Delia Darling Mysteries Box Set Read online

  “Of course, absolutely,” Maple said.

  Without the watch, the street would be without several of its streetlights. Nobody seems to care when you live all the way out in the hills. They seem to think you only need one or two lights, but it’s not so light polluted out here as it is in the big towns and cities.

  “We’re just making you aware before it becomes an epidemic,” I said.

  She nodded. “But we must remember that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.”

  “Which is the exact reason those donation banks exist,” Betsy said.

  Maple followed us down the drive to fetch her bins. We continued on to my house. There was bound to be reruns of Doctor Manhattan on the television, and I could certainly use a little healthy medical detective show to occupy my mind.

  “Do you think she’s having trouble making food for one?” Betsy asked.

  “I could certainly teach her,” I said. “It is difficult at first. Never getting those portion controls right, even now, six years on, I’m still making too much pasta, or rice, or whatever it is that triples—quadruples in size.”

  As we took residence in the living area of the house, relaxed into the leather loungers, I turned to Betsy with my brows knitted close and my eyes squinting slightly. I opened my mouth to speak.

  “You okay?” she asked. “Want me to turn the TV on?”

  “I was thinking,” I said, although my mind was pretty empty now. “I wonder if they’ve done this before, or if it was the first time.”

  I was awfully suspicious. Whoever it had been must’ve known when the bin men came to take away the rubbish, unless it was a one-off and found accidentally.

  “I hope so,” she replied. “Billy thinks we shouldn’t worry, but I’m worried even more because of it.”

  “Don’t get me started on that,” I said. “The worst thing anyone can tell me is not to worry, it’s like they know something about it we don’t.”

  After thirty minutes of watching an episode of Doctor Manhattan, a loud heavy knock came at the front door. I looked at Betsy, almost asking who was going to answer it. Considering it was my house, I was on my feet.

  DC Finley Fletcher stood at the door in a dark blue suit and a beige trench coat laid over an arm. He was clean-shaven with a chiselled jawline and dark brown eyes. He was a sensitive soul, but he appeared to look like someone who was menacing.

  “Morning, Fin,” I said. “How’s your mother?”

  “Ms. Darling,” he said, tipping his head at me. “I’m here to talk with you about what happened last night.”

  “The vagabond?”

  “The homeless man,” he said. “And the fact you called my personal phone to talk about something which would be deemed as a professional matter.”

  Betsy scoffed from the living room. “Lighten up,” she said. “Come in and have a coffee.”

  “Oh, would you like a coffee?” I asked, taking his hand. I pulled him into the house, closing the door behind him.

  “I can stay for one,” he said, giving in. “But I want to know more about what happened, and why there were no other reports.”

  “Firstly,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’m the president of the watch. I know everything that happens. The fact nobody else called to report this very serious crime does not diminish the fact that it was indeed a very serious crime.”

  “So, you’d like to report a crime?” he asked.

  Betsy and I both nodded. “Absolutely.”

  As we sat with fresh cups of coffee, Finley Fletcher pulled out a notepad.

  “Tell me what you saw.”

  “Someone routing through Maple’s bins,” I said. “And who knows, he might have been going through the rest of our bins.”

  “Including your mother’s bins,” Betsy added. “I bet your mother would be beside herself if she knew you weren’t taking this seriously.”

  “Betsy,” he said, sucking through his teeth. “I’m taking this very seriously. This is not the type of behaviour I want around here. If there’s a population of homeless people, we need to know. If they stay invisible, we can’t help them, can we?”

  “How will you help them?” I asked. “I mean, are trespassing and theft crimes?”

  He grumbled, almost like he’d come upon a grey area. “First, we need to find the person responsible,” he said. “Do you have a description?”

  “Yes, yes,” I said, although not quite as descript as I’m known for being. “Well, they were quite hunched, on the larger side, I can’t say for certain if they were male or female.”

