by Donna Doyle
Molly Gertrude had always considered herself to be a patient woman, but she decided it was time to turn up the heat a little. "Did you know Billy that you are a possibly a suspect in a possible murder case?"
Billy's eyes widened. "Me? That's preposterous. What murder case?"
"The death of your father-in-law, Abe Mortimer. If Abe doesn’t make it you will be top of the list! There are people who think you actually may have tried to kill Abe Mortimer, hoping to get the inheritance. I shouldn't be saying this, but there's an investigation going on."
A shock went through Billy's slender frame. "The police are investigating me? Who told you that?"
"I can't tell you, Billy, but things do not look good. After all, you forced that cake on your father-in-law and you have big gambling debts."
Billy jumped up out of his seat. "I-I…," he stammered, "I loved Abe. I didn't try to kill him. He-he just choked on too much cake and cream!"
A guttural, subterranean howl erupted from his throat and he began to wring his hands while staring with fearful eyes at Molly Gertrude. "You have to believe me, Miss Grey. Abe is like a father to me. It's true that I was hoping to get rid of my debts, but I was just going to ask Abe for a loan. He would have given the money without question."
"But you have a history of crime, don't you, Billy?"
"Me?" Billy forced his lips into a smile and a nervous giggle rolled out his mouth. "I have no record."
"That's right," Molly Gertrude put on the screws. "But only because Abe Mortimer did not press charges after you broke into his house. Why did you break into his house when you were a teenager, Billy?"
Another spasm of pain flashed over Billy's face. "You know about that?"
Molly Gertrude simply nodded.
"I did not know Abe at the time. I did not know he was a good man." He hissed and pointed to the richly decorated living room. "Look at all the wealth. We thought it would be easy to steal from him."
"Who is we, Billy?"
"My friend George and I."
"George who?"
"George Latimer. He was only 13 or 14 at the time. Just a kid I had befriended."
"What happened to George?" Molly Gertrude wanted to know.
Billy shook his head. "I don't know. After we were caught stealing, Abe dropped the charges against us and took me under his wing. I believe George was sent to Trenton Valley, to some sort of youth facility. I've never seen him since."
"What did he look like?"
Billy smacked his lips. "What does a thirteen-year-old kid look like? Kids all look alike."
"Do you still have an old picture or something?|
Billy shrugged. "I've got one. Actually, it belongs to Charmayne. It's in her family album."
"Can I see it?"
Billy scratched his forehead. "Sure." He got up and walked over to a small antique cupboard in the corner, pulled out a drawer, and rummaged around for some time. At last he returned, hauling a heavy red-leather photo album under his arm. He placed it before Molly Gertrude on the coffee table, turned a few pages and pointed to an old photograph, partly bleached out by the sun and very grainy. The picture portrayed a smiling Abe Mortimer who had his arm slung around another man, who was smiling too, while holding up some sort of image, a tiny sculpture of some kind.
"That's Abe Mortimer and another fellow. That's not George." Molly Gertrude raised her eyebrows.
"Look in the background," Billy clarified. "And indeed, in the back, standing in the shade, were two boys. One was Billy, and the other one…
"That's George," Billy mumbled as he placed his finger on the boy. "I told you, it's hard to see, and that picture was taken over ten years ago."
Molly Gertrude peered at the boy. Dora had told her that with today's technology they could do wonders in enhancing old photographs, but she doubted Calmhaven's police force possessed such devices. George was indeed just a kid, but there was something strange about his features. "He looks… different," Molly Gertrude mumbled without being able to exactly point out what was the matter with George.
"George was sick." Billy seemed to have guessed Molly Gertrude's concerns. "It's partly the quality of the photo, but he did not look too good. He had some sort of immune disease."
"Poor boy," Molly Gertrude mumbled. Then she looked up and asked, "What is the occasion for this picture?"
"Abe and this other fellow were helping troubled kids. Boys like me and George. They received some sort of reward for doing good that day." He shrugged his shoulders. "Abe deserved that reward, but I didn't like the other fellow. He was a big, fat phony."
"Oh?" Molly Gertrude looked up. "What happened to him?"
