by Donna Doyle
"Yeah erm…," Digby mumbled. He sounded nervous, and he did not finish. His sentence kept hanging in the air.
"What is it, Digby?" Dora asked, thinking whatever was on Digby's mind would be best solved before she troubled him with her request about Billy Monroe and his young buddy in crime.
"What is on your mind?" Dora prompted. She could clearly hear Digby licking his lips over the phone.
"Well… you know, I've been on the force now for quite a number of years…"
"Congratulations!"
"It's been a mile stone experience, serving the Calmhaven police force," he continued.
"I can imagine," Dora mumbled. "And?"
"Well… eh, I am hoping to learn a lot in the years to come…" Dora narrowed her eyes. What was Digby trying to say?
"You know JJ is getting on in years. This week he's turning 55, and if I continue to make progress, as I am doing right now, he'll make me the new Sheriff…" His voice now had an urgent ring to it. "You understand what I am saying, Dora?" Digby stopped as he was preparing for a high jump and then, all at once, he mumbled while almost stumbling over his words, "I may very well be Calmhaven's future Sheriff…"
"That would be wonderful, Digby, truly," Dora managed to say. "But why are you telling me this?"
Digby cleared his throat. "I'll come straight to the point, Dora. I… eh…"
Dora listened, but no point came.
At last his voice appeared over the phone again. "I like you, Miss Dora… And, even though I am not yet Calmhaven's Sheriff, I'd like to…”
Dora blushed. She was glad this was not a Skype call as then Digby would have seen it.
"W-What do you mean?"
"I would like to get to know you better," he continued. "Next Saturday, Sheriff JJ is having his 55th birthday, and he is organizing a dance… Would you be my partner?"
"I-I…" Dora stammered, "…can't dance."
"Neither can I," Digby replied. "But I wouldn't want to be going there with anybody else. Would you like to come? No strings attached. Just an evening at JJ's holiday house."
Dora did not know what to say. She did like Digby, but it probably wouldn't work out very well. It never did for her. Even her so-called best friend, when she was still at school, had told her once in a moment of anger that she was the ugly duckling of Calmhaven and therefore destined to stay single. "C-Can I think about it?" she finally managed to say. That was a good answer as it felt safe, and it left all the options open.
"Sure," came Digby's reply. He sounded disappointed. "And… eh, why did you call me?"
"Call you?" Dora had completely forgotten about the reason she had contacted Digby in the first place. "Of course." She let out a nervous chuckle and then explained what Molly Gertrude had asked of her. "Nine years ago Billy Monroe was caught breaking in Abe Mortimer's house. He and a young lad were arrested. Would you be able to check the records and let me know what happened? Did Billy get punished, and who was the other boy?"
Digby sighed. "More secret stuff for Miss Grey, I presume?"
"A little," Dora croaked. "Will you do it?"
"Sure," Digby replied, "if you promise to think about going with me to JJ's party."
"That's a promise, Digby."
"Good," Digby said. "I'll call you as soon as I know more."
11
The Break-in
Molly Gertrude and Dora, in preparation for the break-in at the house of Bald-Head, had clothed themselves like regular spies. Both women wore a long, dark overcoat and a hat, and Dora had even exchanged her regular glasses for her sunglasses. Molly Gertrude had suggested that wasn't necessary, and it would even hinder her driving, but Dora insisted on being as inconspicuous as she could, and at last Molly Gertrude consented.
That afternoon Dora had told Molly Gertrude all about her conversations with both JJ Barnes and Dawson Digby, and had mentioned as well that the Sheriff wanted to talk to Molly.
"Talk to me? Why?"
"I don't know," Dora wondered. "He said, you weren't in trouble."
"Of course I am not in trouble," Molly Gertrude grunted. "I am too old for that. Well, he can wait until tomorrow. First we have a break-in to perform."
Dora had not wanted to talk about Digby's invitation to accompany him to Barnes' birthday dance. Molly Gertrude was way too old to dance anyway and it seemed useless information for her elderly friend.
As they stepped out of the house and headed towards Dora's Kia Rio the sun was just sinking behind the distant mountains. It wouldn't be long before it was dark.
