Aunt Dimity and the Next of Kin Read Online Free PDF Page A

keys—one brass-colored, one silver—and a slip of slick paper that appeared to be an Oxford parking permit. I carefully set the keys and the permit to one side, spread the sheets of stationery on the desk, and began to read.
     
Dear Ms. Shepherd,
    If you are reading this, you have already learned of my passing. I hope you aren’t too distressed, though I flatter myself by believing that you’ll feel a small pang of regret in knowing that our time together has finally reached its inevitable conclusion.
    I don’t know if you understand how very much your visits meant to me. Your stories about Will and Rob and the good, greathearted Bill made me feel as though I’d acquired a second family, and I so enjoyed hearing your tales of Finch.
    Your encounters with real-life mysteries intrigued me greatly, as you know, and I found your passion for history most endearing. You brought your world with you into my hospital room, and made me feel as if it were my own.
    I realize that you do what you do at the Radcliffe with no expectation of, or desire for, a tangible reward. I hope nevertheless that you will allow me to repay you in some small way for making my last moments on earth so pleasurable.
    In ten days’ time the contents of my flat will be sold at auction. I would like you to go there before the auction takes place and select for yourself any of my personal belongings. Some of my books, perhaps? And an armchair, to replace the one your sons painted with jam? Whatever else you choose, I wish you to have the pretty little desk in the front room. I believe it will appeal to you on many levels.
    I have advised Mr. Moss, my solicitor, of my wishes and he has assured me that he will place no obstacles in your path. Indeed, I have instructed Mr. Moss to assist you in every way possible, in whatever decision you make.
    You will find a residential parking permit and two keys in a separate envelope. The permit will allow you to park in the reserved space behind my building. Since I’ve never owned a car, I’ve never used the space, but I’m pleased to be able to offer it to you. The keys, of course, will give you access to my building and my flat. Please grant the wish of a dying woman and use them.
    Thank you again for the happy hours you shared with me. I know I will see you again one day, and hear more tales of Finch and stories of your family. I look forward with great anticipation to our next meeting, though I hope with equal fervor that it will not take place for many, many years.
     
Most sincerely yours,
Elizabeth Beacham
     
Miss Beacham had written her address and the name of her solicitor at the bottom of the page.
    It took a few moments for me to collect myself after finishing the letter. When I could see clearly again, my gaze shifted from Miss Beacham’s astonishing words to the keys. Then I picked up the parking permit and stared at it, smiling in disbelief.
    It seemed incredible to me that a woman on her deathbed could concern herself with such a trifling detail, but I was glad Miss Beacham had. Oxford wasn’t famous for its ample on-street parking. The permit would come in handy.
    I fully intended to honor Miss Beacham’s last request, though I expected the task to bring me little pleasure. My desire to learn more about my late friend was as strong as ever, yet I shrank from the thought of invading her privacy. I remembered the cheap, hospital-issue bandana she’d used to cover her sparse hair, and the absence of personal belongings in her hospital room. I glanced down at the letter, reread the words I’ve never owned a car, and felt my heart sink.
    Miss Beacham had been a retired legal secretary living on a fixed income. She’d had a great deal of personal dignity, but I doubted that she’d had much in the way of worldly goods. Her flat would be in one of Oxford’s cheaper apartment blocks. She would have furnished it frugally. She’d probably arranged the auction in order to pay off the extra cost of