"I don't know," Billy said and shook his head. "He's some kind of doctor. He left town years ago."
"Name?"
Billy rubbed his nose and thought. "Willy… Willy Wilmot."
Molly Gertrude studied Wilmot. The man in the photograph was clearly tickled pink for having received the honorary reward, and he stood in front of the camera like a victorious warlord, stately, proud and untouchable, as if he was God's good gift to humanity. His demeanor reminded Molly Gertrude of somebody, but she could not quite place her finger on it. The man's hair was way too long, unkempt and wild and hung over his ears, just in the style of that day. He had an enormous toothpaste smile, but his teeth seemed in immaculate condition. "Can I take this picture?" she asked at last. "I'll return it in good condition."
Billy shrugged his shoulders. "Sure, as long as I won't get in trouble with Charmayne. I am already in the dog house."
Molly Gertrude nodded and gently lifted the photograph from the page.
Billy sank down in his seat again and began another round of moans. "You have to believe me, Miss Grey. I had nothing to do with the cake fiasco, honest. It really was an accident."
"I don't believe it was, Billy," Molly Gertrude said while she fastened her eyes on Billy. "I too believe someone wanted Abe Mortimer dead."
Billy let out a sob and he yelled in a high-pitched voice. "It wasn't me, Miss Grey. You must believe me. I loved Abe."
Molly Gertrude nodded. "Maybe, Billy. God knows what really happened that day, and I believe we will all know soon," she said in a decisive voice. "You want my advice?"
He looked up, hope covering his face.
"Get serious about the chances that life is giving you. You are blaming everyone else for your trouble, but there's only one person responsible, and that is you, yourself."
"It's difficult," Billy moaned.
"Of course, it is," Molly Gertrude coached, "but there are people who can help you. There's Papa Julian, and Charmayne loves you."
"She's just mad," Billy blubbered.
"And rightfully so," Molly Gertrude fired back. "You've been dishonest with her. You've only been married for a week and you've already caused serious strain in your marriage. That's probably a new record."
Molly Gertrude's words were like a hammer, nailing down the truth that Billy had been fighting for so long, and he gave her a helpless stare. But Molly Gertrude was done and got up. "Thank you for your time Billy. Next time I'll take tea with one spoon of sugar, and a cookie."
Billy stared at her not understanding, but Molly Gertrude did not want to wait any longer and extended her hand. Billy, with a lame expression, shook it, after which Molly Gertrude let herself out. Papa Julian was right. Maybe Billy was not a bad boy at heart, and Molly Gertrude highly doubted he had anything to do with the suspicious circumstances surrounding Abe’s predicament. But he sure was a big baby and if he wasn't careful his relationship with Charmayne would end before it had even had a chance to start.
15
Sleuthing at Portman Road
The visit with Billy had not yielded any new information, but it had strengthened Molly Gertrude in her conviction that most likely, Billy had nothing to do with the whole affair. He was just a misguided kid, and he had his problems, but he did not strike her as a cruel killer.
But Albert Finney was
altogether a different story… and what was the role of that dentist Swaggart in Trenton Valley, if any? It was also disconcerting that they had not been able to find out more about Bald-Head. What was that man doing with his wigs and false moustaches? When Molly Gertrude had fled his house that night, she had written down his exact address, and Dora had made a short call to Deputy Digby, hoping he would be able to tell them who lived there. But there had been no satisfying results.
"Hello, Digby." Dora had called. "Can you do me a favor? I need to know who lives at 6 Portman Road."
"What's that?" Digby had answered.
"It's a street in Waterside Snomp. Molly Gertrude is wondering who lives there?"
"Ah," Digby exclaimed, as now he understood. "I'll call you back."
And he did.
Three minutes later.
"6 Portman Road," he said, "is owned by a man in New York, called Gregory Duff, but he seems to be renting it out. There's no record of who is living there at the moment." He chuckled. "Waterside Snomp is not a very pleasant part of Calmhaven. I hope you aren't thinking of buying the property?"
"No, Digby," Dora answered, "It's just part of Molly Gertrude's investigation."
