by Donna Doyle
She would have to figure it out later as the man in the white coat walked up to them and asked in a questioning voice, "I am looking for Miss Dora Brightside?"
"That's me," Dora said, as she put her biology lesson on the love life of the red wood-ant back on the table and got up. "Just need a check-up."
Salvatore Swaggart let his dark, green eyes rest on Dora. He seemed to be assessing her. Molly Gertrude did the same, trying not to be too obvious, as she peered at the man by tilting her head and at the same time still pretending to be reading her magazine. But one thing was immediately crystal clear to Molly Gertrude. She did not like this man.
He stood before them as if he were a five-star General ready to command his ignorant troupes and was about to send them as cannon-fodder into battle. His smile was clearly pretend, just business and cold. It reminded Molly Gertrude of the way Doctor Francesco Fish had been looking at her when she was just a young child and he had removed her tonsils, cool, professionally and without the least bit of sincere empathy. To such men, patients were just a means to support all kinds of ungodly habits and extravagant life-styles. Thankfully, she had met many a good doctor since that first experience as a child, but when she saw Salvatore Swaggart it was as if an old drawer was opened in her memory bank, and it did not feel very good.
"You are coming here, all the way from Calmhaven?" the dentist asked, his voice grim.
"Yes… eh," Dora replied, not knowing what else to say. "That's right. I am from Calmhaven."
"Why don't you go to that clinic over there?"
Molly Gertrude kept her eyes glued to her magazine, but she felt her blood beginning to boil. Was this some kind of interrogation?
"A man just had an unfortunate accident in town," Molly Gertrude heard Dora answer. "I am the superstitious kind, and prefer not to get treated in Calmhaven for a while."
Molly Gertrude barely could suppress a chuckle, as she heard Dora's surprising excuse. Would Swaggart buy her excuse? It sounded pretty lame.
"Why not?" the dentist asked at last, as he tilted his head in surprise. "His death had nothing to do with dental work, did it?"
“He’s not dead!” Dora protested.
Swaggart’s eyes flamed. He was not the kind of man who took kindly to be being contradicted.
“I heard he was rushed to hospital flat on his back?”
Dora shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Just what I heard on the grapevine. I am just a simple girl." It seemed best not to divulge anything if she did not have to.
A small laugh curled his lips, but it didn't sound small, happy or kind. "He choked on a cake, Miss Brightside, that’s what I read." Swaggart informed her as if he was teaching a second-grader. "He was a greedy man who stuffed his mouth too full of cake. Must have been awful for the groom and the bride to experience such a thing on their wedding day."
Dora looked up. "Did you know the man who, em, died? It sounds as if you know a lot of the details?"
"I read about it in the Trenton Valley Gazette. I heard it happened to… Abe Mortimer?"
"You know him?" Dora asked.
The question seemed to startle Swaggart a bit. "Know him? Of course not. Why should I know a man in Calmhaven?"
Molly Gertrude kept eyes to the magazine, but she was all ears, and couldn't help but feel a wave of admiration for her assistant Dora. The girl was not about to be put in a corner by this strange dentist.
Dora shrugged her shoulders. "Just a question. So you never met Mr. Mortimer?"
"Of course I did not." Swaggart growled.
"There was a business card in Mr. Mortimer's pocket."
"Says who?"
"The police in Calmhaven."
Swaggart took a step back. "Why do you think that has anything to do with me?"
"It was your business card," Dora fired back. "Why would that man carry your business card in his pocket on the day of his daughter's wedding?"
Swaggart's eyes flashed and he lifted up his right index finger and began to wave it in front of Dora's face. "Who are you?" he hissed.
"I told you, Dora," she answered in a girlish voice. "I am just a simple girl."
"You want your teeth done," Swaggart's voice was cold, impatient and rude. "Then let's go. I've got other patients waiting."
"Thank you," Dora said. "On second thought… I think my teeth are fine."
Swaggart narrowed his eyes. "No, I think your teeth need a little work. I can see right from here that your gums are infected. You have what they call Temporomandibular Jaw Pains, and I am afraid you have a problem with thrush as well. Come on, girl… into the chair you go." He walked over to Dora and took her hand.
