Molly Grey Cozy Mystery Collection

by Donna Doyle

  It stated on the flyer Sharlan Tan's open air meeting would start right at seven, which was in half an hour.

  Papa Julian could hardly wait. He constantly glanced at his watch, and finally, at 6.45, he grunted, gritted his teeth and mumbled, "All right Bella, this is it. Time to go."

  Molly Gertrude looked up and motioned for Dora and Digby to get up as well. "Then, we will go as well."

  Digby had done a bit of research and found out where Sharlan Tan had positioned his trailer. Sharlan Tan had officially contacted JJ Barnes ahead of time, and arranged with him for a place to camp out. Barnes had cleared a patch of land for him, not too far from the grassy spot in Waterside Snomp where the meetings were held.

  Actually, according to Digby, there were several trailers, as the pony-tailed prophet had his crew of faithful helpers, and they obviously didn't all fit in one trailer.

  Digby couldn't help but chuckle. "You won't believe where JJ Barnes put them."

  The others looked up. "Where?"

  "The Dump," Digby grinned. "I guess JJ Barnes wasn't thinking too highly of Sharlan when the man first contacted him."

  The Dump had been originally a part of Waterside Snomp, but it had earned itself that glorious name, as it really was Calmhaven's dump. It housed the local junkyard and was also the place where people could get rid of their garbage. It was typically one of those areas that was nobody's responsibility.

  Not that the place did not have any potential, but it would need a major overhaul, and few people were willing to invest in it. Even so, there were still people living in scattered, rickety houses with sagging roofs, mostly surrounded by abandoned buildings with planks hammered in front of the doors and windows

  Papa Julian scratched his head. "I bet you JJ Barnes is feeling a little ashamed of himself now," he said with a chuckle.

  "He is," Digby confirmed. "There are plans to move him and his crew to a better spot tomorrow."

  "Which is why it is good we check out his place tonight," Molly Gertrude added. "Tomorrow, it may be more difficult. At least we can rest knowing there are not too many prying eyes in the Dump." She looked at Dora and motioned her with her eyes. "Ready to go?"

  Papa Julian stopped them all with his hand. "Wait," he said. "Let's not go without God's blessing. We should say a little prayer."

  They all agreed, and thus they formed a small circle in the pastor's living room and held hands.

  "Dear God," Papa Julian spoke with reverence, "into Your hands we commit this evening. Vindicate us, your servants, keep and protect us, and we ask that Your angels will keep us in the way, lest we dash our feet against a rock. Amen."

  After the prayer he looked up, the fires of conviction clearly visible in his eyes. "Let's kick this pig," he said and minutes later, they were on the street. While Papa Julian and his wife disappeared around the corner, the others climbed into Dora's Kia Rio, and as soon as they had buckled their seat belts, Dora started the engine.

  Before long they arrived in the area of Waterside Snomp. Here, Dora had to take a right to go to the Dump.

  Molly Gertrude and Dora had been there before, but it was not a neighborhood they treasured visiting. On the right, they passed a grubby looking gas station, and there was a bar too, with a crooked sign that read, "Girls, Girls, Girls." It was clearly in business as they could hear music coming out of the place and a scantily dressed woman leaning against the wall while chewing gum. Right next to it was a small night store with a grimy window that was badly in need of a good scrub. The paint on the door was peeling. Molly Gertrude figured the store and the bar kept each other in business.

  "The city council hasn't been able to figure out what to do with this area," Digby said, as if it was his fault the place looked the way it did. "If you ask me, it would be best to bulldoze all these buildings to the ground, and build something that would benefit the community. You know, sport fields, a swimming pool… there's so much that could be done with this area."

  Molly Gertrude shrugged her shoulders. "Politics, no doubt," she mumbled. She wanted to add something, but Digby told Dora to stop the car. "You see that building over there?" He pointed to a rather high building situated on a corner. Most of the windows in front were broken, and iron stairs led all the way up to top of the building.

  "That's a lovely place," Dora said, not able to conceal her disdain. "That place looks gloomy. What's there?"

  "Behind that building is the field were Sharlan Tan and his crew are stationed. I figured it would be best to park here, just in case there is still somebody in the camp."

