Molly Grey Cozy Mystery Collection

by Donna Doyle

  "And so did we," Molly Gertrude exclaimed. "Let's get back to Papa Julian's house. You can tell us all about it on our way there. No doubt, he's about to return as well, and maybe we can put all the puzzle pieces together."

  Digby slipped out of the driver's seat and made room for Dora, while he plopped himself down in the back. "Let's drive, Dora," he said. "I can't wait to hear what this Elvis fellow told you."

  Chapter Eleven

  Minutes later they arrived at Papa Julian's place. It was quite a surprise to find out Papa Julian and Bella had returned long ago. Instead of observing Sharlan Tan and his miracles, they had spent their time praying.

  "What happened, Papa Julian?" Molly Gertrude asked when they had made themselves comfortable.

  "Wolf was there."

  "Wolf? You mean Wolfgang Crossley from our church?"

  Papa Julian smirked. "He's no longer a member of our church. He came by the other day and gave up his membership, telling me I am a lousy pastor…" Papa Julian stared down at his hands, "…but yes, that's the Wolf I am talking about."

  "What did he say?"

  Papa Julian wrinkled his nose. "He wouldn't let me in. Told me I would disturb the holy atmosphere, and thus I would make it hard for Sharlan Tan to operate."

  Molly's eyes widened. For a small moment it was silent, but then they all burst out laughing.

  "That's ridiculous," Dora said at last.

  "He joined forces with Sharlan Tan," Papa Julian continued, "and he convinced those two youngsters that we were ministering to, Steven Mote and Archie Carmichael, that Sharlan Tan has more to offer than Calmhaven’s Trinity Church." He pressed his lips firmly together and muttered, presumably more to himself than to the others, "It's dreadful. I have really failed those young boys."

  Then he asked in a flat, monotonous voice, "I thought at first Wolf may have been the thief, since he told me he would take away my treasure. I now realize he wasn't talking about that book at all, but about Archie and Steven. My heart truly yearns for them." He let out a deep sigh, and then asked, "And the book? Did you find it?"

  "No book," Molly Gertrude replied, “but we did find out something else."

  "What is it?"

  "We have proof Sharlan Tan is a fraud and a deceiver."

  Papa Julian looked up. "You do?"

  Molly Gertrude gave him a firm nod, and told the pastor about the notebook she had found. "That man is no prophet. He is just a very skilled and charmed speaker, who knows how to manipulate the crowds. Digby made pictures of some of the pages in his notebook. If you read those you’ll see he does not hear from God at all. He's only making all that stuff up in the hopes of emptying people's pockets."

  Papa Julian scratched his head. "But there are people who claimed he performed actual miracles. I heard people were healed from blindness and all kinds of afflictions."

  "God is in the business of miracles," Molly Gertrude said. "He is the same yesterday, today and forever,* and he still heals people, except He doesn't need folks like Sharlan Tan to do it."

  "His so-called miracles are all fake," Dora added. "I met one of his guards."

  "Yes,” Digby mumbled, barely audible, "a nice fellow, I suppose. His name is Elvis."

  "And?" Papa Julian arched his brows.

  "He is sick and tired of Sharlan Tan. His conscience is bothering him. He told me Sharlan Tan is only interested in money and not in the people at all. According to Elvis, Sharlan Tan uses volunteers that he pays good money."

  Papa Julian bit the inside of his lip. "When there's a special event, I have to use volunteers too. What's wrong with that?"

  "You don't understand, Papa Julian," Dora explained. "He's using volunteers to act as if they are sick, when they are really not sick."

  The pastor let out a little squeal. "H-How does it work?"

  "For example," Dora explained, "there's apparently a lady on Tan's team who can't see very well, but she's not blind. When Sharlan Tan is on stage he claims in a loud and holy voice that the spirit has revealed to him there's a blind person in the crowd that God wants to heal. Instantly, the lady jumps up, cries out that she is that lady, and with the help of some other folks, she stumbles forward. It's not hard to imagine what happens afterwards. And then, right after the miracle, Sharlan Tan begins to push his Isaiah-seed business. The money streams in."

  Papa Julian slapped his own cheek as if he wanted to wake up out of a bad dream. "He's that bad?" A frown covered his face, "Why doesn't anybody stop him?"

