The Incredible Polly McDoodle (The Polly McDoodle Mystery Series Book 4)

by Mary Woodbury

  “You’ve got a good memory for details,” Polly said.

  “Maybe you can help us solve the crime,” said Kyle.

  They had to wait in line to get in the IGA. The store had a policy of letting only three kids from the school in at a time. Polly stared through the window of the drugstore and post office next door. “That’s where Mrs. Dobson must have bought her stamps.” She handed Kyle four dollars. “Get me a bag of popcorn and a fizzy mango drink.” She excused herself and went inside.

  The pharmacist and the post office clerk were talking. Polly cleared her throat. “I have a question?”

  She felt nervous but it was better than talking on the phone. Phones made Polly freeze unless she was talking to a good friend. She liked to see who she was talking to.

  The bleached blonde clerk turned toward the pharmacist as if asking for advice. She had purple eye shadow and purple fingernails. “Well?”

  “Do you know an old lady who lives near here?” Polly paused trying to find words.

  “There are scads of old ladies living here abouts, darlin’. That apartment building across the street is filled with them.” The woman shook her head. Her dangling earrings jangled like Indian temple bells. She spoke with a Southern drawl.

  “Her name is Mrs. Dobson. She’s stooped over and has hands all bent with arthritis and she likes purple like you do.” Polly chattered when she was nervous.

  ”Sure, Mrs. Dobson,” the pharmacist said. “She gets her pain prescriptions filled here. She talks about her grandchildren all the time. Flora, wasn’t she in this morning?”

  “Oh, yeah, I remember. She bought a stamp. Only one as I recall. I had to remind her that she didn’t need to lick it any more. She probably licked anyway, the old dear.”

  “She bought a card for her great-granddaughter’s birthday.”

  “Nice old woman, she is.” The pharmacist straightened a row of vitamins. The store smelt like perfume and soap.

  “Why do you ask?” the clerk looked suspiciously at Polly. “What’s she to you anyhow?”

  “I helped her to mail her letter. She’d lost the stamp. I guess she licked it like you said. I have to mail it again because someone robbed the mailbox.”’

  “Someone robbed the mailbox?” the pharmacist asked. “Well, I’ll be. Flora, what a day!”

  “I was wondering if anyone else was in the store when she was in this morning?”

  “What’s this then, just who do you think you are, some kind of detective or just a nosy kid?” Flora asked. Her voice had climbed an octave. “I surely hope my daughter wouldn’t ask strangers such impertinent questions.”

  Polly pulled her shoulders together. “I saw it happen, the robbery that is, and I wondered whether someone had heard her say she was sending money in the mail?”

  Kyle and Mandy arrived with snacks and cold air through the door with its funny chimes. “What have you been doing? We thought you’d catch up to us.”

  “You all should leave this to the proper officials,” said Flora. “I can’t be bothered talking to some sassy kid. I don’t remember everyone who comes in and goes out of this store.”

  “Sorry,” Polly said. She looked around for the pharmacist but he had disappeared into the back room. Flora was not going to be any help, that was for sure.

  “Let’s go,” said Kyle.

  “Are they trying to hide something?” Mandy asked.

  “Spoken like a true detective,” Polly said. “Anything happen at the IGA?”

  “”I spotted two kids in tear-away pants in the corner by the magazines. I thought they took a couple with them but I couldn’t be sure,” Kyle said. “No wonder they only let three or four teenagers in at a time.”

  “I wish we had a world where no bad things happened,” said Mandy. “Then my folks could stay home.”

  Some of Polly’s popcorn spilled onto the grass at the base of an elm tree. A red squirrel scampered down and clasped a kernel in his small paws. “With enough crumbs you can make a meal.”

  “What are you talking about, Polly?” Kyle asked.

  “I’m just thinking about clues and how people leave them, drop them, hoard them.” Polly glanced at Mandy. She was one lonely kid. The squirrels were some hungry animals. The crooks were some greedy people. The post office clerk was angry about something and it wasn’t a piece of popcorn. She sighed and thought about her confused thinking process. She was one Overwhelmed, Overanxious McDoodle. How many mysteries could she solve?

