by Donna Doyle
"There's one more thing, Miss Grey."
"What?"
"It's probably nothing, but I also found Daddy's diary." She pulled out a small book with a brown, leather cover and a silk book marker. "I started to read it, but I had to stop. It's just too personal, and it makes me feel so sad. But maybe there's something in there that may help you. After all, you look at everything with objective eyes."
Molly Gertrude nodded. She felt Charmayne's pain, and wished she could take it away, but she couldn't. All she could do was her best to find out what had happened to Charmayne's Daddy. "Thank you, Charmayne… I'll do what I can."
Charmayne nodded in thanks.
"Dora and I will get to work," Molly Gertrude continued. "Whatever happened, we will get the truth on the table."
5
An annoying little, old lady
"What can I do for you?" JJ Barnes did not look up when Molly Gertrude entered his office early the next morning, but kept on reading a report, while marking a passage with his yellow highlighter. "I am a little busy."
"Good morning, Sheriff," Molly Gertrude said in as sweet a voice as she could muster. "Thank you for seeing me."
Barnes looked up impatiently. "We are here to serve the people, so if someone wants to see me…, well, they can. What’s wrong this time, Molly?"
Molly Gertrude licked her lips. Barnes was not in a good mood. "I heard you have officially closed the investigation of Abe Mortimer's unfortunate accident?”
Barnes threw his marker down on the desk and leaned back in his swivel chair. The chair made a loud creak under the weight of the sturdy policeman. The Sheriff curled his lips and hissed, "I have already told you yesterday you shouldn't be reading so many crime novels. Do I have to spell it out for you?" His tone was haughty and Molly Gertrude had to force herself to keep a friendly smile glued on her face.
"There-has-not-been-a-crime," he said in slow, deliberate words. "This case couldn't be any clearer." He lifted his finger in the air and shook it around as if he was the schoolmaster having to deal with a naughty schoolgirl. "Do you have any idea how much it costs to run a full-scale investigation?"
Molly Gertrude shook her head.
"I thought so," Barnes nodded. "But let me tell you, Miss Grey, with all the economic cuts I have had to deal with, and with the stress of keeping this office afloat, I cannot afford to go on some wild goose chase just because your bunions are itching."
Molly Gertrude seemed not impressed. "I understand your difficulties, Sheriff, but Charmayne Mortimer came to me yesterday. She too has her doubts as to how her Daddy ended up in the hospital."
Barnes leaned forward again, still waving his finger around. "Of course, she does. She's heartbroken and…” he hesitated, "… I may add, a little hysterical."
"I heard there were no traces of poison in the cake…" Molly went on.
Barnes' eyes flashed. "That's right, Miss Grey, there were no traces of poison. We even took samples of Abe Mortimer's saliva and found nothing out of the ordinary. Just sugar, cream, alcohol, and a bit of aspirin. The man was probably trying to conquer a headache, as I've been told he had already been drinking more than was good for him." He arched his brows. "Does that satisfy you, Miss Grey?"
Molly Gertrude could sense the man was getting a little angry, but before she could respond, he added, "And… next time I would appreciate it if you do not order my deputy around. I could have told you even without getting the lab involved that the cake was not poisoned. Police work is just not your business. But it is mine, and, unlike you, I am highly trained."
"I am sorry, Sheriff," Molly Gertrude replied in a soft voice. Aggravating the man more would do more harm than good. "I did not mean to get you upset."
"Good," Sheriff Barnes grumbled. "Then that settles the matter. Anything else?"
Molly hesitated. At last she opened her purse and pulled out the message that Charmayne had given her. "What do you make of this, Sheriff?" She placed the paper over Barnes' report, right under his nose.
"What is that?" Barnes curled his lip but after he had read it, his face took on a confused expressed. "Where did you get that?"
"Charmayne Mortimer found it in her father’s bedroom, only a few days ago."
Barnes stared at the paper, then shook his head, and snorted. "It's not enough to start an investigation."
Molly Gertrude tilted her head to the side. "Why not? That is a serious threat. Who would write such thing and then a couple days later, poor Abe is in a coma?"