"Fine," Digby replied. Then he changed the subject. "Can't wait till Saturday night."
Dora giggled. "See you on Saturday. And thank you for your help."
After she closed the call, she informed Molly Gertrude. "Nothing. There's no record of who is living there at the moment."
Molly Gertrude shrugged her shoulders. "Doesn't matter. We'll just keep plowing ahead and something will turn up sooner or later. It's time to go see Albert Finney. I wonder if we can garner a bit more information out of him."
Minutes later the Kia Rio drove off again, and Dora carefully guided her whoopty through the streets of Calmhaven. Just when she wanted to take a left in order to take the direction for Waterside Snomp, Molly Gertrude raised both of her hands in the air and blurted out, "Stop!"
Dora gave her an angry stare as she slowed down. "Whoa, nothing like a good scare while driving the car. What's wrong?"
"Sorry," Molly Gertrude apologized. "It's just that we passed by Tilly’s, and I am out of cat food." She turned her head and pointed backwards. "Would you mind turning around and driving to her store?"
Tilly’s was a small supermarket and she sold whatever essentials the locals needed. For the bigger items she had to direct her customers to the Cash'em-Right or even to another town altogether, but over the years Tilly had accumulated all sorts of weird and wonderful items, alongside the more simple groceries such as milk, eggs and bread, and, of course, Misty's favorite cat food.
Dora pressed her lips together and shrugged. "Sure, but why not go to the Cash'em-Right. Tilly’s is expensive."
"And she is good." Molly Gertrude narrowed her eyes. "Misty only eats stuff from Tilly's. The Cash'em-Right is just one of those ungodly chain stores. I never go down there unless I absolutely have to."
"No problem," Dora said. She checked in her rearview mirror and when the coast was clear she made a U-turn.
When Molly Gertrude entered a few minutes later, a loud bell, attached right above the door, announced her arrival. The store was empty, but while Molly Gertrude loaded several cans of Feline Delight in her shopping cart, Tilly appeared. She was a bubbly, enthusiastic woman with hair that was tucked hurriedly back in a bun. Tilly had a radiant face to match her lively personality. Some folks claimed her mouth was way too big. At first Molly Gertrude had not understood what these people meant, as Tilly's mouth seemed fine. But it had not taken long to find out. Tilly loved a good story, especially a scandal, and her mouth was constantly flapping open and closed, while at the same time prying out the latest tales of Calmhaven's rich and famous. (Calmhaven hardly had any rich, let alone any famous, but that didn't stop Tilly from blabbering all the latest anyway). Tilly certainly had a good heart, but she was easily led to share any juicy tidbits that happened upon her ears.
When Molly Gertrude placed the cat food on the counter and Tilly totaled it up, she gave Molly Gertrude one of her huge smiles.
Molly Gertrude knew she was about to be drawn into one of Tilly's long-winded, gossipy stories. "I saw a man today," Tilly said in a serious voice, as if that was something that hardly ever happened in Calmhaven. She tilted her head back in order to heighten the effect of her statement.
"I did too," Molly Gertrude replied. In her mind's eye she saw a picture of Billy Monroe again. Poor, immature Billy Monroe.
"You don't understand," Tilly bubbled. "I really saw a man. A nice man." She lowered her voice. "Rich… He smelled like money. And… he's a professional."
"That's wonderful," Molly Gertrude said politely, hoping to get her cat food so she could leave."
"I've been praying for a dentist," Tilly went on, still whispering. As she said the word 'dentist' a shiver went through Molly Gertrude's spine. "What did you say, Tilly?"
Tilly giggled. "Now you are getting interested, Molly Gertrude. But you are too old for this man."
"What man?" Molly Gertrude urged.
"A dentist from Trenton Valley. Such a nice fellow." Tilly folded her arms and stared at the heavens. Actually, she stared at the ceiling, but it was clear she was having visions of something that reached much further than her ceiling.
"What was his name?" Molly Gertrude was all ears.
"No-no-no," Tilly shook her finger. "I met him first."