  "Good thinking," Molly Gertrude commended Digby. "Let's wait another fifteen minutes, though. The sun is about to disappear behind the hills and it will be dark soon. Let's make use of the cover of darkness."

  Dora agreed and parked the car right next to the building with the broken windows. For a moment they all sat in silence, waiting for the sun to go down.

  "Music," Dora suggested. "Let's see if there's a good song to keep us inspired." She leaned over to the car radio, pushed a few buttons and began to search for her favorite radio station.

  She did not get very far, as almost immediately a loud and demanding voice filled the car. "Sowing, sowing, sowing. That's what we do to be growing, growing, growing."

  Molly Gertrude froze. "Who is that?"

  "Don't know," Dora mumbled, and went on with her search. "I'll look for some music."

  "No," Molly Gertrude stopped her. "Put that back. Could it be Sharlan Tan?"

  Dora swallowed hard and turned the button back. There was the voice again, and they all tuned in to what the man was saying.

  "I can promise you that tonight, those of you who will take the plunge and show themselves courageous in the sight of God, and will invest in the kingdom and sow their dollars, will reap a harvest so enormous that there will not be room enough to hold the increase."

  "It's true," Digby sneered. "That's Sharlan Tan. JJ Barnes let me listen to a tape yesterday. He must have bought some airtime on Calmhaven's radio station, CH-FM 40."

  "Ssshhh."

  "But before we sow, I will plow the fields of your hearts with signs and wonders, so you may know my promises are true and trustworthy." Sharlan Tan almost sang the words.

  Molly Gertrude cringed. "So that's the man himself. He sounds smooth."

  They all listened for a while to the words of Sharlan Tan. They were eloquent and well chosen, and soft as butter, sweeter than candy. At last Molly Gertrude wrinkled her nose. "I don't like it one bit. Turn it off, Dora."

  "You don't want to hear more?" Dora asked.

  Molly Gertrude shook her head. "It makes me sick. Turn it off, Dora."

  Digby agreed. "This man is a smooth-talker, but it does seem he knows how to deliver a good talk."

  "So does Papa Julian," Dora fired back, "but I know he's sincere in his desire to help the flock. This man is nothing but a ravenous wolf, dressed up like a harmless sheep." She gritted her teeth and looked outside. "Time to go. It's getting dark."

  They all climbed out of the car and peered around the corner of the abandoned building.

  "Look at that!" Molly Gertrude gasped.

  "Amazing," Dora added, and Digby was speechless.

  For there on a deserted grassy field, littered with paper, cans, bottles and bushes stood three enormous, shiny, slick motor homes, neatly parked next to each other. In spite of the setting of darkness they were clearly visible, as a great array of colored spotlights, empowered by sun panels attached to the roofs, bathed them in a curious light. Molly Gertrude guessed these giants were somewhere between 40 and 60 feet in length and they were custom-engineered body and chassis. Even though at first glance it looked somewhat like a bus, it was clearly so much more. The only words that aptly would describe them were luxury motor-homes.

  "What a strange sight," Molly Gertrude muttered at last. "You would not expect something so fancy in such a horrible place like this. No wonder JJ Barnes is going to have them move tomorrow."


  The motor home in the middle was even larger than the other two, and they guessed that one was Sharlan Tan's motor home. It was confirmed when they read what was written on the side in elaborately spray-painted, golden colored letters. It read: Sharlan Tan, your friend in need.

  "You see what it says?" Molly Gertrude mumbled with a scowl on her face. The others nodded. "He really thinks he's Mister Big."

  "H-How much do you think something like this would cost?" Digby stammered.

  Molly Gertrude shook her head. "I have no idea, Digby, but it's abundantly clear that Sharlan Tan has more money than he knows what to do with."

  "I don't understand," Dora moaned. "Why would someone with such wealth even want to steal a mere book out of the basement of Papa Julian's church? It doesn't make any sense."

  Molly Gertrude shook her head. "Who can know the depth of human greed, Dora? I must confess, it is baffling, but to some people enough is never enough. And remember, Papa Julian mentioned Sharlan Tan wants to build a cathedral as well."