Barnes shook his head. "I don't know. A prank maybe, a joke? Witnesses told me that everyone thought Abe Mortimer was just joking when he actually choked. 'Typically one of Billy Monroe's classic, stupid jokes.' Maybe this was a joke too."
Molly Gertrude shook her head. "I don't mean to contradict you, Sheriff, but as you well know, Abe's choking wasn't a joke. You can't just assume this threat is a joke. What if there's a would-be-killer out there?"
Sheriff Barnes threw out his arm in exasperation. "There's no killer out there, Miss Grey! Who in the world would want to kill Abe Mortimer, anyway? Everybody liked him." His voice jumped from soft to loud. "As you know, I am not much of a churchgoer, but if there was ever a man who 'walked the talk, as you folks say, it was Abe Mortimer. He was always helping people."
Molly Gertrude nodded. "That's why I am so concerned we do not make mistakes."
Sheriff Barnes mumbled something under his breath and sighed. "Even if I wanted to do something, it's not all that easy. As you may well know, we are a very small police force and other than Digby, I've got no one to help me. Besides, I've got other priorities."
Like rescuing cats out of trees, and writing out speeding tickets. "I understand, Sheriff." Molly Gertrude managed to croak.
"Good," Barnes said as he folded his hands and forced a smile on his face. He stared for a moment at the old woman before him. Then his glance softened somewhat, and it seemed an idea had formed in his mind. "Listen, Miss Grey, I will make a deal with you."
"A deal?"
"Sure," Barnes exclaimed. "I have been a little cross with you, and I must say, for good reason. But if you can come up with some real, substantial evidence that this wasn't an accident, I will reopen this case."
Molly raised her brows. "Really?"
"Yes, Miss Grey, really," he affirmed, a little annoyed. "And if you now will excuse me, I've got reports to write. Good day, Miss Grey." He picked up his marker again, and stuck his nose back into the form he was working on. The conversation was over.
"Have a good day, Sheriff," Molly Gertrude clipped as she turned around. When she pulled the door closed behind her she thought she heard Sheriff Barnes heaving a great sigh of relief.
Dora's eyes lit up when Molly Gertrude told her about her encounter with Sheriff Barnes. "He said he would reopen the case if you can find evidence of foul play?" She cast Molly an admiring glance. "Then, you are as good as a real detective…"
Molly Gertrude shrugged her shoulders. "Not really Dora. Barnes doesn't actually believe there was foul play involved. He just said that to get rid of me."
"Doesn't matter," Dora quipped. "We can still do some serious investigating." As she thought about it, she tilted her head. "But what did Barnes say when you confronted him with that accusing threat Charmayne found in her Daddy's room? That's something you can't take too lightly."
Molly Gertrude smacked her lips. "He glossed over it. And, in a way, judging from his standpoint, he's right. There really isn't a whole lot to go on, except for our gut feeling that something is wrong."
"Of course he's not right," Dora argued. "He's the police. It's his job to make sure everyone in Calmhaven is safe." When Molly Gertrude did not answer, Dora raised her brows and gasped, "Don't tell me you think we are barking up the wrong tree. You don't really believe it was an accident?" Dora sounded disappointed.
Molly Gertrude shook her head. "No, Dora, I don't think so. I have been wrong about a lot of things in my life, but I don't believe I a
m wrong about this." She cast Dora a warm smile. "I am personally convinced Abe Mortimer was targeted in some way, by whom and why I do not know. But we need to tread carefully. We just need to find the clue, and believe me, there's always a clue. Always."
"So where do we start?"
"We talk," Molly Gertrude said. "I would like to talk to Albert Finney."
"To Finney? You mean the cake maker?"
"That's right," Molly Gertrude nodded. "We’ve got to start somewhere. Somebody wrote that threat to Abe Mortimer, and if we open our ears we can find out a lot. After all, nobody will suspect two ladies from the Cozy Bridal Agency would be snooping around." Molly Gertrude squeezed her chin with her finger. "Dora, would you want to drive me over to his place?
"Sure," Dora affirmed. "When?"
"I'll give him a call, and I'll ask him when we can come by."
Dora couldn't suppress a chuckle. "This is so exciting. Let's go for it, Miss Molly, and see if we can find out what really happened."
