Amber Dee's Missing Toe

by Matt Ferraz

  It wasn’t a bad plan, but something was still bothering Winifred. “I’ll do the dishes,” she said. “Get dressed, and don’t forget to bring a coat. It’s snowing.”

  There were only two dishes and two mugs to wash. Winifred finished them quickly and ran to her own bedroom. She dialled the number of the café where she worked and asked to speak to her boss.

  “Hello, Mr Jones?”

  “Winifredifred” said the voice at the other end of the line. “Are you feeling better?”

  “Better?”

  “Yes – your grandmother called and said you had food poisoning.”

  Winifred took a second to process that information. That kind of lie wasn’t like Grandma Bertha at all. Did she just need someone to help her with the investigation? Or could it be something else? For a while, Winifred had suspected that the old lady was lonely, staying in the apartment all day long.

  “I’m feeling much better, thank you,” said Winifred. “But the doctor said I should rest, so I figured I should take one more day off.”

  “I don’t know,” said Mr Jones. “We’re fully booked all day. I had to hire extra staff. You take a second day if you need it, but there are tons of people looking for work, you know.”

  “I know,” said Winifred. “It’s just that I’m feeling terrible, and the doctor said I could end up embarrassing myself in front of the customers, if you know what I mean.”

  “That’s fine,” said Mr Jones. “But we need to have a serious conversation after you’re back. I understand you have your troubles, but I have to run a business.”

  Winifred thanked him and turned off her phone. She wished she could be mad at Grandma Bertha for what she’d done. Instead, she took a deep breath to calm down and got dressed. They would discuss this later.

  Grandma Bertha was waiting for her in the living room, wearing a tweed coat and a plaid cap that made her look like a female Sherlock Holmes. “I’m going to leave the doggies with Mr Hanks across the hall,” she said. “We’ll be out all day, and I don’t want them to be alone.”

  “Mr Hanks already has three cats, Grandma,” argued Winifred.

  “I know, but the boys won’t bite them,” Grandma Bertha argued back. “Last time I left them there, they had a ball.”

  Winifred recalled that time. The dogs and cats had wrecked Mr Hanks’ apartment, but he had been too polite to complain. Once again, he had agreed to care for Grandma Bertha’s pets for a couple of hours. Mr Hanks was a short man with a grey moustache and a naive smile that never left his face. Winifred felt that they were taking advantage of him, but there was no other option. They might be out for a lot longer than a couple of hours, but neither of them had the courage to say that to Mr Hanks. It took time and patience to catch a murderer. That, and a bit of luck.

  Chapter Eight

  Lydia being Lydia

  Winifred almost wished they had taken a cab, but she finally found a parking space a few streets away from the lane. A lot of people had taken the day off to do Christmas shopping. The last thing Winifred had expected was to see someone she knew among the crowd. And there were two people she prayed she wouldn’t run into. One of them was her boss, who would then realize that she wasn’t sick and fire here right there in the street. The second one was the person they found.

  “Hello, Albertha,” said Lydia, a blank expression on her face. “And Miss Compson! I thought you were working today.”

  “I got the day off,” said Winifred. This was the first time in a while she had had to face Grandma Bertha’s daughter-in-law. They weren’t crazy about each other, but they tried to keep things civilized.

  “Good morning, Lyd,” Grandma Bertha said, pointing to the big canvas bags Lydia was carrying. “Heavy load, huh?”

  “We are having lots of guests over Christmas,” she said. “My sister is coming to town with her boy. He’s about the same age as Stu.”

  Hearing his name made Grandma Bertha smile. “And how’s my little boy?” she asked. “Does he miss me?”

  It was Lydia’s turn to smile. “Not as much as you would hope,” she said with some satisfaction. “At first, when you moved out, he talked about you all day. You had been living with us then you went away on your long trip. Then, a few months after you came back, you decided to move out and live by yourself. We thought Stu would be crushed. The first week was bad, but now he barely mentions you any more.”

  Grandma Bertha stared at Lydia, her face deadpan. “Have you told him I’m coming for Christmas?” she said.

