by Donna Doyle
"Don't we all have a past, Mr. Finney?" Molly Gertrude answered while her face held an innocent, sheepish shine.
"Not like that, Miss Grey." Finney shook his head. "Billy Monroe really has a past. He's got a record."
"Oh?"
Finney gave her an enthusiastic nod. "At first, when I was a kid, Billy and I were friends when we attended Calmhaven Elementary School. Of course, I could already sense his dishonesty." Finney shook his head in disgust. "Imagine that. When I was six years old, he stole a whole bag of marbles from me and claimed I had lost them in the river." He let out a chuckle. "I am still mad at him for doing that." He sloshed the wine around in his mouth as he relived Billy's antics. "You know there are marbles and there are really good marbles. I, of course, had the really good ones."
Molly Gertrude and Dora both nodded politely.
"But then, when we got older, he really went off the rails. His business failed, and eventually he ended up in jail."
"Did you know Billy still has debts?" Finney lowered his voice to a whisper,
Molly Gertrude didn't know that, and mumbled, "Really?"
"He does. Lots of debts."
“Who to?"
Finney leaned back. "I am not at liberty to say, but trust me, he's got them. You know…" he said, as he waved his index finger up and down, "… it's mighty handy for Billy that his father-in-law happened to choke on my cake… if you get my drift. If the old man kicks the bucket it could lead to a mighty fine payday for Billy-boy.“ His eyes took on a snake-like appearance.
"You mean…" Molly Gertrude hardly dared to say it, "… because of the inheritance?"
"Smart lady,” Finney said, "but you did not hear this from me. I never liked Billy and his criminal past. I preferred to stay friends with Abe Mortimer," Finney added.
"But Abe has a past too," Molly Gertrude interjected.
"That's right," Finney agreed, "but Abe claimed he found God, and that seems to have helped." He smacked his lips. "It's a dumb story of course, since there is no God, but Abe at least became honest. That’s why agreed to be best man and make the cake. Sure, Billy and I were old buddies, but Abe, well, let’s just say, he was good to me.“
Molly Gertrude squeezed her chin with her fingers. "What about Billy? Didn't he join Pastor Julian's church as well?"
Finney couldn't resist a laugh. "He did, but it's all fake. He's as religious as my neighbor's dog," he scoffed. "That animal acts docile and sweet, but when he gets a chance he always jumps the fence and does his number two in my garden. I am going to shoot that mongrel one of these days."
"And what about your relationship with Charmayne Mortimer?" Molly Gertrude knew she was stepping onto thin ice.
For just a second Finney blushed. Just long enough for Molly Gertrude to notice it, but then his face hardened and he glared at Molly Gertrude. "What kind of question is that?"
Molly Gertrude shrugged and took another sip of her water. "Sorry, it was just a question."
"And a curious one," Finney smirked. "But to answer it, I don't really know her. I was a good friend of Abe’s, so he often told me about her woes and troubles. She's a troubled girl and I, being the helpful man that I am, always politely listened. But I have no relationship with Charmayne. I made that cake only out of respect for my friend Abe."
"And now he's confined in a hospital bed, fighting for his life," Molly Gertrude added.
Finney tilted his head and stared at her while he wrinkled his nose. "I am aware of that Miss Grey."
Molly Gertrude didn't like this pompous cake maker. Maybe the man was right about Billy and his shady past, but she wouldn't be surprised if a few cockroaches showed up if the right stones were to be turned around in Finney's heart as well. Thus, she ventured for her last question.
"You don't seem too broken up about your good friend Abe's misfortune?" She almost expected the man to grow angry but instead, a stony expression appeared on his face. He licked his lips and answered in a dark voice, "Problems come to us all, Miss Grey. That is something you yourself will soon experience." He shook his head in clear disgust. "Tell me, why would I mourn for someone else’s woes? I have plenty of my own!? It's just nature. Everybody dies someday, sooner or later, and don't give me that tommyrot that Abe's destined for a better place. There's no such thing as a better place."
Molly Gertrude leaned back, almost too stunned to say anything. She noticed Dora was shifting uneasily on her chair as well.