Molly Gertrude was about to lose her patience and considered getting irate, but she knew that wasn't going to help any, so she swallowed her irritation, and replied in as sweet a voice as she could muster, "Just curious, Tilly. I am no competition, I assure you.”
Tilly smiled. "Of course you are not. I know," she nodded. Then she pulled out a business card. Molly Gertrude's eyes grew wide. It was from Salvatore Swaggart.
"His name is Swaggart," Tilly affirmed.
"Why was he here?"
"He was asking for an address," Tilly replied. "You see, the poor man was lost. Apparently, his car doesn't have a GPS."
"What address?" Molly Gertrude almost shouted it out.
"6 Portman Road," came Tilly's answer. "That's very close to here, so I told him how to get there. He told me he may be back and then he'll take me for dinner." A hopeful giggle erupted from Tilly's mouth.
"Thanks, Tilly," Molly Gertrude cried out. She opened her purse, pulled out a five dollar bill and slammed it on the counter, right next to the cat food. Then she grabbed her cans and turned around in order to leave.
"You still get change," Tilly called out.
"Never mind," Molly Gertrude called back without turning as she shuffled out the door as fast as she could. There was not a minute to waste. They needed to go down to Portman Road first. Finney just had to wait.
"Dora," she called out already as she was approaching the car. "Change of plans. Please drive to 6 Portman Road."
"To that ugly place again?" Dora wrinkled her nose.
"That's right," Molly Gertrude blurted. "And hurry."
Dora parked her Kia Rio again at the same spot as before. The light was now very different from when they had been there in the evening. The glare of the sun was quite bright, and unlike the other time, there were several customers at the Cash'em-Right who were pushing their shopping carts around.
Molly Gertrude assessed the situation. "Staying here will not help us any. Let's walk over to Bald-Head's house again. Of course, we need to be careful, since Swaggart has seen us in Trenton Valley, but nothing ventured, nothing gained."
Dora agreed, and both women climbed out of the car. After Dora had locked her doors, they walked again in the direction of the house.
"What exactly do you hope to accomplish?" Dora whispered while they were walking down the street. "We can't very well just ring the bell and ask Swaggart what he is doing here."
"I don't know, Dora," Molly Gertrude replied. "We can only try, try, and try some more. If we are faithfully checking up on all leads a
nd possibilities, we may eventually stumble upon the right puzzle piece." She chuckled. "Sleuthing women need lots of patience, Dora. Lots."
"I guess so," Dora mumbled back, but she did not sound convinced.
"You know how many times Thomas Edison failed in inventing the light bulb?" Molly Gertrude went on in a cheerful voice.
Dora shrugged her shoulders. "I don't know. Ten times, maybe?"
"Wrong," Molly Gertrude said with a laugh. "Almost a thousand times. You see, Dora, victory belongs to the most persevering."
"At least Edison knew what he was looking for," Dora objected. They were now almost at the house.
A shiny, blue Corvette was parked in front of the rusty gate of the house of Bald-Head. One of its front tires was carelessly parked on the sidewalk. A strange sight, to see such an expensive car in front of the dilapidated building.
"Y-You think, that car belongs to Swaggart?" Dora whispered as she let her fingers slide over the hood.
"It has to be," Molly Gertrude replied. "I am going in."
"What?" Dora's face paled.
Molly Gertrude pointed to the other side of the street, to a cement electrical building. "You hide behind there, and wait for me. If I am not back in say 15 minutes, you call Digby."
"But… what are you going to do?"
"The garage door is still open. There's light enough. I am going in, hoping to find out more."
Dora shook her head. "Miss Molly Gertrude Grey, you are absolutely crazy! You are not going to do it."
Molly Gertrude's eyes widened. "You are not going to try to stop me, are you?"
"I am," Dora replied. "I will go in your stead. And you are the one that's going to hide behind that slab of cement."
Molly Gertrude gasped. "A-Are you sure, Dora… I thought you would be a little scared."
"I am," Dora fired back. "But don't talk me out of this. If I let you go in, stumbling around with your aching joints, leaning on a walking cane, we are sure to get caught. I'll do it. Just wish me luck."
