Molly Grey Cozy Mystery Collection

by Donna Doyle

  "What do you mean, Miss Grey?" JJ Barnes impatiently tapped with his finger on the desk while he pressed the horn of his home phone closer to his ear. "Why would I come over to your place this afternoon?"

  He listened to Molly Gertrude's answer and curled his lips. "…But there hasn't been any crime…," he said in response to whatever it was Molly Gertrude had told him.

  But Molly Gertrude had more to say, and as he listened his left eye began to twitch. "Sure," he mumbled at last. "Of course Digby told me all about it. And you really think I will have to make an arrest?"

  As he listened to Molly Gertrude's response, he looked up. Deputy Digby was just coming into his office, looking like he had just won the lottery. Digby raised his brows and wanted to say something, but JJ Barnes motioned him with his finger to be still. "All right, Miss Grey, Digby and I will be there this afternoon at three. Goodbye."

  He threw the receiver on the phone and scowled at Digby. "You went to Boulder Valley yesterday? And I have to find that out through that sleuthing little old lady? Why didn't you tell me about that?" He narrowed his dark eyes and stared at Digby as if he was about to rake the deputy over the fire and use him to start the end-of-the-year barbecue for Calmhaven's police force.

  "I…eh… tried calling you," Digby replied, "but I couldn't reach you. I even called your home, but your wife told me you were at the golf course and had left your mobile phone on the kitchen table."

  "I was," JJ Barnes sputtered. "Couldn't be disturbed as I had to discuss budget cuts with Mayor Steinmetz."

  "It's nothing, Sir," Digby said politely. "I understand… but yesterday Dora Brightside and I made an important discovery, and we all believe something is really strange about the disappearance of Deborah Smythe."

  "You allbelieve?" Barnes rasped. "I suppose that means Miss Grey, that silly assistant of hers, and you, Digby."

  Digby nodded. "I guess that's about right, Sir. Miss Molly Gertrude Grey seems to think that something is wrong."

  "Yeah," Barnes grunted, "she just told me as much. She wants us to visit her at her house this afternoon at three."

  "Really?" Digby's face lit up. "Did she say why?"

  Barnes shrugged his shoulders. "She said she wanted the police to be around for some reason. What do you think, Digby?"

  "What I think?" Digby jerked his head back in surprise. "Go, of course. Somebody has been missing for many days now and all the signs point in the direction of something sinister."

  JJ Barnes nodded. "I was afraid you'd say that. All right, make sure you are ready on time."

  Digby smiled as if he were a cat that had just caught a mouse. "Good decision, boss. Very good."

  Barnes glared at his deputy. "Why are you so chipper this morning, anyway. What's with that smile of yours?"

  "It's nothing," Digby replied.

  "Oh," JJ Barnes replied. "As long as you stay focused, Digby. I suppose I do not have to remind you that police work is no joke. It demands our full commitment."

  "Yes, Sir," Digby nodded enthusiastically. "I always keep that in mind, Sir."

  "Good," Barnes smirked. "Then go and write out some parking tickets or something. I need to concentrate."

  Digby pressed his lips together and nodded. "Of course, boss. I'll see you later then."

  After he had left and Barnes was by himself again, the policeman shook his head and let out a deep sigh. That little old lady was getting on his nerves, and the worst of it was that she always seemed to be ten steps ahead of him. But of course, if he could make an arrest this afternoon and Deborah Smythe would be found, he would certainly get a big part of the credit… That thought cheered him somewhat and helped him to concentrate again on his office work.

  "So, who all are coming then?" Dora asked as she stared with curious eyes at Molly Gertrude.

  "I called JJ Barnes and I believe he will bring deputy Digby along."

  Dora blushed and mumbled something unintelligible about that being nice. Molly Gertrude tilted her head, but decided not to ask Dora about it. "I asked Bloomsteyn to come as well. Told him we had a breakthrough in the case, and he was very eager to come."

  "And… anybody else?" Dora queried.

  "Antonio Pasqualini."

  Dora's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. "Pasqualini? You called him… and he wants to come to your house? I thought he was fleeing with Marilyn Tucker yesterday."

  Molly Gertrude gave Dora a weak smile. "Mrs. Tucker was fleeing. Pasqualini has a business, and he has to keep up a good front. I didn't believe for a second he was fleeing, but he just helped Mrs. Tucker to do so."