"I sense you don't believe in God?" Molly Gertrude finally asked.
"Of course not," Finney mocked. "This life is all we are ever going to get, and since there's no such thing as a grand plan…" he lifted both of his hands in the fashion Papa Julian usually did during his Sunday service, "…I do not see the need to cry when somebody’s ready to return to the worms and become fertilizer."
"A most disturbing world view," Molly Gertrude managed to say while she placed her empty water glass back on the coffee table. "I think we are done here." She turned to Dora. "Dora? Ready to go?"
Dora nodded, gulping down her water too, and got up.
"Thank you for your time, Mr. Finney," Molly Gertrude said as she stuck out her hand in order to say goodbye.
Finney didn't take her hand. Instead, another mocking smile appeared on his round face. "I suppose, I won't be making cakes for you in the future then?"
"Who knows," Molly Gertrude said, trying to be polite.
"Don't bother, lady. I've got enough work as it is. After all, I am the best cake maker in this part of the world."
"Good day, Mr. Finney." Without waiting for a response, Molly Gertrude turned around and walked out the door, closely followed by Dora.
7
Papa Julian
The next morning Molly Gertrude and Dora visited Papa Julian, the fatherly pastor of Calmhaven Trinity Church. And for good reason. The encounter with Albert Finney had been anything but pleasant, and Molly Gertrude wanted to see Papa Julian as much for a bit of spiritual relief, as for getting a better idea about the background story on all those involved.
Papa Julian had been Calmhaven's pastor for as long as Molly Gertrude could remember. He had not always carried the title of 'Papa,' neither was such a title official, but he had just sort of grown into it. At first he had been Reverend Julian, or Pastor Julian, while others, mostly those who had no affinity with the church, called him simply by his real name, Julian Maxwell, but even the most unbelieving person in Calmhaven had to admit, the man had a beautiful fatherly heart for people, and somehow everyone just started to call him Papa Julian.
The pastor was a jovial man, with happy, darting brown eyes, and a fringe of white hair around his balding head. His dark brown face always framed a bright white smile for any who came to the door of the church. Julian’s lively preaching and passionate faith was infectious, and during his time as pastor in Calmhaven many a soul had been gloriously converted.
But Molly Gertrude and Dora did not come to discuss the Sunday sermon.
Whenever Molly Gertrude was in need of a spiritual lift she would contact the pastor who would invariably point her back to the Scriptures. But today, there was more on Molly Gertrude's mind than the Good Book. Would Papa Julian be able to shed some light on Charmayne's relationship with Albert Finney, and how much did the man know about Billy's debts?
"Why do you want to know about Charmayne, Albert Finney and Billy?" Papa Julian asked when both Dora and Molly Gertrude were seated in his study, holding a steaming cup of chamomile tea in their hands. He raised his bushy brows and his sharp, but gentle eyes rested on Molly Gertrude. Molly Gertrude didn't mind. She held no secrets from this man.
"Call me crazy…," Molly Gertrude began, her voice trailing off as she was looking for the right words, "… but, what if Abe Mortimer’s accident was not an accident at all. To be frank, I am convinced someone was trying to murder him!"
Papa Julian scratched his scalp. "That's quite a statement, Miss Molly Gertrude. What makes you say such a thing?"
"I will tell you, Papa Julian." And thus, Molly Gertrude explained everything she had seen, felt, heard and thought in the last few days. When she was done, Papa Julian pressed his lips together, thought for some time and at last he sighed, "When will we ever learn that we cannot find honey in a pot on which God wrote the words poison."
Molly Gertrude arched her brows. "Excuse me?"
The pastor cast her a weary smile. "If people would just stick to the simple rules God has given us, they wouldn't be doing such terrible things to each other."
"Can you tell us something about Albert Finney and Charmayne? Something we don't yet know?" Molly Gertrude asked.
Papa Julian cleared his throat. "Albert Finney was in love with Charmayne. They had plans to get married."
Molly Gertrude's eyes widened. "I never knew that."
"Charmayne and Albert were childhood sweethearts…"
"And…?"