  "Only his most trusted co-workers know about it, and he pays them good money."

  Papa Julian winced. "Surely Stephen Mote and Archie Carmichael wouldn't fall for that? They may be weak in the faith, but they are good boys. Even Wolf wouldn't be that dumb."

  "They don't know about it, Papa Julian," Molly Gertrude explained. "Most of the people on his team are just hired helpers, people he drops as soon as they leave town."

  Papa Julian pressed his fist against his mouth and puffed out his cheeks. "Unbelievable, just unbelievable." Another thought came to him. "And the stolen book? Did you find any evidence of the book?"

  "We have still no proof about what happened to the book," Digby said. "But, it will only be a matter of time."

  Papa Julian leaned back in his seat while rubbing his forehead. "I feel sick," he mumbled.

  "What do we do now?" Bella asked.

  Molly Gertrude closed her eyes for a moment, and thought about it. "Tomorrow night is Sharlan Tan's last meeting," she said at last. "Then he'll be off and gone forever."

  "I know," Papa Julian moaned. "It's terrible. The book is gone, and we are left behind to clean up his mess."

  Molly Gertrude gave a snort. "Remember you got that verse, about not being afraid and that God would be fighting for us?"

  "Of course, but what does that mean for us now?"

  "That verse still holds," Molly Gertrude replied. "We have to give God room to move." Her eyes shone with conviction. She turned to Papa Julian and as she lifted her finger, she said, "You may not be able to visit the meeting, but we can. Sharlan Tan doesn't know us, so Wolf will not stop us. Let's put God on the spot, and trust that He will do something out of the ordinary to stop this man. After all, He did promise we did not need to fight in this battle."

  Papa Julian considered Molly Gertrude's words, and at last he nodded his agreement. "Sounds good. You are right, Molly Gertrude. It's all by faith. Let's make room for God to work it all out."

  As they had made their decision and planned out their course of action, a gentle spirit of peace came over the room, and they all felt the comforting presence of God's Spirit.

  At last, Bella got up. "Tea, anybody?"

  "A good cup of raspberry tea would be wonderful," Molly Gertrude said, and the others agreed.

  * Hebrews 13:8 KJV

  When the friends arrived at the meeting place the following evening, it turned out Molly Gertrude had been right.

  No one stopped them at the gate. They didn't see Wolf, and young Archie Carmichael was not around either. Nobody bothered them.

  This time, the ticket office was being occupied by a young fellow with a disinterested look on his face, who was constantly yawning. Molly Gertrude had never seen him before. He was wearing the same T-Shirt she had seen Elvis wearing and he took her $10 entry fee with a blank stare. Het put it away and motioned with his hand she needed to hurry up.

  Seconds later they were inside on the grounds that Sharlan Tan had rented for the occasion.

  "We just wasted $30," Digby fumed as he put his wallet back into his coat.

  "Whatever you spend it will be repaid," Molly Gertrude said, and she cast him an encouraging smile.

  Digby frowned and stared at her, not comprehending.

  "It's from the Bible," Molly Gertrude explained. "It was the Good Samaritan who said that. He told the inn-keeper that he would repay him all the extra expenses he would have to make in taking care of the situation. In other words, God will look after your pu
rse."

  "Hope so," Digby answered, apparently not so sure. "I don't like to spend even a nickel on the likes of Sharlan Tan."

  Molly Gertrude scanned the terrain. In front of them was a giant circus tent. Molly Gertrude estimated it would hold at least 2000 people. She had heard that quite a few people had attended the meetings on the previous nights, but today interest seemed low. At least that was a good sign.

  Loud worship music rolled over the grounds from two giant loudspeakers that were strategically placed near the entrance. It wasn't a live band, probably just a CD or something like it, but it was way too loud. The guitars were screeching and grating, and it was impossible to even hear the lyrics to the song. Certainly not the type of worship music that Molly Gertrude was so fond of.

  "I think I may need a few Advils," she muttered, but Dora had seen something, and pulled on her sleeve. "Look, Miss Molly Gertrude. Over there."

  The old woman followed her gaze to a little hot-dog stand not too far from the entrance of the circus tent.

