The Incredible Polly McDoodle (The Polly McDoodle Mystery Series Book 4)

by Mary Woodbury

  “Wow!” said Kyle. “A crook with a conscience, what next?”

  16. The Clues Begin to Add Up

  On Wednesday night the three kids got together in Mandy’s room. She had an enlarged photo of her mom and dad framed and hanging on the wall, and a pile of letters from them in a rattan basket on her desk.

  “I think if we find who was in the pharmacy when Mrs. Dobson bought the card for her granddaughter we will find the mail thief.” Kyle was eating a second piece of Mrs. McDougall’s chocolate cake he had wrapped in a table napkin. He was always hungry but never put on any weight.

  “I’d rather work on the bicycles,” said Polly. She had her sketchbook out and was leafing through the pages. “And the list on the envelope from Saskatchewan.”

  “Who have we seen with tear away pants and a grey hooded sweat?” asked Mandy. “Most of the dancers in school have them.”

  “So do the Dell boys, Darrell and Sydney. Tommie Lee and her mother run, they might have them and we wouldn’t know about it,” said Polly.

  Polly started making a line of sketches across the double page, of all their suspects wearing black tearaway pants and hooded sweatshirts.

  “Unfortunately we still haven’t narrowed the field,” said Kyle. “Did your dad get his money from his aunt and uncle?”

  “No.”

  “Did you get your money from Isabel and a letter?” asked Mandy.

  “No, the mail is slow from Mexico.”

  “Really.”

  “Maybe we need to run through the video for the last few days,” said Kyle. “Brian?”

  They went and checked with Brian. He was putting away the dishes. “We need to go through the video from the vestibule, Brian,” said Kyle. When it came to electronics and computers Kyle didn’t seem like a Clam at all.

  The Clays, the Beamishes and the McDougall grownups were clustered in the living room watching a video of Shawn playing hockey that he had sent his dad.

  Karen was knitting and watching at the same time. Polly eyed what she was making suspiciously. It looked like a very small green hat, too small for anyone Polly knew. She nudged Mandy and pointed.

  “Yeah, you’re right. Next spring our family is growing. I’m going to be a cousin imagine that.”

  “You didn’t tell me.”

  “Karen wanted to keep it a family secret for a month.”

  “Does that mean you aren’t going to Rome for Christmas?”

  “No, Karen will be fit to travel by then. She’s just a little queasy now. We take turns in our house. First I wasn’t eating. Now it’s her turn. Did she tell you she won a crib from some contest?”

  “I haven’t won anything yet. I entered contests too.”

  “She works at it all the time, clipping coupons, entering contests. It’s like an avocation. They even had an article in the Edmonton Examiner about her. Said she had an exciting engaging avocation.”

  “I suppose an avocation is like a vocation or a job but not quite.”

  Mandy nodded. She had changed the way her hair was parted, let it hang more loose and free. Her body, sprawled on the couch as it was, looked relaxed. Her hands were nestled, one in the other like old friends, folded quietly on her lap. She was still thin but less nervous. Polly felt really good about that. She didn’t think she’d have to worry about Mandy any more.

  Brian came back through the front door waving the tape in his hand. Ted took the video of Shawn out of the player and slid the security tape in. “It will be pretty boring.”

  The whole group watched silently for a few minutes. But Ted was right, it was pretty boring. The camera captured the mail delivery with a postal worker sorting and stuffing the boxes and closing the mailbox. Head shots of everyone who passed through the front hall on their way up or downstairs. Both Kyle and Brian waved at the camera. The rest went through the vestibule quietly, sometimes stopping for the mail in their individual boxes.

  “I do wonder whether as a society we should allow constant surveillance.” Alice Clay frowned.

  “Currently there are no laws on the books,” Mr. Clay said.

  First to leave the living room were Mrs. Clay and Polly’s mom. They left to get Halloween decorations out of their storage lockers in the basement. Clays always decorated their apartment doors and windows. Next Brian and Karen went to their room because Karen was feeling really tired. Brian led her by the hand as if she was a fragile princess.

  Finally only the three kids sat watching the parade of residents and delivery persons on the video. Then Polly jumped up. “Roll the film back. Who’s that?”