  Dora smacked her lips. "How did you manage to get him to come over? You really think he's coming?"

  "I think he will," Molly Gertrude said and she gave Dora a confident little nod. "I told him I had some information about Bambi that I wanted to discuss with him."

  "You did?" Dora fell back on her seat. "And did he buy it?"

  "Not at first," Molly Gertrude replied. "He said he had no idea what I was talking about and that he had never heard of Bambi, except for the Walt Disney movie. But then I mentioned to him he had been spotted yesterday at Jack Beamer's Car Parts And Audio Supplies, and that he had picked up a certain woman…" Molly Gertrude broke into a chuckle. "It was all he needed to hear. All he said after that was, 'What time can I see you?' "

  Dora sucked in a quick breath. "Anybody else?"

  "Charmayne Mortimer, Deborah's maid of honor will be here too, and she is bringing a few of the bridesmaids as well."

  Concern flashed over Dora's face. "It's going to be crowded here this afternoon. Do you think they will all fit?"

  "I think so," Molly Gertrude answered, "We will get all our ducks in a row, and who knows… I believe we may have solved the mystery."

  "H-How…" Dora began, but Molly Gertrude stopped her with a wide grin. "I'll tell you, Dora… This is what I think happened…"

  11

  Caught

  Antonio Pasqualini was the first to arrive.

  He clearly was in a hurry and not in the mood for tea and cookies, but when Molly Gertrude told him that they had to wait for somebody else, he reluctantly lowered himself into the best seat available and grabbed a few of Molly Gertrude's lemon curd cookies.

  JJ Barnes and Digby were next to arrive.

  Upon seeing the Sheriff stepping into the living room, Pasqualini's face grew dark and he jumped up, causing his Lemon Curd cookie to fly through the air. It landed right next to Misty on the floor. The cat seemed overjoyed with the unexpected treat.

  "W-What's going on," he mumbled, casting Molly Gertrude an angry scowl.

  "Good day, Mr. Pasqualini," Digby asked before the man could react. "How's the accountancy business these days?"

  Pasqualini, clearly on edge, sat back down. "Good, Deputy… very good. Thanks for asking." He seemed to realize it was in his best interest to act as normal as possible, but that was easier said than done, as the atmosphere was electric and laden with tension.

  "How is the crime these days, officers?" Pasqualini mumbled, not knowing what else to say.

  "Good," JJ Barnes replied. "I mean… there's no crime in Calmhaven. We do all we can to keep the citizens of our beloved town safe and secure. There's nothing to worry about, Mr. Pasqualini."

  At that instant the bell rang. Charmayne Mortimer and two of the bridesmaids arrived. The three women nodded a polite greeting, grabbed a Lemon Curd cookie, and sat down as far away from Pasqualini as possible, which was hard since the space in Molly Gertrude was limited.

  And finally Bernard Bloomsteyn stepped in. When he saw everyone there he gasped, as did the others when they saw him.

  Pasqualini's face hardened and Molly could see him gritting his teeth. When Bloomsteyn saw Pasqualini his scowl intensified and a shudder went through his body. He turned to Molly Gertrude and cast her an angry glance. "What's going on?" he hissed. "I thought you told me you had a breakthrough and found my wife."

  "I did," Molly Gert
rude answered, "… that's why you are all here. Please sit down, Mr. Bloomsteyn."

  He shook his head. "I'd rather stand," he howled. JJ Barnes arched his brows.

  "Where is my Deborah? I want to get married," he whined. "I need to start my new life."

  "I am sure you will," Molly Gertrude answered, as she lowered herself on a small stool near the piano she never played. "I think this case is crystal clear."

  "So, solve it," Bloomsteyn scolded.

  Molly Gertrude squeezed her chin and stared at the man for some time. "Mr. Bloomsteyn," she said at last, "How are you doing financially?"

  "Excuse me?" Bloomsteyn leaned forward and curled his lips. "I reckon that that's none of your business. Is it?"

  "Normally, it wouldn't," Molly Gertrude answer him politely, "but since your wife is missing, I think it's a relevant question."

  "You know how I am doing," Bloomsteyn barked. "I swim in my money. I am the owner of Greenacre Manor. Did you forget that?"

