Molly Grey Cozy Mystery Collection

by Donna Doyle

  "Your intuition again?" Dora grinned.

  Molly Gertrude nodded. "Maybe." She leaned back in her seat and gave Dora an affectionate smile. "And how about yours, dear Dora? Do you still think so highly of Bloomsteyn?"

  Dora gave Molly Gertrude a small shake of her head. "He's a wicked charmer. I would say he's a dangerous man. I don't like him. Did you hear how he tried to butter me up? But this time I could see right through him."

  "Good," Molly Gertrude said. "Discernment is a very important quality if you ever want to be more than just a garden-variety sleuth.”

  Bernard Bloomsteyn seemingly hoped for it, Molly Gertrude and Dora certainly did, and even the men in the Sheriff's office had hoped that Deborah Smythe would show up again the next day.

  But she had not.

  There still was no word from her. No clues as to where she was on the planet and it was fast becoming a mystery.

  It placed the Bridal Agency in a difficult position as well. They were in a dilemma. What to do now? After all, the marriage was planned for the day after tomorrow, but there was no bride.

  At three o'clock Molly Gertrude asked Dora to call Bloomsteyn, hoping for some good news.

  "Hello Mr. Bloomsteyn… Dora Brightside here, and I am calling from the Cozy Bridal Agency…" She was silent for a moment as she listened to Bloomsteyn's response. The man apparently asked her a question and Dora responded. "Yes…yes, I remember. Glad you think I am pretty, Mr. Bloomsteyn… but the reason I call is to ask if you know anything about your fiancée. Has she returned?"

  She listened again, and her face dropped. "So sorry to hear, Mr. Bloomsteyn. In that case we will have to start cancelling some of the appointments."

  Bloomsteyn said something else and Dora's eyes widened. "Excuse me? Could you repeat that, please? There was some static in the connection, and I may not have heard you correctly."

  She pushed the receiver of the home phone almost into her ears, so she would hear better. Bloomsteyn repeated what he had said earlier. Dora's face dropped and she let out a whistle as she leaned back on her seat. "Really? Are you sure?"

  Apparently Bloomsteyn said something unsavory as Dora blushed, and she just mumbled an apology in the receiver. "Sorry, Mr. Bloomsteyn… I was just as shocked as you are."

  The conversation was over and Dora stared at the phone when she put it down.

  "What was that all about?" Molly Gertrude looked up from a form she was checking, and arched her brow.

  "That was Bernard Bloomsteyn on the phone."

  "I know who that was," Molly Gertrude said a little impatient. "I asked you to call him."

  "It's his house," Dora stammered.

  "His house? What about it?"

  "It has been vandalized." Dora readjusted the glasses on her nose and shook her head. "Somebody painted all over his front wall, his windows and his doors."

  Molly Gertrude dropped her pen. "You mean they painted the walls?"

  "No," Dora shook her head. "Words. Somebody painted a message. Somebody wrote in huge, red letters: 'Bernard is mine, and mine alone. Watch out! M."

  Molly Gertrude veered back in her swivel chair and sucked in her cheeks. "That's quite something… And it was signed M?"

  "That's what Bloomsteyn said. The police are investigating now. This is the destruction of private property, so Bloomsteyn did not need to fill out a B35 form."

  Molly Gertrude rolled her chair backwards and got up. "Get your coat, Dora and the keys to your car. We will go there ourselves as well."

  Dora hesitated. "Are you sure, Miss Molly? If JJ Barnes is there, he won't be too pleased to see you snooping around. You know that man always gets skittish when he sees you. I think he's competing with you and he feels threatened that you may be a better detective than he is."

  "Never mind JJ Barnes, Dora. Bernard Bloomsteyn asked us to investigate. He hired us, and he just got himself two private detectives, and there is nothing JJ Barnes can do about that."

  5

  A Visit to Greenacre Manor

  Half an hour later, Dora's Kia Rio came to a halt in front of the gate of Greenacre Manor. The impressive estate that Bernard Bloomsteyn's mother had left her beloved son was a sight to behold. Dora's face lit up. "I've always wanted to see that place from the inside."

  "Help me out, dear," Molly Gertrude asked. "I want to ring the bell."

