by Donna Doyle
"Don’t beat yourself over the head, dear," Molly Gertrude spoke in gentle tones. "I almost did getmarried once, and my so-called sweetheart wascalled Bill, and his last name was much like the name of the famous computer man. Only my Bill's name was spelled a bit different."
Dora's eyes widened.
"His name was Bill Gaites, and he was the most handsome man I had ever seen. Young, vibrant and fresh, with lots of muscles, he had a majestic, athletic body, and the most gorgeous moustache. Basically, he was the guy you would expect to see in one of those deodorant commercials where they are spraying their bare chest full of smelly stuff, and then gazes at you with a longing look as if they hold the keys to paradise."
"And… you… fell for that?" Dora couldn't help it, but a little laugh escaped her mouth. "I cannot possibly imagine you to be hooked up to a flashy character like that, Miss Molly."
Molly Gertrude frowned. "Why not, Dora? I was young, inexperienced and even though I remained a spinster for most of my life, I have feelings too."
"Sorry," Dora mumbled.
"But you are right, Dora," Molly Gertrude continued. "I am telling you this because that so-called sixth sense, I prefer to think of it as sensitivity to the Holy Spirit who wants to lead us in all the affairs of life, is something you learn to discern. Bill Gaites promised me the world, but instead, the keys he was dangling before my nose were the keys to an ungodly life.”
Dora's listened with ears wide open. She had never heard this yet.
"I won't bore you with the details, dear, but Bill Gaites was a liar. He cheated on me, he stole money, and he was everything you shouldn't be." Molly Gertrude thought for a moment. "My point, dear Dora, is that you need to learn to read the signs in people. Their body language often tells you a completely different story than the words they say, and what's more, if there's some red blinking light going off in your heart, you should take that very seriously. There's always a reason why you feel the way you feel about something."
"But I felt good about Bernard Bloomsteyn," Dora objected.
"Because he ministered to your pride. He made you feel you were really pretty and so forth, but he wasn't sincere."
Dora's face dropped. "You mean he was lying when he told me I was pretty and that I was special?"
Molly Gertrude smiled. "Of course not, Dora. I told you already I feel the same way. Only, he wasn't sincere. That's where experience comes in, dear. This man is very cunning. He's suave and well-mannered when he wants to be, but there's always an underlying agenda. Now that I've heard about his past, I believe he's only looking out for number one. The Good Book talks about people like that."
Dora looked up. "Really? Where?"
Molly Gertrude thought for a moment and then said,
I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep. So when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.
"Charmayne said something like that too," Dora added.
"You talked to her?"
Dora nodded. "After I talked with Digby, I went straight to Charmayne Mortimer."
Molly Gertrude tilted her head. "And?"
"At first she was a bit reluctant to talk and a bit evasive, but when I insisted, she told me she knew about Bloomsteyn's past and she wasn't all that happy about the marriage.”
"Did she talk to Deborah about it? After all, these two were best friends."
Dora nodded. "She said she did. Lots of times, but Deborah got very angry with her each time. Told her she was only afraid that Bloomsteyn was going to stand in the way of their friendship…" Dora shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Charmayne said that Deborah was starry eyed and wasn't open to any of it."
Molly Gertrude nodded. "Sometimes the truth is awfully hard to hear."
At that moment the doorbell rang.
Loud, insistent and urgent.
"Are we expecting anybody?" Molly Gertrude asked Dora, but they both knew the answer. Molly Gertrude pushed herself out of her seat and shuffled to the front door.
She came back only a few seconds later, surprise etched on her face. She was followed by a stout looking man with a balding head and an expensive looking Battistoni shirt.
"I-It's Bernard Bloomsteyn," Molly Gertrude stammered. She had clearly not yet recovered from the shock of seeing the man whom they had just been talking about standing at her doorstep. "He says his fiancée is missing."
