Delia Darling Mysteries Box Set, page 13
part #1 of Delia Darling Mystery Series
“She needs our help,” I said. “Whether she likes it or not, we should help her.”
“We know what she’s been spending it all on anyway,” Betsy said. “Her kitchen was all state of the art. If Billy saw it, he’d never leave. That stainless steel work and those white marble counters.”
“Tonight,” I said. “I’ll invite her over tonight. It won’t be an ambush, but I will tell her about what we know, and it’s not like either of us can financially help. But if I know anything from Doctor Manhattan, it’s that talking about your problems is a huge helper to solving those problems.”
“I’ll bring biscuits,” she said.
The next step to the plan going through successfully was spotting Agatha enter her home and accidentally going outside at the same time. I watched from the bedroom window again. I knew she finished work around 3:15 P.M. so she’d be home twenty minutes later, or so my imaginary commute had created.
Her nephew left at 3 P.M. almost on the dot. He hurried up the driveway, hunching his shoulders and throwing a hood over his head from his jacket. He was nice enough to be there, feeding her cat and taking care of the cleaning.
I had a coffee and my book, occasionally glancing outside at the sound of car engines every-so-often. I paused at the sight of her car pulling into the drive. Betsy and I had already agreed on a 6 P.M. time to gather. She’d agreed not to mention it to Billy, nor to Arthur, if he’d even dare call and ask about our plans.
I tidied my appearance and brushed my hair behind my ears before opening my front door and approaching a flower to smell. Agatha smiled and waved at me, her legs hurried forward toward the house with her keys tight in hand.
“Oh, Agatha,” I said, waving back. “I was thinking about you today.”
“You were?” she asked, her face creasing. “I hope nothing’s wrong. The cat’s been indoors all day.”
“No, no, no,” I said. “I was wondering if you wanted to come over for a chat later, a good old catch-up?”
“Well, I—” she shook her head.
“It’s Friday,” I said. “You can’t be getting ready for work. I won’t accept an excuse,” I chuckled.
She smiled back. “Okay. When? Now?”
“Oh, no,” I said. “Perhaps six?”
“Perfect,” she said with a large smile, showing off a huge set of white teeth. They were clearly dentures.
“Fantastic,” I said. “I’ve got some biscuits baking. I hope you like chocolate chip.”
She rubbed her stomach with little enthusiasm. “Mm.”
“See you later.”
She turned, her smile fading as she moved.
Seeing her change mood so quickly made me quick of breath. I didn’t want to ambush her with what I knew, it was clearly affecting her.
We’d decided to tell her I’d received one of her letters and opened it by mistake. It was the only way I could get around the I dug in your garden and found a secret bag full of unpaid bills—although that would have been one hell of a story I’d have to talk myself out of.
At least now she was coming over, the easiest part was done. The hard part was getting her to open up about the crippling debt she was in—or the debt I assumed would cripple anyone. My mind continued to wonder about what she was doing with all the money she made, and surely by now she’d paid the mortgage off her home. Unless it was remortgaged for the remodelling she’d done—that was another thing, I couldn’t even congratulate her on such a stunning home, because she knew I hadn’t seen it’s update.
Another thought struck me, I didn’t even remember any building work ever taking place, not a single waste skip had been outside, unless I’d been away, but that was prime gossip, I would have known either way.
Betsy arrived fifteen minutes before our scheduled meeting time. She shook her head. “Billy bought it,” she said. “He thinks I’m over here helping you reorganise your film collection. Ugh. I hate lying to him.”
“If we have time, afterwards, I could use help with that actually.”
She presented the plate of biscuits on the dining table. “He’ll never let me leave the house if he finds out.”
“Chocolate chip?” I asked. “That’s what I told her I was making.”
She nodded. “I won’t tell him you’re taking credit for these either,” she said. “What have you been doing since asking her anyway?” She looked around the room.
“Thinking,” I told her, nabbing a biscuit from the plate. “I also watched an episode of Doctor Manhattan. I hid the letters in my room. I even decided the next time I go shopping, I may pick up one of those handy schedule boards she has in her kitchen.”
“Scheduling?” she chuckled. “You don’t do much of anything to have to schedule it in.”
I huffed and shook my head. “I run the neighbourhood watch. I like to know when I’m—you know.”
“Doing what?” she laughed harder. “Paying the TV licence?”
“Well, no,” I said. “That comes out automatically. Caroline sorted that.” I took a seat at the table, cramming the biscuit inside my mouth whole.
“Have you decided what—or how we’re going to talk to her about what we found?”
Humming in thought as I chewed, I’d thought of several ways. “Letter was posted through my door. I’ll ask her if she’s okay, see if she comes out with it on her own, and then maybe bring it up. I don’t want to jump at it and have her go crazy on us.”
“Well, you did think it was her cat buried down there,” she replied. “And if she dug that deep on her own, she’s got some strength to her.”
I shuddered at the thought. Agatha was a small lady who wore dowdy teacher clothes; she wasn’t exactly a bodybuilder.
ACT THREE
The Mistakes We Made
Agatha arrived on the dot, not like she had anything else to be doing at all that evening. She arrived with a smile on her face and a plate of cupcakes inside a small white Tupperware container. “Hellooo,” she said from the front door.
