Ilil Arbel: Madame Koska and the Imperial Brooch

“He financed the atelier, originally, by money he got from the thefts, but yes, try to remember the good things,” said Mr. Korolenko. “What’s the point of dwelling on painful experiences?”

“None whatsoever,” said Madame Koska. “I will try to remember that.”

Entering the flat and hugging her friends, crying and talking and explaining all at the same time, took a few minutes, and then Inspector Blount came in with a middle-aged man who seemed to be in good health and even well groomed. Gretchen jumped at him screaming with joy and crying. Mr. Korolenko and Inspector Blount waited until the commotion subsided.

“Inspector, Grigory Orlov is most likely dead,” said Mr. Korolenko. “After being shot, he triggered a trapdoor and fell into the water.” Madame Koska heard and joined them quickly.

“I’ll have the area searched, but it seems pretty sure he is dead if he was wounded and fell into the water,” said the inspector. “Did you shoot him?”

“No, inspector, I did,” said Madame Koska. “He threatened me and advanced toward me with the intent of strangling me.”

“I see,” said the inspector, visibly impressed. “Good work, good work… I sure am glad I got you the gun. Madame Koska, this is Mr. Van der Hoven.”

“Yes, I gathered that, looking at Gretchen. I am delighted to see they had not harmed you, Mr. Van der Hoven,” said Madame Koska. “We did not know you were alive.”

“They preferred to keep me alive,” said Mr. Van der Hoven. “I was useful to them, up to a point. But they wanted to know much more. And they kept threatening me. Orlov wanted to take over my entire business in Polynesia and China and discover secrets of my clients.”

“But what could you do while you were held?”

“They said they would release me only if Gretchen found the brooch for them.”

“Did Mr. Howard know?” asked Madame Koska.

“Yes, the poor fool. He was blackmailed by them; they were going to destroy his reputation and tell the world about his little opium habit.”

“He escaped to Paris, apparently,” said Mr. Korolenko.

“He’ll be back, but he really is not terribly important,” said Mr. Van der Hoven. “I wish my sister had married a better man, but he is not all bad. We’ll fix this little matter and get him back on track.”

“But I still don’t know the fate of the brooch,” said Inspector Blount. “I have to start looking for it all over again.”

“No, you don’t have to,” said Madame Koska.

“But Orlov was the only one who could really lead us to the stolen brooch,” said the Inspector. “And he is dead.”

“Not exactly,” said Madame Koska.

“Whatever do you mean?” said Mr. Korolenko.

“I mean that after hearing something Grigory said, I know precisely where the stolen brooch is located, and I can lead you directly to it.”

The inspector stared at her as if she had lost her mind. Everyone else stopped talking and looked at her too.

Madame Koska laughed. “I really know what happened, Inspector. I know where the brooch is. Let’s go to the atelier, right now, and we can end this business.”

The entire group went downstairs, and at the atelier, Madame Koska led them to the main sewing room, and took them to the wall where the three samplers made by Natalya were hanging.

“Look at this sampler, please,” she said, taking down the pearl embroidery sampler. They all crowded to look at it, and suddenly Mr. Korolenko burst out laughing.

“This is beyond belief,” he said. “It was hanging here all this time!”

“So you recognise it?” said Madame Koska. “Am I right?”

“No doubt whatsoever,” said Mr. Korolenko. “But how can it be? How did it happen?”

“Will someone explain to me what this sampler has to do with the brooch?” said the inspector irritably.”

“Inspector, when Grigory stole the brooch, he brought it to Paris, and then to London, intending to sell it to a buyer who wanted it. But he was afraid to keep it with him in London, since by then the theft was notorious and he could have been traced from Paris. He must have known that I opened an atelier here, and having been in the business with me, he expected me to deal with embroidered and beaded clothes. There would be no doubt in his mind that I would have many fake jewels in my cabinets, boxes, tables, everywhere. He entered the atelier at night and hid it in the box that contained combination beads—some of them with fake rubies surrounded by pearls, some with fake emeralds, and some with fake sapphires. The brooch, made of a real sapphire surrounded with pearls, could be easily missed among the fakes unless one knew a lot about jewellery. It was the perfect place to hide the valuable object in plain sight.”

“He did not expect anyone to find it?” asked the inspector.

“No, since the collection would not be worked on for a week or two, he had plenty of time to recover the brooch. But when he tried, it was not there.”

“So what happened?” asked Gretchen. “I always felt so guilty about my part in it…”

“I remember one morning Miss Saltykov and I were alone in the atelier. She was telling me about her idea of teaching the seamstresses better styles of embroidery and beading, and I told her to go to the sewing room and choose some beads to take home, since she wanted to work on the samplers after hours. I remember hearing her crying out about something, and when I asked her what was wrong, she said she just pricked her fingers. The reason I remember it is that I called the vendor to complain that they mixed pins with the beads and one of my seamstresses hurt her hands, and they assured me that this did not happen. So I assumed that the pin was dropped by one of my own people when they arranged the beads, and did not think about it until now.”

“So what really happened when Natalya cried out?” asked Madame Golitsyn, visibly worried.

“My dear, Miss Saltykov recognised the brooch immediately since she is a jewellery expert, from her old days at the court. No one else would… She took it, incorporated it into the sampler, and then framed it securely. No one noticed it; the brooch was hidden in plain sight.”

“Edgar Allen Poe again,” said Mr. Korolenko, laughing. “Why didn’t she tell you?”

Everyone looked at Natalya, but she remained quiet. Madame Koska suddenly noticed that Natalya had very little makeup left, and her hair was becoming loose; but she did not look upset or worried at all.

“But Miss Saltykov, you are not saying anything. Is this true?” said the inspector.

“Yes, Inspector, quite true,” said Natalya calmly.

“Miss Saltykov, why didn’t you inform the police, or at least tell Madame Koska that you found and took the brooch! This amounts to theft!”

Natalya got up in one quick motion, her hair becoming loose and the mane of ash blonde curls falling on her shoulders. She strode over to the inspector’s seat and stood very erect in front of him. He was so disconcerted he did not get up, but looked up to her face which showed intense anger.

“I could not steal something that belonged to me, Inspector,” she said in a low but clear voice.

“Belonged to you? The brooch is yours?”

“Yes, Inspector. The Tzarina gave me the brooch shortly before the Revolution. She said she wanted me to have it since it was a gift given to Catherine the Great by my ancestor who was her first lover and the father of her first child. I treasured it until these murderous peasants, the Bolsheviks, stole it. When I saw it among the beads in the atelier my heart nearly stopped…”

“But you said nothing about it. Why is that?” asked Madame Koska.