  Seconds later both women stared at the place through the iron gate, and they marveled. The estate itself was a two-story building. The main entrance, a rather wide patio with slabs of what appeared to be marble, was surrounded by a row of several white washed pillars, that were artistically arched together. The tall windows on the second floor all had carefully carved out Juliet balconies that were protruding from the stone walls, their balustrades laden with flower boxes full of red and yellow flowers. The place had an oriental look; proud, rich and mysterious.

  But the path that led up to the estate was equally impressive. The vast lawn that stretched out on every side was trimmed to perfection and everywhere clusters of trees, strategically placed for beauty and style, were swaying gently in the afternoon sun.

  The only discordant note in the picture were the flashing blue lights of the police car that was standing in front of the mansion, and the terrible blobs of red, dripping paint that someone had willfully smeared over the entire front of the mansion, which was at least a good 60 feet long.

  There it was. The message that had alarmed Dora and Molly Gertrude.

  Even from a distance they could easily read it: Bernard is mine, and mine alone. It was followed by the letter M, which was painted on as a signature in a long, swirling fashion.

  "Who would have done such a thing," Dora mumbled as she stared at the flaming letters that were such a discordant note in the beauty that laid before them.

  "I don't know," Molly Gertrude answered, "but let's find out."

  She stepped towards the bell, a button right next to the iron gate which was part of the intercom system, and pushed it long and hard. It took a bit of time, but at last Bloomsteyn's voice could be heard, loud and harsh and easy to hear over the static of the intercom.

  "Who's there?"

  "Molly Gertrude and Dora Brightside. We decided to do a little snooping around for you."

  For a moment it was still and beside the crackling noises coming out of the intercom nothing was heard. At last, Bloomsteyn's voice boomed back, "I'll open the gate."

  As soon as he had said it, the giant fence began to creak, and the two sides opened simultaneously towards the inside.

  Both Molly and Dora climbed back in the car and entered the property.

  When they came to the entrance, Dora parked her car right next to the police car with the flashing lights and blinked her eyes. The flashing lights of the police car made it harder to see the environment. "Why didn't Barnes turn off those lights," she complained, as she helped Molly Gertrude out of her car.

  Molly Gertrude chuckled. "JJ Barnes likes drama. This way his presence as a strong police man looks a lot more impressive."

  At that instant the front door opened and as Molly Gertrude and Dora stepped onto the patio, Bloomsteyn appeared. His face looked as sour as that of a donkey that had just been fed a drink of vinegar. "Look what she did," he groaned as he pointed to the horrible painted warning on his front wall. "Just cleaning this will cost me a lot of money and effort."

  Molly Gertrude put her finger on her lips and thought for a moment. "Who is 'she', Mr. Bloomsteyn?"

  Bloomsteyn frowned. "It's obvious. Marilyn of course. My ex-wife."

  "Oh?" Molly Gertrude answered, "Why is that?"

  Bloomsteyn stared at the old lady as if he had to explain the three times table for the umpteenth time and let out a sigh. "Because she did. Who else do you think would sign her artistic stupidity with an M? The M stands for Marilyn of course. I told you she is insanely jealous. Even though we are no longer married, she still bothers me. If shecan't have me, nobodycan… that's her retarded philos
ophy. The message on my wall is clear enough."

  At that time JJ Barnes stepped out of the house, closely followed by deputy Digby. The sheriff scowled when he saw Molly Gertrude. "No need for you to be here, Miss Grey," he smirked. "I've got it all under control. We know who did this, so you may as well go back to your wedding routine."

  "Glad you solved it," Molly Gertrude replied, not wanting to antagonize Barnes unnecessarily. "I suppose it is Mr. Bloomsteyn's ex-wife. Are you going to arrest her?"

  "We will do what is necessary, Miss Grey."

  Molly Gertrude gave him a small pat on his arm and complimented the man. "I am glad you and Digby manage Calmhaven so well."

  JJ Barnes stared at her as if he wasn't sure whether or not the old woman meant it or if she was just a bit cynical. But looking at her innocent eyes, he decided she was sincere, and he softened up a bit. "That's what the police is for, Miss Grey," he mumbled. "I want all the citizens of Calmhaven to be able to sleep in peace and safety when they turn their lights off at night." He turned to Bloomsteyn. "We'll take care of this, Mr. Bloomsteyn. I am sorry I wasn't more of a help earlier, but given the circumstances, I can see now that you do indeed have a real problem. You can count on us."