  4. A Bike Shed Takes Shape

  After school the three kids took the bus home—two buses actually. One took them downtown. The second took them to Kingsway Garden Mall.

  Polly sat drawing a map of the neighbourhood around the school in her latest sketchbook. She added squirrels in the corner. She loved the way they sat holding a nut or a sunflower seed in their paws and nibbled. Such bright eyes! Every time she glanced out the window she spotted a squirrel, even though they were supposed to be scarce in Edmonton.

  Meanwhile Mandy held a scrapbook full of clippings about the refuge camps where her parents were working. She had brought it to school as part of her first Social Studies project. There were photographs of her folks with smiling refugees. She would look at some of the pictures and then stare out the window.

  Kyle was reading a discarded Edmonton Journal. “Here’s an article about two other mail robberies on the other side of town.” He leaned across the aisle and shoved the paper under Polly’s nose.

  Polly glanced at the article. “I’d sure hate to have anyone reading my mail. I had a letter from Erin Darby last week, telling me all about being in Winnipeg with her mom.”

  “I wouldn’t want anyone else reading my parents’ letters to me,” Mandy closed her scrapbook. “That’s private stuff. I keep all their letters.” Kyle offered Mandy some sunflower seeds. She shook her head.

  The city bus lumbered to the stop. Several people got off in front of them. “Let’s check out the bike shed,” Polly said.

  “It’s nearly finished,” Kyle commented as they walked down the lane and across the parking lot of their apartment building. “Look at that.”

  Before them the combination bike shed and workshop was nearing completion. White vinyl siding covered the garage-sized building. A wooden staircase led up the side to the roof-top patio.

  “I still miss our tree fort,” sighed Polly.

  “My Uncle Brian really will love the workshop. He’s into building things.” Mandy peered in the square window at the back. Sawdust and wood chips lay everywhere. “He’s good at electronics, too. My dad can’t fix anything in a house.” Mr. Dell and his two teenage assistants were loading the last of the ladders onto the rack that held them in place on the back of the extended cab pickup. His company name was painted on the doors: “Dell’s Construction, 7623 - 115th Street, Edmonton. Phone 454-3FIX.” A happy painter on a ladder waved from the logo.

  “Uncle Blaine, let’s go!” one of the teenagers whined. Pimples like angry red volcanoes covered his nose and chin.

  “Clean up the worksite first, Darrell,” Mr. Dell hollered. He turned and grinned at Polly and her friends. “Someone told me a kid designed this building. Was it one of you?”

  Kyle blushed.

  Polly pointed at him, “He did.”

  “You should think about going into architecture or engineering, kid.”

  Kyle fumbled with his hands as if he had been tossed a hot football. He shrugged.

  “Good job!”

  The passenger door of Dell’s pickup banged. The taller of the two helpers had climbed in and closed the door. He had ears that stuck out and a skinny moustache under a nose like Captain Hook. Handsome, he wasn’t.

  “Get out, Sydney,” Mr. Dell shouted. “You haven’t swept up the wood chips or refolded the paint tarps.” He shook his head. “My brother’s kids aren’t afraid of work. They’ll walk right past it and not see anything that has to be done.”

  Polly giggled.

  “Yo
u must live near our school.” Mandy pointed at the address on the door of the truck.

  “Go to Kirby do you?” asked Mr. Dell. The three kids nodded.

  Polly was watching the two boys. The taller boy, Sydney, had the ragged moustache and big nose. She had to draw him. The shorter, Darrell, had those angry-looking pimples. Both were wearing black tear-away pants and ratty grey T-shirts.

  Their pants were just like the mail thieves wore this morning, Polly reflected. She stared at the pants, checking for a missing metal fastener. She couldn’t see all the snaps without getting closer.

  “Good school. Sydney and Darrell went to Kirby. Wish I could get them interested in going back.” Mr. Dell nodded in the direction of his nephews. “They quit at the end of Grade Eleven. They’re twins, believe it or not.”