  “Of course, of course,” said Lydia, pointing to Winifred. “Oh, and you can bring her as well if you like. So, what are you doing here today? Some Christmas shopping?”

  “We’re here to solve a murder,” replied Winifred before Grandma Bertha could say anything. “I found a dead body here yesterday, and we are going to find out who did it.”

  Lydia’s jaw dropped. “I can’t believe you’re doing this again, Albertha,” she said, staring at her mother-in-law. “After everything that’s happened—”

  “What happened?” interrupted Winifred. “Do you mean all the times that Grandma Bertha was awesome and solved murders that the police couldn’t? Or are you talking about the other times, when she prevented murders before they happened?”

  “Winifred, you don’t have to—” began Grandma Bertha.

  “You know what, Grandma?” she replied. “I want to. There are a lot of things that you can do, and Lydia here doesn’t know half of them.” She turned to Lydia, whose jaw was hanging open. “I was lost when Grandma Bertha entered my life. I had zero hope in the world. The people I cared about were either dead or running from the police. But then she came along, solved the case and offered me her friendship. She gave me a purpose in life. And I’m not going to tolerate you lying about Stu to make her feel bad.”

  Winifred had to wipe the sweat from her face after her speech. Only then did she see the crowd that had gathered around the three of them.

  “I’m sorry,” said Lydia. “I’m sorry if you don’t think I give Albertha enough credit. Maybe if you had a husband and a son depending on you, you’d realize what it’s like to have danger lurking around your house. You pray for that danger to go away, but instead, someone from your family keeps bringing it in and…”

  Winifred sighed. “I’m sorry, Lydia. I shouldn’t—”

  Lydia interrupted her with a hand gesture. “You know what? You don’t have to. You’re already doing more than necessary. Take good care of Stu’s granny. Put her in danger if you must, but be prepared for the consequences. I’m going home now. I have so much to do! Please, stop by our house on Christmas Eve, Albertha. We’ll have a lot of food.”

  With those words she walked away. The crowd started to disperse. Grandma Bertha stood by Winifred’s side, not saying a word. Winifred was afraid of what she might say. “Grandma, I…”

  Grandma Bertha grabbed her hand and held it tightly. Winifred could feel the heat of her hand through her woollen gloves. “Winifred, that was the loveliest thing anyone has ever done for me,” she said, tears flowing. “Thank you!”

  Winifred hugged her. “Don’t be silly, Grandma,” she said. “That’s what friends are for.”

  “You are more than a friend to me,” said Grandma Bertha. “I love you like a granddaughter.”

  This was too much for Winifred, and she began to cry too. “I’m under the impression that I’m no longer invited to Lydia’s at Christmas.”

  “Nonsense,” said Grandma Bertha. “We are going to go there, eat a lot of turkey and tell everyone how we caught this murderer. It’s going to be the Christmas of a lifetime.”

  “That sounds like a plan,” said Winifred. “Let’s do what we came here to do, then. The shop is just around that corner.”

  The two detectives went on their way to the scene of the murder, looking like a normal granddaughter and grandmother.

  Chapter Nine

  The Look-Alike

  In the shop, Winifred was shocked
to see that there was already a new rug over the bloodstains on the floor. The shop was open, as if nothing had happened. The young man behind the counter didn’t look much older than her. His pale face was covered in pimples and his right arm was in plaster. He seemed alarmed as they walked in, and she could see he was holding something tightly in his left hand.

  “What do you want?” he asked. “I mean, are you here to buy stuff or…”

  “Easy there!” said Grandma Bertha. “I know you’re nervous, but we’re not the killers.”

  The young man seemed to relax. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But this is insane! How can they force me to work here after what’s happened? It’s bad enough that I have to work with a broken arm. Oh, I’m sorry. Who are you?”

  “I’m Grandma Bertha and this is Winifred Compson, the girl who found the dead body. And you are…”

  “Call me Scotty,” he said, his eyes on Winifred. “Why are you here?”

