Connie Cobbler

by James DeSalvo

  I walked in the door and up to the front desk. I recognized the chess piece working behind it at once. “Sergeant Rook, good to see you,” I said as I signed in the visitor’s log.

  “Miss Cobbler, you’re looking...uh, well...good...good to see you,” he stammered. I’d been told by some of the other officers that Rook had a little crush on me. He was a nice toy, but I didn’t have time for romance. I was married to my job.

  “I’m here to see Captain Cuddles,” I said, trying to stay professional.

  “Oh, he’s waiting for you in his office,” he said as he handed me my visitor’s badge.

  “Thanks,” I said as I went to see Cuddles.

  As I walked into Cuddles’ office, he looked up from his paperwork. “It’s nice to knock first,” he growled.

  “Knock, knock,” I said as I sat down. “You called me down here. What’s the matter?”

  “Well,” said Cuddles “After your little adventure at the Bombshell mansion last night, we gathered evidence. You do know what evidence is, don’t you, Cobbler? It’s what you get before you go charging into someone’s house and accusing them of fraud!”

  I tried my best to keep calm. “You sent her to me, remember? I was just following the clues. You do know what clues are, don’t you, Captain? They’re what you get to solve a case.” I stood up to leave. “It’s too early in the morning for this. Is there any other reason I should be here?”

  “Sit down, Cobbler,” said Cuddles, quieter than I would have expected. “We found something I think you should see.”

  “What is it?”

  “I want to warn you, Cobbler...Connie...this isn’t going to be easy for you to see. Please sit down.”

  I sat again, intrigued and a bit worried. Cuddles never called me by my first name unless it was something bad. “Alright, show me.”

  He pulled out a disc from his desk drawer. “We found this in Foo-foo’s possessions. It’s a recording of...well, just watch.” He put the disc into his computer and the screen lit up.

  “This isn’t what I think it is,” I said incredulously. “It can’t be.”

  “I’m afraid it is,” said Cuddles. “Do you want me to stop it?”

  “No,” I murmured as I watched the screen. On it, I saw Tiffany Tart falling into the Custard River.

  “I’m sorry to have to show you this, but if it comes out during Foo-foo’s trial...”

  “Make me a copy of this,” I said quietly.

  “Connie, you know I can’t.”

  “Please,” I said.

  “Okay, I’ll have it sent over to your office later today. But don’t tell anyone or it’ll be my fur on the line.”

  “I have one more favor to ask. I need to talk to Foo-foo.”

  “You don’t have to ask. He’s been asking for you.”

  “Then let’s go see him.”

  Captain Cuddles put me in a small room to wait for Foo-foo to be brought up from his cell. In the middle of the room was a table with a chair on either side. A large mirror was on the wall across from where I sat. I knew that I was being watched on the other side. The police believed it was for my protection. Foo-foo needed protection more.

  The door opened and in came Foo-foo, his paws handcuffed in front of him. Captain Cuddles walked in behind him. “Foo-foo, it’s my duty to inform you that you may have your lawyer present. Do you want that?” said Cuddles to the poodle.

  Foo-foo looked up at Cuddles. “No, thank you. I just want a few moments to talk to Miss Cobbler.”

  “Okay,” said Cuddles before he left. “Do you feel safe in here?”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “I was talking to the poodle.”

  “Yes,” said Foo-foo as he touched one paw to the bruise that decorated his eye.

  Cuddles closed the door as Foo-foo sat down across from me.

  “Well, Miss Cobbler. Did you see my little present?” smiled Foo-foo.

  “Where did you get it?” I said calmly. It was best not to seem angry. That’s what he wanted. I wanted information.

  “I have my sources. My favorite part of the recording is when you let Tiffany Tart fall to her death. How come that episode didn’t air on television?”

  I felt myself getting flush with fury, but I had to keep my cool. “I’ll ask one more time. Where did you get it? Was it Brenda Bombshell?”

  “Her? Of course not. She has no use of recordings that don’t involve her. She loves seeing herself on television. My source knew you from your days with the Pastry Pals.”

