by Donna Doyle
"I don't know anything about that book,” JJ Barnes explained, “but we have the culprit in custody. It's a homeless fellow. A miserable wretch that is now known to everybody as Grease."
Papa Julian let out a small gulp. "I know Grease. His real name is Gerald Grealy. He and his wife used to come to my church, but he had problems with alcohol and when his wife left him he went down real fast."
"Whatever," JJ Barnes continued. "I don't care about his history. All I am interested in is keeping the peace, and he broke the law." JJ Barnes swallowed hard. "Can you imagine, he even went as far as taking out the stained glass window, so he could crawl in and out." He looked up and grinned at Papa Julian. "The Good Book agrees with me. Doesn't it say somewhere that he that doesn't come in the sheepfold through the door, but climbs in some other way is nothing but a thief and a robber?"
Papa Julian's face held the hint of a frown, but he did not answer JJ Barnes.
"Anyway," the policeman continued, "the postman saw him crawling out this morning early, and if that's not enough, we got another witness that saw him climbing in."
"You did?" Molly Gertrude gasped.
They could see Barnes' chest rising in pride. "Digby is just taking her statement, right next door. She's a simple maid, Emily Bimbleton. So this case is solved."
"Except…," Molly Gertrude said, "… where's the stolen book?"
JJ Barnes smacked his lips. "I don't know. You are welcome to ask him yourself. He's in cell number two." He crossed his arms and his disposition changed. "But tell me, why did you think Mr. Tan is a thief. That's a very strong and hurtful accusation."
"Is it?" Papa Julian raised his brows.
"It is," JJ Barnes said, and a dark shadow scowl over his face. "I went to Mr. Tan's meeting last night… As you know, pastor, I am not much of a religious man, but this man, this Sharlan Tan… he is a true prophet of God, if I ever saw one. If you don't see that you still have a long way to go." He specifically articulated the word long as he glanced at the three visitors before him.
"But he's weird," Papa Julian objected.
"And strange," Dora added.
Molly Gertrude decided not to say anything.
JJ Barnes wrinkled his nose and his body posture clammed up. He thought for a moment and then said. "He is not weird and not strange. I saw the miracles, last night, with my own eyes. It's unbelievable what that man can do. I saw blind people walking away rejoicing, I saw the deaf being healed… I've seen it with my own eyes, and I have invested in him."
A sour tang rose up in Molly Gertrude's mouth. "What do you mean you 'invested' in him?"
"Like I said," JJ Barnes fired back. "I invested by buying an Isaiah 54 verse 19 seed from him."
Molly Gertrude's faith in God was her strength, her hope and comfort, but she was not very strong in Bible references and she had no idea what that verse in the book of Isaiah said. Thus she looked to Papa Julian for help.
Papa Julian however seemed equally confused. "What is a Isaiah 54 verse 19 seed?" he finally mumbled.
"You should know," JJ Barnes replied while he wrinkled his nose. "You are a pastor." His hand disappeared inside his coat pocket and he pulled out a piece of cardboard, the size of a dollar bill. Like a dollar bill, the cardboard was green and held an intricate design with the words Isaiah-seed written on it in curly fonts. JJ Barnes's face took on a victorious expression as he showed it, and he licked his lips. "Here's the proof. This seed is anointed and blessed by Sharlan Tan himself."
"Explain," Papa Julian demanded.
JJ Barnes face now held an unrestrained smirk. He considered Papa Julian's question and then said, "After the miracles Sharlan Tan performed, he told us we could all become partakers in the move of this great spirit by investing in Isaiah-seeds. The money he earns will be used to help the poor but we, as the buyers, will reap a great financial harvest when the right time has arrived. There were several anointed seeds for sale. I am not very rich so I only bought an Isaiah 54:19 seed. But there were more expensive ones too."
"H-How much did you have to pay?" Molly Gertrude asked.
JJ Barnes shrugged his shoulders. "Only 100 dollars. It was not too bad, considering I will receive an abundant harvest when the time is ripe."
Concern flashed over Dora's face. "And deputy Digby, Mr. Barnes, did he go too?"
"No, he didn't," JJ Barnes answered and his shoulders sagged a bit. "He said such meetings weren't for him."