  “We’re investigating the case,” said Winifred. “You were supposed to be working yesterday, weren’t you?”

  Scotty nodded. “Yes, but I fell down some stairs and broke my arm. It was set yesterday. I was hoping to have a few days off, but Mr Goldman called me today. Louise, the other employee, is having a baby and Amber is dead, so I had to come in and take care of the shop. Even with the police officer out there, I feel like cheese in a mousetrap. What if the killer comes back?”

  Grandma Bertha tried to calm him down. “I don’t think he will. The killer was after Amber in particular; he has no reason to come back here. Have you had many customers today?”

  “The usual,” said Scotty. “Not enough to force me to be here all day, working with only one arm. At least I’m getting a bonus.”

  Grandma Bertha leaned over the counter. “What do you have there? A baseball bat?”

  “A hammer,” said Scotty, showing it to her. “It’s silly, I know. I wish I had a gun.”

  “What can you tell us about Amber?” asked Grandma Bertha. “You must have spent some time with her.”

  “Not that much,” said Scotty with a shrug. “We were colleagues, not friends. We chatted sometimes, but she never told me anything personal.”

  “Did she walk funny?” asked Grandma Bertha.

  Scotty giggled. “Like a penguin. Sorry, I’m being mean. But she joked about it herself. It wasn’t something she was ashamed off.”

  Grandma Bertha asked, “Did she ever tell you about how she lost her toe?”

  “No. Unless…”

  “Unless what?”

  Scotty thought for a second. “I told Amber about a nightmare I had once. One where my toothbrush came to life and tried to kill me. So she told me about a recurring nightmare she used to have. It was about a man in a mask cutting off her toe with scissors.”

  “Was that a memory of something that happened to her?” asked Grandma Bertha.

  “No,” replied Scotty. “She said she had no conscious memory of that. It was a nightmare she had had since childhood.”

  Winifred could see the wheels turning inside Grandma Bertha’s head. “Tell me, Scotty, did Amber treat customers well?”

  “Of course.”

  Grandma Bertha nodded. “Did you ever think she acted a little odd with anyone? Maybe someone she recognized?”

  “Never,” said Scotty. “Oh, hold on. One time, a woman came in. About three weeks ago. She was looking for a scarf or something like that. They seemed to hit it off, and Amber told me I could go to lunch first. She always had lunch before me, you know.”

  “So she wanted to be by herself with the woman,” said Grandma Bertha. “That’s interesting. The police mentioned a security tape being stolen. Do you think they have CCTV of that day?”

  Scotty shook his head. “I don’t think so. The tapes are always being reused.”

  “That’s a shame,” said Grandma Bertha. “Can you remember anything about the woman? Anything at all?”

  Scotty thought hard. “I’m not that good with faces,” he said. “She had big sunglasses and a scarf around her hair. But I remember one thing. She kept looking at herself in the mirror, then back at Amber. Her head kept moving between the two, like she was watching a tennis match.”

  Grandma Bertha smiled at that metaphor. “Did they look alike?” she asked. “Amber and the woman?”

  “Yes, they did!” said Scotty. “I knew there was something bothering me, and you’ve made me realize what it was. The woman was comparing her face with Amber’s! Do you think they could have been related?”

  “I have a few theories,” said Grandma Bertha. “What about you, Winifred?”

  Winifred, who had been watching silently, was surprised to hear her name. “Maybe the woman was a relative,” she said. “Someone Amber had never met before. She was adopted, after all. Is it too far-fetched to think that the woman was her birth mother, and that they met by chance?”

  “Maybe,” said Grandma Bertha. “But far-fetched doesn’t mean impossible.”

  “And the mother killed her because…” said Winifred.

  The three of them went silent. “It’s too clean,” said Grandma Bertha at last. “Stabbing is the messiest kind of murder. It almost seems like Amber was complicit in this. Can you imagine a woman kneeling on the ground while someone stabs scissors into her back?”

  “No, I can’t. This is awful!” said Winifred.

  “Tell me, Scotty, did Amber wear a lot of make-up?” asked Grandma Bertha.