  “Give me a name.”

  “Not so easily. I want something first. You get me out of here,” he said.

  “I couldn’t do that even if I wanted to.”

  “Sure you could. Talk to your friend Captain Cuddles. I have information about something bigger than insurance fraud. Help me make a deal. He wouldn’t listen to me, but with your help I’m sure something could be arranged.”

  I looked at the mirror, certain that Cuddles was watching and listening. “I have to get something from you first. Give me a hint of what you know and I’ll see what I can do.”

  “Well, since he’s already listening,” said Foo-foo as he looked at the mirror, “I can tell you this much. My source wants you dead.” He smiled and leaned back in his chair and started to laugh.

  “It’s not that funny,” I said.

  Foo-foo stopped laughing and stared straight at me.

  “Now give me a name,” I said.

  He continued to stare. “If you want to make a deal tell me more, otherwise I’m not going to help you. And stop staring at me.”

  Foo-foo fell to the floor. The door burst open and Captain Cuddles rushed to Foo-foo’s side. He put two fingers up to Foo-foo’s neck.

  “He’s dead, Cobbler.”

  Chapter Eight

  "What happened in there, Cobbler?" shouted Captain Cuddles later in his office.

  "You were watching when it happened. You tell me. All I know is some toy wants me dead," I said as the door opened. Sergeant Rook entered with a folder and handed it to Cuddles.

  "This just came back from the lab, Captain," he said as he gave me a look of pity. I looked away. I never did like pity and I already wasn't in the best mood by then, but I didn't want to take it out on Rook.

  "Anything else, Rook?" barked Cuddles.

  "Uh, no. No, sir."

  "Then get out!"

  Rook left quickly, leaving me alone with Cuddles and the folder. "Are you going to read what's in there or just keep me in the dark?" I asked.

  "I should be keeping you in a dark cell until I get to the bottom of this," he said as he put on his glasses and opened the folder. He began reading the report inside. "Hmmm. This is interesting."

  "What? What is it?"

  "According to this, someone slipped Foo-foo a poisoned biscuit at breakfast."

  "Then it has to be someone who works here! Let's go question the kitchen staff or his guards. I'm tired of sitting around, waiting to see who wants me dead."

  Captain Cuddles handed me the report. "Just wait. Read the last paragraph."

  I looked at the portion where Cuddles was pointing. 'At 7:00 a.m. a female toy was seen leaving the kitchen area through the back door. She was wearing a trench coat and a fedora hat.'

  "Now tell me, Cobbler, does that outfit sound familiar?" he said as he pointed to me.

  "I was in here with you this morning! You know that," I protested.

  "And that's the only reason I haven't had you dragged by your batteries into a jail cell! Now get out of here and let me get some police work done."

  I was eager to hit the streets and find some clues myself. I was a marked toy and I wanted to find out who wanted me dead before they got their wish. "Fine," I said to Cuddles, "I have some investigating to do, too."

  "Wait a minute, Cobbler. You're not investigating anything. It's too dangerous!" he said.

  "Captain, you sound like you almost care." I smiled.

  "Besides, you'll ge
t in the way of real detectives. Now go find some place safe and lay low. I'll find you when I have more information."

  I pointed at his computer. "You won't forget to send a copy of the disc, will you?" I reminded him.

  He took his glasses off. "A promise is a promise."

  "You old softy," I said as I was leaving.

  "Get out!" I heard as the office door closed behind me.

  As much as I hated to admit it, Cuddles was right. I did need to lay low for awhile. My life was in danger. However, I had never been a toy who ran from a fight and I wasn't about to start then. I had to become my own client.

  The only clues I had at that moment were a poisoned poodle, another doll dressed up like me, and a disc that showed the worst day of my life. The only problem was I couldn't examine the video on the disc until Cuddles sent me a copy. That meant replaying the event over and over in my mind.

  I remembered Tiffany's screams and the look in her eyes. I had never seen a toy so frightened. I thought about how tightly she held onto my hands as I tried to pull her up. The bridge was collapsing underneath us. The smell of custard filled the air. What else happened that day?

