We returned to the van and unloaded all our sweet treats into the back of it. Then, once we were finished and ready to move on, Hazel decided that she’d like to stop for a snack – so we unloaded it again and sat down on a nearby bench to enjoy our sweet treats. We were silent – for the most part – the only discernable thing we could hear over the general hustle and bustle of the town was the chirping of a nearby bird and Percy’s contented sighs as he sucked on a hazelnut praline.
Then came the inevitable discussion and – unsurprisingly – it was Ida May who began proceedings.
“Something about this case bothers me…”
I glanced over at her and raised a single eyebrow. “What’s that?”
Ida May fished out the insurance policy and handed it over to me. Between her and Hazel’s differing accounts of the details, they filled me in on how they came across the document and their brief encounters with Betty and Jebediah.
“So, you think Betty had something to do with it?”
“I think someone wants us to think Betty had something to do with it,” corrected Ida May, leaning back into the bench and closing her eyes as she enjoyed the warm breath of the sunshine. “I think everything is a little too convenient.”
“Meaning what?”
“I mean…” She opened her eyes and leaned forward again. “What evidence is there that a crime has actually been committed?”
We all thought for a moment. Percy was the first to answer.
“The missing furniture?”
“According to whom? We only have Susan’s word that any furniture ever went missing.”
We fell silent again. After a moment, I cautiously said:
“The inventory?”
“Again – who fills in the inventory?”
I paused for a moment before replying. “Susan.”
“Exactly,” Ida May replied, her eyes sparkling. “We only have her word that there ever was any furniture. What’s to stop her from making up a load of items and then claiming they were stolen…”
“Come on, Ida May, why would she do that?”
Ida May smiled and nodded to the document in my hand. “If there’s evidence that something’s been stolen, she can claim money back on the insurance. Like her and Gary have both said, they’re tight for money at the moment. What better way is there to make a quick buck than to claim insurance on furniture that never existed?”
“So, you think Gary’s involved?”
Before Ida May had a chance to reply, Hazel bolted to her feet, swallowed the last of her chocolate and turned to face us all.
“I’m going to get ice cream. Anyone else game?”
We stared up at her in complete disbelief.
“Ice cream?” I repeated.
“Are you mad?” piped in Ida May. “You’ve just had chocolate. What do you want ice cream for?”
Hazel shrugged and muttered:
“I have a sweet tooth today. Are you coming or not?”
To be honest the last thing on my mind was the thought of having ice cream, and I think Ida May felt the same because we both just shook our heads and returned to our conversation. Beside us, Percy muttered something about his figure before settling back into his seat on the bench, closing his eyes and dozing off into a midday nap.
Hazel didn’t seem particularly put out by this. She simply shrugged her shoulders, scooped up her bag of chocolates and trotted off down the street in search of her ice cream store.
“So,” I started again. “You think Gary has something to do with it?”
“Almost certainly,” replied Ida May. “After the way he was today. Why do you think he was so hostile to us poking our noses in? He’s got to be hiding something?”
I thought about this for a moment before shaking my head. “But Susan was the one who brought us into all this. Why would she have us investigating it if she was the one behind it all?”
“Did she though? Did she actually ask us to investigate?”
I thought for a moment. “Well, now you mention it, no I don’t think she did…” I paused, thinking hard back over the last two day’s events. “But she didn’t exactly stop us from looking into it. If she was behind it, why didn’t she put up more resistance?”
From his dozing slumber, Percy coughed his throat clear and, without opening his eyes, said:
“Third Party Verification.”
Ida May turned sharply to him. “What did you say?”
Percy’s eyes slowly opened and rolled over to us. “The insurance company would ask the same questions you're asking. If Susan is scamming them out of money, she’d need to have an independent investigation to confirm that something actually was stolen…”
I snapped my fingers with glee as an idea swam into my head. “That’s why we’re involved. If we look into it and find out that furniture has been stolen, they can claim it on the insurance…”
Percy shook his head. “Doesn’t work like that. As good as you are, ladies, you are not the official police. Susan would have to file a police report if she wanted to make the claim.”
My heart sank. “So, we’re back to square one…”
“Not necessarily,” replied Ida May, a cheeky smile spreading across her face. “What if we were being used as a trial run?”
“What do you mean?”
Ida May paused to collect her thoughts. As we waited in anticipation, I could see the gears of her mind turning behind those wise eyes.
“What if Susan wants to report the theft so she can claim the insurance, but isn’t confident enough to believe she’ll get away with it. She’ll want to test it out on someone else, right?”
Percy frowned. “If you say so…”
“It’s a win-win situation,” Ida May continued, ignoring him completely. “If she can convince us that the furniture is stolen, then she’s in with a chance when she goes to the police. If we discover that it’s all a con, she can change the things that are wrong before trying it with the police…” She smiled triumphantly. “She basically gets a trial run at the scam!”
I took a moment or two to process what she’d told us. It certainly seemed like a decent enough explanation, but – as with all incredibly simple explanations – there was one horrible realization that could be drawn from it. And Percy had no problem with verbalizing it.
