Molly Grey Cozy Mystery Collection

by Donna Doyle

  "You were Samuel Given's right hand man."

  "Sure," he hissed. "That's no news."

  "And you were hoping to take over the Trust, since Samuel wanted to take it a bit slower."

  Peter Brogue rubbed his nose. "Everyone knows that. I know the business better than anybody."

  "But I believe Samuel Given had second thoughts and did not want you to take over his position."

  Peter Brogue's eyes flashed. "Samuel Given was a wavering fool. One day he would say this, and then the next day it would be that. But I have signed documents that show my legal right to take over the Trust, especially now that the man is dead."

  I frowned. "Legal documents? And how did you get those?"

  "How?" he snorted. "I was his right-hand man. I have access to all his documents."

  "That's funny," I remarked as I tilted my head. "I talked to Mick Maloney and he told me something else."

  Peter Brogue leaned forward. "Mick who?"

  "Mick Maloney from Bendeck, Fisher & Maloney, the law firm that handled Samuel Given's business. I just talked with him and he said that Samuel Given had asked them to draw up legal papers to prevent you from taking over the Trust."

  Peter narrowed his eyes and hissed, "So, where are those papers? Show them to me."

  "I can't," I simply stated.

  A wide grin rolled over Brogue's face. "Well, that's that then. You've got nothing but musty, senile theories." He began to chuckle in relief and added in a mocking voice, "You probably think you are Miss Marple or someone like that."

  "I can't show them," I went on undeterred, "because these papers are in your briefcase. But, as soon as this conversation is over the police will go over to your house with a search warrant. I know where they are."

  Peter Brogue's breath seemed to stop, and he stared at me with a confused look as if a rock had just fallen on his head. "H-How did you—" he stammered, but he stopped himself just in time.

  "How do I know?" I asked, trying to be helpful. "I saw these documents when I went to the bathroom in your house the other day. They were on top of another stack of papers in your briefcase. Now, how did they get there?"

  "I-I-don't know anything," Peter Brogue stammered.

  "But I do," I said. "These papers were stolen from Samuel Given in Cabin 24, the day he was killed."

  "But…But," He began to huff and puff. He wanted to say more, but no words came. His previous, cocky, confident demeanor had left his face and he now resembled a bicycle tire that had been punched with a screwdriver. The realization that he had become suspect number one in a murder case was fast beginning to dawn on him.

  "I never stole anything," he moaned. "I never went to Cabin 24. I got these papers from Janet." In his desperation he turned to Janet Johnson, and while he was wringing his hands, he cried out, "Tell them Janet… Tell them I did not kill Samuel Given."

  She shook her head and hissed, "Quiet you fool."

  "So… if you didn't steal these papers, and if Horace Given did not do it, then who did it, Mr. Brogue? I asked. "You said yourself that Janet Johnson gave them to you."

  The question seemed to puzzle him, but like an energy saving lamp that slowly increases in intensity, the light of truth began to flood the confused landscape of his brain. "J-Janet?" he mumbled, "Did you…"

  The time had come to talk to the last suspect, Janet Johnson.

  She did not move. It almost appeared as if she had turned to stone, but she was very aware of what was happening. Her chest was heaving. "I've got nothing to say," she huffed. "I want a lawyer."

  JJ Barnes cleared his throat. "We'll call one for you," He glanced at Digby, and gave him a nod. The young officer snapped into action and left the room.

  Janet Johnson looked at me with a look of utter contempt. It did not faze me. "While we wait for your lawyer," I said, "I will tell you what I think happened."

  No reaction from Janet Johnson.

  "I believe you have debts, Miss Johnson." I began. "Big debts."

  Still no reaction.

  "Dora told me that Samuel Given had nothing to do with gambling, He never played the in the casino. But we found a gaming ticket right on the floor next to his dead body. Whose ticket was that?"

  Janet Johnson shrugged her shoulders. "Don't know."

  "I called the casino," I went on, "and asked them if they knew your name. Your name came up right away. They told me you have some very serious debts."

  Janet Johnson's Adam's apple moved, ever so slightly.