  Polly stared at them. They sure didn’t look like twins. The boys tossed the broom and the last of the tarps in the box of the truck and flung themselves into the passenger seats. Mr. Dell ran the fingers of his left hand through his grey wavy hair and put his clean blue tractor cap back on. “I couldn’t find the caretaker. If you see him, tell him if there are any problems to give me a call.” He handed them his business card. Polly noted the neat calligraphy on it.

  “That’s my Uncle Brian. He’s in charge of the property committee,” said Mandy.

  “Thanks for the bike shed,” Kyle said. “It looks great.”

  “Here’s the keys to the shed. Why don’t you give them to the caretaker for me?” Mr. Dell handed two new brass-coloured keys on a small key ring to Kyle. Kyle silently went to hand them over to Mandy.

  Mandy shook her head. “You designed it Kyle. You give Brian the keys.”

  Polly was glad Kyle had spoken up. Sometimes Kyle went for hours and didn’t say anything, he was so shy. Smart but shy. Look how he had reacted when Mr. Dell had complimented him on his design. “Yes, thanks a lot, Mr. Dell,” Polly added.

  Mandy stared into space as the truck drove off.

  Kyle led the way as the trio went up the stairs to the roof of the bike shed. A freshly painted white railing enclosed a rectangular deck. It was covered with green indoor-outdoor carpet. A very slight slope and eaves troughs around the perimeter guaranteed that rain would drain away quickly. The back half of the deck sported a square gazebo with a green roof and white painted trellises.

  “All we need is a barbecue, deck chairs, and a couple of tables up here and we’ll be set.” Polly stood in the middle of the gazebo and twirled. “Of course, we will have Isabel’s 75th birthday bash out here next week if the weather is good.”

  Mandy danced around the whole deck. “We had a rooftop garden in Rome filled with plants.” She stared into space again. “I liked living in Italy with my folks. I wish they’d go back to Italy. You could come and see us when you get older.”

  “Do I have to wait until I’m old?” Polly tapped her sneaker on the ground as if she was ready to run right away. “One of my contest entries is for a trip to Italy.”

  “I could show you around.” Mandy waved her hand. “There’s lots to see and do.”

  “Maybe your folks will move back there.”

  Mandy shrugged. “They love Africa.”

  Polly shook her head. Poor Mandy. Polly wondered if there was any way to help her to feel at home.

  Kyle headed down the stairs.

  “Where are you going?” Polly called after him. She heard the shed door opening. By the time she got down the steps Kyle was wheeling his bicycle inside. She ran to get hers and followed him. The bikes had been parked outside, leaning against the back of the apartment building, waiting for the shed to be finished. Mandy wandered to the door at the back of the shed and peeked inside. The workshop area smelled of fresh paint and wood.

  “Uncle Brian will love this,” Mandy sighed. “He’s making bird houses for Christmas presents this year.” A sad look clouded her face. “No sense making one for my folks. A birdhouse would break up on the way over. Mom and Dad haven’t time to be staring at pecking birds anyway.”

  “Maybe your uncle could make our squirrel a feeder, too.” The least Polly could do was try and keep Mandy’s mind off her troubles. “It would have to be out of reach of the neighbourhood cats.”

  “We had a cat in Rome, a tabby,” said Mandy. “I could have stayed there. That way I would have seen my folks at Christmas. Not in Geneva, though.” Mandy wandered around the shop with Polly close behind her. “I didn’t like the school in Geneva. The girls weren’t very friendly.”

  “I’m friendly,” Polly said. “So’s Kyle.”

  “I know.” Mandy picked up a long strip of quarter-round and waved it in the air like a wand. “I wish I could abracadabra my folks here. Brian and Karen are great…”

  “But they aren’t your folks,” Polly said. “They do have a cat.”

  “Sandy is old and boring and sleeps curled on the couch all day.”

  “Maybe they’d let you have a kitten.”

  “Polly’s just jealous. She can’t have pets because her brother is allergic to fur and dog hair.” Kyle motioned them out of the shed so they followed him. He locked the door and pocketed the keys that Mr. Dell had given him to hand to Brian. The three of them wandered across the asphalt parking lot to the door. In the vestibule they stopped and picked up their backpacks. They had parked them there when they went to check out the shed. Kyle bent over suddenly by the bank of mailboxes. “One key and crooks could take all our mail.”

