Amber Dee's Missing Toe

by Matt Ferraz

  Grandma Bertha Solving Murders

  Amber Dee’s Missing Toe

  By Matt Ferraz

  To my beautiful grannies

  It’s been tough without you

  But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round ... as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys.

  Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol

  Chapter One

  A Christmas Gift

  Winifred Compson took off her hat as she entered the small bookshop and reached inside her pocket for a piece of paper. It was warm inside, but she didn’t expect to stay for long.

  “Good afternoon,” she said to the tall man behind the counter.

  He didn’t bother to respond.

  Winifred wondered why the shop was so empty in the week before Christmas. “I’ve been told that you have these books here,” she said, handing him the piece of paper.

  The clerk took the note with a sigh, and typed something on his computer keyboard. “I believe I saw these in the warehouse the other day,” he said.

  “That’s great!” said Winifred. “They’re for a friend of mine. She usually only reads horror and I thought these would be a good change for her. She’s quite a mystery solver.”

  The clerk’s eyes were on the computer. “We do have them,” he said. “Twelve in total.”

  “That’s the whole collection!” said Winifred, thinking about how Grandma Bertha would react to the present.

  “They’re young adult books,” said the clerk, his eyes still on the computer screen.

  “Oh no,” corrected Winifred. “They’re cosy mysteries by Laura Childs. Cosy mysteries are crime books without—”

  The clerk interrupted her. “We have them, but I can’t sell them to you.”

  The smile faded on Winifred’s lips. “Why not? You said you’d seen them.”

  “Yes, in the warehouse,” was his reply. “We don’t sell books from the warehouse in the store. You have to go home and order them online.”

  “What?” said Winifred. “Where is the warehouse?”

  “It’s upstairs.”

  Winifred scratched her head. “Sir, I came here because the website said you had these novels—”

  “And we have them,” he said.

  “But you won’t sell them to me.”

  “No.”

  “Even though they’re upstairs.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you could fetch them for me in five minutes.”

  “Yes.”

  “So I have to go back home, buy them and pay for them to be shipped. Then I’ll have to wait a few days to get them, even though I could bring them home in my bag today.”

  “Pretty much.”

  Winifred plucked the note from the man’s hand. “No wonder this place is empty,” she said, putting on her hat and walking out into the street, where snow was falling. She looked around, trying to decide what she would give Grandma Bertha now.

  The first time they met, it had been on a sunny beach, with seagulls and warm sand. There had been a dead body. Winifred’s family history and all the things she had gone through had almost destroyed her. It was only thanks to Grandma Bertha that she was now standing on her own two feet, able to look people in the eye.

  A long time had passed since they had met, then one day Grandma Bertha received a letter from Winifred. Winifred was coming to town and wanted to see her friend. Grandma Bertha was living with her son and his family, and Winifred didn’t feel comfortable staying there. Fortunately, Grandma Bertha owned a few apartments around town, so she found Winifred a nice place to stay.

  After a few weeks, however, Grandma Bertha’s clashes with her daughter-in-law Lydia became unbearable and she decided to move in with Winifred. They shared the place, Winifred working as a waitress in a nearby café. She and Grandma Bertha both had money in the bank, but Winifred wanted to work and do something with her time. She didn’t have any other friends, and always came straight home from work to take care of the old lady and her three dogs.

  Grandma Bertha’s family were not happy that she had moved out – especially her grandson Stu. He had always been Grandma Bertha’s favourite, and now he had to share her with a stranger. Winifred was nice to him, but he still acted like she had stolen his granny from him.

  “Don’t worry about that, hun,” Grandma Bertha would say. “Children always act like that. Stu’s never had siblings or cousins. He’s never had to share me with anyone other than the doggies. This is a vital lesson for him. And this is the best time of year to learn the importance of sharing.”

  Winifred sat on a bench and smoked a cigarette, which she only did when she was away from home. Smoking helped her to think when she was upset, which she was after the way the man in the bookshop had treated her. She wanted to go back to the bookshop, pull out her mobile phone, buy the books and ask them to be delivered right there. Instead, she crushed her cigarette under her heel and walked down the street, trying to find a gift that would suit Grandma Bertha’s taste. She wanted something that didn’t relate to beer, dogs or horror movies – the three things that most people associated with Grandma Bertha.

  But there was one other thing that came to her mind when she thought of her friend, and that was solving a murder. If only she could find a Christmas mystery for Grandma Bertha to use her detective skills on! What a silly idea, thought Winifred, taking a right turn into a lane lined with shops. She passed a clothing store and decided to go in and buy Grandma Bertha a scarf.

  Winifred pushed the door open and entered. Before she even had the chance to take off her hat, she saw a woman lying on the floor in a puddle of blood.

  Chapter Two

  Grandma Bertha has déjà vu

  “Who’s that?” asked a constable.

  “She’s the closest we’ll ever get to Miss Marple,” replied Inspector Shaw, walking towards the old lady. “Grandma Bertha, I hope you realize how irregular this is.”