  Two grey-hooded figures stood in front of the camera. They had on Halloween masks of two celebrities, Madonna and Bart Simpson. The angle of the camera didn’t give the kids a full view. There wasn’t any sound. One bent over and seemed to be struggling with the main lock. The other began scooping mail into a canvas bag. They closed the mail box and left quickly.

  The next day more mail, more deliveries. Then the Dell boys standing by the mail box and buzzers. They hopped around then left.

  “Who did they try to see?” asked Kyle.

  “Or were they checking the mail box to see if there was more mail?” asked Polly.

  More mail delivery, more head shots of residents retrieving the mail from their boxes. On the following day of shooting Tommie Lee and Flora showed up. Flora held a shopping bag. They stood in front of the mail slots and buzzers for several minutes. Then two nurses from the third floor walked in behind them.

  Flora and Tommie Lee shrugged and left.

  The tape came to an end. Kyle rewound it. He pulled a new tape from its jacket and took it downstairs to the camera. The kids stopped by Polly’s apartment.

  “We just spotted a mail robbery,” said Polly. “They must have picked the lock because we know our keys are safe.”

  “Let’s phone the police. Pass along the tape,” said Mandy. “Get rid of it fast.”

  “I’ll phone them tomorrow morning and give them a detailed report,” said Kyle.

  “I bet my dad’s birthday cards with the cheques in them have gone missing.” Polly bounced around the room with George after her. “You need to go out, fella?” she asked.

  “I bet your letter from Isabel is missing too,” said Kyle, coming back in. “Let’s walk the dogs. We need to put our heads together.”

  “Can I come?” Mandy asked.

  The three kids scattered to put on their winter jackets, grabbed bags and leashes, and met at the door. They checked the mailbox. Sure enough there were signs that the lock had been picked. Small scratches on the metal around the main lock looked very suspicious.

  “Polly, can you draw those crooks? We may need the sketches to help us figure out height and to show which masks we are looking for.” Kyle said. Brutus leaped around him then darted off into the bushes after a mouse or vole.

  Polly nodded. She was dragged into the hedge by George. “Come Friday we are looking for Madonna and Bart Simpson.”

  “If they show up at the community league and school party.” Mandy shoved her hands in her pockets. The air was cool and a wind blew down the lane from the north. “I’m cold. Let’s go in.”

  So they did.

  On Thursday morning Mr. Stone was droning on about the need for attention to spelling, punctuation, and grammar. Sleepiness crept towards Polly like a cat stalking a bird. She shouldn’t fall asleep in class. She had work to do and people to interview. She hadn’t talked to Tommie Lee before class. In fact Polly had been avoiding her. Why had Tommie Lee come to her apartment building?”

  “Psst! Psst! Polly,” Tommie Lee whispered. She passed Polly a note. Mr. Stone had stepped out in the hall with his cell phone while they were supposedly rewriting a poor sentence.

  The note read, “Come to my locker after class. I’ve got something for you. Remember I’d picked up something at the Body Shop for your dad. I got two for the price of one—a special in men’s cologne. I tried to bring it by your house so you could g
ive it to your dad. But you weren’t home.”

  “Where did you get it?” asked Polly.

  “Kingsway Garden Mall. It’s not close, but it’s our favourite.”

  “So you were in the neighbourhood.”

  “You got it.” Tommie Lee smiled.

  Polly grinned with relief. “Gee, thanks, Tommie Lee, you’re a saint.” She shoved the note in her pocket. She was collecting handwriting samples and didn’t want anyone suspicious.

  “More like a sinner, Molly,” Harvey Newhouse chuckled. “Bonnie Lee smells like a perfume factory.”

  “Oh, get a life, Harvey,” said Tommie Lee.

  “Perhaps you could write your version of the sentence on the board Miss McDougall,” said Mr. Stone as he walked back into the room.

  I wasn’t doing anything, was what Polly wanted to say but she didn’t. Thank goodness she enjoyed unravelling words almost as much as she did mysteries. If she didn’t know better she would think Mr. Stone didn’t like her. She was the Unappreciated and Underwhelmed McDoodle.