  "I wonder what these beasts look like from the inside," Digby shook his head while he spoke. "But I guess, we'll never know. I expected some old clunkers with rotten window frames and a rusty chassis, but this is a different ball game altogether."

  Molly Gertrude cast Digby a questioning look. "We should at least see how far we can get. I didn't come here to admire the man's motor home."

  Digby smacked his lips. "We can't break into a thing like that, Miss Molly Gertrude. That would be highly illegal. After all, I am a police officer. If we even scratch as much as the lock, it will already cost me more than my monthly salary."

  Molly Gertrude sighed. She knew Digby was right, and as long as JJ Barnes was still waving his so-called Isaiah-seed around hoping to rake in an abundant financial harvest, it was unlikely they would get a search warrant.

  Dora agreed. "Nobody leaves a setup like this behind without a sophisticated alarm system installed. I bet you that the moment we even touch one of those bumpers, all hell will break loose."

  "What shall we do?" Digby asked.

  Molly Gertrude did not know. She had felt the definite leading from God, so she could not accept that this was as far as they would get. She looked down at the ground, closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer. Dear God, please open some door.

  She had not even finished speaking the words and the door of the largest motor home opened up and a tall, husky man climbed out.

  Our three friends instinctively moved back around the corner.

  "What's he doing?" whispered Molly Gertrude, who was the only one who could not see.

  "Don't know," Digby mumbled back. "He seems to be fixing something."

  "Dora…," Molly Gertrude spoke in a decisive voice.

  "What, Miss Molly Gertrude?"

  "This is our chance. Walk up to that man."

  A visible shock went through Dora's body. "Excuse me, Miss Molly Gertrude. I don't think I heard you correctly."

  "Yes, you did," Molly Gertrude replied. "Walk up to him, before he goes back in. Talk to him… It's all by faith. I believe God is going to do something."

  Dora turned back and glared at Molly Gertrude. "What do I say to him?"

  "I don't know. Whatever, anything. Who knows, but anything is better than hiding behind this dirty wall like a bunch of scared rabbits."

  "W-Why don't you go," Dora objected.

  Molly Gertrude smacked her lips. "You think that man is going to want to talk to his grandmother? But he might fancy a talk with you. Just put on your charms and see what happens. In the worst that could happen, he tells you to get lost, but nothing ventured, nothing gained."

  "I think she's right." Digby said. "It's worth a shot."

  Dora firmly pressed her lips together and thought about it for some time. At last she nodded. "All right. I will do it, but tonight, when this is behind us, you'll bake me a whole tray of Citrus Lemon Curd cookies."

  Molly Gertrude couldn't help it, but she burst out laughing. "That's a deal, Dora. Now hurry up, before that man goes back into the motor home."

  Chapter Nine

  Molly Gertrude watched with bated breath as Dora walked up to the motor home. "Hello," they could hear her call out, and she was waving her hand in the air to grab the man's attention.

  "You think Dora is going to find out something?" Digby whispered.

  "Let's wait and see," Molly Gertrude replied. "I just prayed for God to open a door, and while I was yet speaking, the door of that motor home opened up. I know it doesn't look very logical, but then again, we have no other choice."

  Digby grinned. "I start to see why Dora likes to work with you. You are not afraid of the devil himself."

  "Of course, I am not," Molly Gertrude spoke back through gritted teeth, and almost a little too loud. "The devil can go fly a kite."

  They could still see Dora, but the man was out of sight. "Hello," Dora cried out again. "Anybody there?"

  At that instant the face of the man appeared again. He was hard to see, but was partly illuminated by one of the spotlights on the roof of one of the other motor homes. He seemed surprised to see Dora walking up.

  Now she was standing before him and they were talking.

  "What's she saying?" Digby asked, his voice strained.

  "I don't know," Molly Gertrude whispered back. "My ears are not that good. Dora is at least a good 50 yards away." But she did hear something else. A soft pounding noise. Do you hear that, Digby? She looked back at the deputy.

  "What? You mean that pounding?" He tried to smile, but his face was full of worry lines. "That's my heartbeat."