  The old lady gave him a toothless smile as she got out of her van, followed by Winifred. “Good afternoon, Shaw!” she said. “It’s been a while. Since the case of the Convenient Cadaver, if I remember correctly.”

  Grandma Bertha wore a heavy yellow coat and puffy ear muffs of the same colour. It had been Shaw’s idea to bring her in, using Winifred’s involvement as an excuse. He would never admit to his colleagues that he wanted the old lady’s insight. Ever since Grandma Bertha had found out the truth about the dead body behind her house, Shaw had followed her adventures in the newspapers. He had even helped her when she needed some information to close a case. Now it was time for her to help him.

  “Let’s go inside, where it’s warm,” he said, opening the door for her. “And, may I ask, where are your dogs?”

  “Inside the van,” said Grandma Bertha. “Don’t worry – they have food and water and toys in there. It was a present from a friend. The van, I mean.”

  Winifred waited for them inside the shop. She wanted to get out of there, but it was her job to assist Grandma Bertha. “That’s where I found the body,” she said, pointing to the chalk silhouette on the floor.

  “Her name was Amber Dee, and she worked here,” said Shaw. “She was stabbed in the back. The killer must have gone out through the back door.”

  “Any fingerprints?” asked Grandma Bertha.

  “A whole lot of them,” said Shaw. “We can’t tell the customers’ prints from the killer’s prints, though.”

  Grand
ma Bertha stared at the doorknob. “Such a busy time of the year, yet the killer was able to murder this woman without anyone seeing.”

  “He was lucky,” suggested Shaw.

  “Would you agree, Inspector, that the only people who would touch that sign are the people who work here?” she said, pointing to the sign on the door that read closed from the inside, and open from the outside. “If so, I think you should check the sign for fingerprints. The only way the killer could have done this without anybody seeing is if he made it look like the shop was closed.”

  “People would surely see the crime being committed from the outside,” suggested Shaw.

  “Not if the door glass was steamed up,” she said. “Think about it for a second. The killer comes in. He either pretends to be a customer or he’s someone Amber Dee knew. He asks her to turn up the heat since it’s so cold out there. She’s too focused on the heating to notice that the killer is turning the sign around. They talk for a while, as the killer waits for the glass to steam up. He then feels safe to stab the girl in the back, turn the heating back down, change the sign on the door and leave.”

  “It was very hot when I came in,” confirmed Winifred. “And the sign said open.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” said Shaw, even though Grandma Bertha had no evidence to back up her assertion. By this point, he knew better than to dismiss Grandma Bertha’s flashes of intuition. It wouldn’t hurt to check the sign for fingerprints, he thought.

  “Did the killer take any money?” asked Grandma Bertha.

  “No,” replied Shaw. “But he took the CCTV tape, which is worse. Anyway, this is a small shop, without much money in the till – certainly not enough to justify a murder.”

  “Tell me more about poor Amber Dee,” said Grandma Bertha.

  The inspector pulled his notepad from his pocket. “She was twenty-two years old,” he said. “Worked here for a year and a half. The owner trusted her enough to leave her by herself in the shop from time to time. This was one of those days.”

  “What about her family?” asked Grandma Bertha.

  “We’ve contacted her mother,” said Shaw. “She lives five blocks away. She’s crushed, as you would expect. She never thought something like this would happen to her girl.”

  “I’ll have to talk to her later,” said Grandma Bertha. “But first I want to talk to the owner of the shop. I… That’s odd!”

  “What is it?” asked the inspector.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “Tell me, Inspector, was Amber Dee a pretty girl?”

  He scratched his head. “I found her very plain.”

  “Did she dress fancy, or wear a lot of make-up?”

  “She wore a uniform,” he replied. “Her shoes were a little odd, though.”

  “What do you mean, ‘a little odd’?” asked Grandma Bertha.

  “Orthopaedic,” he said. “But I don’t see why that’s relevant.”

  “I once cracked a case thanks to orthopaedic shoes,” said Grandma Bertha. “But all in good time. What about the weapon? What was it?”

  “A common pair of scissors,” Shaw answered.

  “Were there any scissors like that in the shop? Or did the killer bring them with him?”

  “The shop had one pair behind the counter,” was his response. “We have confirmed that the shop’s scissors were used as the murder weapon.”

  “How many stabs?”

  “Only one, with a lot of strength. The scissors pierced her heart. The poor girl never had a chance. The killer was right-handed, and about the same height as Amber Dee.”

  “I see,” said Grandma Bertha. “Any fingerprints on the scissors?”

  “None.”

  The old lady twisted her lips and stared at the puddle of dried blood on the floor. “All right, Inspector, I’ll take the case. I just—” She went silent again, staring into space. “Good grief, I’ve never had two of those in a row before!”

  “Two what?” asked Winifred.

  “Two déjà vus.”

  Chapter Three

  Evidences and Influences

  “Not that I’m trying to control you, sugar buns,” said Grandma Bertha to Winifred on their way home, “but what were you doing in that store?”

