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     “And this is exactly how you found it, ma’am?” asked Detective Kehoe.
     “Yes. It was open just like that,” said the richly attired dowager. “But nothing is missing.”
     “Funny they would leave all that jewelry,” said Detective Romero.
     “Let me guess,” said Kehoe. “Ma’am, these pieces are duplicates, aren’t they? And you keep the real stuff in a safety deposit box.”
     “How did you know that?” asked the woman.
     The detective looked at his partner and grinned. “We’ve got some real pros here.”
     “Did anyone know you were going away?” asked Romero.
     “Just the help,” said the rich lady.
     “And how many people is that?”
     “Only eight! And they are all loyal servants. They’ve been with me for years. You can’t suspect them.”
     “I don’t, ma’am,” said Romero. “Just curious. Do any of them have keys?”
     “Certainly not! You think I’m foolish enough to trust the riffraff off the streets?”
     Romero sighed and bit his tongue.
     “Anything else missing?” asked Kehoe.
     “I don’t think so, but as soon as I arrived home and saw the open safe, I called you immediately.”
     “Uh-huh. Was there anything out of place in the house?”
     “Everything was out of place! Someone was living here! Aren’t you listening?”
     “How do you know someone was staying here, ma’am?” asked Romero.
     “Well, it’s obvious! Follow me. I hope your shoes are clean. This has been traumatic enough.”
     The two detectives checked their shoes, held them up as proof, then dutifully followed the Grand Dame through the massive abode. It quickly became apparent the old adage was correct. Some people have way too much money.
     She led them into a steamy, tiled room dominated by a hot tub the size of a small swimming pool. The water was bubbling and churning like the witch’s cauldron in Macbeth. One wall was plate glass looking out at the Sierra Nevada Mountains.
     “You see?” cried the woman. “It’s on! They were bathing in my hot tub! Dear Number Five would have a fit.”
     “Number five?” asked Romero.
     “Husband. What else?”
     “Uh-huh. Are you still married?”
     “Certainly not. Five is quite enough. I’m an independently secure woman now. So what’s the point?”
     “Right,” said Romero. “Hey, partner, towels are still damp.”
     “Anything else, ma’am?” asked Kehoe.
     “Well, the Bentley has been driven. I’m quite sure of it.”
     “And why is that?”
     “It was not positioned in the garage exactly the way I demand of my driver.”
     “I hate that,” said Romero, unable to resist.
     “Are you being impertinent?”
     “Not at all, ma’am. Anything else out of position?”
     “I don’t know. My inspections only went this far.”
     “Well, let’s have a look at the rest of the house.”
     In the cavernous dining room, on the table that could seat twenty, a single printed piece of paper caught the eye of the detectives. They both scanned it and Kehoe said, “This is your itinerary for your recent trip.”
     “Yes,” said the woman. “I was looking it over the morning before I left for Milan to see the latest fashions.”
     “Fashions.”
     “Wardrobes.”
     “Ah. And you left your itinerary here.”
     “What need of it did I have once I embarked?”
     The detectives looked at each other, both guessing the truth. With a subtle eye gesture, Romero was chosen to be the one to spill.
     “My guess is these thieves started casing your place soon after you left on your trip. They probably broke in late at night, discovered this itinerary, and realized you weren’t coming home for a while. So they decided to have a little vacation of their own.”
     “This is not a hotel, officer!”
     “Detective. And I understand that, ma’am. But they obviously didn’t get the message. Let’s finish our tour. See if they found anything to make the job worthwhile.”
     “That’s a very base way to put it!”
     Romero had had enough and was ready to let the old biddy have it, but Kehoe plowed on. “Please, ma’am, we’re just doing our job.”
     With a disdainful shrug and a heavy sigh, she continued leading them through the estate. In the monstrous kitchen, her face scrunched up when she saw two plates and some other utensils on the drying rack next to the sink.
     “Something wrong, ma’am?” asked Kehoe.
