Molly

British English spelling and grammar.

There was another story called Molly recently. This one is not a woman.

*** *** ***

Molly

"Daddy, please come and get me!"

"Where are you sweetie?"

"I'm at the shunting yards. Be quick!"

Calling me daddy was a code; though Liv wouldn't realise she was doing it. When things were running smoothly I was dad; she only said daddy under stress or excitement. It was quicker on my motorbike and I found her on the edge of a large outdoor party. Liv ran to the sound of the BMW's roar and jumped on the back. As I handed her the smaller crash helmet, she screamed 'Go, daddy, go!'

As well as the usual confusion of an illegal rave, there were the flashing lights and sirens of approaching police cars. I bumped the bike over some unused train tracks and cut down an alley. We made our escape.

When we got in the house Liv collapsed onto the sofa. I sat next to her.

"Have you taken anything?"

"No daddy. But you'd better have these."

She passed me a bag from under her sweater.

"What are these -- molly?"

"I think so."

I opened the bag and took one out.

"Jesus! There must be more than sixty here!"

I counted them; there were seventyone.

"The police have been waiting for this batch to arrive in the country. They're stamped with a snall 'p' and we think they've been cut with something hallucinogenic. Do you have any idea how long you'd do in prison, for holding this many? They're Class A!"

"But I couldn't just leave them lying around with my fingerprints all over them."

"Tell me the whole story Liv. Or do you want to wait till morning?"

"No, I'll tell you everything now dad."

"Go on then."

"I was feeling depressed and Jimmy said he knew where there was a rave. I know you don't approve of him, but I needed cheering up."

"Why was that?"

"I'll tell you later. We got there as it was warming up. Next thing there was a scuffle and a guy fell to the ground beside us; he was bleeding. This plastic bag flew out of his hand, and Jimmy picked it up and stuffed it under his jacket. Then someone shouted 'He's killed him"' and someone else ran off. But I never saw a knife or anything; I'm not even sure if he was dead. We backed away to the edge of the crowd and suddenly Jimmy saw somebody following us. A guy shouted Jimmy, come here!' Jimmy slipped me the bag, and ran off. Two guys ran after him; they never noticed me. That's when I called you. I'm sorry dad; I was stupid to go there."

"Don't worry about that now. Did you recognise anybody; or did anyone recognise you?"

"No."

"Well the bike's out of sight in the garage now, so we're safe. I'll find out what happened tomorrow, and keep you up to date."

That wouldn't be difficult. I did twelve years as a copper and still have lots of contacts in the force. Now I work for Customs and Excise at Heathrow airport. I have a particular interest in molly. It used to be referred to as MDMA or Ecstasy. And it comes into England from all over the world.

"You're sure you didn't take one Liv?"

"Sure."

"Only these could be deadly. They're being marketed as pure but they aren't. Some people at that rave are going to be ill. We've been on the lookout for these tablets for weeks. I wonder how they got into the country."

"Better get rid of them." she said.

"No, I should hand them in and get them analysed at the lab. So, do you want to tell me why you were so depressed?"

"Yes. I should have told you days ago. It started with Jack."

*** *** ***

"Hello Jack; fancy running into you on this side of town. No I don't want any drugs thanks!"

"Don't be like that Liv. I don't deal any more. Say, I saw your mum last Friday; going into a house four doors down from me. So who do you know on the Riverdene estate?"

"That's my aunty Madeleine -- my mum's aunt actually."

"Oh, I hadn't realised."

"It's complicated. Aunty Madeleine is a bit fragile now and has a live-in home help during the week; for cooking meals, shopping, a bit of cleaning. She puts up lunch on Friday morning and leaves for the weekend. My mum goes to visit Friday after work and makes dinner. Then they chat, or more likely mum reads her a book. Mad's eyesight isn't so good these days. Mum stays with her and leaves Saturday morning and Aunt Celia takes over -- she's my real aunt. The home help comes back Sunday afternoon."

"It must disrupt your family's weekends."

"Well, mum and Aunt Celia double up if either of them needs a full weekend. Anyway, not to sound too morbid, it won't be for much longer."

"So, who's the guy who comes later? He doesn't look much like your dad."

*** *** ***

"And that's what upset you?" I asked.

