Connie Cobbler

by James DeSalvo

  Before I knew it, we were out of the elevator and knocking on Priscilla and Tracy's suite.

  The door swiftly opened. Tammy turned on the lights and held the camera to her shoulder. A petite stuffed pony with a rainbow colored tail greeted Debbie.

  "Hi," said the pony. "I'm Sheila Shetland. I'm the publicist for Miss Pie and Miss Turnover. Please come in."

  I couldn't believe that Debbie had gotten me this far. It was up to me to make it the rest of the way. I followed closely behind Tammy as the door closed.

  "I should mention," said Sheila "Miss Pie and Miss Turnover thought it would be cute if they answer any questions with lyrics from Pastry Pals' songs. Won't that be delightful?"

  "Sure," answered Debbie. "Where can we find them?"

  "Please follow me." Sheila galloped ahead to a large living room. "Miss Pie? Miss Turnover? Your interviewer is here."

  I was stunned to see Priscilla and Tracy as they sat on a large couch. They hadn't changed a bit. They were still wearing the exact same outfits that they had worn on the show. They stood at the same time. They started to sing.

  "Always stand when guests enter the room. It will help dispel the gloom."

  I couldn't believe I used to sing that stuff. I felt a little nauseous hearing it.

  "Priscilla and Tracy, it's good to see you again," said Debbie.

  "A friend you always keep in your heart and never will you be apart," they sang.

  "Uh, yes. From 'The Friendship Song.' That was one of my favorites." If Debbie was lying, it was hard to tell. "May I sit?" she asked.

  "Offer your guests a place to rest and keep your manners at their best," they sang.

  I wasn't sure how much more of this I could take.

  Debbie and the singing duo sat down. "Would you like some tea? Perhaps a scone? Some pudding in an ice cream cone?" they offered.

  "No. No, thank you," said Debbie. "Why don't we get right to the interview?" She turned to the camera and spoke to it. "I have a special treat for our viewers at home. I'm sitting here with some old friends you might remember: Priscilla Pie and Tracy Turnover. It's sort of a mini-reunion of the Pastry Pals." She turned back to Priscilla and Tracy. "Tell me, why did you decide to make Toy Town the last stop on your world tour?"

  "We love the world, we love to roam, but Toy Town is our only home," they sang.

  "That's it!" I hollered. "I can't take any more! Stop the singing!" I dropped the sound equipment and took off the cap.

  "So much for subtlety," sighed Debbie as she stood up.

  "Connie Cobbler?" shouted Priscilla and Tracy in unison.

  "What? Don't you have a song for me?"

  They smiled at each other. "Friends should always stick together, even when the bubbles burst, but when a friend leaves the others, that's a friend who is the worst."

  "Message received," I said. I made a mistake. I should have held my temper.

  I was about to leave when Debbie spoke. "She just wants some answers. Please help her. Do it for me. Do it for Tiffany."

  I saw that their eyes got misty at the mention of Tiffany's name.

  "Now just a minute," whinnied Sheila Shetland. "I don't think it's a very good idea to have a private interview. I'm sorry, Miss Pie and Miss Turnover. I didn't know this was going to happen. I'll call security."

  "No, that's alright," said Priscilla. She was no longer singing. "We'll speak to them. Won't we, Tracy?"

  Tracy was wiping her eyes with a tissue. "We'll do it for Tiffany. She was a true friend."

  "Alright," said Sheila, "but the camera has to go. Please come with me," she said to Tammy. "I'll find you some place to wait."

  Debbie nodded to Tammy that it was okay to leave. Tammy gathered her equipment and followed Sheila out of the room.

  "I know this is difficult," said Debbie. "Believe me, the last thing I wanted to do this morning was to help Connie Cobbler. I know we all have our problems with her, but she's working on a case that might have something to do with Tiffany's death."

  "You snuck her in here. That's just as bad as lying," said Tracy. "Tiffany wouldn't have lied."

  "Tiffany's dead," I said. "Someone else wants me to wind up the same way."

  "Dying in a river of custard?" asked Priscilla.

  "Dead," answered Debbie. "She just needs the two of you to remember what happened the day Tiffany...fell into the Custard River."