Molly Gertrude frowned. "It's not a game, Dora. If someone tried to kill Abe Mortimer, we are dealing with some very wicked people. You better not forget that."
"Sorry," Dora said in an apologizing tone. "I am ready, whenever you are."
6
Finney sheds his light on the case
"Albert Finney… you made the most amazing wedding cake I think I've ever seen in my whole life," Molly Gertrude marveled as she nodded enthusiastically at best man, Finney, who sat opposite her and Dora on a two-seater in his plush living room.
"Thank you," Finney mumbled politely, but Molly Gertrude did not get the impression the man really meant it.
When Molly Gertrude had called him earlier, he had reluctantly agreed to see her and her associate. "Why do you need to see me?" he had asked, his voice less than friendly and much reserved.
"Sorry, Mr. Finney," Molly Gertrude insisted," but the Cozy Bridal Agency was in charge of yesterday's wedding and there are still a few loose ends to take care of."
"When?" Finney had barked through the phone.
Molly Gertrude had answered she and Dora could be there in an hour, he had consented, and hung up. And now they were seated in Finney's richly decorated living room.
Finney, a balding chubby man with meaty jowls that were framed by sideburns in desperate need of a good trim, was sipping a glass of red wine, and peered with dark, shifty eyes through the small, black spectacles that were dancing on his hawk like nose. He had offered the ladies a glass of wine as well, but they had graciously declined. Finney, not wanting to appear inhospitable, had placed a crystal pitcher filled with tap water before them and two glass cups.
"So… what's your business?" he asked, not trying to hide his discomfort as he stared at Molly Gertrude and Dora. "I am sure it's not about my cakes."
Molly Gertrude gave him an endearing smile. "Well, Mr. Finney… it actually is."
The man raised his brows.
"As you know, I am a wedding planner, but one thing that I hardly ever get right is coming up with a good wedding cake." Molly Gertrude leaned a bit forward. "After I saw your cake I was thinking your expertise could be useful in the future."
Surprise flashed over Finney's face and he seemed to relax. "You are here to discuss business?"
"Maybe," Molly Gertrude replied cryptically. "What all was in the cake?"
Finney's face darkened again. "Why do you want to know? I am not about to share my secrets, and certainly not with two wedding planners.”
Molly Gertrude giggled. "Don't worry, Mr. Finney. I am not here to steal your secrets. Actually, I am, but not those relating to your cake. "To be frank," she continued, "your wedding cake was the best cake I've seen in a long time. Three tiers and the details just right, down to the tiniest chocolate sprinkle…"
Finney relaxed again and a smug expression covered his round face. He nodded. "I am pretty good," he boasted. "My cakes are always good."
"Except…," Molly Gertrude went on, "…somebody almost died eating it."
Gone was the smug expression on Finney's face. He narrowed his beady, little eyes into tiny slits and put his glass of wine down on the coffee table with a loud thud. "And you blame my cake?" he hissed. "How dare you insinuate such a horrible thing! My cakes are soft and spongy. This was the first time in over forty years that somebody choked in the presence of my culinary masterpiece."
Molly Gertrude raised her arms in an apologetic manner. "Sorry, Mr. Finney… please calm down. We are just trying to find out if there was anything that could have triggered this tragedy. As wedding planners it's our responsibility to rule out each and every possible obstacle."
Finney nodded and wanted to say something, but he was interrupted by the ringtone of the mobile phone in his pocket that blared a popular country tune from Dolly Parton. "Excuse me ladies," he said as he fished out his phone. After he glanced at the screen he got up and apologized again. "Sorry, ladies… I'll just have to take this call." He got up and moved away into his kitchen, not wanting Molly Gertrude and Dora to overhear his conversation.
For a moment Molly Gertrude and Dora sat in silence, but then Molly Gertrude's eyes fell onto Finney's wallet, lying right before Dora on the coffee table.
"Look," Molly Gertrude whispered to Dora.
"What?"
"His wallet…," Molly Gertrude spoke barely audible. "It's right before your nose."
Dora frowned. "So?"
"Open it… Take a quick look."
