The Case of the Reformed Songbird-Part Four
by HA Senidal
WARNING: This part may contain content that may be unsettling to some, especially younger readers. Please read responsibly.
Once everyone was settled in, Shirley said, "We know who your blackmailer is. She's a student at Sussex Academy named Molly Hardy."
Madelyn listened with interest as Shirley continued. "Molly will do anything to get her way, no matter how many people she has to step on."
"She sounds dangerous," Madelyn said.
"Believe me, she is," Bo said. "We know from experience."
"So what does Molly have on you?" Blake asked.
Madelyn sighed. "My old juvenile hall file."
"Juvenile hall?" Bo looked at Madelyn.
"Yeah. It's something I'm not proud of, but I did spend time in juvenile hall." Madelyn shook her head. "I lived in Vancouver before my mom and I came here. Back then, I was out of control. It probably started after my dad just up and left us."
Madelyn was quiet for a brief moment. "Anyway, I joined a gang when I was ten. We did drugs and raised hell just for the fun of it. My mom didn't notice; she was too busy working the graveyard shift at a convenience mart. I managed to stay out of trouble for a while."
"What happened to change all that?" Shirley asked.
Madelyn resumed telling her story. "It was a Friday night, I think. I was with my gang spraying graffiti on some walls. We were having the time of our lives. Then, one of the guys pulled me over and asked me to act as lookout. I was given a gun and told to shoot first and ask questions later. I nodded, but I secretly hoped it wouldn't come to that.
"Well, I saw a beat cop heading our way. He spotted us and started to call in for backup. The guy who gave me the gun ordered me to shoot him. I froze for a moment, but I finally pulled out the gun and pointed it at the cop, hoping he'd just go away. He didn't."
Madelyn hesitated for a moment. She looked down, her lip trembling.
"What happened next?" Shirley said.
After a moment of silence, Madelyn brought her head up. "The cop started to reach for his gun. The others started cheering me on, telling me to shoot. I felt like I was in a Western or something like that. I also felt afraid; the cop looked like he was going to shoot. Suddenly, a voice in my head told me to shoot; better him than me, and he had that look in his eyes. That same look that every cop I've ever seen gave me."
"What look?"
"The look they always give us. The one that says 'Stay in your place or else.'" Madelyn let out a sigh. "The cop had his gun pointed at me—I swear that his finger was about to push the trigger–but I fired first. Everything happened so fast. The cop fell back with a bullet wound in his chest and a surprised look on his face. I later learned that I hit him in the heart. Seeing the cop on the ground and assuming he was dead, the others started to take off. I was frozen in place, still looking at him. I felt my heartbeat go faster. I had just shot a person. Someone called for me to hurry up. I looked at the gun in my hand briefly, then I threw it into an alley and got the hell out of there.
"By dumb luck, I got home before my mom did. I changed into my pajamas and got ready for bed. I started scrubbing my hands, but it didn't help; I still felt unclean. I didn't sleep easily that night. I still saw the look on that cop's face.
"The next day, the news shows and the papers reported the murder of a local cop. The others assured me that I wouldn't get caught. They told me that it was too dark for anyone to recognize me. Besides, they pointed out, there were no witnesses.
"They were wrong. That night, while my mom was getting ready for work, the police came. They said that they were investigating the cop's murder and that a shopkeeper spotted us around the area where the cop was killed. They wanted to take me in for questioning. My mom tried to say that I wasn't involved, but they still wanted to bring me down to the police station. My mom came along, still proclaiming my innocence.
"When I got to the police station, I found the others there. Unfortunately for me, the police had found the gun and had dusted it for fingerprints. The others were questioned already; they came clean about the graffiti, but they passed the fingerprint check. Despite my mom's protests, my fingerprints were taken and checked. I still remember the look on my mom's face when she was told my prints matched the ones on the gun. Her eyes were wide open and her mouth hung open. She cried soon after.
