by Donna Doyle
"…Billy is after the inheritance…"
"…Debts…"
"…Family jewels…" Family jewels? I need to talk to Charmayne about that.
"…Billy is a killer. He did the old man in…"
Bald-Head stuck up his finger and called out in a dark voice, "Waitress!"
Brenda hurried over to their table.
"Two more coffee liqueur with extra whipped cream," the man ordered without looking at Brenda.
"Coming your way," Brenda responded and she hurried back behind the counter, casting Molly Gertrude a wondering glance as to what the old lady was doing there.
And then, when Brenda returned with the liqueur and the extra cream something went wrong. For the first time in Misty's celebrated life, Molly Gertrude's cat did something very mean. She did something selfish and deeply disturbing. Of course, we are not talking about the great quantity of mice and birds the fat cat had sent over to the next world in her years of earthly service, since those things cannot be considered selfish for a cat. They are only natural. But stealing cream from customers in Marmellotte's Tearoom is not natural, and that's precisely what Misty did.
As soon as the cat saw the luscious layers of cream on top of the coffee liqueur, evenly sprinkled with chocolate flakes, she wormed her way out of Molly Gertrude's arms, and literally flew through the air in order to land on the table of the two men where she began to lap up the cream that was not meant for her.
Molly Gertrude gasped.
So did the two men, and so did Brenda.
And so did the brat in the corner. For the first time since Molly Gertrude had entered the tearoom the kid was silent and stared with big, round eyes at the scene. But it did not take long before more wolfish clamor erupted from his mouth. "Why can't I have a cat like that?"
"Misty…," Molly Gertrude cried out as she rushed to the table of the two men, "…where are your manners." She wanted to run over to tear Misty away from the table. The vibes she had gotten from Bald-Head were bad from the start, and she feared if she were not to interfere immediately Misty would be in serious trouble. But she was too late.
The bald-headed man planted his flat hand against Misty's fur and with a firm swipe of his hand he brushed Misty clear off the table. The cat, complete with cream and chocolate flakes landed on the wooden floor of the tearoom and let out a frustrated meow.
Molly Gertrude froze and stared with flashing, dark eyes at Bald-Head. That crook had touched her child!
"Stupid cat," the man hissed. He looked up, locked icy eyes with Molly Gertrude and spluttered, "Is that monster yours, lady? You should lock him up in a zoo."
"They should lock you up," Molly Gertrude scoffed. She was so angry she did not care what people thought of her. "Didn’t your mother teach you to be kind to animals and speak politely to your elders?"
"Are you the wife of Colonel Blimp or something, old goat?" The man spat out the insult.
"Colonel who?" Molly Gertrude had never heard the expression, but she knew by the tone of Bald-Head's voice, it was meant to be very insulting.
Bald-Head did not answer her question but said with deep, dark hatred, "Your cat is as wicked as the children of Jezebel."
As Molly Gertrude stared deep into the man's eyes, the strange feeling that she had met this man before became only stronger. She had seen him before. But where? Why did he look familiar?
"What are you staring at, old lady?" Bald-Head went on. "Never mind. I am out of here." He turned back to his companion. "This conversation is over."
Mrs. Marmelotte ran over, waving the bill in her hand. "That's twelve dollars."
The man scowled, and actually let out a chuckle that resembled the bloodthirsty laughter of a hyena. "Forget it lady. I am not paying for a monster attack. You won't ever see me again in this place." Without giving Mrs. Marmelotte a chance to respond he got up, turned around and walked out the door. The other man pressed his lips together, pulled out his wallet and dumped a five dollar bill on the table. "My share," he mumbled, and followed his companion.
Everyone was stunned.
Even the spoiled brat in the corner.
"Who was that?" Molly Gertrude asked at last when both men had left the scene.
Mrs. Marmelotte shrugged her shoulders. "Never saw him before. He's a shady one if you ask me."
All at once, it came to Molly Gertrude what she was to do next. But she had to act quickly.
"Do you mind if Misty stays here a bit longer?" she asked the owner of the tearoom, while waving both index fingers nervously before Mrs. Marmelotte in the air.
