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Foxy Lady
Star
- Joined
- Jan 30, 2014
- Location
- United Kingdom
Andy had given me a lot to think about, and not just when we’d meet again. I’d told him I had a current lover, but that hadn’t put him off, or me for that matter. But until our paths crossed again, I’d work on this problem of mine.
First on the list was my ex-husband. But he was long gone and he’d surrendered his keys on departure. And why would he want to do this and after so long? But there I go again, doing just what Andy told me not to do, making it all more complicated than it had to be. Just stick to simple questions that you can answer and let the answers guide you to the next question. OK, so he would have known my card details, although we never had joint accounts, just like I knew his. But how would he know I still had the same cards and how would he get access to my mail. No, if he was the culprit, it was all too complicated and that meant he was out.
Lovers then. Two since my divorce: one ex and one current. Either could have seen my cards, but neither had a key. And that was mutual. We met, we fucked and we parted. Simple as that, far more simple than being married, and I liked it that way.
So that left my cleaner, Andrea. But why? I really must stop this habit of jumping ahead too quickly. Just stick with the how. She had access to my cards, because I’d leave them around. And she had access to my mail, so she could remove anything that I shouldn’t see, like the new cards. I couldn’t see why, but that would come later. As far as the how was concerned, she was the best and only candidate. All I had to do was confront her.
And when I did, she just fell apart.
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Chandler, I didn’t mean no harm. She said you wouldn’t mind and that it was just a joke they were playing, that was all, just a joke. You’d all have a good laugh afterwards, that’s what she said. And she sounded so nice.’
‘Tell me,’ I demanded.
‘She said that they’d arranged for you to get some mail as a joke, but that it had gone wrong and the first few letters were a mistake so they wanted to get them back. And that’s all I did, just took those letters for her.’
‘Just a minute,’ I interrupted, ‘who is this “they” you keep mentioning.’
But she didn’t know. All she knew was the woman had asked her to intercept those first few letters, which must have been the ones with the new cards. Andrea had kept them aside and handed them over when she called. And the woman, well she was Amy, at least that is what she said. That’s all Andrea knew.
‘And the cards, didn’t it strike you as odd when she asked you to give her all my card details?’
At that, Andrea became hysterical. She didn’t know anything about that, she swore she didn’t, she’d never do anything like that, that wouldn’t be a joke, it would have been serious. No, she would never have been involved in anything like that.
I believed her.
So there I was, at a dead end. Amy was involved somehow or other, but I couldn’t think of any way of finding her. Andrea’s description could have fitted dozens of women I knew. In her 30s, medium height, medium build, brown hair, not plain but not particularly attractive either, just ordinary in every way. She could have been describing me. And I still had no idea how “they” – whoever they were, if there was anyone apart from Amy - had got hold of my card details.
I made a point of popping into Starbucks regularly, just in the hope of catching Andy, just for some more advice you understand, but he was never around. Bugger.
TO BE CONTINUED
First on the list was my ex-husband. But he was long gone and he’d surrendered his keys on departure. And why would he want to do this and after so long? But there I go again, doing just what Andy told me not to do, making it all more complicated than it had to be. Just stick to simple questions that you can answer and let the answers guide you to the next question. OK, so he would have known my card details, although we never had joint accounts, just like I knew his. But how would he know I still had the same cards and how would he get access to my mail. No, if he was the culprit, it was all too complicated and that meant he was out.
Lovers then. Two since my divorce: one ex and one current. Either could have seen my cards, but neither had a key. And that was mutual. We met, we fucked and we parted. Simple as that, far more simple than being married, and I liked it that way.
So that left my cleaner, Andrea. But why? I really must stop this habit of jumping ahead too quickly. Just stick with the how. She had access to my cards, because I’d leave them around. And she had access to my mail, so she could remove anything that I shouldn’t see, like the new cards. I couldn’t see why, but that would come later. As far as the how was concerned, she was the best and only candidate. All I had to do was confront her.
And when I did, she just fell apart.
‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Chandler, I didn’t mean no harm. She said you wouldn’t mind and that it was just a joke they were playing, that was all, just a joke. You’d all have a good laugh afterwards, that’s what she said. And she sounded so nice.’
‘Tell me,’ I demanded.
‘She said that they’d arranged for you to get some mail as a joke, but that it had gone wrong and the first few letters were a mistake so they wanted to get them back. And that’s all I did, just took those letters for her.’
‘Just a minute,’ I interrupted, ‘who is this “they” you keep mentioning.’
But she didn’t know. All she knew was the woman had asked her to intercept those first few letters, which must have been the ones with the new cards. Andrea had kept them aside and handed them over when she called. And the woman, well she was Amy, at least that is what she said. That’s all Andrea knew.
‘And the cards, didn’t it strike you as odd when she asked you to give her all my card details?’
At that, Andrea became hysterical. She didn’t know anything about that, she swore she didn’t, she’d never do anything like that, that wouldn’t be a joke, it would have been serious. No, she would never have been involved in anything like that.
I believed her.
So there I was, at a dead end. Amy was involved somehow or other, but I couldn’t think of any way of finding her. Andrea’s description could have fitted dozens of women I knew. In her 30s, medium height, medium build, brown hair, not plain but not particularly attractive either, just ordinary in every way. She could have been describing me. And I still had no idea how “they” – whoever they were, if there was anyone apart from Amy - had got hold of my card details.
I made a point of popping into Starbucks regularly, just in the hope of catching Andy, just for some more advice you understand, but he was never around. Bugger.
TO BE CONTINUED