Papa Julian wanted to say something, but JJ Barnes stopped him by raising his hands. "So you see, I do not believe for even a second that Sharlan Tan has anything to do with the theft of a mere book. The man has no interest in such trivial matters."
"And you think this Grease did it?" Molly Gertrude said. "You really think a homeless man would go through the trouble of carefully remove a window and then pick a lock so he could steal a book? That doesn't make sense."
A slight smile appeared as JJ Barnes leaned forward. "He was at the scene of the crime. I agree that there are a couple of loose ends that need to be tied up, but overall this case is clear. But as I already stated, why don't you ask the crook yourselves. I am a bit busy as I have a lot of administrative tasks to finish."
The three friends glanced at each other, the confusion clearly written on their faces. At last Papa Julian pressed his lips together and said, "Thank you for your time, Officer. I suppose we had best be going."
JJ Barnes nodded. "Glad I could be of help."
They all got up from their chairs and walked towards the door. Just as Papa Julian was about to step out JJ Barnes cleared his throat. "Oh… eh, there's one more thing…"
They all stopped and looked with questioning eyes at JJ Barnes.
The man smiled. "Columbo always says that," he hiccupped, "but seriously, you should go and see Sharlan Tan for yourself. There's nothing better than hearing the words straight from the horse's mouth."
"Thank you, officer," Papa Julian said again, and without further comment they stepped out of the office.
As they entered the hallway of the police station, they bumped into deputy Digby. He had just come out of an interrogation room, and was talking to a young woman with long, blond curls and dark green eyes that were constantly blinking.
When Digby spotted them his eyes lit up. "Dora," he said, "how nice to see you." He gave Molly Gertrude and Papa Julian a small and polite nod to acknowledge he had seen them as well, and then turned his attention back to Dora. "What are you doing here?"
They could see Dora visibly blushing. She licked her lips and said, "We are here because someone broke into Calmhaven’s Trinity Church and stole an expensive book."
"I know," Digby said with a smile. "Meet Emily Bimbleton." He turned to the young woman beside him. "We already arrested the thief, Miss Bimbleton was just about to go down to the cell block with me to confirm we got the right man. You want to join us?"
Dora looked at Molly Gertrude and Papa Julian. "Great idea," the pastor mumbled, and Molly Gertrude nodded as well.
"Good," Digby said, obviously pleased.
He took out a key, opened a door and guided them all through a narrow hallway to cell 2. "Here's a special window," he explained to Emily Bimbleton. "You can see in, but he can't see out. So the man who is sitting there will never know you have spotted him as the thief. Just take your time, and tell us if you recognize him."
Emily Bimbleton smoothed her clothes and her eyes began to blink again. "It was rather dark and far away, officer," she whispered. "I don't know if I can do this."
"Sure you can," Digby said in a jovial voice. "We understand. We get people doing this every day. Just look, will you?" He reached over to a light switch through which he could control the intensity of the lamps in cell number 2, and darkened the cell a bit. "Similar circumstances," he said as he smiled. "Maybe that will trigger something in your memory."
Emily pressed her nose against the glass.
She looked, and stared, and looked some more. At last she let ou
t a sigh, and shook her head. "It doesn't look like it's him," she mumbled. "Can you ask him to walk around a bit?"
"Sure." Digby pushed on a button in the wall which activated a loudspeaker. "Grease, time to stretch your legs. Let's walk."
Grease looked up, a surprised, fearful expression on his face. "W-Walk?"
"Come on, Grease," Digby replied while he tapped with his fingers on the wall. "Just do as we ask you."
Grease got up and walked around.
Digby stared intently at Emily. She shook her head. "No, it's not him. I believe the shadow I saw in the night was limping too."
"Are you sure? It has to be this man. Remember, it was dark." Digby pinched his lips together.
Emily sighed again and this time she shook her head even more firmly and decisively. "It's not the same man. The man I saw was slender and skinny. This man is small and round."
Digby was genuinely disheartened. "So you are certain."
Emily Bimbleton scowled at him. "I already told you, officer. Do I have to spell it out to you?"
"Sorry," Digby mumbled, and put his hands in his pockets.