  “Oh, oh, oh,” Betsy tapped the arm of the chair. “They did have a little limp.”

  He jotted down the points. “Clothes?”

  “Well, he wasn’t naked,” I said.

  “Anything else?” he asked, pressing his lips together into a thin white line.

  “I only saw him going into Maple’s bins,” I added. “He might have gone through all of our bins, but I only heard the racket from my bedroom.”

  He sipped his coffee. “When’s the next bin collection day?” he asked.

  I held a finger up to him. “One moment, let me fetch the chart.”

  On my fridge door, I had my bin collection timetable pinned with a magnet.

  The bins were collected once a week, one for general waste and recycling bins, and a second for green waste. I handed the leaflet over. “Next week,” I said. “But unless whoever it is has one of these, they probably won’t be back until the week after.”

  He hummed. “Okay.” He jotted down the dates. “If you see the person again, please don’t approach them. Remember that vulnerable people don’t have a lot to lose, so they might attack if they’re provoked.”

  “Oh, Delia,” Betsy gasped. “You hear that, they might attack.”

  “I’m a strong enough woman,” I replied, stiffing my nose in the air. “I’ve been through plenty, and I can get through keeping these streets safe.”

  “Ms. Darling,” he said. “Please don’t provoke them.”

  I suppose I’d have to listen, but I couldn’t say I’d learn from anything he was telling me. I didn’t know if at the time I would go out to see the person, but perhaps I might also see what they were doing. If they were going through my bins then, of course, I would go and see them, but if they weren’t going through them, I’d probably leave them alone and call the number for Finley, once again.

  “Well, if he does come around, I will be calling you again,” I said.

  “I’ll be turning my phone off in future,” he said. “And please, call the official line for the police.”

  “We will do,” Betsy said, nodding to me like she had a plan.

  “We don’t do much with our time now, Fin,” I said. “So, we have the neighbourhood watch to keep us occupied.”

  It was known that many people didn’t approve of the local neighbourhood watch, they considered us to be nosey – and while that may have been true to a certain extent, it wasn’t the prime reason for it. We wanted a safe place.

  As a widow without a job, spending time protecting those I cared for seemed like second nature.

  He finished his coffee and stood. “Right, ladies,” he said. “I’m going to see Maple and make sure she’s aware of what is happening.”

  “We’ve already spoken with her,” Betsy said.

  “Please don’t throw this place into a frenzy,” he said. “You two know more than well enough that a little tale around the village can slowly turn into gossip. And the last thing we need is gossip.”

  We weren’t gossips, but we were procurers of information, and sometimes the two things were confused for each other.

  ACT TWO

  The Village that Slept

  Resuming our time with the dashing doctor, we couldn’t quite keep away from the fabulous life of the part-time detective, even if the series had finished years ago.

  “I think they should bring it back,” Betsy said in a sigh.

  “They’re si
lly not to.”

  Doctor Manhattan was dealing with a case of a man who’d been found within an inch of his life, and after saving him, he set out to find out who the man was and why he’d been beaten, only to discover the man had been selling drugs to children.

  No matter how often I watched the episodes on repeat, they’d always shock and startle me. The actor wasn’t quite famous, but I’d refuse to watch anything else with them in, I didn’t need their image tainting.

  “You think Doctor Manhattan will find the man who stole his wife?” Betsy asked. “I’m still going crazy over that storyline.” It happened several episodes ago, but Betsy was only still on the second seasons, and there were seven seasons.

  “I can’t tell you!” I said with a nervous chuckle.

  It was chocked full of incredibly riveting storylines, and I’d watched them all several times before, and each time I discovered more red herrings and clues weaved into the tapestry of each story.

  “Just give me a hint,” she said. “Or, which episode does it all come out on.”

  We were only a couple episodes away. It was the plot twist of the year when it first aired; the big reveal when the wife was found out to have been helping the man kidnap her. I heard the world gasp.

