Ask Martha - The Identity Thief

Written by Robbie Cutler, Published on 2/8/2010

The letter was so heartfelt that it was almost soggy. Crusher Davis read it for the third time as he sipped his Latte Gigantico (they were out of large size cups), burning his tongue. He almost dropped the coffee. Then he read the letter again, squirming in his seat at the Lonesome Polecat Café, Centerville’s western themed coffee house. The owner hoped that the new decorations and sagebrush themed posters would attract more customers than the few that had been regulars at Joe’s Coffee Shop.

Crusher sometimes wondered why he had accepted the task of writing the personal advice column for the Chronicle, as Ask Martha. Then he remembered - the rent had to be paid, and besides, he rather enjoyed it. Nobody except Inspector Samuels of the Centerville Police Force had guessed his identity, and he wouldn’t spread the word - not if he wanted Crusher’s help solving cases. And so he bent his 6 foot 6, 265 pound frame over the table and stared once again at the letter he was holding.

“Usually, I’d send an email,” the letter began, “but now I’m just too upset, and anyway, I don’t trust the security anymore,” said the writer, Joan Colthrop. She was so upset that she had used her own name, which was unusual in messages to Ask Martha. Usually false names were used, which gave sly clues to the content of the message, like Tired of Waiting or Too Good for Him. The letter went on, “I have NOBODY to turn to, since one of my very best friends is a thief. The BETRAYAL! I don’t even know which one it was.”

Her letter, addressed simply to Ask Martha, The Chronicle, Main Street, Centerville, said that she and three friends had met for luncheon. Then, some of them had gone shopping. By prearrangement, Joan had split the check with Grace Means, “daughter of Samuel Means, who owns half the town,” in order to spare embarrassment to the other two young women, Laura Parsons and Maybelle Johnson, neither of whom had much spending money.

Joan explained rather unnecessarily that when it was their turn to treat, they cooked a picnic luncheon, splitting the costs. “Or rather, Laura does most of the cooking. She’s really good at it. Nose to the grindstone type, and she’ll turn out just fine. She studies part time at the Culinary Institute, you know. We think of her as our Julia Childs - which of course, since she is only 5 foot 1, she is NOT!”

Her letter went on, “By contrast, Grace and Maybelle are tall, like me. Maybelle is rather pretty, for those who like the type. She is always ogling things that she wishes she could afford to buy, whereas Laura would make plans to make enough money to buy anything she wanted. Maybelle just seems to like what is on the other side of the fence. Why, she has even been making passes at my boyfriend, Steve Cartwright, who has never said he even noticed.”

Her letter went on to explain that the four friends, after luncheon, split up. She had gone shopping with Laura, who only went window-shopping, and then Joan had gone to the matinee at the Bijou Theater. Grace and Maybelle had gone out together, for they enjoyed shopping together, trying on clothes, and then they had walked home together. At the end of the afternoon, disappointed by the movie, Joan had gone home, kicked off her shoes and absentmindedly looked in her purse for some Kleenex. Drat! She had forgotten to buy a pack. “Then,” she wrote, “I remembered to check my wallet and took it out of my purse. It was fine - but my Master Card was MISSING! I emptied my purse carefully, looked through everything more than once, but it just wasn’t there!”

“Then,” she went on, “I thought to check my Master Card account on line. That is when I really got upset!” She always made it a point to pay her monthly charges in full, so that no finance charges were ever due. She had found that there were authorized charges for $550. “In something of a panic, I called their customer service and reached an actual person, for a change,” she wrote. “The charges were made that very afternoon, for a cashmere robe, size Large (Tall) and a pair of elegant shoes, size 9 ½.

“I cancelled the credit card, and they told me that I would be issued a new one after their investigation. I was going to call the two stores where the thefts took place, Keith’s Shoes and the Maple Street Fashion Shop, but that’s when I remembered that you, Ask Martha, get into crime solving sometimes. It would be a great help if you could sort out this mystery and let me know the results. Then I can confront the thief in a quiet way, without publicity. It will be better all around.”

“I know I’ll lose a friend, but she is gone anyway. Handling this quietly is far better than her being charged with theft. I’m so grateful for your help and hope you will use my letter to catch the thief.” The letter ended, “Your faithful reader, Joan Colthrop.”

Crusher folded the letter and put it in his pocket. He ambled down the street to Keith’s Shoes and talked with the only salesgirl. The recession may be hurting business, but it made it easier to find salespeople, who were fewer than in better economic times. The salesgirl was new in town, but remembered a tall young woman, who had bought the shoes. “It was after my coffee break, so that must have been just before we closed.” After some prodding the salesgirl went to the office and, with the help of the manager, found the store’s credit card receipt. The signature didn’t look like the one in the letter from Joan Colthrop.

The story was similar at the Maple Street Fashion Shop, where a salesman remembered that a tall girl had come in alone towards the end of the afternoon. He supposed he would recognize her again, but then the sales manager intervened and said he hoped that this could be handled quietly. He didn’t want to deter other customers from coming - business was bad enough as it was! The signature on the credit card purchase matched the one at Keith’s Shoes. Crusher Davis smiled, and went back to his office at the Chronicle. He thought about calling Inspector Samuels, but then remembered that Sherlock Holmes didn’t always turn criminals over to the police. It was time to give one young lady the scare of her life, well worth it if she never again tried the sad game of identity theft!