Chapter Seventy-Three
... Her getting stroppy with me won’t make the water any hotter any faster.”
“Ross, what happens with the mail when it’s delivered?”
He blinks at the apparent change in subject. “Sorry, Beth? How d’you mean? Is something wrong?”
“The mail. I’m not receiving post I’m expecting. So, what happens when it arrives? Or what’s supposed to happen?”
He scratches at his scalp, then sniffs at his hand before swiping oil over his boiler-suit. “Um… Usually I pick it up from the mailbox by the gate as I drive past, then I leave it in the tray in the hall. I just assumed everyone was picking out whatever was theirs.” He cocks his head. “What’s going missing?”
I haver, then, “I don’t want to say anything unless I’m sure. But from now on, Ross, I’d like you to bring all incoming mail, whoever it’s for, direct to me.”
“No problem, Mrs Haswell.”
***The following morning, with, thankfully, a little heat exuding from the radiators, once more my Master and I share breakfast.***
***A knock. “Mrs Haswell?”***
***“Come in, Ross.”***
***He enters, hand outstretched, offering me a thick wedge of envelopes. “Good morning, Mr Haswell. Mrs Haswell, the post.” My Master looks up from his newspaper, brow cocked.***
***I riffle through a mix of white and brown envelopes, coupons, catalogues and other junk mail. “That’s everything, is it?”***
***“It’s everything I took from the mailbox.”***
***“And this is about typical?”***
***“I’d say so, yes.” Ross hovers. “Is there anything else?”***
***“No, that’s fine. You go do…” I wave a vague hand… “… whatever it is you should be doing.”***
***As the door closes behind him, I split the collection into junk, a stack of my own mail, and another for my Master, sliding it across the table to him.***
***He slits open a white envelope, extracting a stiff white card, crimped gold, scans it and sighs. “Another damn invitation.” He watches me rip into a brown envelope. “What’s this about, Elizabeth?”***
***I unfold the contents… “I asked Mrs Martin some time ago to have the household mail, especially the utilities, sent direct to me. It’s not happened. I’m beginning to wonder…”***
***Sucking at his cheeks, “And?”***
***“Electricity…” … Scanning down… “Holy crap.”***
***“Elizabeth?”***
***I pass it across to him. “How much electric should we be using here?”***
***He glances down, then snaps in to look more closely, brows drawing tight. His lips flatten. “It’s a large house, but this is at least fifty-per-cent higher usage than we should be seeing.” He nods to my stack. “How about the other invoices?”***
Should I have the locks changed?
No… find out what she’s been doing first…
There’s only so many ways in and out of the house.
So, I set myself to wait. And watch.
***And there she is, heading for the gate, my housekeeper’s vehicle, a white van, crunching over the gravelled drive at less than a walking pace.***
***To make no sound?***
***She's sneaking out?***
***Sprinting back down the stairs, I snatch keys from the hall table, dashing past my startled Master… “Eliza…”***
***But I'm gone.***
***In the garage, Ross, his feet up on a table, marks something onto a crossword puzzle. My Master’s BMW gleams beside my own, much smaller and more modest, model. “Ross, my car. Quick!”***
***“Beth?” He sounds as startled as my Master.***
***“She's getting away!”***
***“Who?”***
***“Mrs Martin!”***
***Ross swings up, grabbing at keys. “Let me drive. You can navigate.”***
***“No navigation. Just follow her van.” Gravel sprays as, jaw set, Ross swerves us down the drive and out. “You know there's something going on, don't you?”***
***He grimaces. “I don’t know anything. It looked very odd to me. But when I asked, I was told to mind my own business. What you said about mail going astray just confirmed it.”***
***“Confirmed what? What looked odd?”***
***“She’s constantly in and out of the grounds with that van of hers. Always loaded up with bags and boxes. She’s a housekeeper. How many trips out could she need except to visit the wholesalers for cleaning supplies every week or so?”***
***“And how often was she in and out?”***
***He shrugs. “A couple of times a day.”***
***“Get your foot down. Don’t lose her.”***
Half an hour later, we’re on the arterial road leading into the heart of the City. The van is ahead of us by two cars. I'd like to be nearer, but…
Ross glances sidelong at me. “If I get much closer, there’s a chance she’ll see us. From here, I can keep up with her and hopefully, she's not looking too hard in her mirror… Damn!” He hits the gas as the van makes a sharp left, swerving to follow.