"As I was getting ready for my hearing, I heard that most of my fellow gangsters had agreed to plead guilty to the graffiti and testify against me in exchange for leniency. They told the cops how violent I was and how I loved to smoke pot. I felt like I was stabbed in the back. My court-appointed lawyer, a really slimy guy, wanted to try to create reasonable doubt in the prosecution's witnesses, but I knew I was guilty. That was my official plea. For it I got four years with a slim chance of early release in a juvenile detention facility. My mom cried in the courtroom. The paper said I was stone-faced as I was sentenced because I had no regret. It was half-right; I was still angry that my so-called friends tried to betray me.
"In juvie, I was still thinking about how the others were planning to sell me out if I had a trial. I felt that I had no hope. I was afraid that my mom would never take me back after what I did. I felt lost.
"One day, I remembered something my mom told me when I was little. Whenever she felt down, she sang. She taught me some songs, mostly church hymns. So, whenever I felt miserable, I sang to myself. My voice was terrible at first, but I gradually got better. Some of the other inmates thought I was nuts. Some actually joined me.
"Soon I got the attention of the place's director. He asked me if I was willing to join the newly formed choir as a way to get out early. I said 'yes,' but not because I wanted to leave, but because I wanted to sing just for the fun of it.
"In the choir, I sang my heart out. I admit that last Saturday's Amateur Night at the Quazar Cafe wasn't my first public performance. We sang mainly at special ceremonies, and we got good publicity. I even got my picture in the local paper on a few occasions; my mom keeps a scrapbook. I'm not identified in any of them, though.
"Thanks to my community service, I was out in two years. My mom was so happy to see me. She felt, however, that we needed a fresh start somewhere else. So, we ended up here, and I've been keeping my nose out of trouble ever since. Heck, I've even done very well in school."
"And now Molly wants to ruin you," Shirley said.
Madelyn looked at her guests. "I don't expect you guys to understand me. You all had it easy. Me, I had to learn the hard way."
"I understand," Bo said. "I was in a gang once. I got caught and I was given a scholarship to Sussex as an alternative to reform school. I've kept out of trouble ever since." He gave a sideways glance at Shirley and grinned. "Well, most of the time."
"I see," Madelyn said.
"When did your troubles with Molly begin?" Shirley asked.
"It actually started after you guys left me last Saturday," Madelyn said. "A few minutes after you guys left, this guy with major hair problems came in."
"A guy with spiky hair?" Blake asked.
"Exactly. He asked me if I was going to be in the upcoming contest. I told him I was. Then he just left.
"The next day, after church, I got a phone call from the same guy; I recognized his voice. He told me to drop out or else. I just hung up on him. I didn't really take him seriously until Monday."
"What happened on Monday?" Shirley asked.
Madelyn took out the note Shirley discovered the previous day and another piece of paper from a folder. "These were in a manila envelope attached to my door yesterday morning."
Shirley looked at the note, then she examined the other paper. "It's a computer printout of one of the pages of your file."
"I got another call right when I opened that envelope. The guy said that if I didn't drop out, copies of my file would be given to the people in charge of the contest, not to mention it'll get posted online," Madelyn said glumly.
"I'd guess that Molly would give away the bad parts of your file," Blake said.
"Why are you so worried about having this part of your past revealed?" Bo asked.
Madelyn looked down and sighed. "None of my friends here know about what I did in Vancouver. I've done my best to keep my past that...my past. If word gets out that I killed somebody, it'll ruin everything I've worked for."
"You're afraid that people will not treat you the same if they knew about what you did," Shirley said.
"Here, I'm a great kid, Shirley. Some of my schoolmates look up to me." Madelyn tried to hold back her tears. "If word got out that I killed someone..."
"It won't," Bo said.
"Not while we're around," Blake joined in. "What's the plan, Shirley?"
Shirley thought for a moment. "As far as I see it, we have to take Y out of the equation."
"My friends have told me about Y," Madelyn said. "Y can make or break someone's career. He's that influential."
"Actually, she's that influential. Y and Molly are the same person," Shirley said.
"Well, how are you going to stop her?" Madelyn asked.
Blake raised his hand. "Leave that to me."
"You know, something else has been bugging me," Madelyn said. "I think someone's been watching me."
"A feeling?" Bo asked.
"Nope. It's the spiky-haired guy. I saw him watching me today," Madelyn said. "On Monday, there was this big muscular guy with an eyepatch."
"Looks like Molly's not taking any chances," Bo said.
