Sleuth About Town
"Brr... I'm cold."
Those were the first words that came out of Elizabeth March's mouth as she entered the hall of the well located house in London. Luckily, the place was warm and cozy.
Empty, too. She wondered were all the servants were.
Well, they'd show up, eventually. She could bet they were in the kitchen, talking and playing cards. She didn't mind. They deserved their rest and some fun.
With that in mind, she moved to the living room, dragged a chair near the fireplace and sat there, just staring at the roaring fire.
Much was in her mind. Her past life as a burglar still haunted her. All the wrong things she had done still lived in her nightmares. The woman let out a tired sigh. All that was in the past now.
She had a new life. An agency. Friends. A wonderful life partner.
Yes. A new life.
It could be a better one, if she didn't have to carefully hide her past from him. She had to mind every word that came out of her mind. Every letter they got. Every phone call...
She sighed and got up, reluctantly.
"Miss Elizabeth March?"
"Yes. Who's there?"
"Just a friend who wants you to know that dreams may shatter like glass..."
"What, what do you..."
He had hung up, and so did she.
She was still standing by the phone, trembling, when she heard the footsteps. She didn't turn around. "I don't want to face him now."
He had asked something. Maybe how she was.
"Sorry. I'm fine. I was talking on the phone, and felt slightly light-headed."
She forced a smile.
"How was your day at work, honey?"
“I never thought we would meet personally,” she remarked. “I had thought we would always do business in the same place, through a hole in the wall, with masks on our faces--”
“I am in a hurry, Madame Montgomery,” interrupted the young man. “I need this information sooner than I had thought. I asked around, and learned this is where you live. I was very surprised you had used your own name, knowing you could be tracked. How did you recognize me, anyway?”
She took his hand. “I have my methods,” she replied. She had memorized the hand that had gone through that hole in the wall many times. Her suspicions were aroused by the odd actions and appearance of the beggar, so she had decided to investigate him further. When she had come closer, and seen his hand, she knew it was him. “And, please, call me Theresa. Montgomery sounds terrible. It's my husband's name.”
“Oh... I'm sorry.”
“Don't be. Now that our business is over, can we do something more... recreational? Don't worry, Mr. Montgomery is somewhere out there, drunk, with his women. As usual.” Her voice sounded contemptuous.
The young man breathed hard, as he pulled onto his non-existent collar. “Actually, Mada-- Theresa, as much as I would like-- well, business is not over yet. There's someone I need you to look for.”
Dellilah didn't hide her disappointment. She groaned freely, letting her arms hang lazily like a child's in tantrum. “What is it now?”
The man looked her straight in the eye. “I need you to find a woman,” he said. “A criminal. Her name is Elizabeth March.”