  "You needed money, and you needed it quick. But where could you find it without stirring up the whole community? The answer was clear. You studied to be a bookkeeper, so that if you could falsify some rich person's books, you could pilfer lots of money."

  Janet Johnson licked her lips and shifted on her chair. I was on the right track.

  "Thus you threw all your womanly charms into the fight, and started a relationship with Mr. Brogue. After all, he was the right hand man of Samuel Given. He even believed he was about to take over Samuel Given's Trust. But Samuel Given, for whatever reason, changed his mind, and decided he no longer wanted Mr. Brogue to take over the Trust."

  Janet Johnson opened her mouth. "You are crazy."

  "I am not so sure," I replied. "Let me finish. You found out Samuel Given did not plan to make Mr. Brogue the man in charge of the Trust. I talked to the law firm Bendeck, Fisher & Maloney in Boulder Valley. They claim that Samuel Given had drawn up legal papers that would effectively put Mr. Brogue out of the game. You found out about that and realized there was only one thing left to do… you had to steal those papers, so nobody knew they existed, and in the process you had to get rid of Samuel Given."

  Peter Brogue slammed both fists on the table and gasped. "Is that true, Janet? Is that what happened. Is that why you were so kind to me?" He tried to grab her hand, but Janet Johnson just scowled at him, and jerked her hand away from him.

  "Let me continue," I said. "On that fateful day, you snuck into Cabin 24, while Samuel Given was taking a shower. You, Mr. Brogue," I said as I turned to Peter Brogue, "had the key. Janet took it and went on her way. It was all carefully planned."

  I could now hear Janet Johnson gasping for breath. "When Samuel came out of the shower, Miss Johnson, you approached him, and you hit the startled man on his head with a heavy object. He died instantly. You made it look like he had crashed into the coffee table. Then you searched for the documents and found them in Samuel Given's briefcase. Mission accomplished."

  As I stared at Janet Johnson, I noticed how her face was no longer white, but had turned a bright red. She reminded me of an inflated frog as her cheeks had become thick and puffy, and if I wouldn't have known better, I'd sworn she was about to explode.

  "All lies," she erupted suddenly. "I never killed him. He slipped and I—" She never finished her sentence as she realized she had said something she shouldn't have been saying.

  "And what?" I asked.

  The frog deflated.

  The reddish tint faded away, her shoulders drooped, and she began to weep.

  "You are almost right," she sobbed. "It was as you said, but I did not hit him on the head. He came out of the shower unexpectedly while I was going through his briefcase. He was so angry, and I was scared…" Her eyes got a faraway look as she relived the scene. "He ran up to me, dressed only in his towel. I tried to escape, but he grabbed my jacket and ripped it. That's when my lottery ticket must have fallen out. I pushed him, and that's when he slipped and banged his head on the coffee table." Her tears now ran freely over her cheeks, effectively messing up her black eyeliner. "Almost at the same time, I heard the cleaning lady calling out if she could come in. Apparently she had a key as well, and I could hear her open the door. I panicked, and while I grabbed a stack of official looking documents, I dropped the briefcase on the floor and I hid behind the curtain. The cleaning lady saw the body, checked on him and then ran away screaming. Then, I opened the sliding door and ran off. I-I never killed Samuel
Given."

  At that moment the door opened, and a pudgy, round fellow with an oversized belly stepped into the room.

  "My name is Shayne Crockford. I am Miss Johnson's appointed attorney, and what's happening here is highly illegal. I wish to speak to my client in private first, before you interrogate her."

  "You are too late, Mr. Crockford," JJ Barnes bellowed. "She already confessed."

  Crockford's face dropped and a scowl appeared. "Well, I'll still charge the state a full hour," he mumbled.

  JJ Barnes sprang into action. "Digby, arrest this woman. We solved it. I always knew there was more to this case than at first appeared." Then he turned to me and gave me a small nod. "Miss Molly Gertrude, welcome to Calmhaven."

  Epilogue

  Calmhaven

  Today, ten years later

  Everyone had listened in awe as Molly Gertrude had told her story. She was tired from standing up and Digby jumped onto the small stage with a chair. "Here, Miss Molly Gertrude, sit down.”

