Blake Pierce - Once Gone

A bell above the door rang as Riley walked inside, and the woman at the counter glanced in her direction. She looked middle-aged but remarkably youthful, and her graying hair was full and healthy.

Riley weighed her options. Without her badge, she had to be careful. True, she’d managed to get other retailers to talk to her without it. But she absolutely did not want to spook this woman.

“Excuse me,” Riley said. “Are you Madeline?”

The woman smiled. “Well, my name is actually Mildred, but I go by Madeline. I like it better. And it sounds better for the name of a store. ‘Mildred’s Fashions’ just wouldn’t have the same ring.” The woman chuckled and winked. “It wouldn’t draw quite the clientele I’m aiming for.”

So far so good, Riley thought. The woman was open and talkative.

“Lovely place,” Riley said, looking around. “But seems like a lot of work for one person. Have you got any help? Surely you don’t do all this by yourself.”

The woman shrugged.

“Mostly I do,” she said. “Sometimes I’ve got a teenage girl who works the register while I help customers. This is a quiet day, though. There was no need for her to come in.”

Still considering the right approach, Riley walked over to a clothing rack and fingered some of the merchandise.

“Beautiful outfits,” she said. “Not many stores carry dresses like these.”

Madeline looked pleased.

“No, you’re not likely to find anything like them elsewhere,” she said. “They’re all high fashion, but I buy them from outlets when styles have been discontinued. So by big city standards, these would be yesterday’s fashion.” Then with another wink and a grin, she added, “But in a little town like Shellysford – well, they might as well be the latest thing.”

Madeline pulled a lavender-colored cocktail dress off the rack.

“You’d look wonderful in this,” she said. “It’s perfect for your coloring – and for your personality too, I suspect.”

Riley didn’t think so. In fact, she couldn’t see herself wearing any of the store’s rather posh outfits. Still, she was sure that this dress would have been more appropriate at the country club than what she was now wearing.

“Actually,” Riley said, “I was hoping to look at some of your dolls.”

Madeline looked slightly surprised.

“Did you make an appointment?” she asked. “If you did, it seems to have slipped my mind. And how did you find out about our doll collection?”

Riley pulled the receipt out of her handbag and showed it to Madeline.

“Someone gave this to me,” Riley said.

“Oh, a referral,” Madeline said, obviously pleased. “Well, I can make an exception, then.”

She walked to the back of the store and opened a wide folding door, and Riley followed her into a small back room. Its shelves were lined with dolls, and a couple of racks standing on the floor were filled with doll accessories.

“I started this little side business a few years back,” Madeline said. “I had the opportunity to buy out the stock of a manufacturer that went out of business. The owner was a cousin of mine, so when they closed down I got a special deal. I’m happy to pass on those savings to my customers.”

Madeline picked up a doll and looked it over proudly.

“Aren’t they lovely?” she said. “Little girls love them. Their parents too. And these dolls are no longer being made, so they’re truly collectibles, even though they’re not antiques. And look at all these costumes. Any of my dolls can wear any of these outfits.”

Riley scanned the rows of dolls. They looked much alike, although their hair color varied. So did their clothes, which included modern dress, princess gowns, and historical outfits. Among the accessories, Riley saw doll furniture to go with each style. The prices of the dolls were all above a hundred dollars.

“I hope you understand why I don’t keep this section open,” Madeline explained. “Most of my walk-in clients aren’t shopping for dolls. And just between you and me,” she added, lowering her voice to a whisper, “many of these smaller items are awfully easy to steal. So I’m careful about who I show all this to.”

Fluffing up a doll’s dress, Madeline asked, “By the way, what is your name? I like to know the names of all my customers.”

“Riley Paige.”

Then Madeline squinted with an inquisitive smile.

“And who was the customer who referred you?” she asked.

“Reba Frye,” Riley said.

Madeline’s face darkened.

“Oh, dear,” she said. “The state senator’s daughter. I remember when she came in. And I heard about…” She fell silent for a moment. “Oh, dear,” she added, shaking her head sadly.

Then she looked at Riley warily.

“Please tell me you’re not a reporter,” she said. “If so, I must ask you to leave. It would be terrible publicity for my store.”

“No, I’m an FBI agent,” Riley said. “And the truth is, I’m here to investigate Reba Frye’s murder. I met with her father, Senator Newbrough, just a little while ago. He gave me this receipt. That’s why I’m here.”

Madeline looked more and more uneasy.

“Would you show me your badge?” she asked.

Riley held back a sigh. She had to bluff her way through this somehow. She had to lie at least a little.

“I’m off duty,” she said. “We don’t carry badges when we’re off duty. It’s standard procedure. I just came here on my own time to find out whatever I could.”

Madeline nodded sympathetically. She seemed to believe her – or at least not to disbelieve her. Riley tried not to show her relief.

“What can I do to help?” Madeline asked.

“Just tell me anything you can about that day. Who else came in to work? How many customers came in?”

Madeline held out her hand. “May I see the receipt? For the date, I mean.”

Riley handed her the receipt.

“Oh, yes, I remember,” Madeline said as she looked at it. “That was a crazy day, several weeks ago.”

Riley’s attention quickened.

“Crazy?” Riley asked. “How so?”

Madeline knitted her brow as she recollected.

“A collector came in,” she said. “He bought twenty dolls at once. I was surprised that he had the money. He didn’t look all that rich. He was just a rather sad-looking older man. I gave him a special price. Things were really a mess while my girl and I rang up all that merchandise. We’re not used to that kind of business. Everything was in turmoil for a little while there.”

Riley’s mind clicked away, putting this information together.

“Was Reba Frye in the store at the same time as this collector?” she asked.

Madeline nodded. “Why yes,” she said. “Now that you mention it, she was here right then.”

“Do you keep a record of your customers?” Riley asked. “With contact information?”

“Yes, I do,” Madeline said.

“I need to see the man’s name and address,” Riley said. “It’s very important.”

Madeline’s expression grew more wary.

“You said the Senator gave you this receipt?” she asked.

“How else could I have gotten it?” Riley asked.

Madeline nodded. “I’m sure that’s true, but still…”

She paused, struggling with her decision.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” she blurted, “but I can’t do it – let you look at the records, I mean. You don’t even have any identification, and my customers deserve their privacy. No, really, Senator or no Senator, I can’t let you look at it without a warrant. I’m sorry, but it just doesn’t seem right to me. I hope you understand.”

Riley took a long breath as she tried to assess the situation. She didn’t doubt that Bill would show up here as soon as he could. But how soon would that be? And would the woman still insist on seeing a warrant? How much more time might that involve? For all Riley knew, someone’s life might be hanging in the balance right that very minute.