And on that cheerful note, they stepped into the house and Mr. Hodge closed the door.
Chapter 14
The house was nice, Brutus thought. High ceilings, large rooms, and so much space!
He sniffed the air, trying to detect whether there were any other cats or pets nearby, but to his surprise couldn’t pick up any sign of them. Mort’s Molly did not live there.
“You own a cat yourself?” asked Scarlett.
“No, unfortunately I don’t,” said Mr. Hodge. “My wife is allergic to cats and dogs. Very ironic, I know, for the creator of Mort’s Molly not to own a molly himself. But there you have it. I like to think I’m the owner of a fictional cat, and that’s good enough for me.”
Mrs. Hodge had joined them. She was a lively woman with a kind demeanor. A full head shorter than her husband, and dressed in a floral-pattern dress that showed off a well-rounded physique. Mrs. Hodge might be allergic to pets, Brutus thought, but she clearly wasn’t allergic to the good life. All in all she and her husband looked like a very lovely couple, and as Mort placed an arm around his wife’s shoulder and gave her a quick peck on the temple, it was obvious they were a devoted one, too.
“So what happened, exactly?” asked Vesta. “My son said something about a safe being burgled?”
“Not the safe—it’s actually worse than that,” said Mort. “You better tell the story, honey.”
“I opened the door this morning when I heard the doorbell and was surprised when I found two individuals announcing they worked for the gas company. They immediately overpowerd me and shoved a rag or something into my mouth and tied my hands behind my back and walked me up the stairs into our bedroom and pushed me down onto the bed.” She had tears in her eyes. “I feared the worst—the absolute worst.”
“These men, did you recognize them?” asked Vesta, taking the lead as usual.
Mrs. Hodge shook her head. “I did not. Both of them were dressed in black from head to toe. Black leather jackets, black pants, black shoes, and a black mask to hide their faces. One was big and the other one small, though, so that might be important.”
“One big, one small,” murmured Scarlett while she tapped all this information into her smartphone, her tongue between her lips as she navigated the little keyboard with her inch-long gel nails.
“And then what happened?” asked Vesta.
“Well, they just left me there and walked straight into the next room, Mort’s old office, which we’ve turned into a storage space for some of his stuff.” She glanced at her husband. “They seemed to know their way around the house, which makes me think they must have been here before.”
“They didn’t bother with the safe,” said Mort with a frown of concern. “Instead they emptied out my big metal bookcase, which I keep padlocked.”
“What was in that bookcase?”
“All my originals,” said Mort. “Everything, down to my very first preliminary sketches, before I even launched the first Mort’s Molly cartoon.”
“Worth millions,” said Megan Hodge quietly.
“Our retirement fund,” said Mort. “Gone.”
“Wait, so they didn’t touch the safe?”
“Nope. There is a small cache of gold and valuables in there, but it’s not even worth a fraction of what was in that bookcase.”
“Millions?” asked Scarlett, pausing from her note-taking to gawp at the couple.
“Yeah, those originals easily fetch thousands upon thousands of dollars when auctioned off.”
“People actually pay that much money for a cartoon?” asked Vesta, earning herself a slight look of reproach from Mrs. Hodge.
“Mort has sold a couple of his originals over the years, and they never sell for less than ten thousand each. And the bulk of his collection he kept all these years.”
“I was going to sell more, but kept postponing. It’s hard to say goodbye to your original work, even though the money is good.”
“We don’t need the money, Mort,” said Megan. “We’re fine the way we are.”
“I know,” said Mort ruefully. “Megan has been telling me for years to put my originals in a vault at the bank or some specialized security company, but I like the idea of having my work close by. I like to take it out from time to time. Go over some stuff from the past. See how far I’ve come. And be inspired by things I did that I’ve completely forgotten.”
“Poor guy,” said Harriet. “He seems to be more sorry that he lost his drawings than about the money.”
“Yeah, well, it was his creation,” said Brutus. “Mort’s Molly is his baby.”
“Is there anything else you can tell us about your attackers, Mrs. Hodge?” asked Vesta.
Megan frowned as she thought back to the horrible events of that morning. “Um, at some point one of them said something that sounded a lot like, ‘Do you want to take everything, Jer?’ And then the other one said, ‘Shut up, Johnny!’ and then the first one did shut up.”
Vesta and Scarlett shared a look of excitement, and so did Brutus and Harriet.
“Johnny and Jerry!” said Brutus.
“Oh, this is too easy,” said Harriet, shaking her head. “Those two? At it again?”
“I think we can safely say that we’ve solved the case already, Mr. Hodge, Mrs. Hodge,” said Vesta. “We’re familiar with these Johnny and Jerry characters. They’re career criminals. I’ll tell my son and they’ll be behind bars before you know it.”
Both Mr. And Mrs. Hodge looked much relieved. “Oh, that’s wonderful news,” said Megan Hodge. “Did you hear that, Mort? They think they know who did it already.”
Mort smiled. “I hope you’re right, Mrs. Muffin. I was thinking about offering a reward for the safe return of my originals.”
“Better wait,” Vesta advised. “If it is who I think it is, it won’t be long before you have your drawings back safe and sound.”
“And this time we’re putting them in a vault,” said Megan. “Not keeping them at home.”
“Do you still write and draw everything yourself, Mr. Hodge?” asked Scarlett, putting away her phone now that the case was solved.
“Why, yes, mostly,” said Mort. “I think up the jokes, and I create the original drawing in pencil, then send it to one of my collaborators who puts it in ink—not actual ink, mind you, nowadays everything is digital. And then a third person puts it in color and back it comes to me for a final check. It’s how I’ve been working for the past, oh, twelve years?”
“I think it’s great what you do,” said Scarlett with a smile.
“I think so, too,” said Vesta. “Wonderful cartoons. Always make me laugh.”
“And so true to life,” said Scarlett. “You really know your stuff.”
“Like I said, I may not be the lucky owner of a real cat, but Molly is as much a pet to me as these guys.” He gestured to Brutus and Harriet, who purred their appreciation.
“Oh, they’re hungry, the poor darlings,” said Megan. “Come. I think I have just what you need in the kitchen.”
Brutus and Harriet eagerly followed the artist’s wife into the kitchen, and before long they were both snacking on a nice piece of liverwurst.
“Case cracked and some great food to boot,” said Harriet between two nibbles. She was beaming. “Let’s see Max and Dooley beat that!”
Chapter 15
Since Tex was between patients, he was surfing on his phone and checking the news. The Gazette was leading with breaking news about Alec Lip and Charlene Butterwick canoodling into their allotted lunch break, causing hundreds of comments wondering if the mayor and chief of police of Hampton Cove didn’t have anything better to do than enjoy each other’s company. Like catching the burglars terrorizing the town.
Tex shook his head, and skipped to the next article. This one detailed some salient tidbits about the most recent victims of the gang: famous artist Mort Hodge and his wife.