Molly Gertrude cleared her throat. "Excuse me, Miss Bimbleton, but what were you even doing near the church at such a late hour?"
Emily let out an impatient sigh. "I already told this man everything." She motioned to Digby. "I saw what I saw, I did my duty as a concerned citizen, and now I’d like to go home."
Digby motioned with his arm to Molly Gertrude that he indeed knew her story and pointed to the door. "You are right, Miss Bimbleton. Thank you for your time. We are most appreciative."
Without saying another word the young woman stepped out of the room, leaving the others behind.
"So…," Dora said when the girl had left, "… we didn’t get much further. What do we do now?
"We will talk to the man in that cell," Molly suggested. She turned to Digby. "Is that allowed, officer? May we talk to Mr. Grealy?"
"You mean to Grease?" Digby replied. "Sure. You can go through this door." He walked over to a bolted door right next to the window and unlocked it.
Grease looked up when the locked turned, and instinctively pushed himself as deep into the wall as he could.
"Can we go in, just like that? Molly Gertrude asked, not wanting to get into an argument with JJ Barnes later.
Digby nodded. "I don't think Grease is going to do you any harm, Miss Molly Gertrude. I wish they were all like him."
Thus, the three friends walked in while Digby stayed behind and kept an eye on things through the window.
Grease stared with fearful eyes at the door to see who would be coming in, but then, when he saw Papa Julian, he lowered his gaze and stared at the floor.
"I think, it's best you talk to him," Molly Gertrude whispered to Papa Julian.
The pastor nodded and walked over to Grease. "Do you mind if I sit next to you on the bench Mr. Grealy?"
The man looked up, his eyes glistening. "Please, Pastor," he mumbled. "I-I wanted to see you, I mean… I needed to see you, but…"
"I understand," Papa Julian said as he placed his hand on Grease's shoulder. "There's no need to be ashamed, Gerald. Not with me, and certainly not with God. We've all sinned and come short of the glory of God."
Grease's eyes widened. "You still remember my name, Pastor?"
"I do, Gerald. I have often prayed for you." He thought for a moment and a slight smile appeared. "Who knows, maybe today these prayers are being answered."
"W-Why are you here, Pastor?"
Papa Julian's bushy brows furrowed. "If I see you like this Gerald, I think the reason is twofold. The first and most important reason is you. The question is, 'what can I do to help you.’ The other reason is a book. A book that got stolen out of my church."
"A book?" Grease's face looked puzzled. "I know nothing about a book."
"Then tell me, Gerald," Pastor Julian's voice was barely audible, "what were you doing in my church and how did you get in?"
As Grease told his story it became overwhelmingly clear to all who were listening that Grease had nothing to do with the theft.
"So, you believe me, Pastor?" Grease looked with anxious eyes at Papa Julian. "I don't even own a screw driver. What's more, I would never dare to brake a window in the church, Pastor… It's the honest truth. Of course, I had a few drinks again that night, so my mind is a little fuzzy, but as soon as I was inside the church, I crawled in a corner and went to sleep."
"I believe you, Gerald," Papa Julian patted the man gently on the back. "Now, something else."
"What is it, Pastor?"
"Will you come back to church, Gerald? You don't have to come to the service on Sunday. I can understand you may not want to meet all the others. But you can come privately to my house and we can talk. You need a friend, Gerald, and I'd like to try to be one for you."
A tear rolled out of Grease's eye and landed on his grubby pants. "I would like that, Pastor… Maybe crawling through that hole in your church wasn't a mistake after all."
"No, Gerald," Papa Julian said. "I don't think it was."
"Shall I drive you back to the church," Dora asked after they had left the police station. "Maybe," Papa Julian said while he rubbed his nose. "However, I wish we knew a bit more about the actual value of Pilgrim's Progress. Maybe the whole thing is worth nothing and we are making more of this than we should."
Molly Gertrude considered what the pastor had said and then her face lit up. "That's an idea," she said, at first more to herself than to the others. "I like that idea. Why don't we go to the Greenacre Museum and talk to the curator? He may give us an indication of the actual value of the stolen book. If it turns out that manuscript is extremely valuable, and now that it is also obvious Mr. Grealy had nothing to do with it, maybe JJ Barnes will treat the matter a bit more seriously."
