Granny Smith and the Deadly Frogs or The little old lady solves another crime

by G. M. Dobbs

  The telephone conversation with Carol’s sister had left the old woman feeling depressed. It was sad how one sibling could hold such a hatred for the other, though from what the woman had told Granny about Carol then it was understandable, and not entirely unwarranted.

  Carol’s sister, Riana was her name, had told Granny how she had caught Carol, her own sister, in bed with her husband of only three months. That had been over five years ago and the two sisters had not said a word to each other since. If that was all that had happened between them, Riana had said, then maybe they could have gotten over it in time, but Carol bedding her brother-in-law was simply the last straw and followed a history of Carol betraying her sister.

  ‘Carol was always prettier than me,’ Riana had explained at one point, her voice filling with emotion. ‘And she could never stand it whenever I had a boyfriend. I think she slept with most of my boyfriends at one time or another. It got to the point where I stopped bringing boyfriends home for fear that my darling sister would steal them from me. When I married Clive I thought that was it. Carol would never make a move on her own sister’s husband. More fool me.’

  Carol, Riana claimed, hadn’t really wanted Clive, the errant husband, but she just wanted anything or anyone someone else had. Carol wouldn’t have even considered the damage she was doing to her sister’s marriage when she’d climbed into bed with her brother-in-law. Riana guessed that her sister wouldn’t have even cared. She had always been the same, and Riana pointed out in no uncertain terms that her sister had been a spiteful, spoilt, sex obsessed evil bitch who likely got what was coming to her.

  Riana’s words were still echoing in Granny’s head when the old woman got up from the sofa and went through to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine, feeling she needed it if she was to have any chance of getting to sleep tonight. Then she went to the stereo system and turned the volume up a little, not too much, but just enough so she could hear it better. Music always helped her think. She sat herself back down on the sofa and took her pipe from her pocket. The bowl was only half smoked and so Granny brought a match to it and sat back, allowing the smoke to drift around her mouth before escaping between her teeth.

  She thought about Carol, she thought about Sue, she thought about Carol and Sue. The revelation about Carol and Sue having a lesbian relationship was starting to make perfect sense to Granny. There had been moments when Sue and Carol had acted strangely, as if they had something private between them. Granny had often noticed that Carol would act ill at ease around Sue, but at the time had thought little about it. Now though it was starting to make perfect sense, and Granny didn’t doubt Tudor’s claims of Carol and Sue being lesbians. The old woman could see that it was much more likely than Carol and Tudor being engaged.

  She sat there like that, lost in thought, puffing the pipe down to the bottom of the bowl, until both the album and her glass of wine was finished and then, still feeling deeply depressed over the telephone conversation with Carol’s sister, Granny went to bed.

  Granny’s eyes suddenly snapped open and she sat up in bed.

  ‘Bugger,’ she said, having another of her “Eureka!” moments.

  The key she had found in Carol’s.

  No, she told herself, it couldn’t be. Could it?

  Granny turned over and peered at the clock on the bedside cabinet, in the darkness the LED numerals glowed red – 5:30 – and seemed to be suspended in thin air.

  Beside her Arthur was snoring away and Granny looked at him in the darkness. All she could see was the outline of his head, the quilt being pulled up tight to his neck but as her eyes became accustomed to the darkness she began to make out the shadowy features of his face. He was sleeping again with his mouth wide open and the tip of his tongue resting on his lower lip, making him look demented. Granny supposed he must have been handsome once but that had been a long time ago and there was certainly no sign of it on his now aged face. Still she loved him all the same. After all it was not as if it was his fault age had left his face looking like a prune that had been left too long in the sun.

  Granny bent and kissed Arthur’s forehead and then carefully climbed from bed and pulled her nightgown around herself. She used her feet to feel for her slippers and then made her way downstairs. The key she had found at Carol’s was in the vase on top of the stereo system and Granny went straight to it.