  Bloomsteyn gave him a curt nod and shook his hand. JJ Barnes tipped his hat in a greeting to Molly Gertrude and descended the steps of the patio. Digby was still whispering something to Dora and that was not to Barnes' liking. "Digby?" he roared when he was halfway to his car, "What are you doing, man? We need to go."

  "Sorry, Boss… Coming." Digby tipped his hat as well, and hurried down after his overseer.

  Seconds later the police car drove off with the lights still flashing, and this time, JJ Barnes had even put the siren on. As the car departed a little too fast for a garden road in Greenacre Manor, a spray of pebbles landed on both sides of the path. Bloomsteyn uttered a small curse under his breath. Molly Gertrude thought she heard him say something like 'I always hated the police', but she wasn't entirely sure as her hearing ability was fast diminishing these days.

  When the car had driven out of the gate and was out of sight, Bloomsteyn cleared his throat and sneered, "I don't need you to investigate anymore. The police will arrest Marilyn, and I will have my Deborah back. We will proceed with the wedding as planned in a few days. There's no need to cancel the catering, the music and whatever else you've cooked up."

  "Let's wait at least until Deborah is back at your side," Molly Gertrude suggested. "And… just for the record, where's your ex-wife actually staying?"

  "Boulder Valley," Bloomsteyn replied. "It's about an hour's drive from here."

  "I know Boulder Valley," Molly Gertrude replied. "And her address?"

  "Why do you need that?" Bloomsteyn cocked his brow. "I told you, the police are finally helping. There's no need for you to sniff around anymore."

  "Just for my records," Molly Gertrude pleaded. "After you left yesterday, Dora and I decided to look into the case you presented and I opened a file. Now I will close it again, but in order to do that properly, I still have to add all the important details."

  Bloomsteyn shook his head, but then decided to give the information Molly Gertrude requested. "Marquasy Quedell Avenue 14b," he spoke, clearly wanting to get this conversation over with.

  "Markwazie what?" Molly Gertrude asked. "Sorry, but do you mind writing that down?"

  Before Bloomsteyn had a chance to say anything she pulled out a notebook and a pen and pushed it under Bloomsteyn's nose. The man scowled, snatched the notepad out of Molly Gertrude's hand and wrote it down. "Here," he said, "and now, if you will excuse me I have work to do, and I believe you two have something to do as well. I still expect a most wonderful marriage party."

  "One marriage feast coming right up," Molly Gertrude purred, as if Bloomsteyn had ordered a hamburger. "We'll stay in touch."

  "Do you really think that his ex-wife kidnapped Deborah?" Dora asked. "Why would anyone go to such lengths, and actually commit a crime, just because she is a little jealous?"

  "Don't underestimate the power of jealousy," Molly Gertrude cautioned Dora. "They say that love is the master key that opens the gates of heaven. Jealousy is a master key too, only it does not fit the doors to the heavenly realm. Jealousy opens the gates to hell, and allows evil to stream out in all of its wicked power."

  Dora shivered. "It sounds pretty bad when you look at it that way. So you too think that this Marilyn lady did it?"

  "I am not convinced," Molly Gertrude said as she closed her eyes so she could think better. "I still do not have that sense of peace. Something is not right, but I suppose we will find out soon enough when Barnes has gone to Boulder Valley."

  Dora chuckled. "He's not going to Boulder Valley. Digby is, and he asked me to go with him."

  Molly Gertrude opened her eyes again and stared at her assistant. "So that was what you two were whispering about. But why is he not going right now? After all, if Bloomsteyn's ex-wife has indeed kidnapped Deborah, time is of the essence."

  Dora tapped at her watch. "It's five o'clock, Molly. That means his workday is over. Digby told me that JJ Barnes is a stickler for an 8-hour workday, and he's not about to allow for overwork, not even for a minute."

  Molly stroked her throat and grimaced. "That attitude doesn't get the criminals behind bars. No wonder he never seems to be able to solve anything else besides figuring out where his wife hides his beer."

