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knife? Was that the knife that killed the person in front of
Chumley s?
Not likely, Brophy said. It wasn t sharp enough.
You have to do something, Mattie said. Olivia is in
danger. He couldn t get back in now that we re locking
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Annette Meyers
the doors so this morning he pours out our milk and re-
places it with blood.
It could all be a practical joke. Walz put his pad and
pencil back in his pocket. We don t even know yet if it s
real blood or colored water.
Oh, yes, I snapped, the murdered person in front of
Chumley s, whom you have yet to identify, is only a prac-
tical joke.
That could be a coincidence.
Mattie, I said, standing abruptly. Show these gen-
tlemen out, please.
I went upstairs in a rage, speechless with frustration,
took up my purse and the box of Eppie Diamond shoes.
When I came downstairs again, Mattie was stacking the
dishes in the sink. The detectives were gone. Appar-
ently, I ll just have to be murdered for someone to take
me seriously, I said.
Please don t make jokes, Olivia. Then, to my dis-
may, Mattie burst into tears again.
I took her in my arms to comfort her. Oh, dear, oh,
dear, now don t cry, Mattie, please. It ll pass. And that
horrible Detective Walz could be right. Everything other
than the dead person could be someone s sick idea of a
joke.
Mattie sat down and dried her eyes with the ends of
her apron. I don t know, Olivia. I just feel as if someone
evil, someone we can t see, is watching us. Can you
imagine, he was outside early this morning waiting for
the milkman. . .
I patted her hand and murmured reassuringly, but if
truth be told, I had the same feelings. Then I remembered
her reaction when I told the detectives about finding the
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doll. What was it that surprised you about the doll, Mat-
tie? You d seen it. Didn t you remember?
I did, Olivia, but it was wet and I was frightened. I
didn t take a clear look at it. When you described it just
now, I recognized it.
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Chapter Fifteen
Y
ou ve seen a doll like it before? I felt
the tingle of excitement.
Mattie nodded. Her eyes were red-rimmed and I real-
ized, looking at her, that the events of the last few days
had taken their toll. Before this, she had always looked
after me. Now I was the stronger one and would have to
care for us both.
She said, There s a blind Polish woman who sells
them sometimes in Washington Square Park. I bought
one from her myself last week and gave it to Mr. Santelli
for his little girl s birthday. I always thought they were
very sweet and plain enough for a child not to be afraid
to touch.
I barely listened to what Mattie was saying. The word
blind kept repeating itself in my head. My hopes were
dashed. But what did it matter anyway? Even if the
woman could see, how would she possibly remember
everyone who bought a doll?
Putting it out of my mind, I told Mattie to listen for
Harry and tell him about the milk bottle of blood and the
visit from the detectives. I was going to call on Eppie
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Diamond in Chelsea and learn what I could about the
shoes.
I threw my cape over my shoulders and took my poor
black straw from the hat stand and pinned it to my hair.
On the way out, I pounded on Harry s door again, but
there was no acknowledgment from within.
November had crept in overnight as the harbinger of
winter, for it was cold and blustery. In spite of the hatpin,
I had to hold tight to my hat, while also accommodating
the box, against the rush of wind. I stopped at the sta-
tioner s for a new type-writer ribbon, which I tucked into
my pocket with the nickels for the subway.
I took the subway to Eighteenth Street, rehearsing for
my meeting with Eppie Diamond, the magnificent harpy.
From here I walked to Seventeenth Street, then west. I
passed a series of commodious brownstone houses, at
least double the width of my little house on Bedford
Street. These all had impressive stone steps leading to
stately front doors. Chelsea has a very staid atmosphere,
being inhabited mostly by solid middle-class families
with children. Automobiles most of them Fords were
numerous.
Eppie Diamond s atelier was near Ninth Avenue, in an-
other spacious brownstone, with majestic stone stairs
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