  Then she went through to the kitchen, put the kettle on and located her pipe and tobacco. Then tea made, pipe full, she sat down at the kitchen table and looked at the key.

  She now knew, or rather felt she knew, who had killed Carol and also, if she was right, who the key belonged to. When she had first found it she had assumed it was a key to Carol’s own flat, but now she didn’t think so.

  The answer had come to Granny in her sleep.

  It was nothing more than a hunch, really but Granny believed in hunches.

  Granny acted on hunches.

  Twenty-Two

  It was going on for six thirty in the morning and already the new day sun was making its presence felt. Granny stood there, staring at Sue’s flat and felt the warmth on her face. It looked as if it was going to be a wonderful day.

  Granny crossed the street and went to the flat and pulled the key from her pocket. Sue’s door had a Yale lock but that didn’t prove anything and Granny knew that the majority of homes in the village would have such a lock. It was a common variety and the only way she would know if her hunch was right, the first part at least, was if the key found at Carol’s opened Sue’s door. Granny had concluded that if the two women had been having a relationship then it was likely that they could have given each other keys.

  Granny leaned closer to Sue’s door, listening for a moment, wondering if Sue was still in bed or up and about. It was still very early in the day and unless one had to get up then most people would still be asleep at such an hour.

  Granny pushed the key into the lock and smiled when it slid in easily. She turned the key and then pushed the door open. She had been right. The key was for Sue’s flat and now Granny had no doubt that it was Sue who had killed Carol. When Mark had told Sue and Amy of his one night stand with Carol then he had doomed her to strangulation by a jealous lover. Of course Mark couldn’t have had any idea of what had been going on between Carol and Sue. If it had been that obvious then Granny felt that she would have known about it and yet the revelation, coming from Tudor Lewis, had been a complete shock. All the signs may have been there but they only became clear with the knowledge of Sue and Amy’s relationship.

  Granny had no real proof that Sue had killed Carol – all she had was the door key and her hunch. All the key proved was that Sue had been close enough to Carol to allow the woman a key to her flat, well that and Tudor’s statement that he had seen the two women together…together in the sexual sense.

  But Granny knew deep down that Sue was guilty. Her hunch told her so. It whispered into her ear, it was Sue. Sue is the one.

  Granny stepped into the flat and carefully closed the front door behind her. She stood there for a moment in the hallway, the silence of the flat being deafening. She felt in her pocket for her mobile phone and then checked that she had Dai Twice on speed-dial. If things went wrong all she would have to do was press the first key on her phone and it would automatically call Twice’s mobile, which the old woman thought was a wise precaution since as far as she was concerned she was about to tackle a murderess. It was a pity the police had confiscated her handcuffs. Granny would have liked to have charged into Sue’s bedroom, taking her by surprise and then before the woman could react she could have slipped the cuffs on her, thus taking away her ability to attack, as killers were apt to do when they were confronted with their crimes.

  Never mind, Granny thought. She’d have to make do.

  Granny’s plan was to confront Sue, show her the key which had been retrieved from Carol’s flat, tell her the police were on their way, that some evidence had been found that tied her to Carol’s mu
rder. Hopefully, Sue would be unprepared and in her shock at Granny being here would let something slip, maybe even break down and confess to her crime.

  That was the plan and Granny, as was usual, hadn’t really considered what could go wrong and how potentially dangerous all this was. She had that single idea in her mind and she remained focused on it, there was no room for doubt in the mind of an intrepid amateur detective.

  The hallway was narrow and ran maybe ten feet until it came to a door – the bedroom, Granny guessed. There was also a door ahead of her and to the right, which Granny figured would be the living room, and two more doors along the left wall. These were likely the kitchen and a bathroom. Granny had been in many flats like this, it was quite similar to Maud’s place, and the layout was usually more or less the same since most of the flats in the village had been built by the council back when social housing had been considered a right, rather than another cash cow for the council.