  Winifred drove the van to their apartment, while Grandma Bertha drank a beer in the passenger seat. The dogs sat still in the back of the vehicle, polite as always. Winifred knew that Grandma Bertha didn’t ask because she was possessive, but because she needed to know where each player was at the time of the crime.

  “I was going to buy a present for Stu,” replied Winifred. “Something nice he could wear in winter.”

  Grandma Bertha smiled at her. “That was very sweet of you. And what are your thoughts on Mr Goldman?”

  An image of the shop owner came to Winifred’s mind. Michael Goldman seemed to be an honest man, running an honest business. He had a solid alibi for the afternoon the crime had taken place. This was the smallest of three shops he owned in town. The scandal could be fatal for his business.

  “I don’t think he did it,” said Winifred at last. “At least, not by himself.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Grandma Bertha, sipping her beer. “He seemed fond of the girl. Businessmen aren’t always nice to employees who they’ve hired as a favour to someone else.”

  A friend of Amber’s mother had recommended Amber for the job. One of the store’s two employees was about to have a baby, so Michael Goldman had to hire someone new in a hurry.

  “What about the other employee?” asked Winifred. “Shaw said he broke his arm this morning and couldn’t come in to work. Do you believe that?”

  “One can’t argue with a broken limb,” was Grandma Bertha’s opinion. “If he said he had the flu or something like that, we could assume he was lying. But he was examined by a doctor, so we have to believe his alibi.”

  “So this was the one day that Amber was by herself.”

  “That’s right,” said Grandma Bertha. “Fishy, isn’t it? I can’t wait to talk to her mother.”

  Inspector Shaw asked them to wait until the next day to visit Dana Dee and ask her questions. She had just been given shocking news, and bringing in a stranger to interrogate her would make things worse.

  “So, what will we do today?” asked Winifred.

  Grandma Bertha seemed lost in thought, and didn’t answer.

  “Are you okay?” asked Winifred again. “Another déjà vu?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry!” said the old lady. “I was thinking about what Shaw said about Amber’s shoes. It’s a small shop, and there was a chair behind the counter and two other chairs in the aisle. One was a small chair, the kind that customers sit on to try on shoes, and the other one was a little taller. It was an orthopaedic chair.”

  “So, she had orthopaedic problems. What’s wrong with that?” asked Winifred.

  Grandma Bertha shrugged. “I don’t know. Sometimes I look at a murder scene and some things don’t fit. No struggle, the chairs in their place, not knocked over or moved. Only a woman lying on the floor with a pair of scissors in her back. Tell me, my dear, what’s the one thing you’ll find in every clothing shop, apart from clothes?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Mirrors!” said Grandma Bertha, raising her index finger. “They have mirrors in a booth at the back, where people try on clothes. And they have mirrors around the shop so people can see how they look in hats and scarves. There are three mirrors and two small ones on the floor, where people can see how their shoes look. Even with all those mirrors, Amber didn’t see her foe attacking her. She died without knowing what was happening. That, or…”

  “That or what?” asked Winifred.

  Grandma Bertha shrugged again. “There’s a lot to be discovered.”

  Winifred parked the van. Grandma Bertha opened the back door for the dogs, who followed her obediently. They all looked extra-cute in the colourful coats Grandma Bertha had knitted for them.

  “I forgot to tell you,”
she said when they got to the lift. “Todd and Lydia are hosting Christmas dinner, and you’re coming with me.”

  Winifred bit her lip. “I’m not sure if I’m welcome in their house.”

  “Why not?” said Grandma Bertha with a frown. “I’ve told you a million times – they don’t think you stole me. To be honest, they’re relieved that someone else has taken responsibility for me.”

  Winifred stayed silent as the lift doors opened and they walked out. She stayed that way until they entered the apartment and turned on the lights. Only then was she able to speak. “Grandma Bertha, your daughter-in-law thinks I’m not a good influence on you.”

  “What?” asked Grandma Bertha. “Did Lydia say that?”

  “She said that it was because of the beach case that you continued to investigate crimes. And since I was involved...”

  Winifred had never seen Grandma Bertha so angry. Her face was red with fury. “You know what? We are going to them for Christmas dinner. And I’m going to solve the case first. We’re going to show Lydia just how good a detective I am.”

  Chapter Four

  The Grieving Mother

  It was seven o’clock in the evening. Winifred was chopping carrots in the kitchen when the phone rang. Grandma Bertha answered. Winifred put the knife aside and tried to hear what the old lady was talking about. It was Inspector Shaw on the other end, sharing some details about the case. Grandma Bertha didn’t say much, but Winifred heard her say one thing: “Under the mistletoe.”

  “What was that about?” she asked when Grandma Bertha walked into the kitchen.

  “I have to take a short trip,” said Grandma Bertha, wrapping her scarf around her neck. “Our dear inspector found out something about Amber Dee. Do you remember the shoes she was wearing? It turns out that it was more serious than we thought.”

  “You said something about under the mistletoe?”

  “I said, Amber Dee’s missing toe!” repeated Grandma Bertha.

  To Grandma Bertha’s surprise, Winifred couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry,” she said.