Later that night, Molly walked into the living room where her Dad was sitting in his chair reading his newspaper and her Mother was on the couch watching television.
“Where’s Billy?” Molly asked stopping at the entrance to the room.
“He has homework and I am making him do it,” Dad said, turning a page of the paper.
“Good,” Molly said. “Can I use the phone? I need to call Harold.”
“What about your homework?” Mom asked from the couch.
“Done.”
“What is it with you and Harold anyway,” Dad looked at her over his newspaper. “Are you two a thing? Because if you are, I need to be meaner to him.”
“No, Dad. He is just my friend.”
“Okay, then, you may use the phone,” he said returning to his paper.
Molly went to the telephone situated on a small nook in the corner of the dining room. It had a long line attached to it so she could take the telephone from its perch and around the corner toward her parents’ bedroom. She sat on the floor across from the bathroom and dialed Harold’s telephone number. The phone was picked up on the third ring.
“Hello?”
“Hi June. It’s me, Molly. Is Harold around?”
“Sure,” June said. “Hang on.”
Molly put her head back against the wall and looked up at the overhead light.
“I wish I would have turned that off,” she said out loud to no one.
“You wished you would have turned what off?” Harold’s voice came through the phone she had pressed into her ear.
“Hi, Harold,” she grumbled. “I wish I would have turned the light off over my head. Anyway, how are you?”
“Fine. What’s up?”
“I need to talk something out. I think I have a suspect, but I don’t want to believe who I think it is, really did it.”
“Who do you think did it?”
Molly hesitated before finally saying, “Mrs. Young.”
“Mrs. Young?” Harold said. “Why?”
“Why her or why would she do it?”
“Both.”
Molly was silent for a while as she went over in her mind how to answer his question. She closed her eyes and visualized her page of observations and deductions and took a deep breath.
“First, I guess I need you to agree on a couple of deductions based on the observations we made at our club meeting. It had to be someone who was at both events and an adult, right?”
There was another pause.
“Right,” Harold agreed.
“Here is something I remembered from the dance. Mrs. Young had a bag over her shoulder when we got there and later, she did not.”
“Are you sure?” Harold questioned her.
“Yes, because I was practicing Holmes by forcing myself to be observant. I stopped when we entered the gym and she was talking to the three principals. I watched them laugh and Mrs. Young walked away as she pulled the bag up on her shoulder. Later, I noticed her near the food without it. That same bag was hanging from her chair at the concession table at the play when we paid.”
“What does her bag have to do with it?” Harold questioned farther.
“I think that is how she got the money out of the building.” Molly said as she nodded her head to herself.
“Okay, again, why? Why would she do that?”
“I found out her daughter is pretty sick and in the hospital. Maybe she took the money for that.” Molly said. “But we still don’t have the final fact, who owns the fingerprint.”
“Right,” Harold agreed.
“Do you agree that we have to get Mrs. Young’s fingerprint?” Molly asked him.
Another long pause and Molly wondered if he was still there.
“I agree,” Harold’s voice finally came through her earpieces. “But how?”
“I have an idea for that, but do we need to tell Miss Marvel before we attempt to get it?” Molly asked.
The line went silent again and Molly waited.
“I think we try to get the fingerprint first and then we go to Miss Marvel,” Harold finally said.
“Okay,” Molly said. “I’ll talk to you later.
She hung up the phone.
Molly was balancing a plate of chocolate cupcakes on her lap as the bus rumbled to school. They were roughly covered in plastic wrap.
“So how are you going to get her fingerprint again?” Harold asked her for the second time.
“I am going to place this plate on a book and carry it into the office and hand it to her. I will notice that I handed her the book and ask her to hand it back to me.”
“And you think it will work?” Harold said. “I have to be there to see that.”
“No! Bev has to go with me,” Molly said as the bus jumped and she grabbed the plate to keep it steady.
“Why me?” Bev said from the seat behind them.
“Because we are always together. It would be a natural thing for her to see us but not me and Harold,” Molly explained to the two of them. “Get it. Besides, I need you to carry my book bag.”
Bev went through the office door first leading Molly to the counter, who carefully held the plate of cupcakes on the largest book she had, her history book.
“Good morning, Mrs. Young!” Molly said. “I have a surprise for you!”
Mrs. Young rose from her chair and walked to the counter. She smiled at Molly and asked, “What in the world are these for?”
“Well, the other day when you stuck your head into our club meeting, I heard you say that your daughter was in the hospital. So, I wondered what I could do for you since you have been so nice to me. I decided to make you cupcakes!” Molly handed the cupcakes to her. “Don’t worry, I asked my Mom to help me and, surprise, she did!”
“Well, they look wonderful! Thank you so much and what a wonderful surprise,” Mrs. Young said as she took them from her. “Oh look, what Molly made for me, Miss Marvel!”
“I see,” Miss Marvel said from where she stood at her office door. “They do look delicious.”
“Thank you,” Molly said. “I better get to class.”
“Don’t forget your book,” Bev spoke for the first time since entering the office. “Miss Marvel, can I see you a second?”
Mrs. Young handed Molly her book and she took it from her. She bent down and placed the book into her backpack, carefully placing the end Mrs. Young held in first.
She stood up and waved to Mrs. Young. Outside the door, Harold was waiting for her when she stepped out and headed to her English class.
“Did you get it?” Harold asked as they walked down the hall.
“Yep, and Bev is telling Miss Marvel right now.”
The bell rang just as Molly sat at her desk. Mrs. Chesterfield was still writing on the chalkboard with her back to the class. Molly couldn’t wait to ask Bev what Miss Marvel thought of their deduction. Mrs. Chesterfield turned around from the board and walked to the front of her desk. She glanced around the room. She turned and picked up a booklet from her desk and asked, “Molly, where’s Bev?”
“She went to see Miss Marvel,” Molly explained.
At that moment, the speaker crackled, and Mrs. Young’s voice said, “Mrs. Chesterfield?”
“Yes,” Mrs. Chesterfield said a little louder than normal.
“Will you send Molly Bennett to the office, please?”
“Sure.” Mrs. Chesterfield said looking at Molly.
Molly nodded back and grabbed her backpack and left the room.
Molly walked back into the office to find Miss Marvel standing in front of her door and slowly opened it and motioned for her to go inside. Molly walked slowly in front of Miss Marvel and into a crowded room filled with other students. The Whodunnit Club was having a meeting.
To be continued…
My First Stories 