Free Seven Deadly Samovars by Morgan St James and Phyllice Bradner Page B

faux texture and plastered with Marilyn Monroe memorabilia, “you can see I don’t have much overhead.”
    Godiva opened her purse, extracted three tens and a hundred from her wallet and tucked them into Ruby’s hand. “Well, honey, I stiffed you on the eighty cents so to make up for it here’s a tip for a job well done.” Ruby smoothed out the bills. When she saw the hundred she let out a whoop and pumped Godiva’s hand. “Wow, I’m usually lucky to get five. Th-thank you.”
    The twins walked out into the alley leaving a stunned Ruby blinking in the sunny doorway. Goldie and Godiva resumed their quest as they started up Franklin Street, showing the sketch to shopkeepers and pedestrians. When they passed the Glory Hole, Goldie looked through the window and saw several people clustered around something on the counter near the coffee pot. “Godiva, am I seeing things or is that a samovar?”
    Godiva, who was trying to ignore the homeless men and women having breakfast at the shelter, forced herself to look inside. There on the table, beside a platter of day-old doughnuts was Belle’s birthday gift. It was drawing quite a crowd.
    “Come on.” Goldie grabbed her sister’s arm and dragged her into the big room full of oilcloth-covered tables.
    One of the old timers looked up and saw them come in. “Hey Goldie, looky here what ol’ Jack found in a dumpster.” He pointed toward the new acquisition. It had a large dent in the side and the lid was missing.
    Goldie zoomed in on Jack, beaming beside his treasure. “Yeah, I was like, dumpster diving behind that big building on Front Street and there’s this fancy teapot just layin’ there, right on top. I sez to myself, ‘Jack, this here teapot would really class up the ol’ Glory Hole,’ so I brung it in.”
    “You found the samovar that was stolen from Belle Pepper yesterday.” She ran a finger along some of the dents and saw that it was damaged beyond repair. Jack looked frightened and upset, as if he were being accused of the crime. Goldie patted his arm. “Don’t worry about returning it to her. She’ll be happy to know you found it and brought it over here.”
    Goldie pulled out the sketch of the Dumkovskys. “These are the thieves, have any of you seen them?” She passed the paper around.
    “Belle shot one of them in the arm,” Godiva added.
    “Whooee! Good for Belle!” one of the women shouted.
    Everyone gathered around to look at the picture. “I seen these guys,” said a man in a bright red jacket. “Y’see I live in my van down in the Harris Harbor parking lot. Well, actually it’s an old UPS truck, kinda brown and rusty, it don’t really drive any more. I hope they don’t tow me away. There was a notice on the window.”
    “Get to the point, Simon,” someone yelled.
    “Oh yeah. Anyhow, I stepped out to go to the can, and there was this trail of blood on the floats. An’ I thought maybe a dog got hurt or somethin’ but then I saw these two guys climbin’ on board the Custard Pie . It was gettin’ dark but it looked like those guys in your picture.”
    Godiva cocked her head. “The Custard Pie ?”
    “Yeah, y’ know, ol’ Cassie Custard’s boat. She usually lives on it, but the last couple days she’s been in jail. Drunk and disorderly.”
    “Aw Simon, yer full of it,” another wharf rat joined in. He was thin with shaggy, long hair, full beard, bushy eyebrows, and hair coming out of his ears and nose. Godiva moved away from him because his clothes smelled like musty dishrags.
    “I was sleepin’ in my little boat over there at the harbor. I’m tied up just on the other side of the Custard Pie , ya know.Anyway, I seen two big ol’ gals gettin’ off that boat this morning. One was Cassie and t’other might o’been her sister. They’s big gals, and ugly as sin! Cassie ain’t no prize but her sister’s even worse.”
    Simon became indignant, “Cassie ain’t got no sister, dummy, an’ I know for a fact that she is