David Handler - The Sour Cherry Surprise: A Berger and Mitry Mystery

A ND NOW M OLLY PROCTER dribbles the ball downcourt with eleven seconds left on the clock. The UConn Lady Huskies trailing Tennessee by one, 6564 ten seconds nine. The fans are on their feet. Coach Geno Auriemma has the ball in the hands of UConns best clutch scorer since Diana Taurasi. And with the national championship on the line in seven seconds, theres no one he trusts more than the southpaw from Dorset with the droopy socks. Five seconds This is it, folks. Genos Huskies against Pat Summitts Lady Vols for all of the marbles. Three Procters at the top of the key. Quick swing pass to Montgomery, who ball fakes to Houston, then swings it back to Procter with the championship on the line. One Procter lets it fly from eighteen feet and she SCORES! UConn wins! UConn wins! Her teammates are mobbing Molly! She disappears under the pile of blue and white Husky jerseys. Oh, my, this has to be the most exciting game I have ever

Molly Procter, age nine and three quarters, faked left, dribbled right, and heaved the ball to the portable basketball hoop in the driveway, tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth. Nothing but net. She pumped her fist in the air as Jen Beckwith pulled into the driveway in her red Saab convertible. It was Jens driveway. Jens hoop. Jen lived in the little cottage right across Sour Cherry Lane from Mollys and was starting point guard on the Dorset High Fighting Pilgrims. Really nice and not at all stuck up even though she was a star athlete, straight A student, gorgeous, and her grandmother was the richest woman in town. Jen and her mom werent rich themselves. Jens dad died a few years back, and her mom had to work day and night at a chiropractors office. Jen was working fulltime herself that summer at the bakery in The Works. Just home from work now in her bright green employees T-shirt.

Okay, squirt, show me what youve got. Jen positioned herself to defend Molly one-on-one.

Molly ran a hand through her head of unruly gold ringlets. She was a gangly, freckle-faced girl with a rabbity pink nose. Her wire-rimmed glasses were slightly bent out of shape. Her T-shirt and gym shorts hung loose on her frame. Baggy white socks drooped down to her scuffed sneakers. Youre on. Prepare to be dazzled. She gave Jen her awesome head fake, then dribbled right and

Jen promptly slapped the ball away. You still telegraph when youre going to the hoop.

Do not.

Do too. You stick your tongue out.

So did Michael Jordon.

Guess what? Youre not M. J.

Duh, I know. Im M. P.

Tell me, M. P., when was the last time you tried combing that hair? And what is up with those dorky socks?

Theyre my trademark. When I turn pro, Nike is going to pay me a fortune for them.

I see.

Thats what you need. A trademark.

So thats my problem, Jen sighed, turning gloomy on her.

Hey, are you okay?

Jen mustered a faint smile. Sure, you bet.

Just because I dont have breasts doesnt mean I cant keep secrets, you know.

I know.

Is this about that party you threw when your mom was gone?

Work on your head fake, squirt, Jen growled. And dinners in about an hour if you want some. Then she headed for the house and went inside.

Molly had been spending more and more of her time over at Jens ever since her own mom had taken up with Clay. Molly had zero interest in letting Clay be her new dad. She already had a dad. Besides, shed hated Clay ever since that first morning three weeks back when he came slouching out of her moms bedroom with no shirt on and his jeans slung low; a wiry, rough-looking stranger with a lit cigarette between his lips. Molly was sitting at the kitchen table, tapping away on her moms computer.

Clay popped open a can of beer first thing and drank deeply from it, watching her. The very first words he said to her were, Dont you have somewhere else to be?

Molly said, I live here.

And he said, Well, so do I from now on. And I dont like lippy little girls.

Im not a little girl.

Then Clay ordered her to stay out of the root cellar underneath the kitchen from now on. Youre never to go down there, understand? There are snakes down there.

Im not afraid of snakes, she snorted. And you cant tell me what to do.

Girl, dont ever talk back to me again, Clay shot back, smacking her in the ear with his open hand so hard that it rang for a whole day.

And so she had stayed away from the root cellar.

Molly used to have a happy life. Her mom was beautiful and talented and sweet. Author of a really cool series of kids books about a Kerry blue terrier named Molly (in honor of guess who) that solved mysteries on a farm. All of the characters in her books were animals. The farm was based on Aunt Meggies place up in Blue Hill, Maine,where they usually spent every August. Mollys dad was a historian at Wesleyan and just a really wise person. He knew the Latin words for things, and loved to work with his hands. Hed made their kitchen table himself out of oak. Hed put in French doors to brighten up the kitchen and built a raised teak deck outside it where they could eat supper at another table hed built. Molly helped him do everything. She was his Designated Measurer. Always, no matter how busy he was, her dad made time for her. Taught her how to use her moms computer when she was really little so she could communicate with him by e-mail when he was at the university.

But Mollys parents werent the same people anymore. Her mom wasnt lively and bright-eyed, wasnt there. In her place there was a glassy-eyed stranger who scarcely seemed to notice that Molly was even alive. Shed stopped writingClay even dismantled her computer and stashed it in a closet. She didnt go out to the grocery store or anywhere else. Some days, she never came out of her room. Just stayed in there with Clay. Or with Hector, the Mexican man who worked for Clay. Once, she was in there with both men at the same time and Molly could hear her moaning real loud. After that, Molly took to sleeping in the tree house that she and her dad had made together in the old sugar maple. She had a sleeping bag up there and a flashlight so she could read. She was plenty comfy unless it rained. Then shed tap on Jens window and Jen would let her sleep with her.