The Case of Moomah's Moolah (A Richard Sherlock Whodunit)

by Jim Stevens

  Stealing a car is quite easy. A pro can do it in a matter of seconds. I have often wondered if the car manufacturers do this on purpose, because if thousands of cars are stolen every year, it means more cars have to be sold to replace the ones stolen. An excellent marketing strategy.

  I back Schnooks’ Caddie out of the space and drive up the ramp. I wave at Tiffany and my girls as I exit the underground lot.

  Schnooks hasn’t owned the Caddie long enough to get plates, but it’s already trashed. Fast food wrappers on the floor, empty beer cans in the back, and dirty Kleenex thrown about; all contribute to eradicating any “new car” smell that once permeated the interior.

  The behemoth at the impound yard grunts as I drive through the gates. “What you get for the trade in, a dollar?”

  Oland and the tech wait where I had left them previously.

  “Your color choice in cars is similar to your sense of humor, Sherlock.”

  “You said you wanted a set of Schnooks’ prints, didn’t you?”

  “Usually we get them in a much smaller package,” the tech remarks.

  “I like to go big, whenever I can.”

  I park the car in a spot, remove the temporary registration from the back window and place it in the glove compartment. “I’d like to leave it here a few days.”

  “Fine with me,” Oland says.

  We walk over to the stolen car. The trunk is open. There are four suitcases lined up in a row slightly to the left of the back bumper. “That’s a lot of clothes for a weekend,” I say.

  “You don’t know my wife,” the tech says.

  I stare at the suitcases a few minutes then say to Oland. “Notice anything odd about this set?”

  “No,” Oland says. “Samsonite very popular brand.”

  I take the smallest case out of the line, lift it to check its weight, and place it in front of Oland. “Look familiar?” I ask.

  “If only Grandfather was here to see this,” Oland says in a tone of total embarrassment.

  My memory tells me the zipper on Kennard’s case hasn’t moved. The money must still be inside. “How often does this happen?” I ask.

  “Money come, money go, and money come back,” Oland says.

  “Don’t touch it,” the tech says. “It hasn’t been dusted.”

  “I’d send it through the X-ray machine if I were you,” I tell the tech.

  Oland stands staring at the case as if it were manna from heaven.

  “Don’t tell the family,” I say to him.

  “I have to.”

  “Why?”

  “It’s their money.”

  “Don’t tell them or anybody yet,” I plead.

  “Why not?” Oland says, “The sooner I tell, the sooner case put to bed.”

  “Please, give me a few more days?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Why not?”

  “Got plans for the weekend.”

  CHAPTER 27

  The night is still young.

  I have Oland drop me off at Moomah’s building.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Oland.”

  “Promise and threat often become one.”

  Entering the building, I find the three-hundred-year-old doorman sleeping like Rip Van Winkle, his chin almost touching his chest, and a slight snore coming from his open mouth.

  I feel bad about waking the old doorman up. “Excuse me... Excuse me.”

  He vibrates a bit, twitches his nose, and opens one eye. “No deliveries after ten.”

  “Would you call Moomah Richmond, please?”

  “What do you want me to call her?”

  Is this a doorman joke or a somnambulist response?

  “Tell her Sherlock is here to see her.”

  “Like Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock?”

  Like, I’ve never heard that before.

  Bertha meets me at the front door. “Moomah’s asleep.”

  I suddenly get an eerie feeling, something is wrong, something is missing, something is not right. Then, it hit me. “You turned the Wizard off?”

  “Even Dorothy needs to sleep,” Bertha says.

  I step further into the palatial unit. “I need to know who’s been here to visit in the last couple of days.”

  Bertha puts her right hand to her chin. “Kennard was first, Venus came, Safari, and Boo stopped by.”

  No wonder the doorman was exhausted.

  “What did they do while they were here?”

  “The usual stuff,” she says. “They talk to Moomah, they drink, they eat, they hang around, then drink, eat some more, then leave.”