"All right," Dora said, as both women were seated. "Where to now?"
"You know," Molly Gertrude stated. "Waterside Snomp."
"And once we have arrived?"
"There's a small Cash-'em-Right there. We'll pull up in the parking lot and from there we can just see the house. Soon, it will be dark, so if that wretched fellow is home there will be lights on, and we'll have to wait."
As Dora revved up the engine she bit her lower lip. "What are we actually hoping to find in his house?"
"I don't know," Molly Gertrude replied. "Maybe we’ll find nothing. But I have this strange conviction there's more to this man than we know at the moment." As they took off she began to guide Dora to Waterside Snomp.
About ten minutes later they arrived at the parking lot of a small Cash-'em-Right and Dora parked in such a way that they had a good view of the house.
Molly Gertrude had not said too much. Waterside Snomp was run-down, and the house in question was no exception. Squeezed in between two bulkier buildings, the house they wanted to break into seemed a bit crooked, almost as if it were trying to escape the grip of the other two buildings. It was a two-story house, with a porch that looked rather unsteady, and all of the wood was in desperate need of a paint job. The windows were covered with an odd assortment of curtains, which did not match.
"That's it?" Dora cringed.
Molly Gertrude nodded without answering. In front of the house was a tiny garden not even half as big as Molly Gertrude's kitchen. It was overgrown with weeds and nettles, but Bald-Head had carved out a path to the porch.
"When we go in…," Molly Gertrude whispered, even though there was nobody else around, "… we go down to the garage. That door is open."
"You've already been there, huh?" Dora clucked her tongue. Molly Gertrude did not cease to amaze her.
Molly Gertrude did not answer but kept peering at the house some fifty feet away from where they were sitting.
"You reckon anybody is home?" Dora asked.
"There's no light," Molly Gertrude answered. "We wait just a wee bit longer. When the darkness has fully set in we will know for sure."
And so the two wedding planners kept staring at the hideout of Bald-Head until darkness had fully covered the town.
There was still no light in the house.
Molly Gertrude said. "We're going in."
Minutes later both women stood before the rusty fence of the house they wanted to investigate. All the curtains were halfway open. There was no mistake possible. Nobody was home. As Molly Gertrude opened the little gate, it made a terrifying creak. Dora froze, but Molly Gertrude just shrugged her shoulders. "It's nothing, Dora. The guy needs to learn to take care of his property. What a mess it is here."
"It's hard to see anything," Dora complained.
"Of course, it is," Molly Gertrude snorted. "I told you not to bring your sun glasses."
Dora blushed and took them off. However, she had not thought of taking her regular glasses along and thus her sight was greatly limited. "C-Can I hold your hand, Miss Molly" she pleaded. "I am afraid I am going to sprain my ankle."
Molly Gertrude shook her head. "That's not going to work," she said as she plucked a camping flashlight out of her long overcoat. "Maybe it's best if you stay as the lookout, here in the garden. If anything happens, or if Bald-Head comes back, you can then warn me."
"How do I do that? I can't see a thing."
"You don't o
nly need eyes to be a good detective," Molly Gertrude replied in a determined voice. "Use your ears." It was clear this was the way Molly Gertrude wanted it, as the old lady turned around and while leaning on her cane, she descended the three stony steps that led to the garage door.
She had been right in her assessment about the door being unlocked. As she stood before it, she gave the moldy wood a gentle push with her walking cane. It swung open with another creak. This one not nearly as loud as the one the metal fence had produced. A dark hole opened before her, and a musty smell of unwashed clothes and mold entered her nostrils.
Great. This is going to be a fun excursion. Molly Gertrude clicked on her flashlight. It produced a firm ray of light that illuminated a bunch of car tires that were haphazardly tossed on the ground before her, and reflected off a mirror that stood against the wall on the opposite side. Molly Gertrude narrowed her eyes as she scanned the area with bated breath.
"What do you see?" Dora cried out in a hoarse whisper from behind.
"Sssht," Molly Gertrude fired back. "We don't need any unnecessary attention."