Dora's face changed to unbelief. "B-But that's not proper."
"I know," Molly Gertrude replied, "… and neither is trying to kill Abe Mortimer." She sighed, and forced herself up out of the chair. "I'll do it. We can't always play nice when you have to fight the devil." Dora's mouth hung open as she stared wide-eyed at Molly Gertrude.
"But Finney may not have anything to do with the whole thing?"
Molly Gertrude nodded. "That's why we need to snoop around, so we'll know." She picked up the wallet.
"Hurry, hurry," Dora whispered, barely able to contain her nerves. "He'll be back soon."
But Finney took his time. Both women could hear his muffled voice coming from the kitchen, and Molly Gertrude flicked the wallet open. There was nothing out of the ordinary. Two different credit cards, a pass for the local library… his driver's license…
"For heaven's sake," Dora hissed, "hurry, Miss Molly!"
Molly Gertrude zipped open another small compartment, and fished out a few photographs. A few pictures of an enormous chocolate cake, and two old people… Nobody they knew. Probably his parents. Molly Gertrude was just about to put the pictures back when she spotted a small photograph stuck to the back of the picture of the old people. She took it out and as she stared at it her eyes grew wide. It was a picture of Charmayne. A few years younger, but it was Charmayne all right. As Molly Gertrude turned it over, she read the words To you my love, written with red ink and a big red heart was drawn around it.
To you my love? Why would the cake maker be walking around with a picture of Billy's new wife? That was certainly something to muse over.
They could hear Finney's voice, clear and decisive coming from the kitchen. "Thank you for telling me. I'll make sure to look into it. Bye then…"
"He's coming back, Miss Molly…" Dora bit her lips and her hands trembled. "Hurry… please."
Molly Gertrude pushed the picture back into its place, threw the wallet back on the coffee table and just as Finney re-entered the living room she was walking back to her seat. Finney stared at her with a questioning gaze.
"Your garden is lovely," Molly Gertrude said, not knowing what else to say as an explanation of why she was standing up. It wasn't a total lie ether. Finney did have a gorgeous garden, full of rosebushes and a lawn that would make even a man like Tiger Woods a little jealous. Molly Gertrude was standing in front of the giant, glassy, sliding doors, and pointed to a family of sparrows that had landed on the stone porch, hoping to catch a few crumbs.
"You've
got a bit of heaven right here, Mr. Finney."
Finney gave her a pleased nod. "Thank you," he said. "Gardens and cakes are the only two passions I have."
And Charmayne Mortimer, maybe? But Molly Gertrude did not say it. Instead she sank back into her seat and took a sip of her water.
"So, Miss Grey," Finney began and a slight smile appeared on his face. He seemed more relaxed, but Molly Gertrude couldn't figure out if it was because of her comments on his garden, or if it was because of the phone call he had just received. "You want to hire me as a cake maker?"
Molly Gertrude tilted her head. "Maybe. I've always heard you made fabulous cakes, but I never actually had the privilege of seeing one, first hand. I am impressed. That's why Dora and I wanted to get to know you a little better."
Finney was now totally at ease. He finished his wine and got up to serve himself another glass. "Are you sure I cannot tempt you with a Carbernet Sauvignon from 2006?"
"I am sure," Molly Gertrude answered also for Dora.
"What a shame your cake got destroyed like that, yesterday," Dora ventured.
Finney nodded. "It sure was. I've been working on that cake for two full weeks, and I haven't gotten paid yet. Now that the old man out of the picture, I can probably say goodbye to my money. After all, whose gonna pay for the cake that caused a catastrophe?”
"Oh? Why is that?" Molly Gertrude's left eyebrow went up.
"That Billy Monroe… He's no good. He's a shifty fellow, very self-centered, and if he had a chance, he would likely even sell his own mother."
"He would?" Molly Gertrude took another sip of her water. "But you were the best man at the wedding?
A sly smile appeared around Finney's lips. "Billy's no good for Charmayne." Finney leaned forward and lowered his voice. "Did you know he's got a past?" Another abundant gulp of Cabernet Sauvignon disappeared into Finney's throat. Good. The man was clearly beginning to feel the lubricating effects of the drink.