  Betsy hadn’t been a watcher like me, I’d been a devout fan and continued to be as such. The worst day of my life had been when they’d cancelled the show, well, it was a close second, after the death of my husband, but even while he’d been alive it was quite a dramatic end to a series – one I’d never quite gotten over.

  “Do you still have them all on tape?” she asked.

  “DVD now,” I said, nodding to the cabinet behind the TV. They had all been on VHS, but thanks to my daughter, she’d upgraded my collections, and even added a couple of extra channels to my TV where they showed reruns of US-based detective programs.

  As the credits ran, Betsy let out a deep breath. “I’m worried,” she said.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “But be warned, after you watch it, you might scream.” I chuckled, but noticed her face didn’t change, she glanced to her shuffling feet on the floor.

  “No, not that.”

  “Oh?” I gasped. “Is everything okay with Billy?”

  She hummed a little. “He’s okay,” she said. “But, if there’s someone on the streets causing a nuisance, I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

  “I’m gonna have to make sure the doors are extra locked then,” I said.

  A grin formed on her face. “Billy will want to store his baseball bat beside the bed,” she said. “I can’t tell him what Fin said, about this man, maybe if they’ve got nothing to lose, they’ll be brave and just come into my house when I’m there.”

  “We have to be extra vigilant.”

  “And the way Billy’s heart is now,” she said. “You know he can’t even have bacon anymore, and he’s being told by our GP he’s got to cut his coffee intake too.”

  “Oh, they’ll suck the life and fun out of everything, won’t they?”

  “I’m just worried he’ll try and be a hero,” she said.

  “Billy? No.” I shook my head.

  Billy was a very fair man. He was never unduly angry about anything or anyone, in fact, even then, he was rarely actually angry.

  “I should go make him some lunch,” she said. “We’ve been told to make green smoothies, and they’re quite vile, Delia. Quite vile.”

  My face became taut as I pulled it. “Oh, blimey. I can’t imagine.”

  “Me either,” she said. “And luckily, I don’t have to either. I’ll eat the bacon and sausage while he pines after it with his eyes as he slurps back one of those.” She shuddered. “Try kissing a man when his teeth are full of green pulp.”

  I hadn’t kissed a man since my David was here. The only other man who’d even come remotely close was Arther Ainsworth, and that was on New Year’s Eve when everyone else had someone to kiss when the clock struck 12. It turned out, I’d fallen asleep before the midnight toll and no such kiss ever happened.

  “David practically lived off scrambled eggs,” I said. “They go down a treat, and they’re high in protein.” A smile touched the sides of my face. “In fact, I’ll probably make some myself.”

  David lived on the mantle above the fireplace in the living room. He’d been cremated, as he wished, and now he lived in two urns; one above the fireplace and a second at our daughter’s house.

  After Betsy left, I found myself making lunch alone and eating with a little smooth jazz in the background. This is exactly why I created the watch group, to save myself from the boredom as it crept up on me when I least expected it.

  Five quick sharp knocks collided with the front door.

  Arthur Ainsworth stood, fiddling with his glasses as he wiped them clean on the sleeve of his arm. “Afternoon,” he said. “I heard whispers someone’s been stealing on the street.”

  “Who from?”

  “Well,” he shrugged. “You know how this place is.”

  “True.” Very true.

  He glanced over his shoulder to see Maple’s driveway. “I wanted to make sure you were okay. I don’t know how close to it you got, but apparently, your name is mentioned all over this.”

  I could only assume Maple had been telling everyone about my morning visit. We were only trying to help, and potentially stop the homeless people gossiping about a neighbourhood flush with waste food – which wasn’t the case at all.

  “Someone has to keep a watchful eye over the place,” I said. “And Norma’s no help at all.”

  “Norma was the one who told me,” he said.

  “Norma!” I scoffed.

  Norma Newton lived at number 1; she saw everyone come in and everyone leave. She had the best vantage point over everyone. I was half-surprised she hadn’t seen the homeless man enter or leave.

