Judge Jolly

Judge Jolly

Todd Chambers rifled through his pockets without success, his cell phone wasn’t in any of them, though he was certain he’d had it on leaving the house.
With mounting concern he began recounting his movements and realised there were many, beginning with his purchase at the corner store, then his ride on a crowded train, his visit to a coffee shop before finally meeting up with Gilly, his long – time girlfriend and spending the afternoon at the cinema.
Thus there were many instances where it could have been lost or stolen, but it wasn’t the loss of the phone which bothered him so much as the directory it contained. Engaged as a counsellor in the rehabilitation of young offenders his cell-phone address book contained a hundred numbers, many of which he used frequently.
He bade farewell to Gilly, saw her onto her train and then caught his own home, full of concern at his loss.
Indoors his house phone was blinking, indicating a message. It was from his friend John, requesting that he call him back.
‘Hello Todd,’ John said, ‘I gather you’ve lost your cell phone?’
‘Yeah, Todd scratched his head, ‘how’d you know, been talking to Gilly?’
‘Nope, I got a call from a guy, he said he found it on the floor of the train, flipped through your directory and by chance found me. He left me his number if you want to call him.’
‘Thanks Tom,’ Todd jotted down the number, ‘I’ll call him right away.’
He tapped out the number, it was answered on the first beep by a throaty voice, ‘Mr. Jolly, Mr. Edward Jolly?’
‘Yes, how can I help?’ The voice on the line sounded incredibly old.
‘I believe you have my cell phone – you found it on the train?’
‘I have a cell phone, yes.’
‘I believe it is mine, Mr. Jolly,’ it struck Todd that Mr. Jolly sounded too ancient to be returning his phone. ‘I wonder, may I call and collect it?’
‘At your convenience, you can find me at The Hall, Willow End, Chudworth…’ the speaker said between heavy breaths, ‘any time…’
‘Tomorrow morning around ten then, and thank you Mr. Jolly.’
Todd hung the phone up feeling pleased, Chudworth was a relatively affluent small town several stations down the line, but he could spare the time it took to make the journey, tomorrow was a free day for him.
So the following morning he took a taxi from Chudworth station to Willow End, the road becoming a leafy avenue before rounding into a wide drive flanked by willow trees, at the foot of which stood a large, Tudor style detached house.
Todd rang the bell and the big double doors were opened by a thick set butler.
‘Mr. Jolly is expecting me,’ Todd said, somewhat overawed by the setting and finding it difficult to conceive that the owner of this mansion could be the same man who’d found his phone on the train.
‘Come through.’
Todd was led through a large, low beamed hallway into an oak-panelled drawing room of considerable size, at the far end of which an elderly man sat, his face hidden by the newspaper he was reading.
‘The young man for the phone, Mr. Jolly,’ the butler said sternly.
‘It is on the coffee table Higgins,’ Jolly croaked, without removing his face from the paper, ‘would you kindly hand it to him?’ As Higgins stretched down and picked up the bright red phone Todd instantly recognised as his, he continued, ‘I was not the one who found your phone, it is the finder you need to thank.’
Todd took the phone, feeling he was addressing the newspaper rather than the man behind it, ‘I’m very grateful, might I ask who and where is the finder?’
‘He has had to go out, if you would care to wait and thank him personally. Take a seat…’
Todd was on the verge of refusing until he noticed Higgins’ hulking shape blocking the doorway, and to further his consternation Jolly’s words had sounded like a command.
He settled uneasily in a leather chair as the old man continued to read his paper, tutting at an article, ‘So much theft in the world these days, one cannot leave anything lying around – you are so fortunate to be re-associated with your phone.’
‘Yes –‘ Todd said nervily; sitting there, listening to the monotonous ticking of the mantel clock while the butler eyed him from the doorway; he was beginning to wonder whether his phone had been genuinely retrieved or whether something more sinister was afoot.
Twenty uncomfortable minutes must have passed before the bell rang and the butler left his sentry duty to answer the door. He heard heavy footsteps along the hall and then into the room stepped a large well built man with a scar on his right cheek.
Turner – Brian Turner.
One of the names in his directory – had he found the phone? Surely not, that would be coincidence in the extreme, but before he could dwell on that another familiar face, Matt Tyler appeared, then another, Scott Walters, until he found himself ringed by a score or more troubled youngsters he’d counselled over the years.
Were they ganging up on him? Had he been lured here, to this quiet backwater by a sinister syndicate of offenders he’d only tried to help? And the old man Jolly, hidden behind the newspaper, was he some kind of underworld mastermind who’d engineered…’
‘Don’t look so alarmed Mr. Chambers…’ Jolly had suddenly flung down his newspaper to reveal his true identity and Todd instantly recognised David McWeaver, formerly Judge McWeaver. ‘You know what today marks, don’t you?’ he asked, his voice suddenly losing its ageing throatiness.
‘I don’t understand…’
‘Ten years to the day you’ve been helping youngsters like these – one or two of the older ones approached me and so we put together a little plan to show our gratitude..’
‘But we needed help,’ said scar-faced Brian Turner, ‘and there wasn’t much time. The best bet lay in the contact numbers on your phone. Basically I resorted to an old habit of mine – I stole the phone from your pocket, luckily the train was so packed you didn’t notice me do it – and then I accessed your directory and Judge McWeaver did the rest.’ He waved his arm around the room as others flocked through the door, ‘so here we all are to say thanks for your guidance.’
Todd was gobsmacked.
‘We know it was underhand,’ McWeaver said, and looking wryly at Turner, ‘I did give Brian a little rebuke. Now Higgins will escort us to the dining room where cook has laid on a jolly good meal.