  Priscilla and Tracy looked at each other. "What's in it for us?" they asked.

  "I knew it," I muttered. "You don't want to honor Tiffany's memory! You only want to make money. When the cameras are off, your true colors come out. Let's go, Debbie. I don't need their help that desperately."

  "Wait a minute, Connie," said Debbie. "I just realized something. You and I helped write most of the songs these two are performing. They never even asked our permission."

  I began to see where she was going with this. "That's right. Doesn't that mean that they would owe us money? You'd better call the lawyers down at Channel 9 and ask them what we should do. I'd hate to sue and put an end to their profitable careers, but what else can we do?"

  "Now hold on! No one needs to call any lawyers," protested Priscilla. "We'll be happy to help."

  "I won't," snapped Tracy. "I don't think they have the stuffing to go through with it."

  "Oh, well," said Debbie, as she took out her phone and dialed. "It's your choice. Hello," she said into the phone, "This is Debbie Danish. Please put me in touch with the legal department. Yes, I'll wait."

  "Stop!" yelled Priscilla and Tracy. "We'll talk!"

  "That's more like it," said Debbie and put her phone back in her pocket. "Connie, the floor is yours."

  Chapter Eleven

  A few minutes later Debbie and I were in the elevator heading down to the van. Tammy went down ahead of us.

  "Well, that went smoothly," said Debbie. "Did you get what you wanted?" I had asked Debbie to step out of the room as I questioned Priscilla and Tracy, so she wasn't aware what they had said. I wasn't sure I wanted to share some of what I found out.

  "I got as much information as they were willing to give," I said. Priscilla and Tracy both gave almost the exact same story as each other. They watched as Tiffany fell and they cried. Neither one of them noticed any custardy masses crawling off into the Gingerbread Forest, but they did add some new details. For instance, they both said they had seen a shadowy figure under the bridge when we had first arrived to film. Priscilla had said that it was small and tinkering with some tools. She had assumed it was a construction worker taking care of the bridge. Tracy had noticed some thin wire laying on the ground next to the bridge before we were about to cross it.

  Then there was this: they both told me that Tiffany had begged them not to let Debbie go across the bridge with her. They asked Tiffany if she had had an argument with Debbie. All Tiffany had time to say was that she couldn't talk about it before Debbie walked up them to ask them what they were talking about.

  Things weren't adding up right and I wasn't sure who I could believe.

  The elevator doors opened and we stepped out into the hotel lobby. "Do you want to grab some lunch?" asked Debbie.

  "No, thanks. I still have a lot of work to do," I said. I did have work to do, but I also wanted to distance myself from Debbie. If what Priscilla and Tracy said was true, Debbie might not be the most trustworthy toy. That put her in one of the top spots as a candidate in the Who Wants to Kill Connie Cobbler competition. I wasn't going to get into a van with her and her news crew if I could help it.

  We walked out to the van. Dominic was outside, holding the van door open for Debbie. He and I exchanged hats. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a ride to your car?" asked Debbie.

  "No, I'm going to walk. The fresh air will give me a chance to piece together some of what I've learned today. It was good to see you again, Debbie."

  "I never thought I'd say this, but it was good to see you, too." She got in the van and they drove away. I hailed a taxi to take me to my c
ar. Fresh air or not, I still had a target on me.

  By the time I got to my car it was almost noon. I headed over to my office to see if Captain Cuddles had sent over the disc. I hoped to see if any of the information I got that day was visible on the disc.

  I walked up the five floors to my office. If some toy was out to get me, I wanted an open escape route, not a closed elevator. Besides, the exercise always helped me to figure things out. As I approached my office door, I noticed it was slightly ajar. I peeked in through the crack of the doorway and saw a shadow on the floor pacing back and forth. It was times like this that I wished I carried a weapon, but they only end up causing more pain than they're worth. Luckily for me, Action Jim had helped me equip my office with some surprises for any toy that broke in.

  Carefully, I reached up to the top of the doorframe and hit a switch. My office quickly filled with an electrical charge. It wasn't enough to kill a toy, but it was strong enough to stun one. I heard from inside "OW!" and then a thud.