"Then Billy showed up." Papa Julian let out a deep sigh. "Some call him foolish. I call him frivolous. Some call him shady. I call him simple." A sad expression came over his face. "Billy is not a bad kid at heart, but he's really just a big baby and very immature. Abe understood that and he took a fatherly interest in helping him. As a result, Billy came over to the Mortimer's house, joined our church, and swept Charmayne off her feet. The rest is history."
Molly Gertrude's face dropped. "Not good," she mumbled. "Not good at all. And Billy's debts? What do you know about those?"
Papa Julian shrugged his shoulders. "It's a weakness he’s working on. He gambles."
Molly Gertrude frowned.
"It's a temptation we've been trying to help him overcome, but I am afraid, not very successfully. He just doesn't seem to be able to fight it. Apparently, he owes a lot of money to somebody.”
"But Abe Mortimer has always been good to Billy, right?"
Papa Julian nodded. "I believe Billy was sincere when he handed that first piece of the cake to Abe. Abe was a real father to that boy, and Billy adored him."
"I am just working from the premise that Abe's choking fit was not an accident," Molly Gertrude stated out loud, almost more to herself than to the others in the room. "There was no detectable poison in the cake, at least not as far as we know. However, Billy insisted the first piece of cake was for Abe…
"What if…" Dora interjected with hesitation.
"What?" both Molly Gertrude and Papa Julian asked in unison.
"What if there was something wrong with the cake?" Dora explained. "Maybe Albert Finney poisoned that first bite of the cake, hoping to get rid of the competition. But because Billy forced the cake on his father-in-law, it was poor Abe Mortimer who ended up eating it and not Billy."
Molly Gertrude carefully considered Dora's words. At last she shook her head. "I don't know, Dora. It sounds plausible. Still, the lab found no traces of poison in the cake, and if the cake was poisoned, do you think Albert would have wanted to run the risk of killing Charmayne in the process?"
Dora shrugged her shoulders. "Stranger things have happened, Miss Molly. Don't they call jealousy the green-eyed monster? Albert Finney's eyes are not only shifty and dark, but I noticed they are green too."
Molly Gertrude pressed her lips together. "Maybe, Dora… Maybe." Then she looked up at Papa Julian and thanked the pastor for his time. "I am sure, pastor, that you prefer a different kind of conversation in your study. We will not take up more of your time, but thank you for your input. You've been a great help."
The pastor blinked his eyes. "It's my pleasure, Miss Molly. What are you going to do now?"
Molly Gertrude smiled. "I will keep following my hunches, Papa Julian. I am going to take Misty for her afternoon walk, drink coffee in Miss Marmelotte's Tearoom, and…" she turned to Dora, "… I was hoping you could do something for me too."
"Of course," Dora reaffirmed. "What is it?"
"If you could go to the office of the Calmhaven Tribune, and see if you can find anything in their archives about Albert Finney and Billy Monroe's past. No matter how small of an article you may find, it may help us to understand what really happened yesterday.”
Dora smiled. The prospect of doing some real detective work seemed appealing to her.
Whatever happened at the wedding, they would uncover the truth. That much was clear.
8
Adventures in the tearoom
Although Molly Gertrude's pet, Misty, was just a cat, to the old lady she was much more than just a cat. To Molly Gertrude, Misty was like the child she never had, and as a result, not a day went by which Misty did not get spoiled. In fact, some people claimed Molly Gertrude took greater care in feeding Misty than she did herself. In the mornings Misty would get a meal of sardines, meticulously deboned and cooked in milk, and in the evening she would get her share of Molly Gertrude's dinner meat, usually chicken or hamburger.
But that was not all. In the afternoon, Misty would go with Molly Gertrude for her daily stroll to Miss Marmelotte's Tearoom, where, invariably, a saucer filled with whipped cream would be waiting for the purring mouser, prepared by Miss Marmelotte herself. Actually, the charming owner of the tearoom was not a Miss at all, since she had recently married James Buttercup from the Ford garage, but neither she, nor her husband thought it was good business sense to change the name of the tearoom from Miss Marmelotte to Mrs. Marmelotte.