That was enough.
Molly Gertrude couldn't pretend any longer. She threw her magazine on the table and slapped the dentist's hand.
"Get your hand off my assistant, you quack."
Swaggart withdrew his hand as if bitten by a snake. "Who are you?" he said as he turned to Molly Gertrude.
"It doesn't matter who I am," Molly Gertrude hissed, "but I have the feeling I will never let my assistant come here for her dental work."
"Suit yourself," Swaggart said as he scowled. "I wish for both of you to leave."
He planted his feet firmly in front of both Molly Gertrude and Dora and pointed to the glass door.
Molly Gertrude forced herself back up on her legs and while heavily leaning on her cane she shook her finger in Swaggart's face. "I've been around for a good many years, you good for nothing medicine man, and I can tell a thing or two about the people in front of me."
They could hear him gnashing his teeth, but while his ears reddened, Swaggart managed to keep his cool, and all he hissed was: "Out!"
Minutes later Molly Gertrude and Dora were back in Dora's Kia Rio.
Molly Gertrude was actually chuckling while she fastened her seatbelt again. "That was interesting." She eyed Dora who seemed a little white around her lips, and then placed her arm on Dora's shoulder. "You did great, Dora… I admired your fight."
Dora shrugged her shoulders. "I am not sure if I will make a very good detective."
"You are one of the best," Molly Gertrude encouraged her. "And… don't tell me you didn't enjoy this little encounter. Remember it's always the hit dog that howls. That guy is a liar and a cheat." Molly Gertrude shook her head in disgust. "That whole dentist business is just some sort of cover up for only God knows what."
"You think so?" Dora's eyes widened.
"He knows more," Molly Gertrude answered. "He's lying about knowing Abe Mortimer. I could tell by his body language. He got all nervous when you confronted him. That man is a charlatan if I ever saw one."
Dora revved up the engine and began driving. "What was Albert Finney doing here?" she asked without taking her eyes off the road.
"Don't really know," Molly Gertrude pressed her lips together. "But he will have some explaining to do."
Molly Gertrude stared at the radio, but decided to leave it off. The chances of finding good classical music were slim these days and she really couldn't stand another country song. Right then Dora broke through the silence. She sounded a bit nervous.
"Miss Molly?" she asked in a small, soft voice. "I know I don't have thrush… but do you think I may have Temperamental Jaw Disease?"
Molly Gertrude narrowed her eyes. "You mean Temporomandibular Jaw Pains? The stuff that Swaggart was talking about? She shook her head. "Of course you don't have that, Dora. Did Pastor Julian not teach you that the devil is a liar and the father of lies? I think we just met one his servants."
14
More Secrets Revealed
The first thing Molly Gertrude did the next morning was to follow up on JJ Barnes' request that she contact him. She wasn't entirely certain what to expect. Barnes was not a bad man, but he seemed so concerned about making the right impressions that it made him forget his real job as an officer of the law. As a result he had little eye for important details, especially not if these details would require him to
swim against the stream. Since nothing ever happened in Calmhaven anyway, it had never been a problem before. But now it was not helping any, and Molly Gertrude did not look forward to another bawling out.
So when she dialed his number she came prepared. She had gone over every detail of her investigation so far, and had an answer to any question the man could possibly ask her. And then, just before calling, she had said the Lord's Prayer a few times, in the hopes it would help her stay meek, if the conversation got somewhat heated.
"Hello, Sheriff," she purred, hoping to soften the man's heart. "I heard you wanted to talk to me."
"Yes I did, Miss Grey. Thank you for calling me." Surprise. He sounds almost gentle.
"Did you want to talk about my investigation?" Molly Gertrude knew she was stepping on thin ice, but it was best to grab the bull by the horns.
"No, Miss Grey. Not at all." He chuckled. "As you know, I am pretty much convinced you are wasting your time. No, I was calling you for an entirely different matter."
"Oh?"
He cleared his throat and then spoke in lofty tones. "It's my birthday, Miss Grey."
"Your birthday?" Molly Gertrude blurted. "Well look at that… congratulations JJ." I better make sure I send him a card.