  I burst into my office, ready to take on whatever I might find there. I saw a toy on the floor holding itself. "Why? I was only following orders?" It rolled over and faced me. I knew who he was instantaneously and I felt sorry.

  "Why?" said Sergeant Rook. He stood up slowly. "I was only dropping this off for you like Captain Cuddles told me to." He placed the disc on my desk.

  "How did you get in here?" I asked.

  "I just tried the doorknob. It opened right away."

  I always made sure my door was locked tightly. "Are you sure?" I looked around my office to make sure everything was in order. It was clean. Too clean. There was usually a thin layer of dust on everything. It appeared that the place was dusted to hide any fingerprints.

  "Yes, I'm sure, Miss Cobbler. Can I go now? I really have to get back to the station," he pleaded.

  "Hold on a minute, Rook." I looked at my desk. My computer was on. That shouldn't have been, either. I carefully knelt down and checked underneath. Attached to my desk below the computer were enough explosives to light up the city on the Fourth of July. A red light was blinking.

  "Rook, don't make any sudden moves," I warned him.

  "Wha...what's the matter?" he asked with a quiver in his voice.

  "There's a little gift under my desk. I want you to slowly walk towards the door. When you reach the stairs you need to pull the fire alarm and evacuate the building."

  As Rook was heading for the door, the red light started to blink faster. "Change of plans, Rook. I want you to take out your phone and call the number on the corner of my desk. Ask for Action Jim. Tell him it's an emergency."

  Rook nervously dialed and asked for A.J. then quickly hung up. "He's not there. They said he called in sick today." The light blinked faster and faster. I didn't have time to call A.J. at home. I had to remember that rhyme he taught me about bombs.

  "Rook, slowly reach into my drawer and hand me the scissors." I tried to keep my voice calm. A moment later Rook's hand was shaking as he placed the scissors in my sweaty palm.

  I looked at the wires on the bomb. There were three of them, one red, one green, and one yellow. How did it go? "Red, you're dead. Green, that's mean. Yellow, that's the fellow." I cut the yellow wire. I heard a loud beep. The light stopped blinking.

  "Can….can I go now? Please?" begged Rook.

  "Call the bomb squad," I said and sat down. Whoever was out to get me wanted me to go out with a bang.

  Chapter Twelve

  "This is what you call laying low?" yelled Captain Cuddles over the phone as the bomb squad dismantled the bomb under my desk.

  "It's good to hear your voice, too," I said.

  "Don't play games with me! You could have gotten Rook killed."

  "You're right," I conceded, "but he did save my life. Be easy on him when he gets back there. He's been through a lot today."

  The paramedics who had come to my office had taken care of Rook for minor shock and sent him back to the station. He didn't need any more trouble that day.

  "Don't tell me how to treat my officers. Get out of the public eye and find some place safe. The next time I hear of you investigating this case, I'll lock you up for your own good!" He hung up the phone.

  The head of the bomb squad came over to me. "We're going to be here for a while longer. I think it's best if you let us do our job in peace, Miss Cobbler," he said.

  "Alright. Could you do me a favor? Could you check my car for any explosives?"

  "We already took care of that for you. Captain Cuddles gave us your license plate number and it's been checked out. Now please go in case anything goes wrong."

  He didn't need to tell me twice. I grabbed the disc from my desk and headed down to my car. I had to call the one toy I knew could help me. I had to call A.J.

  I called A.J. at home, hoping he would answer. Instead, Mary picked up the phone.

  "Hello," she said in a sweet tone.

  "Hi, Mary. It's Connie. Is A.J. there?"

  "Yes, but I'm afraid he's in bed with a cold. Is there anything I can help you with?"

  "I really need to speak to him in person. Can I come over, please?" I tried to hide the urgency in my voice. A.J. tried to keep Mary away from his former life of adventure.

  "Well," she said, "I was just about to put some soup on the stove for him. Why don't you come over and we'll all have lunch."

  "That sounds wonderful. Thank you, Mary."

  "I'll even make dessert. We can have custard."

  I hung up.