  Granny walked forward, carefully placing her feet on the carpet beneath her and hoping to remain as silent as a mouse wearing slippers. She reached the first door and gently turned the handle and pushed it open, finding it was indeed a living room. Granny peered into the room but didn’t enter.

  The room was neat and tidy with nothing out of place. A large four-seater sofa dominated one wall and sat facing a large screen TV that had been fixed to the opposite wall. There was a tall bookcase, filled with a mixture of hardcovers and paperbacks, the titles of which Granny couldn’t make out from her vantage point. In the middle of the room there was an expensive looking coffee table, the surface of which was taken up by a pile of magazines. At each corner of the table there were several neatly arranged place mats, each depicting a different scene, though all with kittens.

  Granny continued on down the hallway towards the bedroom. Again she paused at the door. The entire flat was silent, so much so that Granny could hear her own breathing.

  Right, Granny told herself as she placed a hand on the door handle. This is it. Compose yourself and be ready for anything. Once she opened the door she would be entering unknown territory since there was no telling how Sue, a murderess as far as Granny was concerned, would react at the sudden sight of Granny appearing in her bedroom, waking her from sleep and accusing her of killing her lesbian lover. Ready for anything, Granny thought, mentally chanting the phrase, like a mantra, over and over.

  Granny pushed open the door and went into the room.

  She wasn’t quite ready for this.

  Firstly Sue sat up in bed, completely naked, her shapely breasts exposed as the quilt fell from her and then Amy, equally naked but a much bigger woman also sat up, her breasts fell forward and rested on her lap.

  For a moment Granny found herself speechless.

  Sue and Amy also said nothing, looked at each other and then stared at Granny.

  ‘Wha…’ sue started but couldn’t find the rest of the words.

  Amy didn’t know what to think, what to say. She had been involved in lesbian threesomes in the past but if this was what was happening here, then she was having none of it. She looked across at Sue, her eyes pleading for answers as to what was going on. The two women had only recently rekindled their love and now Granny Smith appears in Sue’s bedroom at the crack of dawn.

  ‘Susan Simpson,’ Granny said, finally having gotten over the shock of seeing the two naked lesbians before her. ‘This key to your place was found amongst Carol’s belongings.’

  Sue and Amy again exchanged puzzled glances.

  ‘And,’ Granny continued. ‘The police have also discovered considerable other evidence that links you to the murder of Carol Hamish. When the police get here I suggest you confess immediately which will benefit you in the long run.’

  Suddenly Amy jumped from the bed and, screaming like a banshee, launched herself at Granny. The sight of the naked, sturdily built, red-haired harridan rushing towards her took Granny by surprise and before the old woman knew it Amy had tackled her to the floor.

  ‘I’ll kill you,’ Amy said, speaking through clenched teeth. ‘You interfering bitch.’

  Granny felt Amy’s hands snaking around her throat and she reached into her pocket for her mobile phone. She grabbed it and fingered the speed dial button, but the phone was hit from her hand as Sue joined in the struggle. The phone flew a few feet through thin air before vanishing under the bed.

  ‘Amy,’ Sue yelled and grabbed Amy’s arms, trying to pull them from Granny. ‘What are you doing?’

  Granny grabbed at Amy’s wrists. In the struggle one of Amy’s large breasts had jammed itself against Granny’s chin. The old woman, feeling Amy’s fingers tighten around her throat, managed to turn her head slightly and then the old woman opened her mouth and bit the tit.

  Amy screamed out in pain and lost her grip on Granny’s throat. Sue took her chance and grabbed a handful of Amy’s hair and yanked so that her head snapped backwards. This resulted in the two naked women falling from Granny and landing in a heap next to the old woman. Sue and Amy continued their struggles as Granny managed to get to her feet.

  ‘Stop this,’ Sue said. ‘Stop this madness,’ but Amy managed to pull free of Sue’s hold, leaving the other woman with a handful of her hair in her hand.

  Amy stood up and faced both Granny and Sue. She stood there like a sumo wrestler, her eyes blazing and arms held ready to once again grapple Granny to the ground. Blood trickled from the wound in her saggy left tit.