  As she passed his desk he said quietly. “They were saying in the staff room that someone had been in touch with the police. That wouldn’t be you, would it?”

  “I don’t know what you are talking about.” Polly tried to keep her voice calm. Who did this guy think he was? It was none of his business. He was just her substitute teacher. A piece of chalk broke in her hand. She laid it on the ledge and picked up another to finish the sentence on the board. The bell rang for the end of the period.

  “You never struck me as having enough intelligence to take up criminal investigation. Leave it to the grownups, Miss McDougall.”

  “You’d be surprised!” Polly ran to her desk and grabbed her books and backpack. She raced to Tommie Lee’s locker. She could feel her head bursting. Her fists were clenched. “That jerk, that bozo, that slobbering idiot, that fashion plate for nerds.”

  Kyle and Tommie Lee followed her from the class.

  “What was that all about?” asked Kyle.

  Tommie Lee meanwhile opened her locker and handed Polly a Body Shop bag with a bottle of cologne. “You owe me five bucks. I got two for ten dollars. I’ll save one for my dad. He may get Christmas off and we’ll all go to Texas and toast our toes.”

  “Sounds good to me,” said Polly.

  “Polly’s just itching to be the International McDoodle,” laughed Kyle. “The police were saying there could be an award for information leading to the arrest of the mail robbers. Tampering with the mail is a federal offence.”

  Polly headed to the strip mall. She was helping Mrs. Hong by drawing a spooky picture on her bookstore window. She whistled the tunes from Oliver. The play wasn’t until spring and she already had the music ground into her bones.

  Charles Dickens wrote the original book Oliver Twist. He must have been a really disciplined person. He wrote every day and all by hand—there were no computers back then. Of course, Polly sketched every day. Maybe she could grow up to be a real artist too.

  There had been mean people back in the 1800s like Fagin and Bill Sykes. Mr. Stone probably wasn’t a bad person but what he had said to her was mean and unfair. Maybe he had read her mind. After all, she thought he dressed really terribly.

  There have been good and bad people ever since the beginning of time, thought Polly as she sketched a friendly ghost and strange goblin on the window with a marker. She put a little squirrel in the corner wearing a mask and carrying a tiny treat bag full to overflowing with nuts. The Mentally Confused and Emotionally Complex McDoodle tried to slow her mind and her heart to a normal speed. Drawing helped. It helped a lot.

  Out of the corner of her eye she could see Kyle. He was standing in front of the community notice board down by the IGA. He had his notebook out and was writing fast and furiously. He turned her direction, waved his long skinny arm, and sprinted towards her.

  “The Dell boys have an ad on the board written in that fancy writing, the same as the envelope. He showed her the text of the ad. “Don’t Overdo It, hire Two-to-Do your chores, leaves raked, gardens tended, windows washed, small repairs. Call Sydney or Darrell Dell for estimates.” There were little tags with a phone number on them that you could rip off.

  “That’s a great way to get access to people’s houses,” said Kyle.

  “And their mail,” added Polly.

  “It could be a legitimate way to make money too.” Kyle took out the little slip of paper with the number on it. “While you are working I think I’ll give the boys a call.”

  “Have you got the envelope? See if it’s theirs.”

  Kyle headed towards the phone booth in front of the bank.

  Mrs. Dobson came pushing her rolly walker out of the bank and along to the bookstore. “Oh, my dear, that’s just lovely. Your parents must be so proud of having an artistic child. I would be.”

  Mrs. Hong opened the door to help Mrs. Dobson inside. “It’s good to see you. I just got a box of British mystery novels.”

  “I received this wonderful card from my daughter in Vancouver.” Mrs. Dobson took a big purple envelope out of the basket in her walker. “But the cheque she sent has disappeared. It wasn’t in the envelope. I checked my apartment mailbox thoroughly. The postmark on the card showed it was mailed two weeks ago. Is delivery that slow? I don’t understand.”

  “You better call the police, Mrs. Dobson,” said Polly. She’d have to tell Kyle later.

  Mrs. Hong shook her head and led the older woman inside.