  A.J. and Mary had a cute little Cape Cod house in a quiet part of Toy Town. I hadn't been over to their house a lot since they got married. I always felt like a third wheel, but this was as good an excuse as any to make up time with friends.

  I was about to knock on the door when Mary opened it.

  "Connie, it's so good to see you. Please, come in." One thing I'd say about Mary is that she had impeccable manners.

  "Thank you, Mary. It's good to see you, too."

  I heard a cough coming from the living room. "Is that Connie? Come on in," said A.J. in a hoarse voice.

  I entered the living room and A.J. pointed to a chair. "Make yourself comfortable. Mary, could you get us some lemonade?"

  "Of course. I'll be back soon."

  "Take your time, honey," said A.J. As soon as Mary left the room, he turned to me. "What's going on with you? I heard something on my police scanners about a bomb in your office."

  I had almost forgotten about A.J.'s radios. He listened to all of the police and fire calls whenever he had a chance. It made him feel like he was still a man of action.

  I told him about the events that day and showed him the disc.

  "What's on it?" he asked.

  "Hopefully answers."

  "Who wants lemonade?" I heard.

  Mary came walking in with two large glasses filled with pink lemonade. "I'm sorry it took me so long. I just made it."

  "It looks delicious," I said as I took a glass and tried it. It was perfect.

  "Honey, Connie and I have to talk for a bit in private. Do you mind if we go down to the basement?"

  "Dear," she said, "It's a mess down there and you're sick."

  "But it's important," he said. It was a little disheartening to see A.J. ask for permission to do something, but love makes toys do crazy things.

  "Okay," she said, "But make sure you tie up your robe and keep warm."

  "I will. C'mon, Connie." He led me through the kitchen to the basement door. The smell of cooking custard filled the air. “Down here," he said as he opened the basement door.

  I followed A.J. down the creaky stairs, happy to be away from the stench of custard. As we reached the bottom of the stairs, I looked around. There was nothing much down there but a few old boxes and some cobwebs.

  "So, you brought me down here because...?" I asked.

  "Hold on a minute," he said as he hit a switch behind a support beam. Suddenly the walls slid open to reveal computers and other technical gadgets. Tw
o large chairs rose from the floor. "Make yourself comfortable."

  We sat down and the chairs automatically guided us to the largest computer. I handed A.J. the disc and he put it in the computer.

  "Are you sure you want to watch this?" he asked, trying to spare my feelings.

  "No, but I need to. There are some clues on it. There have to be."

  A.J. started the disc and we watched in silence. There was more on this disc than what I had seen in Captain Cuddle's office. The recording was filmed from the far side of the Custard River. It showed everyone getting ready to film the show. The Pastry Pals and I were on the other side of the river. We were putting on our makeup for the show.

  On the large computer screen I could see a lot more detail. I could see individual blades of grass and count the gumdrops on the bridge. Then something caught my eye.

  "A.J., can you zoom in on the other side of the bridge?" I asked.

  "Sure. What do you want to see?"

  I pointed to the middle of the grass next to where Tiffany was standing. "Right there. There's something that reflected the sun."

  A.J. zoomed in closely. "How's that?"

  "Perfect." I studied the screen. "What does that look like to you, A.J.?"

  "It looks like thin wire going off into the forest. Why would that be there?"

  "Good question. Let's watch some more.

  We watched the disc for a while. Nothing much exciting happened. I saw the Pastry Pals and I rehearse 'The Friendship Song', cameras and lights were moved around, and the director barked orders.

  Then I saw it. A shadowy figure emerged from under the bridge. It looked around, trying to see if it was being watched.

  A.J. must have read my mind. He zoomed in on the figure and slowed the recording down. As the shadowy figure turned its head, its face came into view. A.J. hit pause.

  "Who is that?" asked A.J.

  "That," I said pointing to the screen, "is Foo-foo."

  Chapter Thirteen

  Action Jim and I stared at the image of Foo-foo on the giant computer screen. Foo-foo was holding a wrench and some bolts. Apparently, he was the one who had caused the collapse of the Gumdrop Bridge.

  "Foo-foo made the bridge collapse?" asked A.J.