Free Aunt Dimity and the Lost Prince by Nancy Atherton Page A

rest of her employers once
     they realize she’s left them in the lurch. They won’t be too happy with her. All that
     lovely silver, tarnishing away.” She looked down her bony nose at me. “I suppose you
     have a fine collection of silver.”
    “Too much work,” I said. “I don’t have Amanda’s passion for polishing.”
    Mrs. MacTavish allowed herself a grudging chuckle.
    “Is there anything else you can tell us about Mrs. Pickering?” Bree asked.
    “How could there be?” she asked in return. “She never told me anything about herself.”
    “Thank you, Mrs. MacTavish,” I said. “You’ve been very patient with us. We won’t take
     up any more of your valuable time.”
    “Leaving already?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I don’t blame you. If I could afford
     to live somewhere else, I’d leave, too.” Mrs. MacTavish hollered at Tom and Ben to
     keep the noise down, then retreated into her house and closed the door.
    “Good grief,” I said, turning to Bree. “Amanda’s on the lam.”
    “For all we know she could still be in Upper Deeping,” Bree protested. “She could
     have found a nicer flat with a nicer landlady in a nicer neighborhood.”
    “I doubt it,” I said. “If Amanda is still in Upper Deeping, she would have gone to
     work as usual this week. At the very least, she would have telephoned her employers
     to request a day off. She wouldn’t have taken an unannounced leave of absence, not
     if she expected to go on working for them.”
    “Maybe she found a better job,” Bree suggested.
    “Without a reference? Not in this day and age.” I shook my head. “Amanda didn’t move
     to another flat in Upper Deeping. She grabbed Daisy and vamoosed. And I think I know
     why.” I walked a few steps away from the door, then stopped short, frowning in concentration
     as a fresh scenario took shape in my mind. “What if
Amanda
’s the thief? What if she’s been pilfering silver from her multitudinous employers
     for nearly a year in order to get her and her child away from Addington Terrace?”
    “If she has, she’ll get no quarrel from me,” said Bree. “Living in a place like that
     would make any child sick. Look at Coral. Look at Tom and Ben. Home from school because
     they’re—”
    “What if Daisy found out what her mother was up to?” I interrupted. “What if she saw
     Amanda take the silver sleigh from the display case on Saturday?” I wheeled around
     to face Bree. “What if Daisy decided to
take it back
?”
    “Let me see if I have this straight,” Bree said slowly. She held up one finger. “First,
     Amanda takes the sleigh from Skeaping Manor.” She raised a second finger. “Then Daisy
     takes the sleigh from Amanda and tucks it into her pocket, intending to return it
     to Skeaping Manor, where it belongs.”
    “But the sleigh never reaches Skeaping Manor,” I said excitedly, “because Amanda accidentally
     donates it, via the pink parka, to Aunt Dimity’s Attic.” I clapped a hand to my forehead.
     “Amanda must have been lightening her load for the great escape. That’s why she took
     Daisy’s old clothes to the charity shop.”
    “No,” said a small urgent voice. “You’ve got it wrong. You’ve got it all wrong!”
    We turned to see Coral Bell peering at us over the cinder block wall.

Nine
    B ree and I exchanged bemused glances, then strode over to stand before Coral, who was
     clutching the cinder block wall as if her life depended on it.
    “What have we gotten wrong?” Bree asked.
    The girl bit her lip and ducked her head, as if overcome by shyness. Since Bree’s
     direct approach seemed to intimidate her, I decided to take the long way round with
     my questions.
    “Are you and Daisy Pickering good friends?” I asked.
    “Best friends,” Coral said in a voice so low it was barely audible. “She came to my
     house to get her hair cut. My mum works at the New You salon, but she did Daisy’s
     hair for free.”
    “That was a very