  “Yes, she did,” he answered.

  “Did you see her face after she was killed, Winifred?” the old lady asked. “Was her make-up smudged, like she had been crying?”

  “What are you getting at?” asked Winifred.

  “I think we should talk to Inspector Shaw again,” replied Grandma Bertha. “But first I’d like to pay a visit to Amber’s doctor. I hope he can spare a few minutes to talk to us.”

  Chapter Ten

  News about the Past

  After a phone call from Dana Dee, Dr Balsam agreed to meet Grandma Bertha and Winifred during his lunch hour. Dana had instructed him to answer all their questions, no matter how personal they were. They met at a nice café where the doctor had a sandwich and a glass of iced tea. Winifred had a salad and Grandma Bertha thought about ordering a beer, but instead chose a latte.

  “That was an awful thing that happened to Amber,” said Dr Balsam, a handsome man in his sixties with a grey beard and deep voice. “You never think something like that will happen to someone you care about.”

  “Did you have a close relationship?” asked the old lady.

  “It was a little closer than most doctor–patient relationships, I think,” he replied. “When you see a patient through their whole life, you start to think of them as a friend.”

  “Just friends?” asked Grandma Bertha.

  Dr Balsam almost choked on his tea. “Of course! What do you mean by that? I never...” He took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get upset. It felt like she was my ... niece.”

  “And you also helped Amber’s mother to find Amber,” said Grandma Bertha.

  Dr Balsam nodded. “That’s the only time I’ve ever done something like that,” he said. “Jackson Dee and I have known each other since we were kids. He and his wife wanted a baby more than anything in the world, but Dana couldn’t have children. I was working at the hospital at the time, and this baby was left at the front desk, her foot bandaged up.”

  “Do you know how she lost her toe?” asked Grandma Bertha.

  “No,” he replied. “But whoever did it did a great job. The toe had been surgically removed. Amber wasn’t bleeding any longer, but she had a fever. We thought she wouldn’t survive, but she did, and she needed a home.”

  Grandma Bertha scratched her chin. “But why?” she asked. “Why would anyone remove a child’s toe then abandon them at a hospital?”

  “We never found out.”

  “There must have been an investigation,” insisted the old lady. “The p
olice must have searched for her parents, appealed for them to come forward.”

  Dr Balsam stared at Winifred, then his eyes moved back to Grandma Bertha. “Dana told me to tell the truth,” he said. “But there are some things I can’t tell anyone. Not even the police. It could compromise me.”

  “So there was an investigation,” said Grandma Bertha. “And you interfered in it.”

  “My friends wanted a family,” he said. “And this child couldn’t go back to the home she had come from. Can you imagine the paperwork? The time it would take? Amber would have ended up in an orphanage, and who knows where she would have gone from there? Yes, I pulled a few strings to have her adopted, and that’s all I can say. I hope this has helped you. Now I have to go back to work.”

  He left a few pounds on the table and went on his way. Winifred and Grandma Bertha looked after him as he left. As soon as the door shut behind him, Winifred said, “Are you thinking what I’m thinking, Grandma?”

  “That depends what you’re thinking.”

  “It seems obvious,” said Winifred. “Amber Dee came from an abusive family. Someone, maybe her parents, hurt her and left her at the hospital. She’s adopted and leads a normal life – until her mother comes into the shop and meets her by accident. They talk and Amber threatens to expose her, so the mother kills Amber.”

  Grandma Bertha shook her head. “No, I don’t think it happened that way.”

  “Why not?” asked Winifred. “Because of the way the toe was removed?”

  “That, and other things,” said Grandma Bertha. “It’d got something to do with my feelings of déjà vu. But since you mentioned it, surgically removing a girl’s toe really isn’t common among abusive parents.”

  Winifred was clueless. “I can’t think what could’ve happened, then. Maybe…”

  “I have a few thoughts, but … no, it can’t be. It’s too absurd.”

  “Why?”

  Grandma Bertha sighed. “It has to do with you. Please don’t ask any more. I don’t want to talk about it now; it’s far too early.”