderson, but you can call me Liv.”

  “Call me Jackie. So nice to meet you.” She shook my hand before glancing around the room. “Very nice. Yes, indeed. Love your pictures of the First Ladies. Who is your favorite?”