"Yes," Bloomsteyn mumbled from behind her. "My Deborah is missing, and I fear there's a crime involved. I went to the police, but they are woefully unhelpful. But I have an idea who's responsible. I need someone with a good nose for crime and I heard through the grapevine you two are good at solving crimes…"
4
Molly Gertrude's Intuition
Molly Gertrude saw Dora cringe as Bloomsteyn lowered his bulk into the only remaining empty seat in her living room, and cast her assistant a collected smile. Molly Gertrude figured it was supposed to put Dora at ease, but she could see by the twitch in Dora's cheek it had the opposite effect. She was anything but calm.
When you talk of the devil, he is sure to appear.
What now?
I suppose I should offer him coffee. It's the least I can do, and we can hear him out.
Bloomsteyn seemed to expect nothing less as he leaned back and gave Molly Gertrude a small nod when she offered him a cup. "Black, Miss Grey. I'll add the sugar myself." He folded his hands, put them in his lap, and proceeded to start a conversation with Dora.
"Sorry to interrupt, Miss Brightside, and to come barging in like this," he said, "but I am ever so glad to see you too. Actually, I've often thought of you since our last conversation." He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes. "How do you do it?"
"How do I do what?" Dora asked, a frown on her face.
"Looking so fresh, so vibrant and pretty," Bloomsteyn replied, a tiny smile appearing around his lips. "I bet you are doing a lot of jogging, or are you going to the Gym. I thought about going to the Fresh and Thinmyself, except I heard it's a little expensive."
"Why would that be expensive for a man like you?" Dora asked.
"My late mother, God bless her soul, always taught me to be very frugal, and only spend your dollars when you absolutely have to. But…" he let his voice trail off, "…seeing you, makes me realize that the Fresh and Thinis worth every penny."
Confusion flashed over Dora's face, and Molly Gertrude decided Bloomsteyn needed to be put back in his place right away.
"What is it you want, Mr. Bloomsteyn?" She broke into their conversation, while placing a coffee cup on the small table before the man with a loud thud. "I am sure you did not come here to talk about the virtues of a healthy body. Rather, I have a question for you. If the police don’t appear to be helpful, why would we?"
Bloomsteyn pressed his thin lips together and snorted. "Sure, sure… just thought to break the ice with a bit of small-talk." He cast Molly Gertrude a plastic smile and mumbled, "Where would we be without a bit of genuine friendship?" He reached over to the sugar jar, pulled out four cubes, and dumped them in his cup. As the sugar dissolved he stared at his brew, put in one more cube and sighed. "I'll put all my cards on the table, Miss Grey. I am worried sick about my fiancée. I was hoping the police would me more helpful, but they weren't." His last words came out with a growl. "All they made me do was fill out some sort of stupid form."
"Of course they did," Molly Gertrude fired back. "I bet you are talking about an B35 form. They haveto do that. It's the law."
"But in the meantime my wife is suffering," Bloomsteyn grunted. "Imagine that…only God knows where she is right now. I can't stand the thought she's in the hands of some lunatic."
For a moment Molly Gertrude expected tears to roll out of his droopy eyes as well.
Hypocrite. She did not buy
his sob story for even a minute, but she had to admit that the man was a good actor, and he really knew how to work on people's emotions.
Bloomsteyn looked up and his eyes now seemed puffy. "You know… I really, really miss her."
I bet you are really missing her money. Molly Gertrude narrowed her eyes and was considering confronting him with his shady past, but then, just when she wanted to bring it up, Dora beat her to it.
"How do you know she is suffering?" Dora asked. "I'll paint you a different scenario. Maybe she just got cold feet. Maybe she found out you are not the man you pretend to be, and she didn't have the courage to confront you with the truth and she ran. Now she's somewhere far away, getting her strength back in some sort of holiday resort."
"What makes you say that?" Bloomsteyn turned to look at Dora. Molly perceived a flicker of anger in his dark eyes, but the man seemed to be able to push it back as soon as it had come up. Instead, he gave her a pained stare. "I am at the end of my rope. My dearly beloved fiancée is gone, and I can assure you she didn't leave because of what you just said. She loved me."
"The reason Miss Brightside is suggesting that possibility, Mr. Bloomsteyn…," Molly Gertrude stressed, "…is because she checked up on you. And it turns out that you—"
"—Have a criminal record," Dora finished the sentence while she narrowed her eyes, and gave Bloomsteyn a scowl.