  A hot dog stand, right near a religious meeting? She shrugged her shoulders. "The world runs on money, Dora," she said with a sigh. "Hot dogs, books, T-Shirts… whatever sells."

  "It's not that," Dora said. "Look who is eating a hot dog."

  Molly Gertrude peered towards the stand.

  "What? I don't see what you see."

  "That man leaning against that tree near that Port-a-John. What's he doing here?"

  Now Molly Gertrude saw it too. "That's Hierro Glyphen from the Greenacre Museum," she exclaimed. "You are right. He said he had no time to go to a place like this, since religion wasn't for him."

  "Shall we ask him what he's doing here?" Dora asked.

  "Good thinking," Molly Gertrude agreed and they walked over to the man who was just wiping his mouth with his handkerchief.

  "Mr. Glyphen," Dora said in jovial tones. "We had not expected to see you here."

  Hierro Glyphen swallowed hard when he saw who was approaching, but he forced a little smile on his face and said, "Just checking things out. That's all."

  "Weren't you too busy taking care of your children, Mr. Glyphen?" Dora asked.

  The man cast her a painful look. "I am. But my neighbor told me this Sharlan Tan is praying for people and that there are occasional healings."

  "And you need healing, Mr. Glyphen?" Digby said with a grin.

  Hierro Glyphen flinched. "Who are you?"

  "He's our friend, Digby," Dora stepped up. "He's helping us with the case of the missing book. He's a police officer."

  Hierro Glyphen's nose began to twitch. "I see. In any case, I came here to see if this Mr. Tan could do something about my arthritis. It's getting increasingly worse."

  Molly Gertrude nodded in sympathy. "I understand, Mr. Glyphen. Arthritis can be a painful disease. I've got problems with it myself."

  "Have you now?" Hierro Glyphen seemed happy to lead the discussion away from police officers and the stolen book. "I was thinking to ask Mr. Chan if he could pray for me. It doesn't hurt to try, and maybe he can do something about it."

  Molly Gertrude shook her head. "It's not going—"

  But she was interrupted by a loud voice over the microphone. "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen," a suave voice washed over the terrain. Sharlan Tan was beginning his meeting. "Sowing, sowing, sowing," he shouted. "That's what we do to be growing, growing, growing."

  "I heard that yesterday on the radio," Molly Gertrude sneered. "He's quite original. We had better find a place in the tent."

  "Welcome, welcome, welcome," Sharlan Tan's voice continued, while Molly Gertrude, Dora and Digby entered the stuffy tent. "For those of you who are here for the first time, my name is Sharlan Tan, and I have been instructed by the Most High to be at your service tonight."

  Molly Gertrude was surprised to see the attendance was rather small. Only a quarter of the tent was filled up. "It seems the novelty of a new prophet wears off quickly," she whispered to the others as they found a place in the crowd. Sharlan Tan was walking back and forth on the stage, making wild gestures with his arms, presumably to inspire the people.

  So this was Sharlan Tan.

  As Papa Julian had said, he was dressed in priestly garments and wore his hair in a ponytail. To Molly Gertrude, he looked weird, almost like a clown, but at the same time he carried a certain authority, and she could not deny he had charisma.

  Behind him on the stage, on simple stools, sat what Molly Gertrude figured were his henchmen. She counted three of them, one of them she knew; Wolfgang Crossley.

  Even though Wolf had apparently joined the inner-circle, still he looked not nearly as threatening as his two colleagues.

  They were grave looking, muscled fellows, that did not in any way, shape or form give the impression they were the trustworthy, angel-inspired sheep of God you would expect in a place like this. And, to Molly Gertrude it altogether felt more as if they were being ushered into the presence of a crime boss. She scowled as she stared at the scene. How was it even possible that Wolf, once a faithful member of Calmhaven’s Trinity Church, had gotten himself mixed up with Sharlan Tan?

  "I don't like it here," Dora whispered. "I hope God is going to do something rather soon."

  "We'll just have to wait and see," Molly Gertrude whispered back. "Let's be patient."

  As Molly Gertrude scanned the crowd for familiar faces, she spotted JJ Barnes not too far away from the stage. For some reason the man looked a little sour.