  Molly Gertrude shook her head. "No Sir, I did not." All eyes were now on Molly Gertrude. "But, I believe you will not be the owner of Greenacre Manor for very much longer. At least, not unless you are able to acquire a great sum of money very soon…" Molly's words were calm and she chose them with the utmost care.

  Bloomsteyn shifted from one leg to the other and seemed under a great deal of pressure. He even began to wipe his forehead, even though it was not hot at all.

  "Taxes are an unpleasant thing, Mr. Bloomsteyn," Molly Gertrude continued, "and that coupled with your weakness for gambling has put you in a vulnerable position. In fact, as Mr. Pasqualini may confirm, your financial position could not be worse…" She turned to Pasqualini and raised her brows. "Mr. Pasqualini?"

  "What?" Pasqualini mumbled.

  "You are an accountant. Am I wrong to assume that Mr. Bloomsteyn and Deborah Smythe are both your clients?"

  "So?" The man drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair.

  "How is Mr. Bloomsteyn's financial position?"

  Molly Gertrude could see how Pasqualini was glancing at the door, as if he were planning his escape. But JJ Barnes was prepared and had posted Digby near the door.

  "Well… Mr. Pasqualini?"

  "It's not good," Pasqualini muttered. "He's about to lose Greenacre Manor. Bloomsteyn is bankrupt."

  "Right," Molly Gertrude added. "And not only are you bankrupt, you are also a perpetual gambler. You have enormous debts, and there are certain parties…" Molly Gertrude eyed Pasqualini,"… that want payment. A marriage with Deborah Smythe would give you direct access to her wealth and you could solve at least some of your problems that way —"

  "—All lies," Bloomsteyn cried out. "I love my dear Deborah. She's the love of my life. This is a set-up… I am being framed by my ex-wife, Marilyn… I told you she is crazy, and she wants to ruin my life. She is insanely jealous…" He shook his finger in the direction of JJ Barnes and hollered, "I told you she is the one who besmirched my lovely house. Why did you not investigate?"

  JJ Barnes' face flashed. He did not like to be accused of negligence, or even worse, incompetency. "We didinvestigate," he hollered back.

  "You did?"

  Digby cleared his throat. "I did, Mr. Bloomsteyn. I talked to your ex-wife Marilyn. She could not have painted that message on your wall."

  "Why not, smart boy?"

  "Because," Digby licked his lips, "She was in prison at the time it happened."

  Digby's statement clearly confused Bloomsteyn and he gasped for breath as a fish on dry land. "In prison? I-I heard she was released a month ago?"

  "But she was not." Molly Gertrude shook her head slowly, deliberately. "They wanted to, because of her good behavior, but somebody made an administrational error, and she was only released a few days ago."

  Confusion flashed over Bloomsteyn's face. "But… who then painted my wall?"

  "You did it yourself, Mr. Bloomsteyn." Molly's voice sounded loud and clear. The others looked shocked, as she continued. "You besmirched your own house."

  Bloomsteyn's eyes were shooting fire. "You are out of your mind, little lady. How dare you, making such terrible accusations against me?" He turned to Barnes and cried out, "I want to sue Molly Gertrude Grey. This is utterly ridiculous." His clenched his fists and ranted, "I will see you all in court." He looked like he was about to spit on the carpet, but somehow he managed to control himself. Then he turned to leave, but Digby blocked his way. "Not so fast, Mr. Bloomsteyn. Nobody leaves yet."

  Bloomsteyn's eyes scanned Digby's frame, and saw the deputy's hand was resting on his gun. He wrinkled his nose and thought better of it. He gave Digby a small nod. "Fine, I'll stay." Then he turned and glared at Molly Gertrude. "What proof do you have for such an outrageous accusation?"

  "It was the way that the paint was smeared on your wall that made me wonder," Molly Gertrude said. "The way it was signed with ' M' was rather peculiar."

  "Why?"

  "I'd never seen such a strange letter M. Thus I asked you to write down the address of your ex-wife, remember?" She looked intently at Bloomsteyn's face. "I already had my doubts, and I wanted to compare your handwriting to the painted letters on the wall. The M you wrote in her street address was formed exactly the same queer way."

  "Nonsense," Bloomsteyn scoffed. "Such a thing will never hold up in court. And why would I mess up my own front wall. It doesn't make any sense."

  "Because…," Molly Gertrude spoke in a calm voice, "…you sincerely didbelieve your ex-wife wasresponsible for Deborah's disappearance. After all, wasn't it because of you that Marilyn landed in jail?"