"Yes. Mum's cheating on you. And it gets worse. I think I know who he is. It could've been going on for a year."

Liv burst into tears. I held her close and she shuddered into my shoulder.

"Easy now; tell me when you're ready. We'll get past this."

She pulled herself together and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. That nearly choked me up; she's been doing it just like that since she was three. She asked if she could possibly have a drop of Aberlour so I went and poured two. She's over eighteen, and so was the whisky. Well, if a man whose job is confiscating smuggled goods can't grab the occasional single malt, then who can?

"Jack told me the visitor was driving a dark green Range Rover. I'm sure that's Kelvin. He was drama coach during my last year at grammar school. That was over a year ago, and I introduced him to mum!"

She had another bout of crying and I took the whisky glass from her shaking hand. Before handing it back I said:

"It might be getting worse still. Your mum's at Madeleine's tonight and tomorrow. She's going to Paris with Naomi next weekend."

"It's Noémie actually, she's French. I'll bet that Kelvin goes with them!"

We finished our whisky and called it a day. There would be more to discuss tomorrow.

Next morning Liv was up with the lark and had breakfast under way. I can't remember the last time I woke up to the smell of coffee and bacon. The first thing I needed to know was how she was going to react to Vicky's infidelity. I had no doubt now, that's what we were facing. With hindsight -- and we all have 20/20 vision there -- I could see the signs building up over the last six months or more. I felt furious; but worse than that, I felt stupid. So I asked Liv how she felt about divorce.

"You have to man up and leave her!" she shouted.

Then she stopped dead and put her hand over her mouth.

"Oh I'm sorry daddy. If you still love her, I'm speaking out of turn."

"No, don't apologise sweetie. I asked your opinion and you gave it. And I agree with you."

"Then I'll help you make a plan!"

"So, where are we at?" I said later. "She's staying round her aunt's for the weekend. I'm sure Madeleine goes to bed early, so there's plenty of opportunity to -- er - get together with this Kelvin."

"You can say to fuck him dad. I'm almost nineteen."

"Thanks, and Celia does all next weekend so your mum can go to Paris."

"Yes. Noémie has a new English boyfriend, Tom, and is nervous about introducing him to her parents. She and mum have worked together for years, so she asked her to go along as moral support. Her parents are well off; I think they live in some sort of chateau. So mum would jump at the chance, even if there was no Kelvin."

"If he tags along to make up a foursome, I wonder how they'll explain him to Noémie's parents."

"I don't know." said Liv. "But I wouldn't be surprised if he was introduced as mum's husband; then they'd be sure to get offered their own room. It would be an ideal opportunity for them without worrying about waking Aunty Madeleine. They're probably hoping for a four-poster bed."

She paused for thought.

"You won't do well in a divorce dad. They're not very interested in adultery these days."

"You're right. What do you think about this for a plan?"

That evening we parked near Madeleine's. The green Range Rover pulled up around ten pm and Liv confirmed it was Kelvin. His car was still there when we left at eleven.

Sunday morning I unplugged the washing dryer. The socket is right behind it and the machine has a weight in the bottom which makes it difficult to pull away from the wall. It was a long shot, but I didn't think Vicky would use Madeleine's machine; it was old and temperamental. She usually did a wash as soon as she got home from her visit. Perhaps now I knew why.

That afternoon Vicky breezed in and found me in the utility room crouched in front of the washer with the door open. A few of my things were inside.

"Hi babe; there's a slight problem with the washing machine." I said. "But I've nearly fixed it."

"Are you sure you switched it on properly Alan?" she asked, and tried it herself.

The lack of little red light confirmed it was dead.

"Here I'll put yours in; I'll be done in a moment."

I held out my hand. She hesitated and screwed her undies up in her fist and thrust them to the back of the drum.

"There's coffee in the pot. I expect you're sick of Mad's instant stuff."

Another hesitation and she went into the kitchen and got a mug. I slipped on a rubber glove and put her well used thong in a plastic bag. Then I quickly switched on at the wall, pushed the machine back into place, and started it. I dirtied the gloves on an oily rag and joined her as she was pouring a coffee.

"Pour another for me, would you babe?"

I peeled off the dirty gloves and washed my hands.

"It's running fine again now. Maybe I should have put the Marigolds in with that wash."