"Just out of curiosity, have you officially withdrawn from the contest yet?" Shirley asked Madelyn.
"No, actually," Madelyn answered. "I was about to call them when you guys came in."
"Keep it that way," Shirley said.
"But my file-"
"'Well, don't surrender! Take a chance!'" Shirley said. "Remember that, Madelyn?"
"I should," Madelyn said. "That's from my song." She paused. "Maybe I should follow my own advice, huh?"
"Good idea, and don't worry. I have a plan," Shirley said. "You have to follow my instructions to the letter."
"I'm all ears."
"Are you sure your plan will work?" Bo asked Shirley as they left for Shirley's house.
"I'm sure it'll work," Shirley said.
"We can count on Blake, right?"
"Yes, Bo. We can count on Blake, but he needs to get ready. Why do you think he went straight home after we talked to Madelyn?"
They continued to walk. "Bo, do you hate Blake?" Shirley asked.
"Me? Hate Blake? I don't hate Blake," Bo said. "He's a cool and decent guy."
"You sometimes look uncomfortable whenever he's with us," Shirley said. She looked with concern at her best friend. "Bo, what's bothering you? You can tell me."
Bo was hesitant to tell Shirley the truth. A part of him wanted to say how he felt. Another part of him wanted to keep the truth hidden. In his mind, he wondered which he should do, afraid of the consequences of both.
"Bo?"
Shirley's voice brought Bo back to reality. "Bo, are you going to answer me?"
"Uh..." Bo was about to say something when Shirley suddenly grabbed his hand and pulled him into a nearby alley. "Shirley, what...?"
"We're being followed." Shirley peeked out and saw in the distance the one-eyed man, who was standing among a number of other pedestrians. "It's the one-eyed man from the Quazar Cafe."
"Great," Bo said.
Shirley watched as the one-eyed man stood among the crowd, looking around the area as people passed by him. He seemed to be looking for her and Bo. The one-eyed man finally stopped looking and started to walk away.
"He's going the other way," Shirley said to Bo.
"That was too close, Shirley," Bo said. He looked down and realized that he was still holding Shirley's hand.
Shirley also noticed. "Bo?"
They looked at each other quietly and blushed. At that moment, Bo felt like he had butterflies in his stomach. He noted how Shirley's hand felt so soft before letting go of it. "W-we'd better get going," he said finally.
"Of course," Shirley said, trying not to sound awkward.
They left the alley quietly and continued on their way to Shirley's house. From a distance, the one-eyed man watched them. He smiled to himself and wondered how Shirley would react to his little surprise when she got home, then he went on his way.
Shirley and Bo were almost at the Holmes residence. "Molly must really want to win that contest," Shirley said. "Here's how I think it works. The spiky-haired man's job is to keep track of Madelyn and deliver threats to her."
"What's One-Eye's job?" Bo asked.
"I would guess to make sure we don't interfere," Shirley said. "He's apparently the one behind these strange break-ins."
"But why?" Bo asked as they walked up to Shirley's house.
Shirley reached into her pocket for her housekey. "Perhaps to keep us busy or as intimidation," she concluded. "You know Molly. She'll do anything to get her way."
"What about the falcon Stink and Blake mentioned?" Bo asked as Shirley took out her housekey.
"I can't explain that one, but I'm sure Molly has something to do with it." Shirley put her housekey into the keyhole and turned it. She gave the doorknob a curious look. "That's strange. The door's unlocked."
"Maybe you forgot to lock it before you left," Bo said.
Shirley gave him a stern look. "I never forget."
She opened the door and rushed inside with Bo behind her. She looked around. Everything seemed okay. Watson, her pet Basset hound, was asleep next to the door. Then she noticed that the bookcase that hid the entrance to the attic was open. "Oh no."
Shirley and Bo raced up the stairs to the attic. Once there, they looked around and saw that nothing was out of place. The chemistry set was intact. The makeshift darkroom was undisturbed.
"Well, looks like everything's okay," Bo said.
"Not quite." Shirley pointed to her computer. She walked up to it and found eleven lines typed on the screen. All of them were the same, and they each simply read, "YOU WILL PAY FOR YOUR INTERFERENCE, HOLMES."
END OF PART FOUR