"Sounds great," Papa Julian agreed, "we need to do something and Mr. Sharlan Tan is still not off the hook. In fact, he gives me the creeps. Look how he's leading JJ Barnes around by the nose. The man is not even religious, but he somehow got him to buy that stupid Isaiah-seed."
Molly Gertrude's face held the hint of a frown. "I am afraid our police friend fell under some kind of hypnotic spell. Imagine what he could have bought with a 100 dollars?" She turned and looked at Papa Julian. "By the way what does Isaiah 54:19 say?"
"That's the thing," Papa Julian muttered. "That Sharlan Tan is a complete fraud, a wolf in sheep's clothing. There is no Isaiah 54:19. Such a verse doesn't even exist. Chapter 54 of Isaiah stops at verse 17, and in some obscure translations at verse 18, but never at 19. The man is a total deceiver." He gnashed his teeth and clenched his fists and proceeded to quote a Bible passage.
Molly Gertrude felt her head getting light. This was getting stranger by the minute. She swallowed hard and looked at Dora. "Let's go, Dora. The sooner we can talk to the curator of the Greenacre Museum, the more we’ll know."
Dora clicked her tongue and turned the ignition key.
Chapter Seven
Although Papa Julian had been to Greenacre Museum many times, Molly Gertrude and Dora had been in the Greenacre Museum only once before, a few years earlier. At that time, the Exhibit Designer of the museum, Jon Wellington was getting married, and had hired the Cozy Bridal Agency to organize his wedding. The wedding had taken place in the garden of the museum, but it had been a disaster as an unexpected rain storm threw a monkey wrench into the works, and all the guests had to be ushered inside. The curator of the museum, Hierro Glyphen, had been extremely upset, fearing for his precious statues, as some guests (Hierro was sure they all had way more wine in their system than they should have had) wanted to touch all the various Egyptian statues and to this day he claimed it was this unfortunate moment that led to his stomach ulcers that prevented him from eating all the foods he wanted.
But, the museum had changed quite a bit since that eventful wedding. Since then, Hierro Glyphen had changed his entire collection, and he now focused on ancient artifacts an
d paintings. At present, and to his great pride, the museum held the greatest collection of paintings from an Italian school in all of America.
But Molly Gertrude, Dora, and Papa Julian didn't come for the paintings of Leonardo, Tintoretto, and Sandro Botticelli, and no matter how impressive the silent hallways were, and how inviting the spacious rooms where whispering visitors were looking, they went straight to Mr. Glyphen’s office.
The curator, a skinny man with a balding head and a nervous twitch that constantly made his nose move up and down, received them hesitantly in his office.
"Not another wedding I hope?" he muttered, the moment he recognized Molly Gertrude and Dora.
"No Mr. Glyphen," Molly Gertrude reassured him with a gentle smile, "no wedding this time."
The office smelled musty and stale. No wonder, as there was only one tiny window, right near the ceiling and behind Hierro Glyphen's desk. It was closed.
Hierro Glyphen leaned back in his chair and looked at his pancake-sized wall clock above the door. "Make it quick. I am a busy man."
Molly Gertrude nodded. "We know, Mr. Glyphen. We just wanted to ask your opinion."
The man raised his brows. "My opinion? About… what?"
"May I sit down, Mr. Glyphen?"
Hierro Glypen's nose twitched violently, and he cast Molly Gertrude an irritated look. "Sure. Of course."
Molly sat down in the one chair that stood before the man's desk. Dora and Papa Julian kept standing as there was nowhere else to sit.
"Imagine," Molly Gertrude began, "you have a very old manuscript. A book really…"
"So?"
"A book that was written, say, somewhere in the 17th century… an original."
"Go on."
"How much would a book like that be worth today?"
Hierro Glyphen scratched his scalp. "That depends, Miss Grey, on who wrote it and on the condition of the book."
"I am talking about Pilgrim's Progress… a book written by John Bunyan. I reckon you have heard about it, as it sold almost more copies than the Bible itself. Imagine, it's an original copy, and in fairly good condition. How much?"
