I suspect my Husband has taken a mistress.
Chapter 49
Nicole
The house on Ebenezer Row in Staveley was a red-brick terrace house with a green door and three chimney pots and looked identical to its neighbors. There were lace curtains in the downstairs window and a pot of geraniums next to the door. A young woman pushing a baby buggy passed and smiled at us, and a white delivery van pulled up to a house across the street. Kyle walked up and rang the bell, but I hung back, suddenly wondering what exactly we were doing there. I almost hoped no one was at home and we could turn around and return to the retreat. The sensible thing would be to leave Lockwood Hall and return to London, not go digging into its owners’ past in order to make sense of the strange happenings of the past few days.
“I hope we didn’t have a wasted journey,” Kyle said when no one immediately came to the door.
“It is the middle of the day. The owner could be at work or out shopping,” I pointed out. “Shall we go?”
“Not yet.” Kyle rang the bell again. This time I heard footsteps.
The door was opened by a woman of about fifty with shoulder-length blond hair and warm brown eyes. She was short and slender, her gray trousers and mauve top smart.
“Hello. I’m sorry. I didn’t hear the bell. I was in the garden,” she said apologetically. I was about to speak, but the words dried up in my throat. What right did we have to pry into her private business, especially an episode from nearly a decade ago?
“We’re sorry to bother you, Ms. Ridley,” Kyle said, giving her his megawatt smile. “My name is Kyle Walsh, and this is Nicole Rayburn. We were hoping you might be willing to talk to us about the charges you filed against Lisa Prentiss.”
The woman’s mouth opened in surprise, and she stared at us, uncomprehending. “Are you journalists?”
“No,” Kyle said. “Possible victims.” That wasn’t strictly true, but Bella Ridley’s expression instantly softened.
“Come in,” she said, moving away from the door. “I was about to have some tea. Can I offer you some?”
“Thank you, yes,” Kyle said.
We sat on the floral chintz sofa and looked around the room. It was an odd combination of old and new. The furniture looked dated, but there were some modern prints on the wall and a flatscreen TV mounted above an old-fashioned sideboard covered with framed photos. The walls were magnolia, a color that in my opinion should never be associated with home decorating, at least not in such overwhelming quantity. There were several potted plants, and the garden beyond the window looked well kept.
Bella Ridley returned with a tray and set it on the coffee table, inviting us to fix our tea as we liked it and have a biscuit. She kept sneaking glances at Kyle, a speculative look in her eyes.
“You’re not the Kyle Walsh who writes the Kelly Shaw mysteries, are you?”
“I am,” Kyle replied, coloring slightly.
“Oh my word,” Bella gushed. “My mum loved your books. She was always telling me about them. Hard to believe you’re connected to all this,” she said, shaking her head in wonder.
“Ms. Ridley, can you tell us what happened?” Kyle asked gently.
“Please, call me Bella. And yes, I’ll be happy to tell you. I assume you have elderly relatives,” she said.
Kyle nodded, and I followed suit, feeling terribly guilty for misrepresenting myself. I had no elderly relatives. In fact, I had no family at all.
“This house belonged to my mum. She lived here alone until she passed six years ago now. I keep promising myself I’ll redecorate, but I can’t seem to bring myself to throw away her things,” Bella said apologetically. “She took such good care of everything; it’s still as good as new.” She looked around the room fondly and took a sip of her tea.
“Well,” Bella went on. “The fault lies partly with me. I was still married at the time and didn’t visit Mum as often as I should have. My children were young, and my husband worked long hours. I spoke to Mum on the phone every day, but I only came out here maybe once a month,” she admitted ruefully. “We lived in Sheffield, you see.”
“So, what happened?” I asked, unable to restrain my curiosity.
“Mum was becoming forgetful, confused. Now I know she was in the early stages of dementia, but then I just attributed her symptoms to advancing age. Well, she told me that a nice young woman was sent by Social Services to help her out around the house and with the shopping. I thought that was very nice, since you never hear of anyone giving you anything for free. The woman came twice a week and helped my mum with whatever needed doing. It was a godsend, really, because I knew she was having difficulty.”
Bella sighed deeply. “This went on for about six months. It was on one of our visits that I noticed several items of jewelry were missing from Mum’s jewelry box. She had some lovely antique pieces that she’d inherited from her grandmother. They were worth quite a bit of money. I wouldn’t have even realized they were gone had my Abigail not pointed it out to me. She was eleven at the time and liked to look at the jewelry and play dress-up. It gave her something to do while the adults talked, or