  ‘You stupid old woman,’ Amy glared at Granny. ‘Sue didn’t kill Carol. I did.’

  ‘What?’ Sue looked first at Granny and then at Amy.

  ‘She was coming between us,’ Amy said. ‘I knew that with her out of the way we could be together and I was right.’

  ‘What are you saying?’ Sue was unable to take all this in and she felt her mind refusing the idea her lover was a killer.

  ‘We are together and would have remained together had not this interfering old crone stuck her nose in,’ Amy said and advanced on Granny.

  ‘You killed Carol,’ Granny said, feeling revitalised now. So she had been wrong about Sue but she had solved the case regardless. Such was the old woman’s elation that the fact that she was in a room with two naked lesbians, one of them psychotic, escaped her. ‘And then you killed her.’

  Amy nodded.

  ‘I came out of the Bully and didn’t feel like going home. I decided to take a walk and came across Carol. The bitch was walking by herself; probably finding she had no friends since she’d fucked both Mark and Sue. Maybe she was thinking who she could fuck next but I stopped her. I followed her all the way out to Graig Meadow and I strangled her with my bare hands.’

  ‘Amy,’ Sue said. ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘She was coming between us,’ Amy repeated.

  ‘You killed her?’ Sue seemed to be struggling to accept not only what had been said but what was happening here.

  ‘She killed her,’ Granny said. The old woman was frantically looking for an avenue of escape. Amy was a powerful woman but all the same Granny felt that, with Sue on side, she would be able to get the better of her. There was a dressing table next to Granny and the old woman glanced across.

  Amy started to advance on Granny.

  ‘Amy stop this,’ Sue said and moved between the two women, but Amy lashed out, pushing aside Sue like nothing more than a rag doll.

  Granny had one hand stretching out to the dressing table and she felt her hand connect with a perfume bottle.

  ‘I’m gonna kill you, bitch,’ Amy warned and came ever closer to Granny.

  Granny suddenly lashed out, the perfume bottle crashing against the side of Amy’s head. That stopped Amy for a moment and she looked at Granny, shock registering on her face. Blood gushed from the side of her head where the perfume bottle had connected and her hair quickly became matted with the coppery smelling blood.

  Amy let out a blood curling yell of both pain and fury.

  ‘Bugger,’ Granny thought and
backed away from the ever-advancing lesbian. ‘The police are on their way,’ she bluffed.

  ‘Bitch,’ Amy said and once again lunged for Granny. Her powerful arms reached out for the old woman’s face but Granny fought back and managed to grab hold of a clump of Amy’s pubic hair. The old woman pulled and Amy screamed, her eyes rolled back in her head but still she didn’t let go of Granny’s throat.

  She was finally stopped when Sue came up behind her and brought a lamp down on the back of her head with all the force of a full and terrified swing.

  Amy collapsed unconscious to the floor.

  ‘Call the police,’ Granny said. She looked down at Amy and then back at Sue. ‘And put some bloody clothes on.’

  Twenty-Three

  A week later Granny stood in her living room, and stared thoughtfully out of the window. Twice had just been on the phone and told her that the police had released Carol’s body. Apparently Carol, or rather her mortal remains, would be transported to a chapel of rest in Carleon and then buried alongside her father in Newport’s municipal cemetery.

  So that was the end of it.

  Though Granny knew it would never truly be over and the image of Carol’s body in the pond would forever haunt the old woman.

  Still, Granny smiled, thinking of the arrangements for the Royal Wedding, which seemed to taking up all of her time, life goes on.

  And indeed it did.

  THE END

  There now follows several pages of bonus content.

  Q&A With Author G. M. Dobbs

  Q- So what next for Granny Smith?

  A- Well, of course we have Gerald’s wedding to look forward to which will be detailed in a short Granny Smith story that will be published later this year. The next full-length novel will be called Murder Plot and concerns murder and intrigue at the allotments society.