"Not today," Barnes explained. "My birthday is on Saturday."
Molly Gertrude listened.
"You see, I am giving a party Saturday night. You know, informal… Anybody is welcome. There will be lots of snacks, a bowl of punch… a glass of wine for the daring, some music and a dance."
"I don't dance," Molly Gertrude simpered. "I am in my seventies, JJ."
"I know," Barnes replied. "But I am not inviting you to the party."
Excuse me?
Barnes explained. "I mean, you are welcome of course, but that's not the point. I want you to organize it. I'll even pay you for it."
Molly Gertrude narrowed her eyes. Had she heard correctly? JJ Barnes wanted her to organize his birthday party? At last she asked in a perplexed tone. "I don't understand. I am a wedding planner. Is somebody going to marry too?"
Barnes laughed. "No, Miss Grey. Nobody is going to marry. I'll be honest with you." He waited for impact and then said, "The way you arrange everything is marvelous. My wife always gets so nervous about such things, and I am too busy with my work as a Sheriff."
Molly Gertrude thought it over. "What did you have in mind, Sheriff?"
"I'll send you a list of things I would like to see. But it's going to be really small. If you could arrange a few waiters, good food and the music. Will you do it?"
This was just about the last thing Molly Gertrude had expected, but why not? "Sure, Sheriff. If you could email the details to my office, Miss Brightside and I will get to work."
"Thank you, Miss Grey," Sheriff Barnes gurgled with a small laugh. "I knew I could count on you. And…" his voice trailed off, "… just between you and me, forget about wasting your time on Abe Mortimer's cake calamity. You are a much better party-girl than a detective." His laugh rolled through the phone, as he apparently thought he was quite funny.
After he had closed the connection Molly Gertrude stared for a while at the horn in her hand. She had to admit, this was the last thing she had expected.
As soon as Molly Gertrude met with Dora, later that day, she told her about the invitation she had received from JJ Barnes. She figured Dora would be tickled pink, but instead of an enthusiastic reaction, Dora seemed somewhat uneasy.
Molly Gertrude frowned and added, "I was actually worried JJ Barnes would start lecturing me again. Don't you think it's quite a surprise?"
"Yes, sure," Dora mumbled. "But… well, I can't help on Saturday night."
Molly Gertrude's eyes widened. "How did you know the party is on Saturday night? I didn't tell you that."
"Because…" Dora's voice was barely audible, "… I am already invited to the birthday party… as a guest."
Molly Gertrude stared at Dora while she narrowed her eyes. "You are invited? By who?"
Dora blushed and looked away. "Deputy Digby asked me. He wants me to go with him to the dance."
Molly Gertrude's face lit up. "Isn't that wonderful?" She clapped her hands in jubilation. "I've always thought you and Digby are good for each other."
"Not too fast, Miss Molly," Dora said, "I know that you are matchmaker but my heart is not something I will give away on a whim."
"Sure," Molly Gertrude nodded as she cast Dora a warm smile. "However, I am not so pleased that our gentle deputy is about to steal my assistant away. I am not sure if I can get the work done all by myself."
"Nonsense, Miss Molly," Dora snapped back. "It's only a onetime thing. I am not even sure I like Digby. And as far as the preparations for Saturday night's party, of course, you can count on me. It's just on the evening itself I am going to be busy."
Molly Gertrude nodded. "There should not be a whole lot of preparing to do. Sheriff Barnes assured me it was a very small job, which needed just the bare minimum of preparations. He told me he would send me a list of his wants and needs."
"When?"
Molly Gertrude shrugged her shoulders. "It's probably already in your in-box. Would you mind checking your email. If the list is in, would you mind starting? I have one more little errand to perform."
"Sure." Dora switched on her computer. "Where are you going?"
"I’d like to visit Billy Monroe. There are still some things I need to find out, and then, when I am finished with Billy, maybe you and I can pay Albert Finney one more visit. The man seems as slippery as an eel, but I would like to know what he was doing in Trenton Valley at that dentist’s office."
"Will you be careful, Miss Molly," Dora asked, concern in her eyes.