Mrs. Marmelotte stared at her, not quite understanding the question. "Sure… but why?"
"I'll be back," Molly Gertrude said, "but I've got somewhere to go." As soon as she had received the assurance Misty was in good hands, she grabbed her coat and walking cane, and hurried to the door. She had no idea why, but she had the distinct feeling she had to find out more about this strange bald-headed man who had been so rude to Misty.
9
More puzzle pieces fall into place
The sun was already going down when the taxi stopped in front of Molly Gertrude's house, and Molly Gertrude, clutching Misty under her arm, climbed out with much sighing and mumbling.
The taxi driver, a young fellow with fat, thick lips and unwashed, greasy hair, did not seem the least bit interested in helping an old lady out of his cab, and refused to get out of his seat in order to assist. He just wanted the money, a good tip, and to be off to greener pastures. But as far as Molly Gertrude was concerned, he would have to find these pastures without her tip. She had seen more than enough rude, shifty people for one day, and, although she was normally a very generous and gracious person, right now she felt like a regular battle-ax. After she paid the boy the exact amount of dollars it stated on his taxi meter, she shook her head and without saying another word she turned and walked to her porch.
"Miss Molly… I've been waiting here for over an hour?" A concerned voice from off the porch washed over her.
"Dora? What are you doing here?" Molly Gertrude was ever so glad to see the familiar, trustworthy face of dear Dora, but she had not expected it.
Dora's answer got lost in the noise the taxi driver made with his cab. The man, irritated he had not gotten his tip, decided to do the best he could to reveal the obstinate state of his heart and roared off in a huff with screeching tires, producing a cloud of dust, dirt and gravel.
"What was that?" Dora wondered while she arched her brows.
Molly Gertrude climbed up the stairs and shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know what this world is coming to, Dora. People like that young man in the taxi will be the rulers of tomorrow."
Dora bit her lower lip. "Rough day, huh?"
Molly Gertrude nodded. "Tell me about it." She fished her house keys out of her coat pocket and opened the door. "But why are you here, Dora? Have you been waiting a long time?"
Dora nodded. "For about an hour. I was getting worried about you, Miss Molly. You are never gone by yourself for that long. If you had a smartphone you could have called me, and I would have driven you around."
Molly Gertrude gave Dora a pained stare. "No smartphone, Dora. You know the rules." As she stuck the key into the lock she added, "Did you find out something? Is that why you are here?"
A secretive smile appeared on Dora's face. "Yes, that's why I am here Miss Molly. I found out something about Billy's past…" She lowered her voice as if she were afraid the butterflies could not be trusted. "We'll talk inside."
Molly Gertrude looked up, surprise etched on her face. "I found out things too, Dora. Let's talk, but no cookies today. Just tea."
As soon as Dora entered the house she began to talk about her findings.
"It was difficult at first. They have this really old database for the Calmhaven Tribune. They only began to digitalize their archives about 10 years ago. Everything from before is on dusty, old filmstrips, and it took me a full hour to understand how the whole thing
even worked. But once I got the hang of it I was fascinated to read about happenings from over 15 years ago."
Molly Gertrude nodded. "Those were the days. And… what did you find?"
"Nothing," Dora stated firmly. "I realized I was barking up the wrong tree."
"How's that?"
"Billy Monroe is a young man. He just turned 25. Ten years ago he was 15, which means that even if he had done something fishy, his name wouldn't be mentioned in the papers. I was wasting my time, searching through those musty, old files. I could just use their digital database. All I had to do was start a string of searches on Billy Monroe and Albert Finney, and the database spewed out lots of stuff." Dora smacked her lips.
"Lots of stuff?" Molly Gertrude narrowed her eyes.
"Most of it can be ruled out." Dora made a sign with her hand as if she was wiping the stuff away. 'You know stuff about Albert Finney winning a cake competition in Alberta, and Billy Monroe getting a third-place medal in Calmhaven's ping-pong tournament, but…," she waited, presumably to heighten the tension, "… there was one rather obscure little article from nine years ago."
"Oh?"
