Christmas Present – Bentley 37

 

[For back story go here: Story so far at 30 Nov 2020 and definitely this one.]

[Relevant back story also in embedded links.]

It was Christmas Day. Bentley looked out of his window, around the mangled Rudolph lighting display and frowned at the clear blue sky. He didn't mind Christmas. There had been better days, of course, but being alone at this time of year wasn't that bad. He knew himself well and was good company.

This time there was a phone call before anyone turned up. Bentley was uncertain who it was from and whether it should be believed.

"There will be visitors at your door," said the voice. "You must ensure there are chairs and room for them. They will come at midday and stay for an hour before leaving. There will be much rejoicing and your life will be saved."

The line dropped before Bentley could ask questions. Can't be the police, he thought, they'd long gone with their forensics and theories and advice for users of multiple extension cables and lighting solutions. He should have had a professional around rather than try it for himself. And for a second Bentley genuinely wondered if they were referring to his lighting rig or the fact that a man had fallen off his balcony with fatal consequences. Could it be that that should have been a professional hit?

The police - who naturally had never heard of his son Lawrence - weren't very forthcoming about what would happen next. They knew who Jaggers was and he did have a record, but they weren't that interested in taking it any further. As they said, it didn't look like a professional job, just a freak accident and therefore could be brushed under the administrative carpet. There were people who no doubt wanted Jagger's dead, but they weren't involved here. This would be accidental, perhaps death by misadventure (with Christmas lights and bells on).

And so Bentley cleaned and tidied as much as he could for the sake of whoever his visitors would be. There wasn't much room, less now the lighting rig had been dismantled, dusted for prints and badly reassembled. Bentley found dining chairs and a stool – there was no indication of how many people he should expect, but he was prepared for anything. He even opened his chocolate Christmas biscuits in anticipation.

At midday precisely the doorbell rang once. Bentley went and opened the door. Two men came in, ear pieces in with wires disappearing into their jackets. They wore dark glasses and carried out a swift cursory search of the flat, before gently indicating to Bentley that he should go into his living room. He did this quite happily, pleased not to be grabbed and forced into doing it this time.

"You might want to sit down," said one of the men.

"I'm fine as I am thanks," said Bentley.

He heard her first and couldn't believe his ears, but the disbelief was short lived.

Sheila walked in. Bentley looked at his ex-wife, and sat down.

She sat opposite him. Behind her was Norman, carrying a box with 'Produce of the Far East' stencilled on the side. He stood next to Sheila who nodded at him, so he moved forward and placed the box on Bentley's lap.

Bentley had almost framed his first question when a plaintive mew came from inside the box and that took the last of his thoughts away. He tore open the top of the box to find his cat looking up at him. He stroked her head and she purred with the warmth of returning home.

"I think you need a name change," he whispered.

He lifted the cat out of the box and on the collar around her neck was the ring. 

He looked quizzically at Sheila, slipped the ring off the collar and handed it to Norman, who in turn took it to Sheila.

"I know you have questions," said Sheila at last, but rest assured you've done well. Very well indeed. Used your initiative, didn't get distracted and shook all the right trees."

"But I..."

"You even took Jaggers out for me."

"I didn't mean to. It was an accident."

"Even so," said Sheila. "Worked very well."

"You had the ring all along?"

"Not exactly," smiled Sheila. "I heard it was of interest but I wasn't sure why. So it was... Misplaced for a while. Your work helped me clarify what the value was."

"It's worth something then?" said Bentley, somewhat wishing he hadn't handed it over so readily.

"To you, no," said Sheila. "But on the right hand..."

She slipped it on her finger and let the light from the Christmas display catch it, flashing a thin rainbow over Bentley’s ceiling. 

“We’ve come a long way, Bentley,” said Shiela. “This ring can open more doors for us. I say ‘us’ – I assume you want to join me. This ring can be the key to something new, something exciting.”

There was a slight pause.

“Is it anything to do with trains?” asked Bentley.