Molly Gertrude laughed. "Am I not always careful? I am just an innocent, old, arthritis ridden Granny. Nobody suspects me to be snooping around."
"I sure hope so," Dora said while she sighed. Then she turned her attention to her computer screen and began to read.
JJ Barnes' list with wants and needs had arrived.
Billy Monroe looked surprised when he opened the mahogany door of the Mortimer estate where he and his new wife were staying, and stared into the smiling face of Molly Gertrude Grey. "Miss Grey," he mumbled, "w-what can I do for you? If you are looking for Charmayne, she's not here. She went to the Cash'em-Right."
Molly Gertrude shook her head. "No Billy. I came for you."
"For me?" Billy repeated, without making a move.
"Do you mind if I come in?"
Billy rubbed his chin as if he were considering his options. Then he squinted his eyes, and asked, "Why? What do you want from me?"
"Not in a good mood, today?" Molly Gertrude asked. As the words flew out of her mouth, she realized it could come across a bit offensive, and she mumbled, “I just wanted to see how you are doing Billy. That's all."
"I am fine," Billy fired back, but by the sadness in his eyes, it was clear he was lying.
"Abe's accident must have been a great shock to you," Molly Gertrude tried again. "He’s like a father to you, is he not?” Those words hit a sensitive spot. Billy's eyes glistened and he gave Molly Gertrude a short nod. “How is he?”
“He’s still flat on his back, Miss Molly. Charmayne is beside herself with worry. He looks so ill, I get to thinking he may be better off dead.”
"Oh my, careful what you say, young Billy. Can we talk, just for a short while?" Molly Gertrude coaxed.
Billy nodded, and as he opened the door all the way he made a welcoming gesture with his hand. "Just for a little while then. I am not feeling too good."
Molly Gertrude entered the house and handed Billy her coat. "I can understand that, Billy."
Billy hung up her coat and sighed. "It's nothing, really Miss Grey. I suppose the whole thing has left me bewildered. I even got into an argument with Charmayne about it."
Without waiting for Molly Gertrude's response he turned and walked toward the living room and sank down in his favorite se
at, right near the glassy sliding doors that gave a breathtaking view of the Mortimer's garden.
Molly Gertrude stood in the doorway, not sure if she should sit down as well. "Can I sit, Billy?" she asked at last, as Billy did not seem highly trained in his social skills.
"Suit yourself," Billy replied while he shrugged his shoulders. He seemed depressed.
"So what's wrong with Charmayne?" Molly Gertrude asked after she had lowered herself onto a sturdy living room chair.
Billy arched his brow. "Charmayne is mad at me."
"I am sad to hear that," Molly Gertrude consoled. "I suppose, the wedding cake disaster has not helped the start of your marriage very much."
"You can say that," Billy grumbled. "Did you hear?"
"What?"
"I am no longer in Abe's will."
Molly Gertrude looked up. That was news. "What do you mean?"
"Can I be much clearer?" Billy snapped back. "Abe Mortimer took me out of the will. I don't get a red cent of Mortimer’s money. It all goes to Charmayne."
Molly Gertrude thought about Billy's words. "I don't see a problem. You two are married. You are even living in the Mortimer's estate,” Molly consoled, “And don’t write old Abe off yet – he may be laid flat now but if the town’s prayers have any sway he’ll be up and fighting with twice the fire he had before all of this unfortunate mess.”
Billy looked up, anger written all over his face. "She won't pay my debts. Imagine that… she says I need to find a job, and she claims, I haven't been honest with her. But I believe she's still having fancy times with Albert Finney behind my back. She's not honest with me."
Molly Gertrude forced herself to keep a straight face. He really was, as Papa Julian had said, a big, immature baby that still needed to have his spiritual diapers changed now and then. "Maybe it's time to count your blessings."
"What blessings?"
Molly Gertrude shook her head. "For one, you are married to one of the kindest women I know. You live in a mansion, and Abe Mortimer forgave you your sins."
"Yeah," Billy said with a scowl. "I am a blessed man full of debts. I am so blessed that my gentle wife is forcing me to take on a slave job."