My heart sank slightly. How could she have been feeling so happy and smiley with everything currently going on?
I had the largest smile on my face. I knew she’d be able to see right through it. I was never good at Poker, and by the gambling I’d seen from the statement---perhaps she wasn’t at all that good either.
“It’s been a long time,” Betsy said, patting the seat at the dining table next to her. “What’s been going on in your life?”
“Oh, me?” she shrugged taking the seat beside Betsy. Pointing back at herself, she sighed. “Well, I mean, I’ve been working. I should be retiring soon. But I love my job.”
I nodded to Betsy. We were both retired. We knew the benefits and the downsides to being retired. Perhaps it was best that Agatha stayed employed it would give her something to look forward to knowing that she was sinking in a mountain of debt.
“And what do you get up to on the weekend?” I asked.
“Weekends are nothing special” she grumbled. “Just marking work. You know—”
“Primary school kids have homework?” Betsy scoffed. “Good lord, I didn’t think you were working them to the bone.”
“No,” she said. “It’s their writing practice and exams. It’s almost the end of the school year now.”
That much was true. Although I hated to think that once the school year was out we’d be overrun by small children in the streets visiting their families. It should have meant that Caroline would be coming down, but that was highly unlikely.
“Every Saturday I do treat myself,” Agatha said. “I go to a small spa, and it’s absolutely divine. I mean, it’s wonderful. It helps take all the kinks out of my neck, and all the tension spots from my back.”
“What do you have to be tense about?” I asked. Thinking about how teaching children couldn’t have been that hard, I taught my daughter how to do a lot of stuff, and all I had to show for it was a face full of wrinkles, but that wasn’t the worst.
She shrugged the question away.
It was the perfect way to ask her about the letters. To ask her about the debt.
Betsy poured the hot beverages while I glanced at Agatha’s cupcakes. They were chocolate chip, just like the biscuits I was supposed to have baked. I smiled and accepted one of them. She gave me a huge smile and nodded her head to take a bite.
It was quite delicious. It was a beautiful kitchen they were made in after all. I’m sure everything that came out of there tasted absolutely wonderful.
“I was meaning to ask you actually,” I began, an uncertainty in my voice.
“If it’s about the garden, I know, I’ve been meaning to get around to cleaning it.”
“Cleaning it?” Betsy asked. “We could do it for you.”
“Goodness, no.” She scrambled with her fingers, breaking her biscuit into crumbs. “I’ll be dealing with the state of that. I’ll have plenty of free time on my hands soon.”
My mind quickly made the connection to her impending homelessness—and not the fact it would soon be the end of the school year. I stumbled over my words. I didn’t know what to say.
“I hope it’s nothing bad,” she said with a sincere smile.
Betsy glanced at me, almost asking if it was going to be bad—even when she knew just what it was I was about to bring into the conversation.
“I’m going to come right out and ask,” I said. “Are you okay?”
Flattered, she pressed a hand to her chest and nodded her head slightly. “Of course.”
“It’s because I found a letter,” I said. “Addressed to you, but I didn’t know what at the time, I figured it was my letter. I figured it belonged to me. But that wasn’t the case, and I soon discovered that the letter was yours.”
Her white porcelain face, full of cracks and wrinkles began to show. “Sorry?” she asked, a croak in her voice.
“Are you in debt?”
“Debt?” she asked, her weak voice escaping slightly. Her eyes looking up at us. “It’s all a mistake. It’s all a huge mistake.”
“Your nephew said.”
“I don’t care,” she cried. “It’s not mine. It’s all fraudulent. I know how those places work. They target the elderly, they make them believe they spent hundreds and hundreds of pounds on the online slot machines.”
Betsy moved to stroke Agatha’s back. “It’s—”
“I don’t need your sympathy,” she barked. “I guess Norma was right. You only invited me over because you wanted something.”
We didn’t want a single thing. We wanted to help her. “I believe you,” I said, grabbing her hand. “But I wanted to tell you what I found—well, what was delivered here accidentally.”
She shook her head, tears dripping down her cheeks. “I can afford to pay them, but why should I have to, none of what they say is true. None of it. I only read one or two letters before destroying them.”
“How long have you been getting them since?”
She huffed. “Easter,” she said.
“And nobody has had access to your house since then?” I asked.
“Do I look like an idiot?” she slammed a hand on the table. “Of course, I haven’t invited anyone in that I don’t trust.”
“And what about--”
“Nobody.”
I offered her my hand again. This time she nudged it away. “We can help,” I said.
“I’m dealing with it.” She stood, pushing out her chair. “Keep the cupcakes.” And off she went, leaving through the front door.
Watching her leave, I squeezed my lips shut and glanced to Betsy. “I know who did it.”
Exacerbated, Betsy dropped into a chair at the table. “Go on,” she said.
“The boy,” I said. “Her nephew.”
“Oh.”
Squinting in thought, I recalled him leaving before she arrived home. “He’s odd,” I said. “Maybe he’s there every day to hide those letters. Could you imagine stealing from someone?”