  Dora grinned. "You can be quite something at times, Miss Molly, you know very well that Sheriff Barnes is a fine man underneath all that gruff!"

  Molly nodded apologetically.

  "Yes, yes, Dora, you are right. But sometimes even my patience is tested when a mystery is afoot," Molly Gertrude retorted. Then she changed the subject. "You actually never told me what Charmayne Monroe told you about all this. You talked to her too, didn't you?"

  Dora nodded. "I did. I went to see her first. We had a cup of tea at Miss Marmelotte's, but there wasn't a whole lot she could tell me. Actually, come to think of it, she was a little evasive, and I had the impression she wanted to leave the coffee shop almost as soon as we had gotten in."

  "Oh?"

  "It's nothing, really. She said she had an appointment."

  "Did you ask her why she is so against Deborah marrying Bloomsteyn?"

  "Of course. She said that Bloomsteyn is addicted to gambling."

  "Gambling? That's news. I never knew that."

  Dora shrugged. "I suppose it's nothing spectacular, but she seems to think he can't be trusted with money. And, well… you know, Deborah has a lot of money. She said, he may not be nearly as rich as he looks."

  "Where does he gamble? There's no place in Calmhaven where you can do that. At least not as far as I know."

  "Boulder Valley has a casino. That's where Bloomsteyn used to live with his darling Marilyn, so that's where it must have started."

  Molly Gertrude was silent for a few seconds and thought about what Dora had told her. Then she looked up and said, "My warning lights, Dora… they are burning intensely bright."

  "I know," Dora said as she steered her Kia Rio safely through the streets of Calmhaven. "What worried Charmayne the most is that her friend Deborah refused to listen to her. She said, and these are her exact words, 'Sometimes I wonder if being in love and being stupid can be the same thing.' Deborah seems to be so starry eyed that she even got angry at Charmayne, at two different occasions, and started to call her all kinds of names."

  Molly Gertrude shrugged her shoulders. "Friends sometimes have a better view of the overall situation than the people involved. But after you have told them what you think, there's not much more you are supposed to do. People need to make their own choices."

  Dora nodded, as she kept checking the speedometer, making sure she wasn't going too fast. "That sounds about right."

  Both women were still, as Dora concentrated on the traffic, but when they had to slow down because of a garbage truck, and their speed dwindled down to a snail's pa
ce, Molly Gertrude asked, "So… are you planning to go there tomorrow with deputy Digby?"

  Dora blushed. "Well…em… can I? I mean, can I be spared?"

  Molly Gertrude smiled. She knew this was an opportunity for her assistant that she shouldn't be taking away from her. A whole hour in the car on their way to Boulder Valley with Digby, and then again, a whole hour back in the same car … Molly just hoped their trip wouldn't take all day. "I think I can spare you for a few hours," she grinned. "Will he pick you up?"

  Dora's face was all sunshine as she answered with a bubbly voice. "At nine."

  Molly nodded with satisfaction. "Just let me know how it goes up there, so I can still cancel the catering if need be. And in the meantime, I will go to Deborah Smythe's place. Maybe I can talk to the neighbors or something… just to see if I can discover anything."

  "Alone?" Dora objected. "How are you getting there if I am not around to drive you?"

  "Ever hear of a taxi-service? Buster's Safe Speeding is just around the corner by Miss Marmelotte's."

  Dora frowned. "I worry when you go off by yourself, Miss Molly… Even though your mind is as young as a happy calf, your body is that of an… eh… eh," Dora couldn't quite find the right words.

  "… An old arthritis ridden cow?" Molly Gertrude finished the sentence with a chuckle.

  "No-No, of course not," Dora said. She blushed and bit her lower lip. "I am just concerned for you. That's all."

  The garbage truck took a turn to the right and Dora heaved a sigh of relief, as she stepped on the gas and guided them safely into Molly Gertrude's street.

  "Raspberry tea with a Citrus Curd Cookie? Molly asked in a tempting tone, but Dora shook her head.

  "I will take a rain check, Miss Molly. This has been such a busy day, and tomorrow we've got another one coming. I still have a few things to take care of. "

  Molly smiled. Sure, like going to the hairdresser and buying a pretty blouse for your journey to Boulder Valley. "Good night, Dora. Sleep tight."