"It's a good job you didn't. My underwear is delicate. I don't want it in the same wash as those oily gloves."

I smiled. The incriminating thong would not be getting any oil on it. Not even my DNA or fingerprints. It was probably overkill, but appealed to my pedantic nature.

On Monday evening, there was no real reason why Liv and I left the house at different times,, apparently on different errands. But the subterfuge felt appropriate and we met in the local pub; safe in the knowledge that Vicky was curled up in front of her favourite soaps.

"First off," I said, "the guy who was knifed is in hospital, not critical, and stable."

"Thank goodness for that." she said.

"The police caught a couple of dealers at the rave but nobody was taken ill. So it looks like none of these tabs are in circulation yet. There were two rival gangs there. One was supposed to be supplying the new batch of molly, and the other trying to steal it off them. They've got the ring-leaders in for questioning but will have to let them go today."

"Why?"

"They have nothing to hold them on. No-one had even used any. They've all clammed up, and the police don't even know if this batch made it to the rave."

"You didn't tell them you have it?"

"Not yet, it forms part of the plan we discussed."

"Yes. How's that coming together?"

"Antoine has said he'll help."

"Who's Antoine?"

"He's my opposite number at Charles de Gaulle airport. We often pass tips to each other and he owes me one. Better if your mum gets arrested in Paris, rather than London. It will be more uncomfortable for her, not speaking the language."

"But they aren't flying - she said they're getting the ferry to Dieppe; then driving to Paris."

"That's ok; he's got influence at all the ports. He may even go to Dieppe himself for the kill. He'll claim he was the one who that got the tip-off. Our foursome will probably go in the Range Rover, but we can check that before they leave."

"And when they're caught, what about Kelvin?"

"I don't really care to be honest. It'll be a bonus if he gets roped in as well. Is he married?"

"No, but I don't like the idea of involving Noémie and Tom. They're innocent."

"I'm working on that. I think there's a way to nail Kelvin and your mum, without the other two getting involved."

There was no need to divulge that part of my plan. Her mother's dirty panties were a bit personal to be discussing with my daughter.

"So, if they're caught on the return trip, did you have any ideas about how your mum might smuggle drugs into the country?"

"Yes, in her luggage." said Liv. "She's got two pull-along cases, either of which would be the perfect size for a dirty weekend in Paris. In one of them, the sliding handle has stuck in the down position. I had a look and there's room in that compartment where it extends from. You said the tabs take up hardly any space."

"What if she takes the other one?"

"Don't be silly, dad. You shove the molly into that hiding place and glue the expanding handle so it definitely can't move again. Then you hide the other case, so she has no choice when she packs."

"That should work. And it's very unlikely anybody will check their bags as they leave. People don't take drugs out of England. She won't know she's carrying them, and fiftynine tabs take up no room at all."

"Why does it have to be fiftynine?"

"The police are on the lookout for the little p logo, but aren't sure if they're in the country yet. Their latest information is that the tablets are supplied in multiples of twelve. Our bag of seventyone suggests one was taken out as a sample. Hence, your mum smuggling fiftynine; it shows she's also removed one for the same reason.

All four of them will get tested for drugs. And if we're lucky, they'll all be clear. That makes your mum appear to be a dealer or supplier; rather than a user."

"Ah, and that leads to a harsher sentence."

"It does; and it also means I can divorce her, sell up, and move on; while she enjoys the delights of a spell in jail."

"That's perfect!"

"Well, it's close. She can still come after me when she's released. Demand her share of the house and assets. But she'll have to find me first!"

"Can you divorce her while she's in prison?"

"Damn right I can. That's the first thing I checked."

*** *** ***

The four of them were having a drink in the ferry's bar.

"Excuse me monsieur, do you drive a green Range Rover?"

"Yes."

"Who is travelling with you please?"

"These three friends are with me."

"I must ask you all to accompany me to your car."

"But I'm only drinking orange juice."

"This is not about drinking and driving.This way please."

There were two police officers standing by the car; one male and one female. Two females if you counted the German Shepherd sitting patiently between them. As instructed, Kelvin unlocked the car and took the four cases from the boot, placing them in a row on the floor. The dog was let off her lead and jumped into the car. After a quick sniff around she got out and walked sedately down the row, sniffing each one. Then she returned to Vicky's bag and sat at attention. Antoine picked it up and scratched the dog under its chin. He looked at the handler

"Tell Marie thank you."

