Ilil Arbel: Madame Koska and the Imperial Brooch

“That’s okay. I am going to bring Korolenko with us and let him handle the translations.”

“Certainly, if you vish, but Madame Golitsyn and I could help you vith translations.”

“No, Madame Koska. I would rather have Mr. Korolenko help us.”

“Vhy is that?”

“I do not wish to be unpleasant, but I do not trust Madame Golitsyn as much as I trust Mr. Korolenko.”

“You suspect Madame Golitsyn? Why?”

“I don’t suspect her of anything specific, Madame Koska, and I realise she is your dear friend, but I have not known her very long or worked with her before. I know very little about her past, other than she is a noblewoman and used to be quite wealthy. None of that is a guarantee of innocence. Remember, too, that she spent time in Constantinople, where the Eurasian gang operates regularly.”

“Very vell,” said Madame Koska coldly. “Mr. Korolenko is also velcome to look at the contents. Let us call both of them.”

“Thank you. And in the meantime, I’ll have my officers look around and see if they can find any clues to this latest break-in.”

Madame Golitsyn openedher safe and handed all the papers to Madame Koska, then sat down at a little distance. Madame Koska set the papers on the table, and from among them fished out an old, well-stuffed large envelope. She pulled out the wad of old papers and put them down. “You may go through it, Inspector,” she said, and then retreated and sat by Madame Golitsyn, quietly putting a cigarette in a holder and lighting it. Mr. Korolenko looked at the papers, one by one. He sat with his back to them, so the ladies could not see it when he slipped a piece of paper into his pocket. The inspector, who was not well versed in French or Russian, waited by the window and therefore did not notice either.

“I am afraid there is nothing there that would help in the investigation,” said Mr. Korolenko. “It’s basically just business papers from the past, from the Paris atelier.”

“It was worth a try,” said Madame Golitsyn graciously. “There could have been something there that would shed some light on the issues at hand.”

“So we are back where we started,” said the inspector. “What were the burglars looking for?”

“The brooch,” said Madame Koska. “Someone is convinced that I have the brooch and that I am stupid enough to keep it in my safe. It has to be the brooch since how can anyone connect me to the Eurasian gang or the opium trade?”

“There have been cases where jewellery or other valuables were smuggled in bolts of silk from the Orient,” said the inspector.

“But I bought all my fabrics in London ever since I came here,” said Madame Koska. “I have nothing delivered as bolts. Just enough materials as needed for the dresses. The accessories from Paris were unpacked by the seamstresses, who would certainly notice a large piece of jewellery.”

“As I said, we are back to square one,” said the inspector, and sighed. Mr. Korolenko did not mention the piece of paper he put in his pocket, and the two gentlemen left, refusing the offer of a cup of tea.

Gretchen burst into Madame Koska’s office with barely a knock on the door. “Miss Plimpton-Anderson is on the telephone, Madame Koska,” she blurted. “She wants to come to her appointment! They are in London! I said nothing about my uncle or anything else, only that I must ask you.”

“That is really strange,” said Madame Koska, surprised. “Vell, just tell her they can come tomorrow morning. I’ll alert Inspector Blount.”

Could it be that the sisters were not implicated at all? Would they dare to come, if they were involved? Madame Koska shook her head and dialled the inspector’s number, and the inspector, also sounding rather surprised, said he would have them watched. Madame Koska went to Gretchen’s desk and said, “The inspector is ready. The truth is, ve don’t know if they are involved or not. However, if they ask you to go out vith them for luncheon or tea, then it vill be certain they have some bad intentions. You should not go out vith them.”

“I would not dare, Madame Koska,” said Gretchen. “I am not moving from the house.”

“I vill tell them you are needed here because Lady Victoria is coming to pick up her dress, and you have to model for her. It’s true, anyvay, she is coming tomorrow, though of course she vill try the dress on herself, you von’t have to model. However, the sisters don’t know that.”

The next morning the sisters walked in, looking as silly and juvenile as always. They stopped at Gretchen’s desk and the elder said, “Did you hear anything from your uncle and aunt, dear? I wonder how much shopping your aunt has already done in Paris!”

“No,” said Gretchen, admirably controlled. “But I thought you went home, that was what the servants told me.”

“Oh, no, they were mistaken,” said the younger sister. “We are staying with an old school friend, you might know her, Miss Grimsby. She insisted we stay with her until the dresses were ready… she just wants to snoop, but we don’t mind.”

“Yes, I remember Miss Grimsby,” said Gretchen. “You brought her to my uncle and aunt’s party a few months ago.”

“Yes, that’s the one. She will be so jealous over the Russian-style clothes,” giggled the older sister. “I can’t wait to see her face when we show her the outfits!” Madame Koska came to greet them and took them inside to discuss the clothes.

Raving over the colours and the designs, the sisters seemed entirely preoccupied with the outfits. When they were done, they left the premises in the most normal fashion, saying a cheerful goodbye to Gretchen and inviting her to come and stay at their home when they got back there. They did not try to ask her out with them and Madame Koska erased them from her list of suspects.

Lady Victoria came to pick up her dress and was enchanted with its beauty. She put it on and as Madame Koska expected, the dark crimson brought out her dark hair and pale skin to perfection. But what Lady Victoria was most amazed by was the beauty of the beading and embroidery on the panels of the bodice. “I have never seen such workmanship,” she said when she put on her street clothes and examined her new dress closely.

“It vas done by my chief beader, Miss Saltykov,” said Madame Koska. “She had learned the trade as a child, in Russia.”

“Miss Saltykov?” asked Lady Victoria. “This is odd. When my husband and I stayed for a while in Saint Petersburg, before the Revolution, I met a lady by the name of Countess Saltykov. She was also an extremely talented craftswoman and embroidery was her hobby. We were very friendly, and before I left, she gave me an embroidered handkerchief as a token; I still treasure it. I lost track of her after the Revolution. What a strange coincidence.”

“Not a coincidence at all, Lady Victoria. It’s the same voman.”

“Countess Natalya Saltykov works as a beader?”

“Most of them lost everything, Lady Victoria. They have to vork.”

“Yes, naturally… may I see her?”

Madame Koska brought Natalya in, telling her that an old friend wanted to thank her for her work. Natalya walked in and when she saw Lady Victoria, she smiled, slightly sheepishly and looking a little guilty.

“My dear Natalya, why didn’t you tell me you were in London?” asked Lady Victoria, after embracing her warmly.

“I know… I did feel terrible about it but I did not want you to think that after losing everything I was looking for favours, Victoria,” said Natalya. “I was going to wait until I was more established and then I would have written to you.”