  "Your boss is there too," Molly Gertrude whispered to Digby. "He doesn't look too happy. His Isaiah-seed has probably not yet brought him the fat, abundant harvest he was promised."

  Digby wanted to say something, but was interrupted by the squeal of the microphone, and Sharlan Tan continued with a booming voice.

  "What did you go out into the wilderness to see? A reed swayed by the wind?"

  Molly Gertrude leaned over to Digby and whispered, "He's quoting the Bible here."

  "If not," Sharlan Tan continued. "What did you go out to see? A man dressed in fine clothes? No, those who wear fine clothes are in kings’ palaces. That's not me. But there's one in heaven who can abundantly supply above and beyond that you are able to hold."

  "Liar," Molly Gertrude muttered under her breath, as she recalled the shiny, luxurious motor home that Sharlan Tan was traveling in.

  "Then what did you go out to see? A prophet? Yes, I tell you, and more than a prophet." Sharlan Tan paused and glanced over the faces before him. "Tonight, I will bring you a message of hope from the heavens. But first the house rules. There is still a limited quantity of Isaiah-seeds available, that you may purchase. In case you are here for the first time and are not yet familiar with the power of these blessed seeds, I will explain them to you in a minute. But let me already encourage you to not let this golden opportunity pass you by. After all, tomorrow I will no longer be around as the spirit has urged me on to spread the Good News."

  Digby gritted his teeth and whispered to Dora, "Good riddance to bad rubbish."

  "But what about the stolen book?" she whispered back. Digby shoved his hands into his pockets and shook his head. "Maybe we'll never find it."

  Sharlan Tan now lifted one finger and waved it around. "In case you want to know more, or would like to make a donation to the ministry outside of buying Isaiah-seeds, you can meet up with my devoted helpers." He turned around and pointed to the three bullies, who gave a wolfish smile. "They are more than willing to assist you with any further questions."

  "Brother Tan, can you pray for me?" An unshaven man who was holding a whiskey bottle in his right hand, not too far from where our friends stood, cried out in a desperate, high-pitched voice. "I can't beat the liquor… Please pray for me."

  "And me?" An extremely fat woman near the back of the tent, called out, "I need to lose weight."

  Sharlan Tan smiled. "What an eager audience we have tonight. You people give me no time to introduce myself." He smoothed a few wrinkles on his robe, re
arranged his purple sash, and continued. "But you are right, dear friends. I am here to bring healing. Except, and I hope you understand, I can't pray for you all. I must be guided by the spirit. Remember, even in the days of our prophet Jesus, he only healed certain people. Only the ones that the Father in heaven told him to heal got the actual healing. It's the very reason I give out the Isaiah-seeds. These seeds have been anointed by the spirit, and carry the power to help you, even if I do not pray for you tonight."

  "Heal me, Brother Tan. I need it," another old lady cried out. "I am worthy."

  "No, I am worthy," someone else raised both of his hands and moaned loudly. "Heal me first."

  Sharlan Tan raised both of his hands, and urged the people to be still. He closed his eyes and whispered a prayer into the microphone. "Heavenly father, help your power to come down. Speak to me, and tell me who needs healing tonight."

  For a moment he stood motionless. Then he opened his eyes and said, "The spirit told me there is a man out here who is blind. His first name… it starts with a…" Sharlan Tan narrowed his eyes and looked up at the roof of the tent, "…it starts with a… B. The B is followed by a U… Buzz, maybe?" He rubbed his nose and corrected himself. "No, I see it clearly now. It's not Buzz, but Burt." He opened his eyes and looked around, searching the crowd.

  At first nothing happened. But then, someone in the last row, a skinny, slender man with dark sunglasses stood up and squealed in an excited voice, "Me… It's me. My name is Burt. Burt Jungles. I am blind since birth."

  Sharlan Tan raised both of his hands and shouted out a word of praise. "Come forward, Burt."

  The man, with the aid of a seeing-eye-dog stepped forward. One of Sharlan Tan's bullies jumped up and ran over to help Burt Jungles to climb up onto the stage. When he had positioned Burt right in front of the prophet, a warm smile appeared on Sharlan Tan's face. "Hello, Burt, your days of suffering are over."