“So, there is no crime that’s been committed,” he said drawly. “We can go home.”
“Au contraire, Butch,” Ida May replied. “A crime may not have been committed yet. But – if I’m right – there is still one to come.”
“And Gary?” I asked. “How does he fit into this? After all, he was very insistent that we don’t get involved. Does that mean he doesn’t know about the scam?”
“Not at all, I think it fits perfectly. Maybe they realized that we had found a hole in their plan. They want to stop us from digging any further in case we decide to go to the police and spoil everything…”
“Then let’s go to the police,” Percy replied bluntly. “Let’s tell them what we know and put an end to it.”
Both Ida May and myself stared at him with knowing looks.
“Oh, Percy,” I muttered. “You have a lot to learn about the We’re Not Dead Yet Club.”
With the thrill of the chase still firmly in our minds, we decided to take a walk further into town while we continued building our theory. After a short distance we came across an old antique shop and decided to take a look inside.
We were surprised to find that this particular shop was not unlike Susan’s furniture shop in that every available corner was piled high with various paintings, pieces of furniture, and other items of historical value. As we waded through the mess, we came to a halt in a small clearing in the center of the shop where a series of Civil War relics had been placed in a small display off to one side. As Percy stepped forward to investigate an old decommissioned musket, an old man poked his head out from amongst the mess and, with a giant grin on his face, announced:
“Oooo, cus
tomers…”
He then disappeared in an instant, popping back down behind his tower of stock. As we waited, we could here him clambering through various gaps and breaks between the stock before he finally emerged through the tiniest of gaps between an old desk and a grandfather clock.
He was a sweet old man, probably not much older than any of us – although Percy was adamant that he was younger. His white wispy hair fluttered as he darted here and there, rearranging some of the items he’d disturbed while light bounced off his pebble glasses. When he finally was satisfied that the shop was in some kind of order – although what that order was supposed to be, I’ll never know – he turned back to us and beamed excitedly.
“Welcome to my humble store. Can I interest you anything in particular?”
“No, thank you,” I replied. “We’re just browsing.”
“Oh.”
The man’s smile vanished and his face fell so dramatically that you would have thought I’d just told him a close relative had died. He fluttered a single hand off at the shop and skulked back towards the edges of the clearing, his eyes falling crestfallen to the floor.
“Do let me know if anything takes your fancy…”
Ida May and I exchanged guilty looks. Between the two of us, we silently decided who would be the one to cheer up the old man – the duty fell to Ida May.
“It’s a lovely shop you have here.”
“Hmmm? Oh, yes. Thank you. Lovely… Thank you.”
“You have a large amount of stock,” Ida May continued. “Great variety.”
“Variety. Yes… Lots of it.”
The man looked almost as though he was about to burst into tears.
“You must do a fair bit of business…”
“Not so much these days, my dear. Business has been slow all over recently. If it carries on much longer, I’ll have to close up and move on to something else.” He stared around at his shop. “It’s a shame. I really do love this place.”
Ida May and I exchanged looks once again. I heard a slight clatter behind me and turned to discover that Percy had now picked up the musket and was now examining it closely. When he finally realized we were watching him, his eyes slowly drew up to meet ours and, with a brief shrug, he said:
“What?”
About twenty minutes later, we left the shop and started heading back towards Percy’s van. Ida May and I walked, arm in arm, a short distance behind Percy who had a rather unsightly chair hoisted over his shoulder.
“I don’t… I don’t see…” he said breathlessly. “I don’t see why I… had to buy something from his store…”
“It’s your van, Butch,” Ida May replied, trying her best not to laugh. “We don’t want it filled up with our stuff. That would be mean.”
“Besides,” I pitched in. “The old man was going out of business. Think of it as giving him a little hope, Percy…”
“That’s all fine,” he replied. “But why in God’s name did I have to buy this stupid chair. I would have been perfectly happy with that musket…”
“Because, Percy dear,” Ida May replied. “You look daft enough walking around town with that silly looking miniature poodle you carry with you as it is. I’m not having you walk around with a musket as well!”
Percy grunted in irritation. “And what am I going to do with this chair? There’s nowhere at my place where I can put it…”
“Well,” Ida May replied with a sparkle in her eye. “If you’re looking to pass it on to someone else…”
At that moment, we came across Hazel who was hurrying in the opposite direction carrying the remains of an ice cream cone. When she saw us, she smiled and called out to us before rushing across the road and skidding to a halt in front of us.
“You’ll never guess what I’ve just seen…”
Chapter Eight – Hazel’s Sweet Tooth
“I’m going to get ice cream,” Hazel declared, staring expectantly down at us. “Anyone else game?”
“Ice cream?”
“Are you mad? You’ve just had chocolate. What do you want ice cream for?”
Hazel shrugged. In truth she wasn’t entirely sure what had prompted her sudden desire for ice cream. Ida May was right – as she always was – she had just had chocolate. But there was something about wandering around this town with an ice cream in her hand that really appealed to Hazel in that moment.