Bloomsteyn stared at her with an empty, confused expression, while he swallowed hard and scratched his cheek. It reminded Molly Gertrude of a boxing match she once had been forced to watch. She had hated every minute of it, but at one point one of the boxers had been hit in the face and had looked just as confused as Bloomsteyn did right now. But the man was soon back in control, and wrinkled his nose.
"I bet you are talking of that so-called money I had supposedly stolen from STRF. It's all a mistake and it was never proven." He shook his head in a martyr-like fashion. "I had to do a few hours of community service as a punishment for something I never did. That's all."
"What's STRF?" Dora asked.
"Does it matter?" Bloomsteyn shrugged. "STRF stands for Save The Rattlesnakes Foundation. I was pumping a lot of money into their cause… you know, helping the poor, and encouraging those that still have morals and values. But their bookkeeper didn't see it that way. He messed up and I got the blame." He cast them a helpless stare, and opened his arms in an effort to prove his innocence.
"But… there was more, Mr. Bloomsteyn," Molly Gertrude wasn't about to let the man worm his way out.
"What do you mean?"
"There are reports of you having whitewashed criminal money," Dora said slowly, "and, to me this is almost the worst, there is mention of violent behavior."
This time it was not possible for Bloomsteyn to keep a straight face, and anger dripped out on all sides, as if he were a leaking plastic bag. "All lies. Big, stupid lies, cooked up by Marilyn."
Dora and Molly Gertrude exchanged glances. At last, Molly Gertrude asked, "Who is Marilyn?"
"My ex," Bloomsteyn spoke barely audible as he stared at the ground. "Marilyn is my ex-wife. We were married about five years, but she is completely insane."
"Is she in an institution… I mean, like, is she getting medical help?" Molly Gertrude wanted to know.
Bloomsteyn looked up. The question seemed to confuse him, but at last he replied, "No, she's not, but she should. In fact, it's worse than that…"
Molly Gertrude arched her brows. "What can be worse than being in an institution?"
Bloomsteyn curled his lips. "Prison, Miss Grey. She got arrested on drug charges."
Dora couldn't help it, but she let out a soft whistle. "That's bad."
"It is," Bloomsteyn affirmed. "But the thing is, I heard she got released a few weeks ago. And now she wants to destroy my happiness. She's just so full of lies… It makes me very, very sad." His eyes got a sad doggy look, as if someone had taken away his favorite bone in an unreasonable fit of anger. "The report you mentioned about my violent outburst is enormously exaggerated. It refers to a small, insignificant and isolated incident right before she got arrested." He shook his head in disgust as he relived the scene in his mind. "So sad it was… but hey, we all need to leave the past behind and keep hoping for better times, do we not? But, honestly…, she is not just missing onescrew in her brain, but several. In fact, I can't even begin to count how many."
"So you beat her?" Molly Gertrude did not seem in the least impressed with Bloomsteyn's sob-story. "I mean, I know of other ways to solve a conflict." When she saw the angry look on Bloomsteyn's face, she wished she had kept her mouth closed. Bloomsteyn no longer looked like the collected, wealthy businessman who had it all together. He now resembled a steely black steaming locomotive just before it would explode for overheating.
"It's extremely unfair," Bloomsteyn hissed. "One mistake, a small one at that, and the world has you marked forever. But my ex-wife… you should see her. I still tried to help her by offering to be a character witness to help her cause… but she spat in my face." He shook his head. "Totally gone off her rocker. But what would you expect from a woman who got caught smuggling at least 10 kg’s of some sort of illegal substance." She's insanely jealous. But I am glad you brought up my problems with Marilyn, as it makes things easier."
"Why is that?"
Bloomsteyn licked his lips, lifted his left index finger and while he narrowed his eyes he was shaking it in Molly Gertrude's face. "Because she's the one responsible for Deborah's absence. I just knowit." As he said the word 'know' he slapped his left hand on his knee, which caused the coffee to splash out of the cup he was holding in his other hand, effectively staining his Battistoni shirt. He blushed, mumbled an apology and put his cup down on the table so he could continue his tirade. "And that's why I need you to do some investigating for me."
