Delia Darling Mysteries Box Set, page 3
part #1 of Delia Darling Mystery Series
“So?” Maple began, cradling her coffee in her hands. “I’ve been to a few of these. What are we starting with today?”
I cleared my throat. As the president of the group, it was my duty to take over. I knew what needed to be said and I had to get through all the points without offending anyone. “As you’re all aware, we’ve had an undesirable take to our small strip of homes. As spotted on Thursday night outside Maple’s house,” I said. “Members of the neighbourhood watch must understand that we need to make sure they don’t come back, and if they do, we must contact the local authorities, as requested by DC Fletcher.”
“He’s harmless, surely,” Maple said.
“For once, I’m with Delia,” Norma said. “I don’t need anyone coming over and scouting through my bins to pick at old chicken carcasses.”
I wasn’t sure if that was a compliment. “Finley--I mean, DC Fletcher has said there’s a lot to be done for the homeless, and unless they know about them, they can’t do anything, but in the meantime, they’re doing what?” I asked, throwing my hands into the air.
“Lowering house prices,” Betsy said.
“Probably bringing more people to the streets,” Arthur added.
“Listen,” Maple said, her sad eyes looking around the room. “I think if people are desperate enough to feast from bins, we should--”
“What we should be doing, is helping them,” I said. “And we help them by finding them.”
Norma tssked her teeth together once again. “When I worked for the council, homeless people could find themselves in all kinds of danger by scavenging for food.”
I reached for Maple’s hand. “I understand you’re going through some tough times right now, and if you really want to, we can go to a homeless shelter and donate, but please don’t be putting a beacon up around your bins asking them to go through them.”
“A--a--as you know,” she said, tearing up. “My husband died, and--and--and I think he’d want us to allow people without anything to find something from what we’ve thrown away.”
I didn’t know much about Maple’s work history, but from the way she fought, I was certain it had something to do with vulnerable people. “This isn’t keeping Christmas cookies out for Santa. We need to be firm about this action.”
“Finley had already said as much,” Betsy said.
“And what if I open my doors to the homeless people?” she asked.
Arthur choked on his coffee.
“Then, well... then I’m not sure what we can do other than request you don’t,” I said.
“You’d be mad,” Arthur said. “Absolutely bonkers!”
Maple stood in a huff. “I’m going to speak with the council and see if I can make it happen,” she said. “Because I’d really like to help those less fortunate than myself. And I have several unoccupied rooms, of which I have use for only one. It’s driving me insane.” She gasped, throwing her hands against her legs with a wallop.
I understood. I knew what she was going through. It was the same frustration I had. I didn’t know what to do with all the free space I had, and I didn’t know how to fill the void the love of my life, the man I’d grown with could be replaced.
It couldn’t.
I jumped from the chair and wrapped an arm around her. “Maple, listen,” I said in a whisper. “I get it. I know what you’re going through, I understand that nothing can fill the void your husband left.”
“You--you--” she looked into my eyes. “Of course, you do.”
“We’re looking out for the people we live with. We need them to feel comfortable and safe in their homes,” I said.
The others spoke amongst themselves while I walked Maple to the door, her shaking body held within my frame.
“I don’t know how I’ll cope without him,” she said.
“You’re stronger than you look.”
“I’m just--I’m just--” she shrugged her shoulders high. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”
“Find a hobby. I’ve tried, many, many, many things.”
“Oh?” she chuckled, wiping at her wet cheeks. “What like?”
“Painting. Reading. I took a wine tasting course. I’ve looked into improving my knowledge through Open University courses, but honestly, that lasted all of three seconds before realising I wasn’t going to get a job now. I’d even thought about setting one of those online stores up, you know the ones, anyway, Caroline wouldn’t help me, so that was useless.”
Technology wasn’t my forte at all, and for most things, my daughter Caroline would help, but the online store was a flash in the pan idea. There was something there for a solid second, but I lost interest before she even said “no”.
“Then, I set up the neighbourhood watch group,” I continued. “And it’s what I throw all my time and energy into now.”
“Clever,” she grumbled. “Perhaps I can find this homeless man and he can be my project.”
“Perhaps!” It was a good idea, and definitely, one I was glad to help her out with if she needed it.
Turning from the front door, I found Norma already standing and ready to leave. I was thankful she came to the idea on her own. “Leaving already?” I asked.
“I’ve got to,” she said. “I was only coming to find out what was happening, and now I know.”
“What do you know?”
“About the plan.”
I glanced behind her at Betsy and Arthur standing and smiling. “Oh, the plan,” I said, pretending to understand what was happening and what was going on because I had absolutely no idea what she was talking about.
“Have a nice evening,” she said, gently patting my arm before leaving.
Now I had questions. I closed the door behind Norma and joined Betsy and Arthur at the table, their smiling faces nodding in my direction. I dug into the ham sandwiches Maple had kindly provided.
“So?” I asked with a mouthful of food pressed against the inside of my cheek. “What’s the plan?”
“It was something for Norma to feel important about,” Betsy said.
“Which, I had no part in,” Arthur added.