“I have a sweet tooth today,” she said. “Are you coming or not?”
She knew by the expressions on our faces that we weren’t coming along. She could have explained how nice it would be to wander around in the sunshine with an ice cream, but she didn’t think we’d get it – not when we were so embroiled in talk of the case.
But Hazel was going nonetheless. She’d decided that she wanted ice cream, and ice cream was what she was going to get.
Besides, something had just been said that had got her mind thinking – although in that precise moment she could neither verbalize what had been said or what her mind was thinking about. It was something she was just going to have to let run in the background and hope that it became more tangible when the right time came.
She shrugged her shoulders once more and headed off down the street. The sun felt lovely that day as it breathed gently on her skin. It wasn’t a cold day, but neither was it too hot. It was one of those where she could quite happily walk for hours and hours, and not worry about returning covered in sweat or dehydrated from her exertions.
The perfect day for a stroll.
She found an ice cream parlor soon enough and, after a quick browse through the store’s annoyingly limited selection, she settled on a strawberry soft serve cone.
Making her way further down the street, she toyed with the ice cream, waiting for it to dribble down on to the corner before excitedly licking it up. On more than one occasion, she mistimed completely and – soon – her hand was sticky and wet from the ice cream and she was forced to eat the rest of it normally – like a normal, boring person…
It wasn’t long after that, that she started looking around for somewhere to wash her hands. As much as she’d enjoyed her game with the ice cream, there was something thoroughly irritating about having sticky hands. She stopped a man walking in the other direction and – after explaining in immense detail how she’d come to have ice cream on her hands – he pointed her in the direction of a fountain down the next street and Hazel set off in search of water.
She found the fountain easily enough. She placed her hands in the water and swirled them back and forth, enjoying the coolness of the water in between her fingers. After washing her hands clean, she even splashed her face with it and allowed the droplets to run slowly down her neck and gently soak the top of her clothes.
Some distance behind her, she heard a couple of people heading her way, giggling and laughing – a boy and a girl.
How nice, she’d thought, longing to be young again.
She wet her face once more and rubbed the water into her skin before turning around in the direction of the couple as they came close to her.
The girl was pretty – probably about fifteen and wearing ripped jeans and a tight black T-shirt. She smiled sweetly at Hazel as she turned to face them.
But the boy froze, his eyes widening in complete and utter panic as he stared at Hazel.
“Jebediah,” Hazel called out, waving her hand to him. “How are you?”
Jebediah’s hand had been around the girl’s waist, but it now dropped like a stone as he shyly stepped forward to greet Hazel.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said, nodding his head respectfully. “This is a friend – Charlotte.”
“Good afternoon, Charlotte,” Hazel said, smiling at the girl. “Very nice to meet you.”
The girl giggled. “And you too.”
Jebediah’s face was almost white with shock. He stepped forward again and lowered his voice so much that it seemed to be barely a whisper.
“You won’t tell anyone about this will you?”<
br />
“About what, dear?”
He relaxed slightly and smiled. “Thank you.”
Then, without another word, Jebediah and Charlotte headed back off up the street, whispering quietly amongst themselves. Every so often, Jebediah would turn around to look at Hazel, but nothing more was spoken.
For a long while, Hazel stared after them, the rusty cogs in her mind turning as a thought turned into an idea, and an idea turned into an action. She gasped loudly and placed her hands on her mouth.
Something about the encounter hadn’t felt right to her, and now she could finally put her finger on it.
“Charlotte,” she whispered to herself. “She wasn’t wearing a bonnet…”
She looked up and down the street, terrified that she might be being watched, before drying her hands on her slacks from the fountain and marching up the street.
“I have to tell the others…”
****
“Not wearing a bonnet?” Ida May replied.
“Yes, a bonnet. You know. A bonnet.”
“And that’s significant because…?”
“Amish women wear bonnets.”
“So?”
“So…” Hazel said, rolling her eyes at Ida May. “It means the girl he was with wasn’t Amish!”
Ida May let that hang in the air for a moment. “And the tight T-shirt and ripped jeans didn’t give that away to you before?”
Hazel looked ready to hit Ida May. I cleared my throat before the two of them could say any more and said:
“Perhaps we should visit that farm you were talking about, Hazel? We could ask whether that sort of thing is usual around here…”
“Oh, we can’t do that,” Hazel replied. “I told Jebediah that I wouldn’t tell anyone.”
“But you’ve told us,” Ida May pointed out.
“Yes… Oh dear… I shouldn’t have done that…”
“Relax,” I replied, squeezing my friend’s shoulder tightly. “We won’t mention Jebediah. We’ll just ask in general if Amish boys hook up with English girls.”
“Oh… OK…”
There was a loud bang as Percy slammed the door of the van shut. It had taken him a good few minutes to get the chair inside but, now it was there, he looked about ready to go home. His face positively fell as Ida May called out to him:
Pinched, Pilfered and a Pitchfork (We're Not Dead Yet Club Book 4) Page 4