  “I’m sure she’ll bring it up at the meeting,” he said. “But I came over as soon as I heard. I’m surprised you didn’t call me.”

  I waved a hand at him. “Oh no, you’re far too busy with your book,” I said.

  “The book doesn’t even have a title yet,” he chuckled. “I’m waiting for inspiration.”

  Retiring out of old age brings out all the unfulfilled dreams, Arthur’s was to write and publish a book. He’d been talking about it for the longest of times, but I hadn’t seen a single written word from him yet.

  As days and nights passed, I kept a watchful eye on the road, waiting for someone to pull up and begin rifling through all the waste bins, but nobody did. Nobody kept their bins out unless they were due for collection; which is logically the correct thing to do.

  The late-afternoon after another late night, Betsy and Arthur sat at the kitchen table with cups of coffee warming their hands. They smiled at me as I joined them.

  “What are we talking about?” I asked.

  “This whole fiasco,” Arthur grumbled.

  My name was still very firm on the tongues of the people in the neighbourhood. It was almost like they didn’t mind if the place was run amok by street people. “I’m a firm believer in doing what’s best for the community.”

  “Norma said you were a busybody,” he chuckled.

  Betsy let out a cackle of laughter. “A busybody?”

  “Norma really doesn’t have a firm leg to stand on, does she?” I asked, looking away from Arthur’s face, not to be taken in by the sweet dimple in the side of his cheek.

  “And what are you doing talking with her?” Betsy asked. “If you’d like to change your allegiance to her and the reruns of ‘Hoarders’, then be our guest.”

  “She’s eclectic,” he said in her defence.

  “Norma moved to Huntington to terrorise David and me after our marriage,” I said. “Or at least, that’s what I tell her when she tries to climb aboard her high horse of legislation and all that.”

  From what I knew, and I knew quite a bit, Norma had worked for the local council for several years before retiring. She a
lso worked for a legal practice too. If she wasn’t so uptight, she might’ve been a perfect fit to lead the neighbourhood watch.

  Arthur glanced at his watch. “When does the meeting start?” he asked.

  I glanced around at the three of us. “Oh, one moment,” I said, rushing from my seat and into the kitchen. I scrambled around to fill a plate full of chocolate biscuits before bringing them back and placing them on the table.

  “Biscuits?” Betsy asked, rubbing her stomach.

  “It starts now,” I said, “I even prepared a spread.”

  He sighed into a laugh. It wasn’t usually more than three or four people at the meeting, unless people actually paid attention or notice of the corkboard outside Eileen’s newsagents at the opening of the village. Although sometimes, DC Fletcher would turn up and offer his expert advice.

  Knock. Knock.

  That was perhaps the fourth person for the meeting. We were just about to start as the clock hit 5 P.M.

  Maple stood at the door, alongside Norma, offering up a small single plate of ham sandwiches.

  “Is the meeting here?” Maple asked.

  “Well?” Norma asked in my silence.

  “Oh, yes, yes,” I said, opening the door wider. “Please, come in. We’re just in the dining area at the table.”

  I stood in shock for a moment. Norma had been inside my home only a handful of times. I could count every single one of them on a single hand.

  “Ah, goodness,” Betsy screeched at the sight of the two new guests.

  I gestured with a large smile, pressing fingers into my cheeks. “Norma and Maple have been gracious enough to join this evening.”

  “I’ll make more coffee,” Betsy said, jumping from her seat. “Coffee? Tea?” she asked them both.

  “Tea,” Norma said. “But only if you have Yorkshire tea, if not, I’m good.”

  “I’ll have a coffee, one sugar, skimmed milk.”

  She nodded back at them before glancing at me.

  “Oh, they brought sandwiches too,” I said.

  It was bound to be an awkward meeting now, given we had my lifelong antagonist, Norma, and the woman who was at the centre of all discussions sitting at the table with us.