A note on my desk told me Dolly was at the market. I wasn’t happy about it but what could I do? I sat down in my battered chair and opened the envelope that had been slid under the door – my assistant didn’t have a key. I scanned the few lines, confirming my suspicions.
I had the whole thing now.
I pulled the phone over to me and lifted the receiver. It was dead. Guess the phone company had finally gotten serious about the past due bills. I dug around in my desk and managed to find two dimes.
There was a pay phone on the corner outside the entrance to my building. I put in another call to the Briar Patch and got my assistant on the line.
“Brer, I need you to go to the market and find Dolly. Bring her back to the office as soon as you can.”
“Which market dat be, Boss?”
“She didn’t say. Check the one over by the cable car garage first.”
“De one wit’ de plum buns we got dat one time?”
“That’s the one. It’s near her house, and she’d probably head somewhere familiar.”
“Dat’s good thinkin’, Boss.”
“That’s what I pay myself for. Go on. I’ll see you later.”
“Right, Boss.”
The line went dead, and I stood a moment, debating on how to spend my last dime. I could call the police, but like as not they wouldn’t do anything but send a uniform around too late to be any use. Fortunately, I had another option.
I dropped the coin in, and a nice operator helped with the connection.
“St. Ives police department. Can I help you?”
“Inspector Protector, please.”
“One moment, please.”
There was a brief moment of silence, then…
“Hector Protector, may I help you, please?”
“Hello, Inspector.”
“Wait. That voice is very familiar, but it is not one I expected to hear again. Mister Cat?”
“You have a good ear.”
“I believe you owe me an explanation.”
“What can I say, Inspector? The King’s Men managed to put me back together. Sorry I couldn’t keep our date, but I’d like to make it up to you.”
“You will be turning yourself in?”
“Something like that. How about you come by my office?”
“How am I knowing I can trust you, Mister Cat?”
“I called you, didn’t I? Just be here around seven.” I gave him the address.
“Very well, Mister Cat. I will be seeing you at seven o’clock. I expect you to stay alive this time.”
“I have every intention of doing so, Inspector. See you soon.”
I replaced the handle on the hook, and grabbed a tuna salad sandwich from the cart that staked out my corner. I’ve known Tommy for years, and he lets me run a tab. It’s helpful when the money isn’t piling up in my accounts, which is most times.
I went back to my office and unwrapped the waxed paper, spreading it out on my desk. A bit of egg dropped out from between the soft white bread as I bit into it, and I wondered if anybody would die tonight.
Brer and Dolly showed up around 6:30, and I sent him out on another errand. I poured a couple of shots of whisky, and we made small talk.
“How are you holding up, Doll?”
She fidgeted with her glass. “I’m tired, Chesh. I just want all of this to be over.”
“I know. With any luck, it should be wrapped up tonight.”
She looked at me hopefully. “You figured it out?”
“I think so, yeah.”
“Well?”
“I hate to break it to you, Doll, but…” A knock on the door interrupted me. I went over and opened it to reveal the Inspector.
“Ah, good evening, Inspector.”
He nodded briskly. “And to you as well, Mister Cat. Shall we go?”
“Not right now, Inspector. Come inside and give me a chance to change your mind.”
He stepped inside my office and removed his green hat. “I will have you know that I cannot be bribed, Mister Cat.”
“Good to hear, Inspector, because I don’t have the money, and my scotch isn’t expensive enough.” I held a glass out to him, but he waved it aside.
“I am on duty, Mister Cat.”
“Fair enough. Inspector? I’d like you to meet my friend Dolly Malone. Dolly? This is Inspector Hector Protector from the St. Ives police department.”
“How do you do, Inspector?” Dolly held out her hand.
“A pleasure, Miss Malone. Are you any relation to the famous Molly Malone, by any chance?”
“She was my mother, Inspector.”
“My condolences on your loss, then, Miss Malone.”
“Thank you. And please, call me Dolly.”
“As you wish, Dolly. And it would gratify me if you would call me Hector.”
“Thank you, Hector.”
I moved over to my desk and retrieved the bottle. “So, Hector…”
“‘Inspector’, Mister Cat.”
“And here I was thinking we were all friends now.”
“You have given me no reason to believe that you are still anything other than a suspect, Mister Cat.”
“Other than calling you, you mean? Be patient, Inspector. I’m waiting on someone else before we start this shindig.”
“You partner, perhaps? Mister Harvey? You should know that others are aware of my whereabouts, Mister Cat.”
“Relax, Inspector, I’m not setting you up for anything. Have a seat and be comfortable.” I pointed to a creaky old chair in the corner.
“I will remain standing, thank you.”
I shrugged. “Suit yourself.” I sat down in my own creaky old chair and lit a cigarette.
I’d only taken a few puffs when another knock sounded. I could hear muffled voices out in the hall.
“It’s open.” I called out.
My assistant entered, escorting Dolly’s sister into the room. Dolly’s mouth dropped open, and she stood up.
“Polly? What are you doing here?”