I raised my hands in oblivion, there was still no explanation.
“Norma is going to keeping a close eye on the street,” she said. “She has the biggest vantage point of the entire street. She’s even going to get her nephew to set up one of those fancy cameras.”
“I feel like we’re taking advantage of her,” Arthur said. “Those things are expensive, and the time it takes to go through all that footage.”
“It’s a good job we’re all retired,” Betsy remarked.
I hummed. “It seems like she enjoys the plan.” Which, of course, she did, because I doubt she would’ve agreed to anything she disliked in any way, shape, or form. “Plus, she has connections within the council. She could help us get permission to make this place gated.”
“Prices would soar,” Betsy gulped, clasping her hands together in surprise and shock. “I might be able to move to the Spanish coast sooner.”
“The Spanish coast?” Arthur asked, his eyes wide in shock.
“A pipe dream,” I chuckled. “Betsy knows I can’t leave this house behind.” And so did Arthur, even my daughter in Scotland, she knew once I was gone she’d have to move in, and she certainly wasn’t allowed to sell – it was already there in the will.
Although we—I had the dream now to take longer vacations in the sun. David and I had talked about moving to the Portuguese coast, all because of those custard tarts we had.
The neighbourhood watch meeting finished soon after. I relaxed in my bathtub with Eat, Pray, Love. I usually didn’t make it passed Pray, only going back through the Eat section as often as my body would allow. I climbed into bed with images of Italy and the only time I’d been there in 1999 with a screaming pre-teen child in the wings.
ACT THREE
And Kept Secrets
Settling into bed as I found myself coming to the end of the section I was reading, I heard a clattering, banging, a rumbling from the street.
Thud. It came from outside. A rustle of sound followed.
I was at the window within the instant, twitching at the curtain and pushing the window ajar. There they were, at a bin on the end of Maple’s driveway. She’d wheeled it inside the last time I recalled, but it was out like it was ready for collection.
“Odd,” I grumbled. Perhaps it was my mistake. It wasn’t Thursday.
The one single thought through my mind was to investigate. I had to find out who it was, and this was my opportunity.
I wrapped a nightgown around myself, tying it at the waist.
There was only a road between us. I stomped down the stairs and at the front door, I shoved my feet into a pair of sandals. I had the fortune of being able to sneak up on the figure while it was busy digging through Maple’s bins.
I had to say, there was a certain level of offence that this figure was only going through her bins and nobody else’s waste like we all didn’t have items to throw away.
The figure was a large black dot of mass. I marched to it, trying to keep my breathing slow and my footsteps quiet, but I quickly recalled I hadn’t told anyone – I was truly going solo, and I almost stopped in my tracks.
He turned.
“What are you doing?” I asked, scrunching my face to look as menacing as possible.
“Huh,” he fell back, huffing a few sounds and clutching his large bag tighter, closer to his chest.
“Leave,” I commanded.
More incomprehensible sounds came from him. “Move,” he grunted, shoving past me with a limp, knocking me to the side, into a wet patch of grass on Maple’s garden. He stank like damp and mildew, the type of smell I’d cleaned many times from puddles in the garage.
“Get back!” I said with an attempt at pulling myself to my feet. “You’re stealing.”
I’d done everything I could, there was nothing else I could do to get the man to come back, or even deter him from stealing, but perhaps it would serve a lesson to him that someone was watching, even if they could be knocked over by a stiff wind.
I raced myself back to the front door and into the living room. Grabbing the phone from the stand, I punched in the speed dial for DC Finley Fletcher’s telephone. I’d been attacked... almost, he had to know.
“Delia, I’m not doing this tonight,” he said.
“I’ve been attacked.”
“Delia? Delia.”
“Yes,” I said. “The man was outside. And he pushed me.”
He groaned. I could only imagine him throwing a hand to his face. “I told you not to. If you’d like to report this as a crime, please contact the authorities. I’ll be over in the morning,” he said. “You don’t seem to have listened to anything I told you the other day.”
Well, I did listen, I just didn’t let it sway my actions. “I’ll write everything down for you,” I said. “I’m prepared to describe him. The big fat oaf of a man that he is, certainly wasn’t in any position to say he’d starve.” I was speaking from a place of anger at that moment. I was so close to catching him and then I didn’t. He was out of reach and it was my luck he escaped.
He hung up.
With the paper and pen beside the telephone, I jotted all relevant information about the man who’d been fetching quite the feast from Maple’s bins, almost like she’d left it out there for him on purpose.
“What is she up to?” I wondered, jotting down questions on a separate sheet of paper.
The following morning, I woke promptly at 8 A.M. and with an agenda of activities set out for the day. I knew I’d need a hearty breakfast, of which I didn’t have the ingredients for, so I settled for syrup and porridge, equally as hearty, but without any of the wanting to fill my face on fatty sausage and bacon.
A knock pulled me away from the last scraping of porridge at the bottom of the bowl.
DC Finley Fletcher, right on time, stood at the front door. “Morning,” he said with a chipper smile on his face and a cup of to-go coffee in hand. “How’re you feeling after your adventures last night?”