"I made a copy of it, so you could read it for yourself." Dora pulled a printed note from her bag and handed it to Molly Gertrude, who unfolded it.
Juvenile Crime on the Rise in Calmhaven: Dustin Moolworth. Calmhaven
25 March 2009
Despite the heroic efforts of Pastor Julian and the Calmhaven Trinity Church, crime stops for no one. And as we all know, crime often starts young as it seems to have an uncanny, almost magnetic pull on young people. B. Monroe is its latest victim. The 16-year-old, together with a youngster whose name cannot be revealed due to his age, was caught breaking into the house of Abraham Melvin Mortimer, where they caused destruction of property and were ultimately caught two hours later in a local youth club in Calmhaven.
B. Monroe, son of J.D. Monroe, who is still serving a five-year prison sentence in Auburn, and his mother, Clara Monroe-Baines, who left Calmhaven a year ago without leaving a forwarding address, has up till this moment been taken care of by Pastor Julian and the elders of the church, but clearly, even the influence of our beloved minister seems to have its limitations. All stolen items have been returned to Abraham Mortimer except for a rare piece of jewelry, an heirloom that belonged to Abraham's late wife who passed away ten years ago in a tragic boat accident. Both boys declared not to know anything about jewelry. But who believes the word of a thief?
Judge Arrow will decide the case on a yet to be determined date.
"What do you think of that?" Dora whispered. "Bill Monroe actually broke into Abe's house and has managed to marry the man's daughter. He insists on the man eating the cake first, and seconds later poor Abe is on the floor…"
Molly Gertrude nodded while thinking it over. At last she licked her lips and said, "Sometimes the crime is obvious, but more often than not, when it's so obvious, it is likely to be a red herring. What's more, we haven’t an iota of proof that there was something wrong with that cake. It's only guess work."
"I know," Dora sighed. "But what's your gut feeling about this?"
"As I said," Molly Gertrude shrugged, "I am not sure. Papa Julian lived with Billy for quite some time, and he actually thinks Billy is not such a bad boy, but simply lacks guidance and direction."
A small scowl appeared on Dora's face. "Of course Papa Julian says that. That man loves everyone and if need be, he will even see the good in a cockroach."
Molly Gertrude raised her brows. "That's quite a statement. You could also consider the man has a bit of wisdom and discernment."
Dora blushed. "Sorry, Miss Molly… I know I shouldn't say such things. It's just when you discover bits and pieces of the puzzle your mind sometimes runs ahead of you."
Molly Gertrude gave her a smile. "It's no problem, Dora. I know the feeling, and to ease your heart, I haven't ruled out Billy at all. I just don't want to jump to conclusions that will only serve to cloud my mind and make it harder to see the more hidden signs." She smacked with her lips, and then asked, "No more? Nothing about Judge Arrow?"
Dora shook her head. "Nothing else. And you? What were you doing in that taxi?"
Molly Gertrude sighed. "I was doing some good old-fashioned snooping around.
Dora's eyes widened. "Where?"
"You ever been to Waterside Snomp?"
"Not very often," Dora admitted. "Calmhaven is but a small town, but even we have our poor area."
"Yes we do," Molly Gertrude agreed. "I went there today. I followed a man there."
"A man? Who?"
Molly Gertrude pressed her lips together. "I do not know his name, but he was in Miss Marmelotte's Tearoom with a buddy of his…"
"And…?"
"I overheard them discussing Abe Mortimer and Billy's debts." As Molly Gertrude relived the event, new anger rose as she recalled how the wretched man had swatted Misty away as if she were a mere flea.
Dora’s eyes widened as she noticed Molly Gertrude's anger rising. "W-What happened?'
"All I know is the man is shady, he hates cats almost as much as he hates life and…," she hesitated, "… I have seen him before somewhere, but I don't know where."
"What did he look like?" Dora's mind was working overtime again.
As Molly Gertrude gave the description, Dora looked puzzled. "Doesn't ring a bell."