Polly Malone jerked her arm out of Brer’s grip, favoring him with a scowl. “I was minding my own business when this…animal…abducted me from my own hotel room.”
“I apologize, Miss Malone,” I said. “But I wasn’t too confident that you’d come if I only said ‘please.’”
Her eyes narrowed. “You,” she breathed. “What do you want?”
“To return your lighter, of course.”
“Keep it,” she snarled. “A reminder of our time together.” Dolly’s face screwed up in confusion.
“I’m not likely to forget it anytime soon,” I said.
“What’s going on, here, Cheshire? Polly?” Dolly asked.
“I’m glad you asked, Doll, but first, we’re being rude to our guests. Inspector? Meet Polly Malone. Obviously, Polly and Dolly are twins.”
The Inspector nodded. “Indeed. They are almost mirror images of one another. How do you do, Miss Malone?”
“Yeah. Hi, Inspector. Do you have a card? I’d like to press kidnapping charges on the cat over there.”
I chuckled. “Hold your horses, Sugar. We’ve got some things to discuss first.”
Polly dropped onto the couch beside her sister and crossed her arms. “Like what?”
“I want to tell everyone a story.”
She rolled her eyes. “Great.” She dug a cigarette out of her purse and lit it, then sat back and tapped her foot impatiently.
“Once upon a time,” I began, “there was a crooked man called the Weasel. The Weasel was a businessman. Mostly, he insinuated himself into other people’s business, then wrung every nickel out of them that he could. He wasn’t nice about it, either.
“Turns out, the Weasel actually appreciated the finer things in life, and was somewhat of a regular customer at Gruff’s Exchange. He knew his jewelry, for example, and he knew his art. The difference was that he was a little more ruthless in getting those things he wanted. If he couldn’t buy it, he’d steal it.
“Case in point,” I pointed at Dolly. “Your Margery Daw painting.”
She blanched. “That was stolen?”
“Sort of.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Somewhere along the line, your painting was concealed in a mirror. A mirror owned by your family, Doll. The Weasel found out about it, and tried several times to buy the mirror from your mother, who refused to sell it. After the fire, he tried to purchase it from Gruff’s directly, but your parents’ will stated that it would have to be auctioned off. He didn’t want to take the chance on being outbid, so he arranged to have the mirror stolen and the painting extracted. No one else seemed to know about the painting, so while you can’t really say that it was stolen, its packaging certainly was.”
Dolly teared up. “You mean he…the fire was…?”
I shook my head. “No, Doll. As far as I can tell, the fire was just the accident it appeared to be. He wouldn’t have taken the chance that he would destroy the very thing he was trying to get.”
“Why would it have been concealed in this mirror?” the Inspector asked.
I shrugged. “Keep in mind that Daw paintings have only recently been deemed valuable. I imagine that she had to struggle at times during her life like so many other artists. She could have sold that canvas to the first person that would give her anything for it. She might have traded it for something. Who knows? But at some point, someone thought it would be just the thing to provide the backing for a piece of silvered glass.”
The Inspector nodded. “Interesting theory, Mister Cat. Please continue.”
“Now keep in mind, I’m guessing at some of this, but it fits the facts. The Weasel had the boys in the scene shop dismantle the mirror and clean up the painting. He was going to give it to his girlfriend, Dolly. I’m betting that he gave her something else, too.”
“What is that, Mister Cat?” the Inspector asked.
“An eight carat princess-cut diamond ring. The painting was an engagement gift. Isn’t that right, Doll?” Dolly nodded sadly.
“But there was a complication,” I continued. “There was someone else there when the painting was revealed. Someone that didn’t like all the attention that Dolly was getting.”
The Inspector looked intrigued. “Who was that?”
I pointed to Dolly’s twin. “Miss Polly Malone, Inspector.”
Polly looked bored. “That’s ridiculous, Cat. I didn’t even know the guy.”
“Oh no?” I opened the envelope Brer had delivered earlier. “I’ve got a copy of the cast lists for The Rapunzel Effect and London Bridge, the last two floor shows the Mulberry Bush put on. One name that shows up on both of them is Polly Flinders. According to an appointment book I found, she was also going to audition for The Cinders until the Weasel got himself popped.”
Polly fixed me with a narrow look. “So what?”
“So this other page I have here…” I pulled it out of the envelope, “is a bio sheet from the Star Bright talent agency. Seems that Polly Flinders is actually the stage name of one Polly Malone.”
“All right; so I knew him. What does that prove?”
“Nothing by itself, but why lie about it, sugar? Adding that to the fact that your train receipt was not from this afternoon’s Dinah line like you said, but was actually from the St. Ives route dated three days ago. The day Geoff was shot. And myself, incidentally.”
She arched one eyebrow. “Who?” she asked sweetly.
“The guy you drove over to Gruff’s to get the mirror. He described the woman he worked with. Except for the long brown hair, it could’ve been you.”
“Well there you go, cat. I don’t have long brown hair.”
“No, but you did have access to the wigs from The Rapunzel Effect. One of them is the same long, two-tone brown that Geoff described.”