  I had tried to keep this memory hidden so long that I was having trouble bringing the details back. I needed help. I needed the Pastry Pals.

  Finding the remaining Pastry Pals was going to be easy. Getting them to talk to me was going to be tough. They still blamed me for everything. Debbie Danish held me responsible for Tiffany's death. Debbie and Tiffany were as close as sisters. They did everything together and were never apart on the shows. I used to ask myself why I was walking with Tiffany that day over the bridge and not Debbie. I think Debbie asked herself that question, too.

  Priscilla Pie and Tracy Turnover, on the other hand, still held a grudge for the end of the Pastry Pals Show and all of the fame and fortune that went along with it. After Tiffany fell, I had trouble working on the show again. All I could hear were Tiffany's cries as she fell into the Custard River. I quit the show and soon after that, it was off the air. Priscilla and Tracy tried to convince me to stay. "It's what Tiffany would have wanted," they pleaded. My mind was made up. I left.

  As much as they blamed me, I blamed myself even more. I tried to save my friend and I couldn't. That's why I became a private detective. I had to prevent as many tragedies as possible. I had to save as many toys as I could.

  Chapter Nine

  Priscilla and Tracy were touring the country as a singing duo, performing mostly songs from their days on the Pastry Pals Show. They still had a lot of fans who wanted to sing along to songs about pastry and kindness. They kept their dream of fame and fortune alive. I was lucky that they were in Toy Town that week. The only problem was I couldn't get into see them at the hotel where they were staying. I had to think of a plan to find a way in to their hotel suite.

  I decided to start my investigation by talking to Debbie Danish. She had become a news reporter for Channel 9 News in Toy Town. She had started out as an entertainment reporter interviewing television and movie stars. I guess the producers at Channel 9 News saw her only as a former Pastry Pal at first. She soon proved she could do more than talk to the stars. She always asked tough questions. When her boss at the news station saw she wasn't a toy to back down, she was quickly promoted to a major news reporter. She was good, too. She interviewed politicians, kings, and other major newsmakers.

  I drove over to the Channel 9 News building, hoping I would catch Debbie. I didn't want to call first because she would probably have refused my calls. It was almost 10:00 in the morning when I pulled into the parking lot of the news building. Things were already bustling out there. Reporters and news crews were jumping into vans to go out and report that day's news. I could overhear a few of them talking as they were getting into the van next to my car.

  "Yeah, Brenda Bombshell's mansion!" said a cowboy with a video recorder.

  "But she's rich. Why would she want to steal a dog collar?" answered a tall toy in a blue suit with elastic arms. He reached all the way around the van and opened the driver's door for the cowboy.

  "Thanks," said the cowboy, "but I don't know why. I'm the cameraman and you're the reporter. Let's go up there and get the story." They both got in the van.

  The reporter stuck his head out of the window and stretched it up twenty stories. "Let's avoid midtown right now. It looks like traffic's backed up for hours," he yelled down.

  "Alright," said the cowboy and drove away.The reporter frantically tried to get his head back down into the car.

  Then I saw her. Debbie Danish's head of red hair was hard to miss. She was walking past my car with her news crew. I pulled my hat down a bit further on my head so I wouldn't be recognized. I had to surprise her. That was the only way to get Debbie to talk.

  As she passed my car, I quietly got out and followed her. She was busy talking to her news crew, complaining about their assignment. "I can't believe I've worked so hard and now I get a silly story like this!"

  "What are you going to do? The producers want ratings," said a stuffed kangaroo camera man.

  I figured this was my chance. "Debbie?" I said.

  Debbie slowly turned around. "I don't believe it. Connie Cobbler. I never thought you'd have the guts to see me again."

  "Debbie...I...don't know what to say."

  "How about goodbye?" she said.

  "I need your help," I said. It was all I could say.

  "I thought you were some private detective now. What could I possibly help you with?" she said.

  "Memories," I answered.

  "What kind of memories?"