It’s a side road, only a few hundred yards long, running behind a block of stores, restaurants and and hotels. Cars, delivery vans, and workman’s vehicles are dotted along one side.
For a moment I think we've lost her, then…
The back half of a white van, just vanishing into a gateway. Ross slows right down. “Beth?”
“Crawl past if you can. I want to see what that place is.”
I can’t tell by looking. Double doors stand closed to the rear service entrance of some business or other. The van stands stationary, closed up in a small parking area lined with trash cans and not much else.
I tap into my mapping app.
Tony’s Trattoria…
An Italian restaurant?
And the penny drops.
All that laundry…
I aim a finger toward an empty space to the side, slotted between a couple of parked cars. “Park there.” Angled slightly from the gate, I’ll be able to see in, but anyone coming out wouldn’t immediately spot us unless they were looking.
As Ross eases the car into the space, I set my mobile onto video camera, aiming toward the van. Mrs Martin is nowhere in sight, but I'm almost certain now about what I'll see…
All I’ll have to do is confront her with proof.
The double doors swing open and she appears, wheeling out a large laundry trolley overflowing with a tumble of used linen. Unhooking the bag, she sets it by the rear of the van, opens up and exchanges the bag of laundry for a similar bag stacked with freshly laundered and folded linen.
With the van doors standing open, I zoom in, snapping at the stacks and bags inside the car.
Ross heaves air. “That’s one mystery solved. Are you going to confront her?”
“Not yet. We’ll keep following her. I’ll bet there’s more than just tablecloths in that bag. And in the linen store at the attic level, there’s way more bedding than there should be. My guess is she’s got quite a client list around here.”
He nods. “Here she comes.”
Ducking down as Mrs Martin reverses out, then away, we follow.
***My Master flicks through my photo files. “Are you telling me she's been running a complete laundry service from here?”***
***“That's right. Using our facilities, electricity, heating and water, to fund her business free of charge. Today she visited three restaurants and two small hotels. It’s anyone’s guess how much more there is.”***
***“Very… enterprising… of her.” He huffs a laugh, palming the back of his neck. “Foolish of her, though. If she'd been honest about it, I'd have been happy to let her carry on. Reach some accommodation over the costs…”***
***“But she's not been honest about it. And if she's been running this off the household expenses, what else has she been doing?”***
***He slants a look at me. “Fair point. You want me to handle it?”***
***“I think this one is for me to do.”***
When Mrs Martin returns, Ross meets her. Voices echo from the hallway.
“This is ridiculous! I have work to do. I can talk with Mrs Haswell later.”
“Mrs Haswell was clear she wanted to talk to you as soon as you come in.”
“I’ll meet her in the office.”
“Mrs Haswell gave instructions that you were to meet her in the lounge and nowhere else.”
Footsteps stomp over tiles and the lounge door swings open. Catherine Martin enters, stiff and truculent. Her eyes narrow as she sees the cardboard box stacked with what I’ve found so far of her personal possessions. “What’s this about, Mrs Haswell?”
“I’m giving you notice, Mrs Martin. Effective immediately.” I nod to the box. “You may take that with you. If anything else of yours is here, you may message me and I’ll have it sent on.”
“This is outrageous. You can’t simply sack an employee with no notice. I’ll be in contact with my lawyer.”
“Feel free to do that, Mrs Martin. If you do, I will be reporting you to the police. In addition, I will have you sued for fraud, theft and embezzlement. And I will ensure that you never find another employer anywhere in the City...”
Her mouth flaps open in protest…