She puffed on her cigarette. “So did a lot of other girls.”
“But none of them showed up at Dolly’s house lying about how they got there.”
“You’ve got nothing but wild guesses, cat.”
“You’re right, sugar. But my guesses generally pay out. I’m guessing that you were obsessed with the Weasel. I’m guessing that you did anything you could to get him to pay attention to you, including performing in his floor shows and doing his dirty work for him as the Mockingbird. I’m guessing that you were furious when the Weasel gave the painting and the ring to Dolly. I’m guessing that you used your inheritance to hire Hansel and Gretel to kill your sister and steal the engagement gifts back. I’m guessing that you killed Geoff because he could identify you, and that the shot at me was because I had been nosing around. I’m guessing that it was you that trashed Dolly’s place looking for the ring. And I’m guessing that you killed the Weasel because you loved him.”
Polly sat there, tears running down her face. She reached in her purse for a handkerchief, but came out with a gun instead.
“I’ll hand it to you, cat; you’re a good guesser. It’s a pity that you’ll never get the chance to impress anyone else with it. Yeah, I loved him, but all he ever talked about was her.” She waved the gun at Dolly. “All my life, I’ve come in second to her. She was Mother’s favorite. She was the good girl. She got all of the attention. And she got the Weasel. Why is that, huh? Why her and not me? It can’t be because of her looks.”
“Mebbe cuz she be nicer?” My assistant. Mind as sharp as a horseshoe nail.
Polly barked a short laugh. “Nicer. Yeah, maybe. But the Weasel didn’t need ‘nice.’ He needed a real partner; someone that would work with him.” She sniffed back tears. “But he rejected me. I couldn’t stand it. So yeah, I popped him, and set out to erase everyone connected with that damn painting.”
Dolly looked at her sister. “‘Everyone,’ Polly?”
“Sorry, Dolly.” The gun came up. “You’re the one that started the whole thing.”
Dolly grabbed for the gun, and the two sisters fought over it. Their struggle knocked them off the couch and onto the floor. The Inspector and I had just started to move towards them when the power company turned my lights off.
The sound of a single gunshot echoed in the sudden darkness, and I saw the faces of the sisters lit up in the flash: one frightened, one determined.
A flashlight was switched on. The Inspector quickly trained the beam towards the two women. One of them sat there with the other cradled in her arms. She rocked back and forth, crying. The other reached up a hand to her cheek.
“I guess it’s all for the best, Dolly. I don’t deserve to live after what I’ve done to you.”
“Don’t talk like that, Polly. You’re gonna be fine. You’re gonna be fine.”
“No. I don’t think so.” A stream of blood dribbled out of her mouth when she spoke. “I don’t expect you to be able to forgive me.”
“You can’t leave me alone, Pol,” Dolly sobbed. “You’re all I got left.”
Polly coughed weakly. “Can’t be helped. No use crying about it, now.” She put a finger on Dolly’s lips. “Shhhh. Hush, little baby.”
Her hand fell away.
Epilogue
Inspector Protector grudgingly accepted my innocence in the whole matter, and allows me to call him Hector now. I usually don’t, though. He drops by the new place about once a week to take my secretary to lunch. He’s sweet on her, but he knows she’s been through a rough time so he’s taking it slow.
My secretary? Dolly. She was kind of at a loss as to what to do with herself after losing everyone she loved. She called me up after a few weeks of staring at her walls and asked if there was anything she could do, so I got her a desk and a phone. She said I didn’t have to pay her, with her being so well-off and all, but I do.
The new place is nice. It’s in the same building as Wynken, Blynken, & Nod’s law practice. Just above it, as a matter of fact, on the fifth floor. I was right, by the way: the elevators make too much noise if you’re trying to sneak into the place. There are two offices behind the reception area. One of them belongs to my assistant. I even gave him his own key. Not to the front door, though, just his office.
I sent the Weasel’s appointment book to Doctor Fell like I’d promised, along with a letter explaining that as far as I was concerned, we were square. I never got a reply back, but I haven’t woken up dead in his hospital, so I figure he agrees.
Despite Inspector Protector’s best efforts to find them, Hansel and Gretel disappeared from the city. I imagine they went back to the Black Forest, and that’s fine with me.
Word got out about the case, and I stay busy now. I even had a whole new bunch of business cards printed up that included my address this time. It’s been months since I’ve had a bill collector darken my doorway.
So you’re probably wondering where I got the cash to pay the bills, move to the fancy office, and pay a secretary.
The day after Polly Malone died, I went back to Banbury Cross and collected my winnings. Pete was true to his word. The odds against Hobby had been enormous, and she came in first. I haven’t seen Pete since our initial conversation. I suppose he’s still hiding, waiting on word from the Weasel. That should keep him out of trouble for a while.
As I said, business was good, so when the two men walked into my office one bright morning, there was nothing exceptional about it. Their job offer, however, was.
“How would you like to stop a royal assassination?”
*Don’t miss Cheshire in his next case: A Pocketful of Rye *
Review item
Add to faves
Ratings & Rankings