  Mandy and Polly bent beside him and studied the one keyhole near the left side of the mailboxes.

  “Each postie is issued keys to apartment mailboxes so he or she can fill all the boxes at once.”

  “Oh,” both girls said.

  “But nobody else could get a key, could they?” Polly asked.

  “The mail thieves on the north side broke into drop-off boxes and mailboxes.” Kyle paused. “If a mail carrier lost keys or the crooks picked the locks, they could rifle through our mail right here and find valuable stuff.”

  “My mom and dad send cheques and money orders to me and Brian,” said Mandy. “I sure don’t want to lose my allowance.”

  “I want to hear that I’ve won a big prize so I can travel to far away places,” said Polly. “Someone could steal my prize money or airline tickets.”

  “I get neat mail from my pen pal in Italy.” Kyle was lifting the mail out of his family’s box. A thin blue airmail letter tumbled onto the floor. It had an Italian stamp.

  “If you came to Italy you could meet your pen pal,” suggested Mandy.

  “Kyle, maybe McDoodle and Clay need to get involved. Help the police and the post office find out who is robbing the mail.”

  “It’s not really a local crime like we’re used to solving,” Kyle said. “But it looks as if they are operating around our school. They were on bikes.” He paused.

  “Mr. Dell’s nephews have bikes,” said Polly. “I saw them in the back of the pick up one day. They wear sloppy hoodies and tear-away pants.”

  “Like the mailbox thieves?” asked Mandy.

  Polly nodded.

  “I’ve got some more information,” Kyle leaned closer to the girls. “I heard my parents talking about Mr. Dell’s brother.”

  “Darrell and Sydney’s father?” Polly was itching to hear more.

  “He’s in jail for passing bad cheques.” Kyle popped some sunflower seeds into his mouth. “One of my dad’s former law students defended him.”

  “The plot thickens,” Polly said. “Maybe the criminals were right here in our backyard. But we need more proof.”

  “I want to help,” said Mandy. “I’ve got the most to lose.”

  5. Problems at Home and School

  That night Polly couldn’t sleep. She had too much on her mind. She listened to sirens wailing on the Kingsway and the neighbourhood squirrels chittering in the near dark of the September evening. The friendly dark of her room made her feel like a cave dweller. She was safe and warm in her own bed with
her favourite things around her. Maybe that freed her up to be stressed out about life. She wondered if other kids had to spend time when they were alone trying to work through every little detail of their lives. She had more than enough worrying her. She was the Perplexed and Puzzled McDoodle.

  First, life in Junior High was more complex than she had imagined. She had to keep her timetable straight. She didn’t know most of the kids, and some of the Grade Nines made fun of the Grade Sevens. The Grade Eights seemed to live in a world of their own. She felt out of place and uncomfortable most of the time.

  Who was she? Would she ever be popular, would she ever be “in”? Did she dress right?

  Her life at home was different too. Shawn had moved to Regina. She missed the big goop even if he was her brother. Isabel Ashton was going away for months. Polly would have to look after George, Isabel’s terrier, full time. She had promised to forward her important mail as well.

  Polly missed Erin too. Erin Darby had been a really good friend, but had moved to Winnipeg with her mom. According to Erin’s last letter, her mom, Rachel, might marry Joe Haynes, the RCMP officer from Camrose. They’d met him when they were trying to figure out who was polluting Small Shadow Lake last summer.

  If Rachel and Erin came back next year for the wedding, Polly would need a fancy dress. Could she rent a better body at the same time? She longed to be the Languid and Lovely Polly McDoodle.

  Polly laughed at her alliteration. She turned attention back to her problems.

  What about Kyle? Her old friend was hanging out with the music kids and computer geeks at school. Where did that leave her? The Deserted and Despairing McDoodle sighed, pulled her purple comforter up to her nose, curled on her left side, and buried her head in her pillow. Tomorrow was another day.

  The next morning Beamishes offered Polly a ride to school. Kyle had gone early for band practice. Karen stood at the door of Polly’s apartment. Her frizzy brown curls were still damp and she smelled of shampoo and soap.