  “Notice anything gone after they left?”

  “Not yet.”

  Bertha follows me to the music room, where I check the wall safe, and find it just as I expected. I pull out two new hairs and stick them to the edge of the safe. If this keeps up, I’ll be bald in no time.

  “Bertha, do you remember if anyone was in Moomah’s bedroom the night they were all here to see the fireworks?”

  “I was too busy. They eat and drink a lot that night.”

  “Notice anyone hanging around the roll top desk?”

  “No.”

  “Notice any money gone from her wad of cash?”

  “No.”

  I am quiet for a few moments. I’m considering my options. I don’t have many.

  “It was nice seeing you again,” I tell her on my way to the foyer.

  I am about to walk out the door when I have an idea. There’s another tree I can shake while I’m here.

  “Where’s Moomah?” I ask.

  “In bed.”

  “I’d like to see her before I go.”

  Bertha gives me a very questioning look which is a good thing

  “Alone,” I add to my request.

  “By yourself?”

  “I won’t be long.”

  On my way to the bedroom I turn my back to see if Bertha is watching. She is. Once in the hallway and out of her sight, I take a quick detour into the library. I hurry over to the roll top desk. I reach inside and pull the wad of cash out. I peel off a couple of hundreds to cover Bertha for a few days, and jam the rest of the money into my pocket.

  Mad money.

  _____

  The walk to Kennard’s gives me time to rearrange in my head all the cards sticking on the Original Carlo. Now I can see patterns, reasons, time lines, and motives. A few gaping holes still exist, but as the tree shakes, more fruit will fall and fill them in.

  Kennard’s condo has been pretty much put back into shape after the supposed break-in left the entire place quake-damaged. In spite of the clean-up, tonight the place is littered with empty Chinese food boxes, an oily pizza cardboard circle, white Styrofoam containers, and empty soft drink cans.

  “What did you do, order take-out potpourri?”

  “Uncle Kenno wanted pizza, Schnooks wanted ribs, Kelly Chinese, Care had a burger, and I had a taste for sushi,” Tiffany explains.

  “What did you get for me?”

  “You didn’t give me an order.”

  I survey the satiated and satisfied diners. Schnooks is at the table snuffing out a cigarette butt in the remaining mound of her uneaten mashed potatoes. Kennard is on the couch, his regular spot; sipping a cocktail, his regular activity. Kelly struggles to pick up a water chestnut with chopsticks, and Care sneaks French fries when Tiffany isn’t looking.

  “It sure is great news, you finding Moomah’s bracelet,” Kennard says between sips.

  “What?”

  “You finding a tennis bracelet. That’s a load off everyone’s mind.”

  I snap my gaze from Kennard to Tiffany, who suddenly looks like she’s ingested a bad piece of raw fish. “Whoops.”

  I turn to Kelly and Care. “And how did Tiffany know the bracelet magically reappeared?”

  Kelly points at Care and Care points at Kelly.

  “We told you not to say anything,” Kelly scolds Tiffany.

  “Well then, you shouldn’
t have told me,” Tiffany tells the girls. “You know keeping a secret isn’t one of my better qualities.”

  “But you wouldn’t stop asking us.” Care insists.

  “When you tell me that you know something that you can’t tell me, what do expect me to do?”

  “Are you mad at us, Dad?” Care asks.

  “Yes.”

  “You don’t look mad,” Kelly says.

  “Trust me, beneath this calm exterior, I’m seething inside.” I lie. “Get your things together. We’re going home, where you’ll get punished.”

  “That Amish thing?” Kelly asks.

  “Worse. This punishment will make becoming Amish, seem like a day at Six Flags.”

  “You can’t punish me, Mr. Sherlock, because we’re not related.”

  “Fine, you can sit there and watch them get punished.”

  Tiffany thinks it over. “I can handle that.”

  The three rise from the take-out rubble. I make my way over to Schnooks, who still wears a plastic bib which reads: Best ‘Chewin’s in Chicago. “Detective Oland wanted me to give you a message.”