Marie's ears twitched and she trotted back to the male officer, who gave her a treat and led her away.

"Would you leave the keys in the ignition please? Then you must bring your bags and follow me."

Antoine and the female officer led them off the ferry.

"But it's going to sail in five minutes." protested Kelvin. "My car is still on there!"

"It cannot be removed now; it is, how you say, blocked in. We will inform the Newhaven police who will board the ferry, take it off and store it."

He led them to a scruffy little building on the dock. There the other three bags were searched, but not very thoroughly. He talked throughout the search. What was the purpose of their visit, where did they stay, etcetera. He was particularly interested to know if they'd been to any nightclubs.

"We went to the Irish bar O'Malleys in Montmartre, just behind the Moulin Rouge."

"I know where it is." he said, frowning. "It is very popular with a certain type of tourist."

He didn't explain what type and they glanced at each other, perplexed.

Vicky's case was opened last, with a great sense of drama.

"Did you pack this yourself?"

"I did, and you won't find anything." replied Vicky.

"We shall see." Antoine took out each item and held it up for close inspection; especially her underwear. Vicky stared fascinated and the other three made no attempt to turn away.

"What is this?" he said, holding up a ten inch black item.

"In England we call it a dildo." said Vicky, regaining her composure. "I bought it here, also in Montmartre."

"And this?"

"Anal lubricant; I bought that in England. You'll need some yourself when I report this to your superiors!"

"It pleases you to use the English sarcasm."

Vicky blushed and the others hung their heads.

When the case was empty, Vicky smirked again.

"Looks like French Alsatians aren't that clever after all!"

"We shall see madame."

He pulled on some gloves and felt his way around the lining, inevitably coming to the compartment which housed the extendible handle. Producing a small knife, he sliced through the material and removed the contents.

"Perhaps this is what our chien alsacien could smell."

Antoine carefully removed a soiled pink thong. Vicky gasped. Too late she remembered it had not gone out on the line with last weekend's wash. She now realised it couldn't have gone in the wash either. Alan knew! The thong was wrapped around a condom, swollen with its contents of small pills.

"A dog's sense of smell is 10,000 times more sensitive than a human's." he informed her. "A condom will not disguise the odour she seeks. Not even this will!"

He held her thong up, keeping the minimal contact with his gloved fingertips. Then, with a look of distaste, dropped it on the table where it landed with a slight thud.

"Those were planted!" Vicky shouted.

"That's what they all say."

*** *** ***

It was some weeks later

"What's the latest news dad?" asked Liv. "I haven't seen the Range Rover around."

"All four of them had to take drug tests and sadly the results got held up. Noémie and Tom were released after 48 hours. Kelvin returned and had to report to the police."

"Oh, that's a shame."

"It is; but some people are judged by the company they keep. Kelvin's car has been searched and impounded. He's still being held awaiting the results of their DNA tests."

"What are they for?"

It was no good. I had to confess planting the drugs in her mum's soiled thong. Liv didn't seem too disgusted.

"But what difference does that make? Even if they find evidence of him in her knickers, adultery isn't a crime."

"No it isn't. The French police are just being thorough. Think in terms of spinning it out."

"What else has been happening; apart from Aunty Madeleine dying?"

"That was a blessing Liv. She wouldn't have wanted to know about this. They'll let Kelvin go today. France has been criticised recently for its liberal attitude to some drug offences. So I'm pretty sure they'll use this case to show they can be as tough as anyone when it comes to smuggling. The courts will throw the book at your mum."

"What'll she get?"

"She could get up to seven years for possession of a Class A. It could be more for supplying."

"Great!"

"They may take into consideration it being a first time offence; or she could theoretically get life imprisonment."

Liv didn't look so gleeful at that.

"Don't worry, it won't come to that. She'll stick to her story of being used as a mule, and that will carry some weight. It won't occur to the police that she would smuggle molly out of England first -- just to provide a sample and take it all home again. She'll get a few years and, once she's under lock and key, the French authorities will do a deal where she can serve the remainder of her sentence in a British prison. That'll be what she'll ask for, and will not cost the French taxpayers anything."

"That's not so bad."