"Anyway," Molly Gertrude continued, "I left Misty at the tearoom and followed the man as best as I could. It took me a great deal of strength, but luckily Calmhaven is not yet as big as New York, and soon I saw he was going to Waterside Snomp." Molly Gertrude shook her head. "He's staying in a house, a shack really, at the edge of town."
"And you really don't know where you know this man from?"
Molly Gertrude shook her head. "But he's unusual. When I first looked into his eyes I had this strange tingling, burning sensation again in my left shoulder."
"And?"
"I told you. I get that sometimes when I am face to face with an important clue. Call it whatever you want. Old ladies intuition. All I know is that the feeling only shows up when there's something I need to know."
Dora rearranged her glasses. "So, what now?"
"We break in."
Dora's face became white. "We do what?"
"We break in," Molly Gertrude repeated in a calm voice, as if she were discussing whether or not to buy cheese in the Cash‘em-Right or in the MacGover's, where things were generally a bit more expensive.
"We can't do that, Miss Molly."
"Of course we can," Molly Gertrude already had it all figured out. "I noticed his garage door is not locked. The wood seems rotten and apparently, the fellow doesn't even care."
"But how do you know he won't be home?"
Molly Gertrude shrugged. "We don't. But if my feelings are right, a man like that will not be sitting in his lonely shack at night. He'll be drinking it up in the bar with his buddies. And, if perchance he is home… well, then we will have to wait."
"But, breaking in is illegal… and, eh…" she hesitated, "… it's dangerous."
"But… it's exciting as well." Molly Gertrude leaned forward and narrowed her eyes as she stared at Dora. "We're not stealing, or robbing from the poor… We are only figuring out what happened to poor Abe Mortimer. And, did you know…", she arched her brows, "That this man hit Misty…"
Anger flashed over Dora's face. "He did?"
"He sure did," Molly Gertrude replied as she picked up Misty from the floor and placed the cat on her lap. "He's a brute, and no doubt as wicked as the children of Jezebel." Molly Gertrude chuckled, "Those were his own words when he talked about Misty."
Molly Gertrude couldn't help but smile when she saw Dora's facial muscles tighten and she heard her assistant say with determination, "When do we break in?” The disgust was almost dripping from her face.
"Tomorrow evening," Molly Gertrude replied. "But in the morning I want you to call Deputy Digby."
"Oh? Wh
at for?" Dora blushed.
"Maybe he can find out for us what happened with Billy after he was caught stealing. I would also be interested in knowing who Billy's buddy in crime was."
Dora nodded and let out a satisfied little sigh. "We made good progress today, Miss Molly."
"I believe we did, Dora. Every day it seems we’re getting a tiny step closer to solving the puzzle."
10
Sheriff Barnes
"Hello, you are talking to Calmhaven's Police Station. Belinda Sommersby speaking. How may I help you?" Dora hesitated. She had hoped to immediately get Deputy Digby on the line, but of course that was wishful thinking. Belinda Sommersby was the one who received almost all of the calls to the office.
"How may I help you?" Belinda's melodious voice repeated her question.
"Hello, you are speaking with Dora Brightside. I was hoping to talk to Deputy Digby, please."
"He's on patrol, Ma'am. May I leave a message?"
On patrol? "No, Miss Sommersby. I can try later."
"Wait," came the voice on the other side. "I'll give you Sheriff Barnes. After all, he's the one with all the knowledge, anyway. We aim to please, Ma'am."
"No… eh…," Dora protested, but it appeared Belinda Sommersby had left her post and was informing Sheriff Barnes somebody wanted to talk to the police.
This was not the way she wanted things to go. Deputy Digby would listen to her, but JJ Barnes would certainly not be willing to give her any information regarding Billy Monroe's antics about ten years ago. What was she going to tell the man?
Not even half a minute later Barnes' dark voice echoed through the receiver. "Sheriff Barnes speaking. Who am I talking to?"
"Hello, Mr. Barnes," Dora piped trying to sound enthusiastic. "This is Dora Brightside. I-I was wondering if you have… erm… any news."
It was silent for a few moments. Then Barnes barked. "What news?"
"You know… about the unfortunate circumstances surrounding Abe Mortimer?" Dora had no idea what else to say.