  "About that...that day. I'm onto something. Something to do with Tiffany and I need you to help me remember."

  "You dropped her. That's all you need to remember," she said as she turned to walk away.

  I was losing her interest. I had to appeal to the reporter in her. "Wait, I can give you a big story. The Brenda Bombshell story."

  "That's already been on the news. Besides, I'm not working that story. Stretch McGuiness is the reporter on that."

  "That was my case. I can tell you how I solved it. I just want ten minutes of your time."

  She turned back to face me. "You have five. Start talking."

  Chapter Ten

  I filled Debbie Danish in about the case and the problems back at the police station. She was more than intrigued.

  "So this Foo-foo falls over dead? Just like that?" asked Debbie.

  "Not just like that. I told you, it was a poisoned biscuit."

  "But why would someone want to poison him?"

  "Because he knows who wants me dead," I answered. "I need to figure out who would want me dead."

  "That's a long list," Debbie said. She looked me in the eyes and, for the first time in a long time, I saw a smile come across her lips. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to make a joke."

  "It would be funny if it weren't true." I smiled back. "Can you help me remember? Please?"

  "Alright. We made a deal. What I remember from the day that you let Tiffany drop..."

  "I didn't let her drop!" I protested. "I held on to her. She slipped. She kept slipping and I couldn't stop it!"

  "From where I stood it looked like you let her drop. We all saw the bridge falling apart. The moment I got off, it started to shake. That's when I heard Tiffany start to scream. The two of you were out there and we couldn't help. Then we saw Tiffany fall...slip from your hands."

  "Was there anything else?"

  "Well, it was probably my imagination."

  "What? I need to know everything."

  "I could have sworn that a few moments later I saw something crawl out of the Custard River farther downstream."

  "What did it look like?" I asked.

  "It was hard to tell and I was crying a lot. It was just a large custardy mass. I thought it crawled away into the Gingerbread Forest. That's really all I remember."

  "Thanks for helping me, Debbie. I really appreciate it. Now I have to figure out a wa
y to sneak in to see Priscilla Pie and Tracy Turnover."

  For the second time that day, I saw Debbie smile. "Why don't you come with me? My news crew and I are on our way over to interview them right now."

  "I thought you only did tough news stories."

  "My producer thought it would be a good idea to have me interview my former Pastry Pals," she said as the smile faded from her face.

  "Thanks," I said.

  "Now hurry up before I change my mind."

  Debbie, her news crew, and I pulled up in the Channel 9 news van in front of the hotel where Priscilla Pie and Tracy Turnover were staying. I peered out of the van window. There was a doorman standing outside the hotel. I didn't want to deal with another one of those blockheads.

  "Are you sure this is going to work?" I asked Debbie as I tucked my hair under the cap the domino working on sound gave me.

  "It'll work fine. Just hide your hair long enough so Priscilla and Tracy don't recognize you," she said.

  "That's easy for you to say. You don't have to stuff all of this hair into a hat that's too small for a normal size toy." I turned to the domino. "Uh, no offense."

  "None taken," he said. "Besides I kind of like your hat better." He put my fedora on and disappeared beneath it. "See? It fits like a glove."

  "Dominic," Debbie said to the domino. "Quit playing around. We have work to do."

  "Sorry, Debbie," he apologized as he took off my hat.

  "Are you sure you showed Cobbler everything she needs to know to run your sound equipment?"

  "Yes. I've told you a thousand times," he said.

  Debbie turned to me. "Are you ready?"

  "As ready as I can be," I said.

  "Remember to stand behind the toy with the video camera," Debbie reminded me. "That way the lights will be their eyes when we go in. Tammy, grab your camera."

  A large stuffed kangaroo reached into her pouch and pulled out a video camera with lights attached to the top of it.

  "I'm ready," she said.

  "Then let's go," ordered Debbie. "Dominic, you stay here and watch the van."

  I was amazed at how quickly Debbie entered the hotel. She walked in with the authority of a toy who owned the place. She flashed her ID at the desk clerk who directed us to the elevators.