  The old woman gave him a grateful look and sank down on the seat.

  "But that wasn't all," a woman's voice from the back of the garden cried out.

  "Huh?"

  Everyone turned.

  There at the back of the garden stood a woman in her thirties, next to a man and three young children. Unnoticed to the others, she had come in while Molly Gertrude shared her story.

  "Gloria Given," Billy Monroe called out. "We thought you were in Ecuador on the mission field?"

  "I was," Gloria replied with a grin, "but pastor Papa Julian made it possible for us to have a little furlough." She cast the pastor a grateful smile, and the man chuckled knowingly. "I wouldn't have wanted to miss this celebration for anything." Gloria said. She let go of her husband's hand and moved towards the stage. "Let me to say a few words too," she said, as she climbed up and gave Molly Gertrude an affectionate hug.

  Then she took the microphone and said, "It was just as Molly Gertrude said, except she failed to mention that this case was also the start of the Cozy Bridal Agency in Calmhaven, the anniversary of which we celebrate today."

  She placed her hands on Molly Gertrude who was now beaming.

  "When my husband and I arrived in Calmhaven at the time, and I heard that Miss Molly Gertrude was an accomplished wedding planner, I asked her to arrange our wedding. Actually," she said with a wide grin, "I had to almost force her hand at first. Miss Molly Gertrude told me she had come here to retire, but then, once she had agreed to take care of our wedding, she enjoyed it so much that she decided to start a new agency here in Calmhaven."

  Everyone cheered.

  "And I think," Mayor Abe Mortimer added, "that Calmhaven became a better place because of it."

  The Dead Man’s Stolen Book

  A Molly Grey Cozy Mystery

  Be True to Thyself…

  Thou must be true thyself

  If thou the truth would teach

  The soul must overflow if thou

  Another’s soul would reach

  It needs the overflow of heart

  To give the lips full speech

  Think truly, and thy thoughts

  Shall the world’s famine feed;

  Speak truly, and each word of thine

  Shall be a fruitful seed;

  Live truly, and thy life shall be

  A great and noble creed.

  H.Bonar

  Chapter One

  "I've got something to tell you, Julian…"

  The old man whispered in a hoarse voice which was barely audible, but he squeezed Papa Julian's hands, and motioned with his wide, green eyes that he had something of great importance to tell.

  "What is it, Preston?" Papa Julian leaned over until his ear almost touched the lips of the dying man.

  "The pain is passing," Preston whispered, while his breath came in ragged, shallow gasps. "I hear voices…"

  "Voices?" Papa Julian asked as he listened intently to what the man was whispering. He did not hear anything besides the clicking of the wall clock and the labored breathing of his friend. Of course he didn't. Dying people always experienced things that they, the living, could not detect. He stared for a moment at Miss Molly Gertrude who sat at the opposite side of the bed. Her eyes were closed, but her lips were moving as she was saying a prayer.

  "What kind of voices do you hear, Preston?"

  A weak smile appeared around the thin lips in his gaunt face, but his eyes still held a sparkling little light. "The angels are coming… the road has come to an end."

  "I know," Papa Julian whispered and he had to swallow hard. His friend, his mentor, the one who had always helped him in his career as a pastor of Calmhaven Trinity Church, was dying. Soon Preston Linney would be no more, and although Papa Julian was happy because the struggle for Preston was over, a deep sense of sorrow filled his heart. He had no doubts as to the destination of his good friend, and he knew that the voices Preston was hearing were no hallucination or some quirk of the brain in the moment of death, but that angels were indeed filling the room in order to accompany Preston to his eternal home. But he would miss the wise and godly counsel of this man who had had such an impact on his life. Life without Preston Linney would just not be quite the same.

  "Julian…" Preston whispered again. "Look in the… dr… drawer." The poor man could hardly get out the words. Papa Julian pressed his lips into a fine line and looked around. Where was a drawer?

