The Swindler

TWO

The next day, I got up early and dressed in a Dior, beige, cotton, trench dress. After slipping on three inch nude heels, I put diamond posts in my ears. I brushed through my hair and curled the ends. I applied some light brown eyeshadow, some rouge blush, and some deep red lipstick.

Taking a quick look in the mirror, I smirked.

This is going to be like taking candy from a child.

Satisfied with my appearance, I headed downstairs and into my office room. Just before I grabbed a couple manila envelopes to put into my purse, my phone began to ring. Groaning, I fished it out of my purse and answered it.

"Pritchard. Who is this?"

"Oh, Miss Pritchard, I'm so sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if we were still on for today?"

Relieved, I reassured her, "Of course, Mrs Wethers, I'm just about to leave. I'll be there in about two and a half to three hours, depending on traffic."

"Oh, good, good. Well, I'll see you at noon?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Then, I hung up.

Ready to go, I left my house and walked around back. My car was waiting for me, and I pulled out my keys and unlocked the driver's door. I climbed in, threw my purse to the passenger seat, and started the car.

It's a good thing I gave Mr Lychester today off.

I was on my way to Bath.

- - -

I soon pulled into a parking spot on Kelburn Parade, near the Adam Art Gallery. After I stepped out, I made sure to lock my car and walked towards the building. There was an old lady with an ornate walking cane standing just outside the entrance door. A fake smile stretched across my lips as I approached her.

"Ahh, Mrs Wethers, how lovely to see you again. How are you enjoying Bath?"

"Ahh, it's good to get out of London for a while. Come, come, I want to show you a painting I did."

I chuckled and nodded. "Alright."

We headed into the gallery and looked around, admiring all the works. Finally, she brought me over to a surrealist painting of hers. It depicted a pale woman, with flower petals in her golden blonde hair, and a white bed sheet wrapped around her bare shoulders. The background was onyx black.

I nodded, pleasantly surprised. "It's very interesting. Wherever did you get the idea for this painting?"

"Oh, my daughter was the inspiration for the woman. She's a beauty, isn't she? Her favourite flowers were lilies, so that's why they're in her hair."

"And the bed sheet?"

She looked away. "She got sick, cancer you know, and passed away in bed one night."

I awkwardly cleared my throat and said, "I'm sorry for your loss, Mrs Wethers."

"Yes, well, it was some years ago now."

It was time. I looked at my client. "Did your daughter get you that necklace?"

Mrs Wethers reached up and touched the silver and diamond collar necklace. A faint smile of remembrance crossed her lips before she shook her head.

"No, my ex-husband did. I don't know why I've kept it. Sentiment, maybe."

"Sentiment is very powerful," I commented.

She nodded, then turned it around. Mrs Wethers undid the clasp with shaking hands; Parkinson's was gradually getting to her.

"I don't need it. Why don't you take it?"