Dishing the Dirt

*

“Snakes and bastards!” muttered Agatha outside the estate agent’s. “Fat chance of the police letting me see anything.”

A mother walking past pulled her child away. “I’ve told you. Don’t stare at crazy people.”

That’s it, thought Agatha. I’m sure Jenny Harcourt is only eccentric. Sunnydale. I’ll give it a try.

She checked on her iPad. Sunnydale was situated a few miles outside Mircester. Agatha got into her car and drove there. As she stopped in the car park, she wondered how to introduce herself. She doubted very much whether they would let a detective interview a mentally disabled patient.

At the reception desk, she said she was Mrs. Harcourt’s cousin. A male nurse behind the desk looked at her doubtfully. “Mrs. Harcourt went wandering off today. She has her good days and bad days. Wait here.”

Agatha took a seat and looked sadly around. We all live so long these days, she thought, that unless you’re very lucky, you can lose all your marbles. What would I do? Would I even know I was dotty?

The nurse came back. “I think it’s all right. Mrs. Harcourt will be pleased to see you.”

*

This is not bad, thought Agatha. Mrs. Harcourt had a sunny room with a view of lawns and trees. There were a few pieces of antique furniture she had been allowed to bring with her.

“How nice to see you again so soon,” said Jenny Harcourt. “Jenny was talking about Jill Davent.”

“Why are you not allowed to leave the home?” asked Agatha

“I have a little problem, but we won’t talk about it. Ah, poor Jill. She came here, you know. My son sent her. We had lovely chats. She wanted me to leave her that little desk over there in my will. But it’s George II and I told her she couldn’t have it because I am leaving everything to my son and she never came back. Sad.”

“Did she tell you anything about herself?” asked Agatha.

“Oh, yes. She was married when she was living in Evesham. But she said he was a brute and threatened to kill her.”

“Have you told the police this?”

“They didn’t ask Jenny.”

Agatha leaned forward. “Have you any idea where in Evesham she used to live and was her married name Davent?”

“She said the cinema was at the end of the street. Wait a bit. A tree. She was married to a tree. No, the house was called after a tree.”

“Something like The Firs?” said Agatha, beginning to feel she had wandered into Looking-Glass country.

“What was it?” Jenny stared at the ceiling for inspiration. “Sycamore? Oak? Douglas, that’s it. Like the Douglas fir.”

A nurse appeared in the doorway. “Time for your exercises,” she said. The nurse smiled at Agatha. “We like to keep our clients mobile.”

“Will you come again?” asked Jenny.

“Certainly,” said Agatha.

As they moved together out of the room, the nurse whispered to Agatha, “Check your belongings and make sure she hasn’t taken anything.” Agatha looked in her handbag.

“My wallet’s missing!”

“Wait there. I know where she hides things.”

The nurse returned with Agatha’s wallet. Jenny was walking ahead down the corridor.

“I’ve got to catch her,” said the nurse. “If I don’t, she’ll be back to the shops in Mircester, pinching things. See yourself out.”

*

Agatha stopped at the reception desk. “I gather that Mrs. Harcourt is a kleptomaniac,” she said to the male nurse.

“Fortunately, not all the time,” he said. “She can go months until something excites her and then she raids the shops. But you’re her relative. You must have known that.”