  Polly sighed, she had to get back to work. She finished the rough outline of the window display. She stood back to admire her work. Her art teacher Mrs. Specchio had given her permission to complete this window painting tomorrow during art class. Other artistic kids were working on bank windows, the IGA, and the travel agency. Everyone seemed to have caught the spirit of Spookarama.

  A shiver ran down Polly’s back as a cold sharp wind blew leaves and scraps of paper down the street. The grey sky darkened. She packed up her supplies and walked toward the bus shelter. Mandy had a dance rehearsal, so Polly was travelling alone unless old Kyle showed up in a minute or two. A siren wailed on 109th Street.

  It wasn’t just Halloween that was coming, Polly thought. With Mrs. Dobson’s lost cheque and the number of clues they had collected so far, the crisis of this case could be close as well. Polly gritted her teeth. At least the crooks didn’t know much about her and Kyle, didn’t know what they knew. Maybe the police would pick up the criminals and she and Kyle could just carry on with their lives, glad they had been a little bit of help.

  17. Caught On Camera

  “Guess what, everybody?” Ted McDougall shouted as he came through the apartment door. Polly’s mom lifted her head from icing ginger pumpkin cookies with bright orange frosting.

  “It’s the birthday cards from my rich relatives.” Polly’s dad ripped the envelopes open and the cards tumbled onto the gold carpet. “Trust my uncle trying to make a joke. ‘A birthday is only a figment of your imagination. Happy Figment.’ But ...” Ted shook the envelope, peered inside, “there’s no cheque.”

  Polly retrieved the other envelope and card from the floor. “Here’s the card from your Aunt Van. But there isn’t any cheque in it either.”

  “Someone is playing tricks on you, Ted,” said Polly’s mom as she handed Polly the icing bowl to lick.

  “I guess I’m out of luck.” Ted grabbed a freshly-frosted Halloween cookie and ate it in two bites.

  Polly put the cleaned-out bowl into the sink and rinsed her sticky hands. She picked up the discarded envelopes from her dad’s cards and put them in her pocket. Then she poured herself a glass of milk and took a cookie to the dining-room table. “Dad, I want you to look carefully at these pictures. Do you recognize any of these people?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Have any of them been in your store, or collected your name on a petition or on a document lately?” Polly sipped her milk and watched as her dad studied the sketches
of the kids in Polly’s class, her teachers, small black and white pencil drawings of the street by the school, Mrs. Dobson and her new walker, Mrs. Hong, the pharmacist, Flora and Tommie Lee, and finally the two mail thieves in their grey hooded sweatshirts with black tear away pants and their bicycles leaning nearby. Squirrels scampered on every page.

  “I sign for deliveries nearly every day,” said Ted

  shaking his head. “I don’t pay attention to any of the delivery people. I’m too busy in the store.”

  He flipped back through the pages of Polly’s sketchbook, shaking his head. “I recognize your friends, Mr. Dell’s nephews Darrell and Sydney. They came by the store. I signed a sheet for them. They are running for their school in the Cancer run. Their mom died when they were ten years old, of cancer. So I signed for a dollar a kilometre—fifty cents each.”

  Polly sighed. She didn’t want those boys to be crooks. They were turning out to be nice kids. But then again, if they had stolen mail they could forge her father’s signature and take his money.

  “Hold on a minute,” her dad pulled the book towards himself again. He stared at the sketch of the two thieves and the mailbox. “See that bike with the cart attached? I’ve seen it before. I’m sure. It belongs to one of the couriers, a snarky kid with a thin nose and dirty blond hair. He might have been wearing tearaway pants. Then again he could be wearing something else.”

  There was a knock on the door. Polly had noticed that Kyle’s piano practicing had stopped upstairs so she wasn’t surprised to see him leaning on the doorframe grinning like the Cheshire cat. “I thought I smelled ginger cookies, Mrs. McDougall.”

  “Getting ready for tomorrow night,” Polly’s mom waved the plate of cookies under Kyle’s nose. “I’ve decided to get into the spirit of the celebration. My family is irrepressible.”

  Kyle grabbed a handful.

  “I like to see a boy with an appetite,” Ted McDougall said. “Your detective partner has been interviewing me.”