Chapter Seventy-Four
Her mouth flaps open in protest…
“… Tell me, how many of your clients can we expect to approach us about the return of their property? On the brief inspection I’ve made so far, I’ve identified towels, tablecloths, bedding and staff uniforms from eight local businesses. I don’t doubt there are more…”
“The linen in this house is all your own property, Mrs Haswell!”
“Really? So why did I find the logos of five different restaurants, hotels and guests houses embroidered into some of them? Should I contact the owners of the businesses to ask why their property is here?”
She falls silent, head drooping. “How am I supposed to make ends meet with the wages you pay?”
“Accommodation provided on-site, including heating and electricity, plus a generous salary, health insurance and pension, use of a vehicle and an allowance for holidays. I know how my husband pays his staff, Mrs Martin. He believes in paying well to get good people. You have betrayed his trust. You may leave now. You may not return to this house. If you do, I will call the police.”
I call toward the door. “Ross?” He steps inside. “You listened as I instructed?”
“Yes, Mrs Haswell.”
“Please drive Mrs Martin to wherever she chooses in the City. She may give you a forwarding address for any of her personal items still here.”
“Where am I supposed to go? I’ve nowhere to live.”
“In that case, I suggest you start with one of the hotels you have supplied. Perhaps one will give you accommodation in lieu of payment.”
*****
The door slams behind her, followed by the rev of an engine and the grumble of rubber on gravel.
“I didn’t think you had it in you, my Love.”
I whirl to find my Master lounging against the wall, arms folded. “She was nothing but a common thief. She had a good place here, a position of trust, and she chose to abuse it.”
He clucks. “I agree. Do you think there’s any more to learn about what she’s been up to?”
“I’ll let you know if I find anything.”
*****
My Master wears his professional smile, offering his hand. “Miss Schmidt. It’s very good to see you again. Do come in.”
She bobs, accepting the hand. “Thank you so much for agreeing to this, Mr Haswell.”
“My pleasure. I enjoyed reading your previous piece. And, as I told you when we first met, it’s Richard.” She beams. “Since it’s such a lovely day, would you like to talk while we walk through the garden?”
“Would you mind? I’d love to see it.”
“Not at all. Elizabeth, will you join us?”
*****
Winter jasmine blooms brilliant yellow behind the glossy red stalks of a stand of dogwood. Snowdrops peek out at the base, promising a spring still several weeks away. But despite the earliness of the year, sunshine has thawed the frost and, armed with boots, gloves and woollens, the garden is a winter paradise.
Claudia, notebook in hand, has arrived with an arsenal of questions, obviously picking up from her previous conversation with my Master. The garden itself provides a cue.
“It’s a gorgeous house and the garden is beautiful. You must feel very… privileged… to live in such a lovely home.” She swallows hard, holding up her phone to demonstrate it is set to Record. “May I?”
My Master slants a look her way. “You may.”
Inhaling, he pauses, then continues. “Yes, you are quite correct. I am indeed privileged. And the privileged have a vast range of options when it comes to how they make use of their wealth. That wealth can be used for necessities… The basics of life… Or for personal benefit. And of course, for luxuries such as this home my wife and I share. However…” He jabs a forefinger to the sky… “… I consider it is the responsibility of the privileged such as myself to put their money to good use…”
“… I want to feel I live a life that enriches society. To some extent, I can simply give or donate. For example via events such as the one you attended when we first met…
“… However, what I prefer by far, is to enable. A corporation such as mine, by virtue of activity in a wide range of fields, is able to offer not just employment, but training. Our incoming employees vary between, at one end of the scale, students and graduates in various disciplines who need only practical experience. In short, internships.” His severity morphs to a smile. “Elizabeth here benefited from such training. However… at the other end of the scale, we accommodate those who, for whatever reason, lack almost completely in education. In such cases, we offer training in anything from basic numeracy and literacy to full apprenticeships. As a result we…”
Something buzzes. My Master reaches behind himself, producing his mobile from a pocket. “Yes, Douglas? Have you gotten to the bottom of it?” A voice gabbles… “Really?” His eyes slide my way… “Douglas, a moment, please.” He covers the mouthpiece with a hand. “Claudia, Elizabeth, my apologies, but I need to take this call. Please excuse me.”
Eyes flickering with intrigue, nonetheless, Claudia remains polite. “Of course, Richard.”
Phone in hand, he strides back toward the house and, I notice, does not start speaking again until he is out of earshot.
What’s going on?
But I don’t have a chance to pursue my thoughts. Claudia taps her phone closed, tucking it away. “Beth, I can see I’m underfoot, and I have plenty to work with for my next article. But if it's alright, I'd like to come back again another day?”
“If Richard's happy to keep giving you interviews, I've no problem with it. You can talk to his PA, Francis, about setting up another appointment.”
She beams, but then, “No, you misunderstand. What I mean is, I'd like to interview you.”
“Me? What on earth about?”
“Beth, you don’t say much, but you’re obviously very much part of your husband’s life and…” She looks a little sheepish… “… after we met at the gala, I did a bit of research on you. You’re an interesting woman. I’d like to write about you.”
“Research? What kind of research did you do on me?”
“Well…” The sheepish look increases… “Actually, I just circulated at the gala and listened in.”
I chuckle. “You mean you eavesdropped.”
She chuckles back, shrugging. “Okay, yes I did. But I heard what some of those women were saying about you. That Irene Vandervoort…” She flashes me a look… “… Isn’t she a bitch…”
I maintain a tactful silence…
When it’s clear I’m not going to reply, Claudia sniffs and continues. “… To say she’s the mayor’s wife, you’d think she’d be more discreet. If I overheard her, I’m sure others did too.”
“Richard believes she wanted to be heard.”
She grimaces, nodding. “Anyway, the long and short is, I know all this is pretty new to you. I’d like to write a piece about you. I was thinking… Cinderella? Rags to riches?”
“I didn’t grow up in rags. And I’ve never lost a shoe in my life.”
“No, but, just like your husband, you come from a working background. You’re interesting people, both separately and as a pair.” She hesitates, then, “You’ve helped me and I’d like to return the favour. So… will you give me the interview?”
“You’ll pass it by me for approval?”
“Of course.”
“Then, yes, I will.”
*****
I wander through to the kitchen to make coffee. Ross is already there, sliding something into the oven.
“What are we having?”
“Beef bourguignon,” he smiles. “Any preference on what wine you’d like me to serve with it?”
“No, you choose. I know anything you pick will be…” But I’m Interrupted…
“That is ridiculous!” My Master’s words burst through the door behind me, resounding from somewhere along the hall. “… Who the hell does he think he is? My personal life is none of his concern. He has no right to…”
What the hell?
My Master almost never loses his temper.
Ross winces, as though avoiding a missile. “Doesn’t sound too happy, does he…” We exchange glances... “… Perhaps I should go?”
“I don’t think it’s aimed at you, Ross…”
He grimaces. “I was going to clean his car after this anyway. If you’re looking for me, I’ll be in the garage.”
Ross beats a hasty retreat and I make my way through to my Master’s office. His cell pressed to an ear, he doesn’t see me at first. Flushed, his nostrils flaring, his fingers clench on the phone. “You can tell that mealy-mouthed bastard from me he can go…”
As he sees me, abruptly his tone changes, “Douglas, I’ll call you back.” Shiny-faced, he taps off the phone. “Elizabeth?” He’s trying to smile, but not succeeding.
“Master? Is everything…?”
“Everything’s fine, Elizabeth. Nothing for you to worry about.”
“But…”
“I said, it’s not your concern.”
And that, it appears, is the end of that.
*****