“He seems like a nice boy.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said. “And then I remembered the board on her fridge. He sees that every day. He knows her schedule. He’s the only other person I’ve ever seen or heard from in that house.”
Betsy scooped some crumbs into her hands. “So, what’s the plan now?”
I knew the plan. I tapped the side of my head; it was all in there. “She’s out tomorrow, for her spa treatment. If he’s there when she leaves, we know someone is up to no good.”
The plan was a good one. All he had to do was go into the house after Agatha had left, and it would have proved something else was going on inside that house. I didn’t quite remember the time of her appointment, but I did have eagle eyes and I did have a bedroom window to spy from.
The following mid-afternoon, Betsy provided the tea and the commentary as we waited on our make-shift stakeout. Although it wasn’t long before we grew tired and felt like the cause was hopeless.
Agatha had already left, but there was no sign of anyone coming.
“Maybe he only shows up on the weekdays?” she suggested.
“Possible,” I grumbled. “If he’s really there to feed the cat, I doubt she’d need him to go in when she’s only out of the house for a few hours.”
Betsy nodded, standing from her chair. She stretched on her tiptoes. “You should get something more cushioned,” she said. “Felt like I was sitting on a rock.”
It was one of the dining table chairs brought upstairs, my chair, on the other hand, was cushioned and comfortable. I shrugged. “If you’re buying, be my guest.”
“Delia!” she shouted, “he’s there.”
We spotted him, seconds before he let himself into Agatha’s house, kicking at the doormat before picking something from beneath it.
“Did you—”
“I was watching,” she said. “What’s next?”
“We have to go confront him.”
“Think about that,” she said. “He’s much younger, and much more powerful than we are. We need something else on our side. Like maybe a former police officer—or Arthur.”
The mention of Arthur brought on a bout of giggles. “Write Finley’s number down so we can call him from Agatha’s landline.”
“Will do,” she nodded. “And you think of a plan to get into the house without him noticing.”
“I’m not climbing the fence,” I chuckled. “We are the gardeners,” I said with a wink. “We can knock and enter. I’ll go upstairs and see if there’s anything I can find—that’s where he went yesterday. I’ll mention something about indoor plants. You keep him occupied downstairs.”
“Aye, aye,” she said with a salute.
We didn’t have time to get dressed in our overalls. We had to be in, find the evidence, and then out again. I did carry a watering can with me; we couldn’t forgo all gardening conventions.
At the front door, I tried the handle, once. It was locked.
We both knocked hard on the window pane in the centre of the wooden frame.
“Hello?” a voice called out.
“Agatha?” I asked. “We’ve come to collect some things, and water those indoor plants.”
“Oh, she’s not in,” he said. “Come back later.”
We knocked again, harder.
Unlocked. He stuck his face out and forced a smile onto it. “Sorry,” he said. “My aunt doesn’t really like having anyone inside the house when she’s not here.”
“I know,” Betsy grumbled.
“She scheduled us in today,” I said.
He scratched at the top of his head. “Doesn’t say it on the schedule.”
I shook my head. “She’s forgetful,” I added. “Probably why she forgot to put it on. It was very last minute.”
“Okay,” he nodded. “But be quick.”
We walked in. I pointed upstairs. “I’ll start up there.”
“Not the office,” he said. “She won’t even let me inside.”
Of course, I would—I knew better than to leave a place unturned just because someone said I should. I tapped my nose at him and smiled before heading upstairs with the empty watering can.
“You wouldn’t have happened to see a green trowel around here yesterday,” Betsy began. “I think we forgot it.”
“Oh?” he said.
Right on cue, Betsy was occupying his time and making sure he was busy while I routed around for evidence upstairs.
She had three rooms and a bathroom in her upstairs. It was quite amazing. My house had two bedrooms and an extremely large and lavish bathroom -- perhaps there had been three rooms at one point.
The first room on the left was a bedroom; the second room, a bedroom. The room right at the end with the door slightly ajar was her office. A room with bookshelves lining the walls and a large office desk and computer. It was a completely different look to the rest of the house; the modern look had gone out of the window when she was designing this part. On a post-it note above her computer were her details and passwords—not a smart move for anyone.
I nudged the mouse and the screen flashed alive. ‘10 free spins! Deposit £10 today!’. I let out a little gasp at the sight of all the colours flashing before me. The screen disappeared, and another arrived. ‘Welcome Back!’.
Had her nephew just been here? The seat was warm. He appeared to be in the middle of something.
I dug deep into my pocket and fished out DC Fletcher’s number. I grabbed the phone from the side of her computer and punched in the digits. He had to take me seriously now.
“Hello?” he asked.
“Finley,” I said in a low voice.
“Delia? Where are you calling from?”
“Agatha’s house,” I said. “Listen, someone has stolen her identity, and he’s inside the house.”
“Have you broken into her house?” he asked, stressing each word. “Leave. You’ll get yourself arrested for admitting to breaking and entering to me.”
I scoffed in shock. “There’s probable cause,” I said. “She needs help.”
“I’ll be over. Stay out of trouble.”
I was out of it—but now Betsy might have been in the centre of it. I hurried back down with my watering can.