  And indeed, at the opposite end of the bed stood a small nut wood cupboard. Its top held several framed pictures. There was a good-sized picture of Preston with a child on a swing and a smaller one with a woman who had a gigantic smile that was holding up a kitten. "You want to see the pictures?" Papa Julian asked.

  Preston shook his head, accompanied by a small frown. "D-Drawer."

  Molly Gertrude had opened her eyes and stared at Papa Julian with questioning eyes. Papa Julian motioned at the cabinet with his head. "Would you look in the drawer, dear? There's something in there that Preston wants."

  The old woman nodded, and got up with some difficulty while leaning on her cane.

  As a faithful member of Calmhaven Trinity church, and a close friend of Papa Julian she often visited the pastor in his study, but that morning she had not come on a social visit, but wanted to discuss business. She and her cheerful helper Dora Brightside were in charge of the Cozy Bridal Agency, Calmhaven's only wedding agency, and she and Papa Julian needed to discuss the details of an upcoming wedding event. But things rarely turn out exactly as expected. No sooner had Molly Gertrude entered the pastor's study, than the news had reached them that Preston Linney had not long to live.

  "Come with me, Molly Gertrude," the pastor had asked. "I need your support as much as Preston needs mine." Thus, Molly Gertrude had come along and she shuffled to the drawers.

  "What am I looking for?" Molly Gertrude asked when she stood in front of the cabinet.

  Preston Linney whispered something to Papa Julian.

  "Top drawer," Papa Julian reported back. "There is a book."

  Molly Gertrude pulled on the knobs and the drawer slid open. Papa Julian followed her with his eyes, and even Preston Linney was trying to lift his head so he could have a better view.

  Molly Gertrude rummaged around a bit and then exclaimed, "Ah… this must be it." She turned around and held up an old looking book. It was bound in brown leather, but cracked and dry with age, and the stitching was barely holding it together. Molly Gertrude sneezed. No wonder, as the thing smelled musty and old.

  "Is this what you need?" Molly Gertrude asked.

  Papa Julian nodded, and Molly Gertrude shuffled back to the bed and handed it to the pastor. Preston Linney fell back on his pillow, but his face held a relieved expression. He motioned with his hand for Papa Julian to lean closer again so he could offer an explanation.

  "What is it Preston?" Papa Julian asked.

  "R-Read the title," Preston mumbled.

  Papa Julian stared at the book, and as he
read the title a shock curled up through his spine.

  Pilgrim's Progress

  By John Bunyan

  Papa Julian blinked his eyes and leaned closer to Preston Linney. "Is-is this an old copy of the beloved book of John Bunyan?" he asked.

  Preston shook his head. "Not copy…First edition."

  The first edition of the Pilgrim's Progress? How was such a thing even possible?

  "How did you get this?" Papa Julian asked, way louder than he had wanted to. For a moment he almost forgot he was talking to a dying man.

  "Ne…Never mind how… I got this," Preston mumbled with great difficulty. "…Very valuable. Keep it sa-sa-safe." The old man closed his eyes as even speaking a few words had become too taxing for his dying body. His chest was now barely moving and both Papa Julian and Molly Gertrude knew it was only a matter of minutes before the old man would pass through the valley of death after which he would see the light of paradise.

  Papa Julian clutched the book in his hands and stared at Molly Gertrude, not knowing what to say or do. For a moment not a sound was heard, but then Preston rasped and opened his eyes again.

  Papa Julian placed the book on the blanket. He took the old man's hand in his and began to pray, but it appeared Preston did not hear him. Instead, he sat straight up from his pillow and for a moment he sat almost erect, while his eyes shone with an unearthly light and held a longing so serene and so intense, that Papa Julian knew he was witnessing something supernatural.

  "They are here," Preston cried out, his voice no longer hoarse and broken, but clearly audible, as if he was back to his normal self. But that was only for a fraction of a second, as immediately after he had said these words, he fell back on his pillow, and all became strangely silent. Not even the ticking of the clock was heard. Even time seemed to have stopped.

  Papa Julian did not need to check for a pulse. He knew his friend Preston Linney had entered the heavenly world. He stared at Molly Gertrude, who herself seemed deeply impressed with what they had just witnessed.