Molly Gertrude directed the flashlight in all corners of the garage. Just mess. Lots of mess, but nothing that would give any clue as to Bald-Head's involvement in Abe Mortimer's misfortune.
Just as she spotted the door to the upstairs, she was alerted by a loud ring coming from the front yard.
Dora's mobile phone. It was loud and clear. She should have turned it off. Molly Gertrude was strengthened again in her conviction that mobile phones were not a blessing.
Molly Gertrude hurried back, trying to tell Dora to turn it off, but the girl had already taken the call and was talking over the phone in a hushed voice.
"Turn it off," Molly Gertrude hissed to Dora from the bottom of the three steps.
"I can't," Dora whispered back. "It's Digby."
Digby? Why on God's good earth is that man calling while they were breaking into the house of a serious murder suspect?
"Thank you, Digby," she heard Dora's clear voice rumbling through the quiet of the night. "I'll tell Miss Molly. And my answer to you? It's a yes."
What was she talking about? Oh Lord, help Dora to hang up! To Molly Gertrude's great relief her prayer was answered almost instantly, as she heard Dora say, "Bye then. See you on Saturday."
It was quiet again.
"Psst, Dora…?"
"What?"
"Please turn that thing off."
"Sure."
"Stay on the alert, okay? I am going back in." Without waiting for a reply Molly Gertrude turned and headed back to the door that hopefully would lead her into the main house.
Dora scolded herself. How could she have been so dumb as to forget her proper glasses. Now, for the first time ever, she was part of something so exciting, something so out of the ordinary that such things only happened in books. But at the crucial moment she couldn't do a thing. She glared at her sunglasses as if they were her worst nightmare and grunted. At least Digby had called. That was nice.
Of course, Molly Gertrude had gotten quite upset, and rightfully so, but at least Digby had brought good news. Digby had been doing some snooping around in the archives and had found out what had happened to Billy and his unnamed crony after their arrest. Abe Mortimer had not wanted to press charges. The gentleman had made some kind of deal with Billy that if the youngster would get a lot more serious about religion in his life, this theft could be forgiven. Billy, of course, had been more than happy to comply. He would have done just about anything in order to stay out of the clutches of the law.
It appeared, however, the missing jewelry was never recovered.
Dora tried to picture how Digby had been going through the archives, knowing that JJ Barnes would not be pleased if he found out his deputy was doing some research for Molly Gertrude Grey. She could see him going through the archives with his focused, bright eyes, a lock of his blond hair coming out from under his police cap, and his tongue slightly sticking out of his mouth as he concentrated to the full to find the information they had asked for.
Dora wondered if Digby liked going by his last name. She rather liked the sound of Dawson, but everyone was so used to calling the young deputy, Digby, it would seem almost strange to call him anything else. She wouldn't be too keen if people would constantly call her Brightside. Brightside bring the mail. You want coffee, Brightside? Turn off your mobile phone, Brightside. It gave the idea she was in some sort of army, which was the last place she ever wanted to be. Either way, Digby or Dawson, she had agreed to go with him to JJ Barnes' party. That made her feel good. Even Molly Gertrude had hinted to the fact that maybe, just maybe, there was a chance of something—
Dora heard something.
A few people were coming down the street in their direction. They were probably still near the Cash'em-Right… still far, but they were definitely heading this way. Even though it was still early, they had clearly been drinking, as their voices were too loud, too overbearing and lacked any sense of decency.
"Miss Molly… careful, somebody's coming this way," Dora whispered, but of course, Molly Gertrude would not hear such utterances in a thousand years. Just then Dora saw the light of Molly Gertrude's flashlight going through the upstairs room. She should have closed the curtains.
Dora put on her sunglasses and sprinted to the entrance and swung her head around the iron gate in order to see if people were indeed coming their way. She couldn't see clearly as there were no street lamps in this part of town, but judging by the noise and the footsteps that were rapidly coming closer they would be passing the place soon.
"Oh, dear Lord in Heaven," Dora prayed as she ran back. She jerked her sunglasses off again as they made it impossible to see anything without light. She had to warn Molly Gertrude to turn off that stupid flashlight.