  "W-What are you talking about," Bloomsteyn mumbled, the sweat on his forehead was glistening.

  "I did a bit of snooping around," Molly Gertrude continued. "It turns out Marilyn Tucker, your ex-wife, did indeed lead a shady life. When you married her, she was involved in drug trafficking. In fact, she was working for a gangster. Of course, being your lover, she hoped you would join in the fun… But you declined." More from cowardice than righteousness, you were happy enough to eat the cream of your wife’s crimes. Molly almost said these last words out loud, but swallowed them just in time. It would only complicate matters. Instead she said in a soft voice, "You didn't want to get your hands dirty, or, let's say… you got them dirty in a better way…"

  Bloomsteyn scowled. "Lies. All lies."

  "Let me paint you a possible scenario," Molly Gertrude continued. "I believe you stole Marilyn's drug money and then, in order to get rid of her, you called the cops when she was busy with her next transaction. She got caught red-handed, but never understood how it was possible the police knew about her actions." Molly Gertrude shook her head. "It was a smart move. She was a crook and you were clean, and who would believe her words, being the person she was? All you had to do was just pick up her stash of drug money and walk off…"

  Bloomsteyn just stared at Molly Gertrude, his mouth went up and down, but never a word came out.

  "Speak up, man," JJ Barnes demanded as he scowled at Bloomsteyn. "Is that what happened?"

  "Of course not," Bloomsteyn yelled, finally able to regain control over his mouth. "You are all fooled by my ex-wife. Just put pressure on her. She'll crack easily, and you'll see Deborah has been kidnapped by her. It's the only scenario that makes any sense."

  "But she couldnot have done it, Mr. Bloomsteyn…" Molly Gertrude continued.

  "Why not?" Bloomsteyn no longer looked like the rich owner of Greenacre Manor, but had dwindled down to the size of a scared rowdy that had been caught stealing coins from a handicapped old-timer, and looked like he was about to faint. He dropped back against the wall of Molly Gertrude's living room and whispered, "I-I want to speak to a lawyer."

  "We will get you one," Barnes growled.

  At that moment the kitchen door opened, and somebody stormed in while letting out a loud scream. "I hate you, Bernard… I hate you with a perfect hatred." Everyone looked up, startled. There, glaring like a lioness, and with clen
ched fists stood Marilyn Tucker.

  "Marilyn?" Bloomsteyn cried out, "W-What are you doing here?"

  "You were right about me wanting to get back at you, Bernard," she screamed. "I wouldhave done all those things, if only I couldhave. You betrayed me… two years in prison, Bernard."

  Digby, fearing Marilyn would attack Bloomsteyn, jumped up and placed himself in between the man and his ex-wife. "Easy now, Mrs. Tucker."

  At that instant, Marilyn broke out in a sob, and began to wildly wave her fists in the air, trying to beat Bloomsteyn. Digby took the punch, and although Marilyn's fist hit him right on the cheek, he managed to hold her down.

  "Please, Mrs. Tucker… calm down."

  All eyes were on the scene, and nobody was paying attention to Antonio Pasqualini.

  Nobody, except for Molly Gertrude.

  From the corner of her eye she saw how the man had frozen when Marilyn had burst into the room. His face had turned to a panicky white, and he looked to the ground, presumably in an effort to become invisible. Then he slid off his chair and moved stealthily towards the kitchen.

  "Barnes!" Molly Gertrude cried out.

  "What?" Barnes called back, not understanding why Molly Gertrude would call him like that.

  Molly Gertrude pointed to the kitchen door. Pasqualini was just slipping out. "He should notleave," Molly Gertrude shrieked. "He's notwhat he seems to be."

  Barnes grimaced and scratched his chin, but then he decided to trust Molly Gertrude, and jumped into action. "Stay here… for crying out loud, man, stay here," he yelled.

  Of course, Pasqualini did not listen. He slammed the door closed behind him, looking for a way out of the house.

  "Come on Digby," JJ Barnes yelled as he pointed to the kitchen. Digby, well aware of Pasqualini's doubtful reputation, sprang into action as well, and ran towards the kitchen, leaving the others behind in bewilderment.

  Nobody in the living room dared to move as they listened to the ominous sounds that were coming from the kitchen.

  "Stop…," they heard Barnes shout.