The tearoom was a cozy place, with its interior of wooden paneling, small tables with comfortable seats and a penetrating scent of cake, pie and coffee, and it had been, for a long time, Molly Gertrude and Misty's favorite place every afternoon. And today it was fairly quiet.
In the far left sat a middle aged woman with a blaring, disobedient child, and in the middle two men were involved in a hushed conversation. Hopefully the woman with the screaming brat would soon take control of her situation, for Molly Gertrude did not care for the loud, obstinate howls from the unruly youngster. She wanted to take the time to reflect and normally, there was no better place to do so than Miss Marmelotte's.
"Miss Molly Gertrude Grey and Misty," came the cheerful cry from behind the counter. Mrs. Marmelotte's happy face, framed by her bouncing curls, almost entirely tucked away under her white cap for sanitary reasons, appeared from behind the cash register and shone like the morning sun. Molly Gertrude had grown quite fond of Mrs. Marmelotte, that she suspected had sampled a few too many of her own sugary products. The jolly lady had rightfully earned the adjective plump and if she wouldn't take some serious action, the word fat would soon follow.
"Sit down," she chirped and pointed to a small table near the far right of the tearoom, which was Molly Gertrude's favorite spot. From there, she could enjoy a good view of the street and bask in the afternoon sun that would warm her stiff, old bones through the window. "Brenda will take your order."
No sooner had she said those words than Brenda, a petite young woman with a brown pony tail, walked up and helped Molly Gertrude into her seat.
"Chamomile tea and raspberry cream pie, I presume?" she mumbled, "… and for Misty, of course, her special Marmelotte's delight, right?"
Molly Gertrude nodded. "Thank you, Brenda."
Minutes later Brenda returned with the ordered goods. Misty's cream, neatly arranged as a twirling pyramid, came on a metal saucer and was placed on the floor right next to Molly Gertrude's feet. Misty began to purr, and after Molly Gertrude had given her cat the green light, the mouser slobbered up the cream with her raspy tongue.
But the disobedient child still kept on screaming.
"I want another cocoa-drink with cream. I don't want milk."
"Why can't I have devil's food cake?"
Molly Gertrude cast the lady with the spoiled kid an angry stare. She came here to think, but how could she concentrate like this?
Spare the rod, spoil the child… but obviously, Molly Gertrude was not in a position to do any type of work that involved a rod.
An idea formed in her mind.
Maybe the kid would like to see
Misty? Didn't the Good Book say to overcome evil with good? That was a better way of restoring the peace than to get all uptight. What was more, Misty, meek as a lamb and almost as old as Methuselah, had shown her ability as a peacemaker before.
Thus, Molly Gertrude pushed her chair away, picked up Misty, and walked with cat in hand to the lady with the screaming child.
Misty did not mind. As long as she was in Molly Gertrude's arms she did not care where they were going, and she softly purred while she nestled herself against Molly Gertrude's chest.
But then, while passing the table with the two men who were still involved in a deep discussion, something startled Molly Gertrude. She overheard something, and she stopped in her tracks.
Did she hear the words Billy Monroe and Abe Mortimer?
She did. She was certain.
These two men were talking about the misfortune of Abe Mortimer.
Forgetting about the screaming child near the window on the opposite side, Molly Gertrude stopped near the counter and pretended to read the menu card, all the while pricking up her ears. Hoping not to attract any attention she tried to peer over her shoulder. One of the men seemed strangely familiar, still, she could not place him. She narrowed her eyes and tried to remember if she had ever seen that man before. He was bald, and had dark brown unpleasant eyes. Not the person you would want to meet in a lonely alley on a dark night when you had just missed the last bus home. His black sunglasses were perched on his head, and strangely enough, it almost appeared as if he had no eyebrows.
Surely, someone like would have made an impression, but Molly Gertrude couldn’t for the life of her remember when or why he seemed familiar.
The other man was not so, he was stranger in Calmhaven for sure. She turned her glance away from the man and tried to listen more keenly. If only that child in the corner would start behaving.
But even though Molly Gertrude could only hear fragments of the conversation, still it was enough to stir her deep interest.