     Those dishes shouldn’t be there. They were not there when I left. And the kitchen maid would never be allowed to leave them like that.”
     The detectives started snooping around, looking in drawers and shelves. Kehoe opened the refrigerator and spied half a quiche in a tin pan, sitting on one of the shelves.
     “Did you have quiche the morning you left for your trip?”
     “Of course not. My breakfasts never vary. Poached egg with dry toast and peach jam. And I dine in bed.”
     She followed his stare and gasped. “What is that doing in here?”
     “You tell me.”
     “I never instructed the chef to make a quiche. And even if I had, I most definitely did not have any of it. Do you believe the help is stealing food from me behind my back?”
     “No, ma’am, I don’t. Do you know if you had the ingredients for quiche in your refrigerator?”
     “How on earth would I know? The chef takes care of all of that. I wouldn’t even know what is required for such a thing. That’s not my responsibility, detective. Is it?”
     “I imagine not, ma’am. May we see the rest of the house?”
     The Matron tapped her foot impatiently, then took off to the Great Room. As she entered, she screamed and nearly swooned. “It’s gone!”
     “And what would that be?” asked Romero.
     “My handbag! It always sits right there on that pedestal!”
     “You keep your handbag on a pedestal?”
     “Of course! It’s where it belongs, you see?”
     “Not really. Did you have a wallet in it?” asked Romero. “Or anything of value?”
     The woman looked at him like he had rabies. “Certainly not! It’s a Hermes!”
     The detectives were clueless.
     “A Hermes Handbag detectives. Specifically a Birkin Bag. I own two. I took one to Milan, and the other should be on that pedestal.”
     “Can you describe it?” asked Kehoe.
     The woman was practically in tears but too proud to let them fall in front of these horrid men. “It is made of ostrich hide dyed in a delicate juane d’or hue, with matching leather-colored lock and key lanyard, and adorned with a plaid bow.”
     “And how much did you pay for this purse?” asked Kehoe.
     “A little over forty-thousand. But that’s not the point. The waiting list to buy one of these is nearly six years long. Oh dear, I don’t feel at all well.”
     “Me either,” said Romero, holding down the bile building in his gut. “So, you spent forty-thousand dollars on this handbag. But there was nothing valuable in it?”
     “You fool!” screeched the woman. “That bag is a work of art, not to mention a very valuable investment.      Over the last thirty-five years, these bags have had an annual increase in value of over fourteen percent! With a total increase of nearly five hundred percent.”
     “Oh my god, I think I’m going to be sick.”
     Kehoe propped up his partner and said to the woman, “Ma’am, we’re going to need you to come down to the station with us and fill out a report.”
     “Is that necessary?”
     “If you want to make an insurance claim, it is.”
     That lit a fire under the old babe’s ass. She shook her head rapidly and said on her way out of the room, “I have to change out of these. I’m certain I will be way overdressed for your humble workplace. It will only take a half hour or so.”
     As she left the room, Romero mimed like he was shooting her in the back. Kehoe patted the air, urging him to let it go. Romero said, “I’m almost rooting for the guys that took that stupid bag.”
     “Agreed. I suppose we could bring in the crew to dust for prints. But we both know we’re not going to find squat.”
     “Man, my stomach really does feel funny. I shouldn’t have skipped lunch.”
     “Let’s have some of that quiche.”
     It was a sound idea, so they plodded back to the kitchen. They pulled out the remaining spinach quiche, cut it in two, plopped it on the plates the thieves had used, and zapped them in the microwave. A couple of minutes later, they sat across from each other at the small kitchen table and dug in.
     “Oh wow, I’ve never had quiche like this,” said Romero. “So light and fluffy.”
     “But deceptively filling,” said Kehoe
     They munched and made yummy sounds, then scraped their plates clean. They looked at each other with happy glows.
     “You know,” said Romero. “I never knew real crooks ate quiche.”
     “Well, these two sure do. And one of them is a helluva good cook.”