The voices were now right near the gate.
"Hey J-Jack…Another one? I still have a bah-bah-b-bottle-eh… in the ga-garage."
While somebody pushed and rattled the iron gate, another raw voice burst out in a howling scream, confirming another taste from the bah-bah-bottle in the garage would be his delight.
Dora's heart froze. They were not just pedestrians passing by, they were heading to this very house. She looked up as drops of sweat formed on her forehead. The light of the flashlight was still clearly visible in the upper room. The rays were poking around as Molly Gertrude shone it in every corner. Turn it off, Molly… For Heaven's sake.
But Dora had no more time to do anything else. The intruders were almost upon her. A bitter taste entered Dora's mouth as she realized that no matter how wicked these people may be, she and Molly Gertrude were the true intruders. Hoping not to stumble and fall she jumped the three steps down towards the garage door and heaved a sigh of relief when she landed without spraining her ankle on the stones. Immediately she crouched down behind a garbage container right outside the garage door. That's when she noticed the garage door was still half open. Too late. There was nothing she could do.
She could not clearly see but saw the vague silhouettes of three man climbing up onto the porch. A smell of liquor and smoke hung around them and it made Dora cringe.
"C-Can't f-find the keyhole," one of them slurred.
"Gimme that key," another one hollered. He had a strange croak to his voice and Dora decided that if frogs could talk, that's what they would sound like.
Somehow Frogman managed to get the door open and the three drunks stumbled inside. A second later they slammed the door closed. She was safe… but Molly Gertrude? Poor Miss Molly. She was still in the house.
12
Confrontations
Dora felt utterly defeated as she stumbled back to the parking lot of the Cash'em-Right. Seeing her faithful Kia Rio cheered her heart somewhat. The metal of the chassis shone joyfully in welcome to its mistress as the light of the supermarket reflected on the second-hand car.
But Dora's heart did not shine.
Molly Gertrude was in serious danger, a
nd as Dora had run back to the car, she had already envisioned a few of the most horrible scenario's. Molly Gertrude half dead in the hospital. Or worse, Molly Gertrude completely dead in an alley. Still worse, Molly Gertrude gone, never to be heard of again.
Dora was well aware of Mark Twain's famous statement he made in his latter days in which he proclaimed that he was an old man who had seen many troubles in his life. But he was quick to add, 'Most of them never happened.' But tonight she was sure Twain was wrong, as something very bad was about to happen to dear Miss Molly. What could Molly Gertrude do to defend herself against these thugs if they found out she had broken into their house? It even made it worse that these were not normal thugs, but intoxicated thugs. People with alcohol streaming through their veins were unpredictable and could make the weirdest decisions.
"Dear Lord," she lifted up her eyes to the roof of the car, "…what am I to do?'
But instead of a booming answer from the heavens, her interior light began to waver. Dora tapped it with her finger, causing it to stop working altogether.
Great.
Should she call Digby? That was possibly her best option. JJ Barnes was a foghorn, and although the man did have more authority, she really didn't like the idea of calling the Sheriff. No, calling Digby was her best option.
She plucked her mobile phone out of her coat pocket, and wanted to push the call-button. But as she stared at the screen, she realized she could not even read the numbers on the dial. She needed her sunglasses again. Luckily the screen lit up, and with her sunglasses perched on her nose, she could finally call in the cavalry.
With trembling fingers she tapped Digby's number. He did not pick up right away. Maybe he was busy… She waited with bated breath as the phone kept on trying to make the connection. At last, and to Dora's great relief, Digby picked up.
"Dora," he jubilantly yelled, as he had apparently recognized the number. "What can I do for you?"
"Digby… It's Miss Molly," Dora began. She wanted to say more, but right at that instant, somebody was knocking loud and insistent on the window, effectively interrupting her talk. Oh, Lord, please don't let me have too many of these nights. She turned her head, and let out a yelp. There stood Molly Gertrude, unharmed, healthy, and looking very prim. "Can you let me in," she called, her voice barely audible through the closed window. "And who are you calling?"
