*
The bell above the fashion store door rang as Riley walked inside. She saw no customers. Madeline looked up from her work at the front desk and frowned. Riley could see that the shop owner was not at all happy to see her again.
“Madeline, I’m sorry about yesterday,” Riley said, walking to the desk. “I was so clumsy, and I’m sorry. I hope I didn’t actually break anything.”
Madeline folded her arms and glared at Riley.
“What do you want this time?” she asked.
“I’m still struggling with this case,” Riley said. “I need your help.”
Madeline didn’t reply for a few seconds.
“I still don’t know who you are, or even if you’re FBI,” she said.
“I know, and I don’t blame you for not trusting me,” Riley pleaded. “But I did have Reba Frye’s receipt, remember? I could only have gotten it from her father. He really did send me here. You know that much is true.”
Madeline shook her head warily.
“Well, I guess that must mean something. What do you want?”
“Just let me look at the doll collection again,” Riley said. “I promise not to make a mess this time.”
“All right,” Madeline said. “But I’m not leaving you alone.”
“That’s fair,” Riley said.
Madeline went to the back of the store and opened the folding doors. As Riley moved in among the dolls and accessories, Madeline stood in the doorway watching her like a hawk. Riley understood the woman’s misgivings, but this scrutiny wasn’t good for her concentration—especially since she really didn’t know what she ought to be looking for.
Just then the bell above the front door rang. Three rather boisterous customers burst into the store.
“Oh, brother,” Madeline said. She hurried back into the dress store to tend to her customers. Riley had the dolls all to herself, at least for the moment.
She studied them closely. Some were standing, but others were seated. All of the dolls were decked out in dresses and gowns. But even though they were clothed, the seated dolls were in exactly the same pose as the naked murder victims, their legs splayed stiffly. The killer had obviously taken his inspiration from this kind of doll.
But that wasn’t enough for Riley to go on. There had to be some other clue lurking here.
Riley’s eyes fell on a row of picture books on a lower shelf. She stooped down and began to pull them off the shelf one by one. The books were beautifully illustrated adventure stories about little girls who looked exactly like the dolls. The dolls and the girls on the covers even wore the same dresses. Riley realized the books and the dolls were originally meant to be sold together as a set.
Riley froze at the sight of one book cover. The girl had long blond hair and wide-open bright blue eyes. Her pink and white ball gown had a spray of roses draped across the skirt. She had a pink ribbon in her hair. The book was titled A Grand Ball for a Southern Belle.
Riley’s skin crawled as she looked more closely at the girl’s face. Her eyes were bright blue, opened extremely wide, with enormous black lashes. Her lips, shaped into an exaggerated smile, were thick and bright pink. There was no doubt about it. Riley knew for certain that the killer was fixated on this very image.
At that moment, the bell rang again as the three customers left the store. Madeline trotted to the back room, visibly relieved that Riley hadn’t caused any damage. Riley showed her the book.
“Madeline, do you have the doll that goes with this book?” she asked.
Madeline looked at the cover, then scanned the shelves.
“Well, I must have had several of them at one time or another,” she said. “I don’t see any of them right now.” She thought for a moment, then added, “Now that I think of it, I sold the last of those a long time ago.”
Riley could barely keep her voice from shaking.
“Madeline, I know you don’t want to do this. But you’ve got to help me look for names of people who might have bought this doll. I can’t begin to tell you how important this is.”
Madeline now seemed to sympathize with Riley’s agitation.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” she said. “It’s not that I don’t want to, but I can’t. It’s been ten or fifteen years now. Even my ledger doesn’t go back that far.”
Riley’s spirits fell. Another dead end. She had taken it as far as she could possibly take it. Coming here had been a waste of time.
Riley turned to go. She crossed the store and opened the door, and as the fresh air hit her, something struck her. The smell. The fresh air outside made her realize how stale the air was in here. Not stale, but…pungent. It seemed out of place in a frilly, feminine store like this. What was it?
Then Riley realized. Ammonia. But what did that mean?
Follow your gut, Riley.
Halfway out the door, she stopped and turned, looking back at Madeline.
“Did you mop the floors today?” she asked.
Madeline shook her head, puzzled.
“I use a temp agency,” she said. “They send over a janitor.”
Riley’s heart pounded faster.
“A janitor?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Madeline nodded.
“He comes in during our morning hours. Not every day. Dirk is his name.”
Dirk. Riley’s heart pounded and her skin grew cold.
“Dirk what?” she asked.
Madeline shrugged.
“I’m afraid I don’t know his last name,” she replied. “I don’t write his checks. The temp agency might, but it’s a rather slipshod outfit, really. Dirk’s not very reliable, if you want to know the truth. ”
Riley took long slow breaths to steady her nerves.
“Was he here this morning?” she asked.
Madeline nodded mutely.
Riley approached her, and summoned all her intensity.
“Madeline,” she urged, “whatever you do, do not let that man back in your store. Ever again.”
Madeline staggered back with shock.
“Do you mean he’s—?”
“He’s dangerous. Extremely dangerous. And I’ve got to find him right away. Do you have his phone number? Do you have any idea where he lives?”
“No, you’d have to ask the temp agency,” Madeline said in a fearful voice. “They’ll have all his information. Here, I’ll give you their business card.”
Madeline rummaged around on her desk and found a card for the Miller Staffing Agency. She handed it to Riley.
“Thank you,” Riley said with a gasp. “Thank you so much.”
Without another word, Riley rushed out of the store and got in the car and tried calling the temp office. The phone rang and rang. There was no voicemail.
She made a mental note of the address and started to drive.