  “What?”

  I whisper, so only Schnooks can hear. “He told me to tell you not to leave town.”

  Schnooks will soon have indigestion, and it won’t be from the ribs.

  _____

  On the way home, Care asks, “Are you really going to punish us. Dad?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “You’ll find out.”

  “When do we get to ride in our new car?” Kelly asks.

  “It’s gone.”

  “Did somebody steal it after you stole it?”

  “No.”

  Tiffany interrupts, “No one, except you, would steal a car that ugly.”

  “I loaned it to Oland.”

  “You loaned a stolen car to a policeman?” Care asks.

  “He liked the color.”

  “Mr. Sherlock, you’re definitely losing it.”

  _____

  The minute we walk into the apartment, I lay down the law. “No TV, no Internet, no computers, no cell phones. You are each to get yourself pencil and paper, sit on the couch and wait for me.”

  “This sounds to me like it could be work related,” Tiffany says.

  “Your assumption is correct, Tiffany.”

  “Is this our punishment, Dad?” Care asks.

  “I prefer to call it corrective adjustment therapy.”

  “Don’t worry,” Tiffany tells the girls. “I’ve had that kind of therapy. You just lay there and bullshit about how you feel.”

  “Tiffany, what did I say about swearing?”

  “Sorry, it just popped out, kinda like when the therapist says a word and you say the first thing that comes into your head.”

  “By the way, Tiffany, what did you find in Kennard’s jewelry drawer?”

  “Oh, Mr. Sherlock,” Tiffany says. “It was awful.”

  “What was awful? What did you find? Anything that was on the list of missing items?”

  “No, what I found was one of the most atrocious collections of junk jewelry on the planet. How anyone with even an ounce of DNA from my family could wear such trashy trinkets is beyond my wildest imagination.” Tiffany continues, “After you solve this case, I want you to investigate if Kennard was adopted.”

  Is it any wonder why I hate my job?

  The kids retrieve the necessary accoutrements and wait. I position myself in front of the Original Carlo, which is filled with cards. “We’re going to sit here until we figure this thing out.”

  The three of them look at me like I have gone over the edge.

  “Write down three things we’re missing.”

  Care shouts out, “Who did it.”

  “Besides that.”

  “Darn, that was going to be my first thing,” Tiffany says.

  “People, we need to find holes in their stories.”

  Kelly perks up, “Safari wasn’t in town when the necklace was stolen.”

  “But we don’t know when the necklace was stolen.”

  “How about the other stuff that wasn’t on the list?” Care asks.

  “Ya know, Venus could have easily smuggled out stuff under one of her ugly t-shirts,” Kelly says.

  “Or, around her neck,” Care adds.

  Tiffany furiously punches the screen of her cell phone with her index finger.

  “Tiffany, what are you doing?” I ask.

  “There’s got to be an app somewhere for figuring this out.”

  “If Kennard did it, I’ll bet Boo was in on it too,” Kelly says.

  “How about Schnooks?” I ask.

  “She’s hardly the diamond type,” Tiffany says.

  “We finally agree on one point.”

  “Elmhurst has a gambling problem. So, maybe the mob is after him to pay off his debts?” Kelly questions.

  “Could be.”

  “We should check to see if he’s had his thumbs broken lately.”

  “Kelly, you watch too much TV.”

  Care yawns. Kelly is starting to wane, but Tiffany is wide awake. This is her prime time.

  “I have something else for you to think about,” I tell the three.

  “Haven’t we thought enough already?” Tiffany asks.

  I pull out the wad of money from Moomah’s desk and rifle through the bills with my fingers. “What do you think about these apples?”

  “Shopping spree!” Kelly screams.

  “Sorry, it’s not my money.”

  “First you steal a car, now you’re flashing a wad of cash,” Tiffany says. “I’m beginning to worry you’ve gone over to the dark side.”