Both Molly Gertrude and Dora stared at him, rather dumbfounded. At last Molly Gertrude spoke, "So far you have not been very convincing, Mr. Bloomsteyn."
Bloomsteyn gave her a wavering smile. "I would do it myself, but given our past, it's best I do not come near her house."
I wonder why he says that. He doesn't seem like the helpless type. There's something he's not telling us.
Why, Mr. Bloomsteyn?
Bloomsteyn curled his lips. "I told you she is crazy. She may even have a gun."
"It's that bad, huh?"
"It is," Bloomsteyn said, as he took his last sip of coffee and put down his cup. "I am glad you understand." He leaned back and tried to smooth out a few wrinkles in the front of his shirt, but the unfortunate coffee stain right on his belly made his efforts useless, so he stopped as soon as he began.
"It's best you go now, Mr. Bloomsteyn," Molly Gertrude said in a demanding voice. "Thank you for your visit as it was quite enlightening." Molly Gertrude did not feel like offering the man another cup of coffee, or even worse, one of her special delicacies.
Bloomsteyn tilted his head, his face full of surprise. "Is that a no? Does that mean you do not want to help me? Is it money you want?"
Molly Gertrude shook her head. "I never ask for money, Mr. Bloomsteyn. Our Bridal Agency takes care of all our expenses." She sought for the right words. 'No offence, Mr. Bloomsteyn, but I do not feel very comfortable with the whole affair. It's almost like this whole thing has a bad smell to it, like a can of worms that I had rather not open."
"And of course I am paying the bill for these worms," Bloomsteyn lamented. "Or rather, my dear fiancée does." His face was back to its original stony, harsh expression.
"I am certain the Good Lord has all the solutions, Mr. Bloomsteyn, but just as a favor to you, Miss Brightside and I will discuss your case, and if we see the need to step in and do some investigating on your behalf, we will certainly let you know."
Bloomsteyn stared for a moment at Molly Gertrude, a long, empty stare. It made Molly Gertrude quite uncomfortable, and she wasn't able to figure out what the man was thinking, but then again, she didn't even want to know what the
man was thinking. As far as Molly Gertrude was concerned, Bernard Bloomsteyn was bad news, and if she was going to do any snooping around, only a direct revelation would be sufficient to get her to move.
"What was that all about?" Dora asked, after Molly Gertrude had walked Bernard Bloomsteyn to the door.
The old woman sighed. "I don't understand it either. Why would a man like Bloomsteyn ask for our help?"
"Apparently, he even went to the police," Dora added. "That must have been quite a scene too. I can already picture the reaction of JJ Barnes." She chuckled. "Barnes is just like a grumpy, old bear, and the fact that Digby found out that Bloomsteyn has a criminal record must have darkened Barnes' opinion of the man considerably."
"Still it's puzzling," Molly Gertrude said, almost more to herself than to Dora. "People like Bloomsteyn are usually very capable of making their own arrangements."
Dora plucked at her pony tail. "Do you actually think, by any stretch of the imagination, that he loves his fiancée? I know it's unlikely, but still… maybe love is involved, and he does care for her."
Molly Gertrude gave her a tender smile. "You are a romantic, Dora. But remember what we said about learning to listen to the red warning lights in your heart? After this visit, the lights in my heart are not just red, but they have fast turned to a flickering scarlet and they are about to turn purple."
Dora nodded. "I just hope Deborah is all right."
Molly Gertrude agreed. "I do too, Dora, but who knows…for all we know Deborah will show up again in good time and all of this will just blow over.”
"So we are not going to investigate then? We will not help Bloomsteyn?" Dora asked.
Molly Gertrude smacked her lips, and thought it over. "Let's give it some more time, Dora," she said at last. "If Deborah Smythe isn't back by tomorrow, we might look around a bit. But we won't do it because Bloomsteyn asked us, but out of concern for Deborah Smythe. It's a strange case and something just doesn't feel right about it." She heaved a sigh. "When I feel this way, it usually lingers and lingers until I get it solved. I want to find out what it is."