Behind him, I noticed a man in the driveway of Maple’s house. “I’m fine,” I said, glancing past him. “Who are they?”
He turned and shrugged. “Should we go inside and have a little chat?”
“Well, I mean, it’s about time we did.”
“Great. I hope you got a good look at the man this time.”
Of which, I did and I didn’t. It was a little hard to say what I saw in the darkness, but the Delia from last night had made sure to write all the relevant details on a piece of paper.
“Okay,” I said, leading him inside to the table where I sat with the last of my food and a cup of coffee. “Here are the questions I have for Maple, and they might come in handy when you interrogate her.”
He chuckled. “Ms. Darling, I won’t be interrogating her.”
I pulled the sheet back to myself. “Then, I’ll ask them,” I said.
He tugged the sheet, trying to take it from me. “I would advise against that.”
I snatched the sheet and shoved it into the pocket of my nightgown. “Here are the details of what happened.” I handed over the second sheet.
Reading over it, a curved smile appeared on his cheeks. “Is it essential to know you were reading ‘Eat, Pray, Love’ again?”
“I was painting the picture.”
He hummed and nodded. “And you describe the man as pushy. Did he push you?”
“With his body,” I said. “He was a wide man.”
“Okay,” he said. “Perhaps he’s recently homeless then. Meaning his case is extremely vulnerable. I did tell you not to get involved with this. There’s no telling what could happen, and I’d rather not have to call your daughter.” He raised his eyebrows at me.
There was one time when he’d phoned my daughter, and that was because of a silly misunderstanding. The type of misunderstanding that shouldn’t have been held against me. Norma was running a smear campaign against the flowers in my garden, apparently, they were unsightly. So, naturally, I clipped away the buds of her roses. I didn’t necessarily mean to set the bush growth back by as long as I did, but it was in the past now.
“I just want to know what’s happening on the street, and whether or not Maple is encouraging homeless people to come visit the Robb Road in hopes of feeding,” I said. “If that’s the case, we should discuss setting up a soup kitchen, you know, at least fifteen miles away.”
“Please don’t antagonise the situation,” he said, slipping the list into a small book. “I’ll have a colleague run these details through a database,” he said.
“And what will that do?”
“It will find out whether or not he’s been reported of causing a nuisance before,” he said before taking a long swig of coffee. “Now, are you okay?”
“I’m in perfect health.” It was a little white lie, I wasn’t quite as healthy as I had been in my twenties.
“I mean, were you hurt?”
“Only my dignity,” I said. “I was knocked into the dirt, but it’s nothing but dirt. I can wash that away.”
He stood. “Is that everything?”
“There’s talk about asking to get a gate added to the street.”
A wave of laughter crossed his face, followed by a protruding squint as he realised I was being serious.
I let him out through the front door and as I stood, watching him leave, shaking his head in disbelief that I would actually go around every single person along this small street to petition getting a gate added – but I would, there were only 27 houses here, there used to be 28, but number 19 was demolished and reused as a community recycling centre for plastic, glass, and also compost.
“Behave now, Ms. Darling,” he said from the top of the drive before walking away.
“Oh, I will,” I mumbled back to myself.
The car was gone from outside Maple’s house, and now a ‘For Sale’ stood proudly, picketed in her garden.
Every thought in my mind told me to go over and ask what she was thinking, because it didn’t seem like she was thinking at all. She couldn’t sell her house, not with all the memories.
Instead, I pulled back inside and closed the door.
“I guess not everyone wants to be surrounded by memories,” I said, reasoning with the possibility not everyone was like me.
I sat in the living room and grabbed the telephone. I’d still yet to tell Betsy any of this information, and I knew she’d be furious to find out what I’d done... alone, and it was best she found out over the phone, even if she only lived metres away.
“How could you?” she screamed down the phone.
I was right. Perhaps I should’ve led with the sign outside Maple’s garden. “Well, I’m fine, and Finley has been now to take my statement.” Even if it wasn’t quite technically correct, he just took a piece of paper and told me to mind my own business.
“Have you seen the sign?” she asked.
“That is what I was calling you about.”
“She’s moving?”
“Looks like it.”
She sighed. “So, are you okay?” she finally asked, almost like forgiveness.
I chuckled. “I was going to call, but I was a little shaken at the time and needed to get everything down on paper.”
“Oh?”
“I have more questions for Maple now than I did when she was over last time,” I replied. “Like, is she feeding this homeless person? And why did she have her waste bins out? Surely, something like that we can take to the council. We’ve been voted number one garden in England for five years.”
“I think we could,” she replied. “You never know when those judges might come around, and if they see how filthy those things are, we might lose that very title.”
We were always on the same page, no matter what we did to ruffle the other’s feathers.
“I think we need to confront her,” I said. “She’s made it very clear she doesn’t want to be on the street any longer.”
“I’ll be over in ten,” she said.
I put the phone down and pulled the note of questions I had for Maple. My handwriting was remarkably messy. I squinted at it, trying to read the notes. I wished I had made a second note with the man’s descriptions; I wondered whether or not Maple knew this limping vagrant.