  A tear forms in Care’s eyes. “You’re not a bad guy now, are you, Dad?”

  I bring my youngest to me, give her a hug, and explain. “No, my love, this money isn’t mine, and I didn’t steal a car.” I pause for effect. “It is all part of a little game we’re going to play in the next couple of days.”

  “I love games,” a relieved Care says.

  “And I’m going to need all three of you to help me do it.”

  “We’re in,” Kelly says. “Right, Tiffany?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Then you’d better get some sleep, because we’re going to be pretty busy starting tomorrow.”

  “Tiffany, be here at nine a.m. tomorrow — sharp.”

  The expression of her face changes dramatically. “Nine in the morning?”

  “Yes.”

  “Mr. Sherlock, haven’t I been punished enough?”

  CHAPTER 28

  I can’t sleep. This time it’s not my back that’s the problem. Something’s stuck in my mind like a wrench in the cogs of a conveyor belt.

  Anthea. I can’t get her out of my head or any other areas of my body for that matter. I remember her. I picture her with me. I imagine us together. The third being the best or worst, because I have a very vivid imagination.

  I get off the couch at the crack of dawn. I have two cups of coffee as I sit and stare at the Original Carlo. I constantly check the clock until it reaches 8:01 a.m. I pick up the phone and call.

  “I’d like to speak to Anthea Andrews, please.” I’m so nervous I don’t realize I’m speaking to a recording until it orders me to either punch in an extension or wait for an operator.

  “Could I speak to Anthea Andrews, please,” I say to a real person after punching O.

  I hear the click of the connection being made and the phone ringing. I swallow hard.

  “Anthea Andrews.”

  “Hi, it’s Sherlock. Richard Sherlock.”

  “Good morning.”

  “I’m sorry to bother you so early, but I wondered if you’d like to have dinner again?” I say tentatively. “With me.” Why I qualify my question I’ll never know.

  “Love to.”

  I’m speechless.

  “Richard?” she says after a few seconds of silence.

  “Sorry,” I say. “Caught me off guard th
ere.” I hear a subtle laugh from her.

  “Why don’t you meet me at the bank after work tonight?” she suggests.

  “Sure.”

  “There’s an employee entrance right off the alley, just up from the main door.”

  “Okay.”

  “About five-thirty?”

  “Good.”

  “See you then.”

  “Great.”

  The connection breaks. The phone receiver stays at my ear as it begins to buzz. All I can think about is: I have to start talking in sentences with more than one word.

  _____

  At 8:45 Kelly walks into the front room.

  “Is your sister up?” I ask.

  “I don’t know.”

  “How can you not know? You slept in the same bed.”

  “I don’t know.” She finds the remote on table and flips on the TV to one of those morning, gab fest talk shows.

  “Why isn’t your sister up?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Didn’t we discuss last night what the plan was going to be today?” I ask.

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know, Kelly?”

  “I know it’s not my turn to watch my dumb sister.”

  Someone’s attitude needs an immediate adjustment.

  I point to the bedroom door. “Here’s the deal: You go in there, get your sister up, both of you take a shower, get dressed, and eat breakfast. Plus, get on that fancy phone of yours and call Tiffany. Tell her if she isn’t here in an hour, she’s going to have to work alongside Herman in his apartment. Alone. All day.”

  “I’m on it.”

  I grab my keys and cell phone. “I’ll be back in an hour, and you three better be ready or it’s that Amish thing for all of you.”

  Kelly hustles off with a whole new attitude.

  _____

  I’m in front of Herman’s apartment within fifteen minutes. I call him on my cell phone. “Herman, are you busy?”

  He replies with the question, “In the Biblical sense of the term?”

  “So to speak.”

  When the door opens to let me in, he clutches a hunk of cheese in his left hand. “Sherlock, this cheese diet ties your intestines into a Gordian Knot.”

  “Please, spare me the details.”

  “Might have to take up sword swallowing to get moving again.”