  Molly Gertrude gently touched Digby's shoulder. "Don't worry, Digby," she tried to reassure him. "Everything is going to work out fine."

  Just as she had said it, they saw Dora and the man walk off, away from the motor home, further down into the field. It appeared they were actually chatting, as the man was waving his arms around as if he were telling Dora a story.

  "Where are they going?" Digby whispered.

  "Don't know…, but you know what?"

  "What?"

  "The door to the motorhome is still open."

  "So?"

  "The door is open. Let's go in."

  "What? That's absolutely crazy."

  Molly Gertrude turned around and looked into Digby's face. "Excuse me?"

  "I-I…" Digby stammered, "I meant no disrespect… it's just that…"

  "What is it Digby? We believe this Sharlan Tan is a crook, a thief and a liar. He's already got your chief JJ Barnes hoodwinked, and even as we speak, he's doing his utmost to rob, steal, and maim the flock of God. The only thing that is necessary for evil to triumph is that good men do nothing."

  Those words hit home.

  Digby clenched his teeth and nodded. "You are right, Miss Molly Gertrude. The worst that can happen is that he sees us and then I can show him my police badge."

  "Good man," Molly Gertrude praised. "Just hold me, will you? I may need your support on this grassy land that is covered with stones and rubbish. Spraining my ankle is not a good idea."

  Digby took Molly Gertrude by the arm. They both appeared from their hiding place and stumbled as fast as they could towards the open door of Sharlan Tan's motor home, all the while looking to see if Dora and that man were already on their way back.

  But nothing happened.

  Dora was not anywhere in sight and before long they reached the motor home.

  Digby pulled gently on the door.

  It creaked.

  "What if there's somebody else in there?" he spoke in low tones.

  "We'll tell him we saw the door was open," Molly Gertrude replied. "Go in… quick."

  Digby now opened the door all the way and pulled himself up. He stuck his head inside and called out in a muffled voice, "Hello… anybody home? Police!"

  No answer.

  He turned around and offered Molly Gertrude his hand. "The coast is clear. We can go in."

  Secon
ds later they both stood in Sharlan Tan's motor home. While they had been amazed at the way these vehicles looked from the outside, the inside was even more of a shock.

  How could a place on wheels be so spacious? The soft spotlights that caressed the grey colored interior gave the whole place an almost magical outlook, and for just a moment both Molly Gertrude and Digby stared wide-eyed at the scene before them. This was not a room, or a place to sleep, this was a penthouse on wheels.

  The floor was partly covered with soft, white deep-pile carpet that looked more like the fur of a polar bear than like the regular carpet one could buy in the cheaper stores. On the places where there was no carpet, like in the kitchen, the floor was made of grey colored wood. On their left was an actual bar, with stools and a great assortment of liquor, and wherever they looked they were faced with luxurious, comfortable chairs that could be put in any desired angle. The hand rubbed maple cabinet doors provided style, substance and storage, and all the way at the back, was a huge oak door, most likely the entrance to the holy of holy’s, Sharlan Tan's bedroom. Everywhere in the ceiling, right next to the lights and the built-in air conditioner were speaker boxes that played Indian music. The place was jaw-dropping, but weird at the same time.

  "What now?" Digby asked. He looked at his boots and hesitated. "I feel I need to take off my shoes in a place like this."

  Molly Gertrude giggled. "I'll take mine off," she said. "We don't want to mess up Sharlan's nice carpet, do we? You just stay here by the door and keep watch."

  "You really think you will find the stolen book?"

  "It's unlikely," Molly Gertrude said as she stepped into the heart of the motor home. "I do not know what I am looking for. Clues I guess."

  "Whatever you do, hurry up." Digby licked his lips and peered nervously outside into the darkness, while Molly Gertrude stepped further and took everything in that she saw. She was trained in spotting things of interest, but wherever she looked, she saw no Pilgrim's Progress, and not anything that would tie Sharlan Tan to the theft.

  Now she passed by the kitchen area. Next to the kitchen and leading up to a door that would most likely be the entrance to the driver's seat, was an artfully designed desk. The wood was cut in the form of a wave and right on top of it was a notebook.