My parents died in a car accident when I was just a young child and my grandparents took me in and raised me. It must have been hard for them looking after a small child at their age as I was a late baby in my parents' marriage and a complete surprise. My grandparents were both in their sixties but they didn't hesitate, taking me into a loving home.
When I was ten my grandfather died from pneumonia and I guess my grandmother saw the writing on the wall. She started training me to be able to handle my future inheritance at that point.
My grandmother owned an estate a few miles out of town. She also had a lot of money invested in stocks and shares and she was the one who handled them. She didn't trust stockbrokers and financial advisers. As far as she was concerned they had no skin in the game and if they got it wrong it didn't affect them. She made all her own decisions, doing her own research. For a woman who was now in her seventies she was a wizard on a computer.
She taught me how to manage the estate and explained the what and the why of her stocks and shares dealings. When I was fifteen she set up a portfolio worth fifty grand and told me that I was to manage it and see how I went. She also very pointedly informed me that when she said I was to manage it she meant just that. I could use her as a sounding board but any decisions would be mine.
Within six months I'd turned that fifty grand into twenty five, but I remembered every painful lesson. Another six months and I had my full fifty grand back and was starting to show a profit.
Shortly after I turned eighteen my grandmother failed to wake up. It turned out that it was no surprise to her doctor, just to me. Her lawyer fronted up and informed me I was her sole beneficiary. So there I was, eighteen, financially independent, owner of a nice estate, and all alone in the world.
It turned out I wasn't quite all alone. I'd never realised that my grandparents had had brothers and sisters who'd subsequently had children and grandchildren. Suddenly these various relatives were all asking what did great-aunt Marjory leave to them? What was I going to give them, seeing I had all that money?
My grandmother was ever meticulous. One thing she'd left me was a dossier with information letting me know who was a genuine relative, and why I shouldn't give them money. Several people were flagged as make up my own mind but if giving them anything, don't be too generous.
That's all by the way. I rejected all suggestions that various people should move into my nice big house to keep me company. I didn't need my grandmother's opinion to tell me that some of them were scheming and greedy. Let some of them in and they'd never leave.
The thing I found most disconcerting was the lack of a cook. Grandma had enjoyed cooking and was good at it. Her attempts to teach me the joys of cooking was a dismal failure. I was the type of cook who could burn a boiled egg. I was good at gardening and handyman work and did that. For general housework I hired a couple of women to come in twice a week to do all the cleaning, although I did intend to hire someone full time.
This lack of both a cook and cooking skills meant that I ordered a lot of home deliveries and frozen dinners, and went to town to sample the various restaurants quite frequently. I was returning home from one such expedition when I noticed that the lights to my bedroom were on and the window was open. I always turn lights off when leaving a room, courtesy of my grandmother's training.
I entered the house very quietly, and headed up the stairs, just as quietly. My bedroom door was closed and I listened at it, trying to determine who was in the room. Sort of a call the cops or bust in and confront them? My immediate inclination was the cops, but I became curious listening.
"Not that, you idiot," said one voice, a woman. "Grab things that we can sell."
"But I like this," protested a second voice, another woman.
"I don't care. It's not as though you could keep it. Just grab what we can sell and let's get out of here."
I didn't think they would find much of use to them in my bedroom but I didn't want them rampaging through the house looking for more valuable commodities. My grandmother had an extensive collection of bric-a-brac and even though I'd given away some choice pieces to some relatives as a keepsake there were some expensive items lying around. I'd just as soon they remained lying around.
I opened the door and stepped in. The two girls were both around my age, say nineteen or twenty. They were also dressed for this little adventure, wearing tight black clothes and gloves. One of them was picking up a crystal lovebird, getting ready to put it in her bag.
"Be careful of that," I chided her. "It's expensive and if you chip it it won't be worth anything."
"I'm not going it chip it," she protested, and damn near dropped it when she realised I was there.
"Well don't drop it either," I complained. "Just put it back down where it was."
Both girls were now giving me shocked looks. I guess robbing someone who's not at home is somewhat different to robbing them while they are home.
The crystal was carefully replaced and I smiled and nodded my thanks.
"As a matter of curiosity, are you going to wait politely for the police to arrive or are you going to try to escape."
The second girl made a rush at me. In hindsight I suppose she was just trying to get around the bed to be with her friend and closer to the open window. As it was I put out a hand to fend her off and she ran smack into it. I didn't punch her, I swear. I just held out my hand and she ran into it. She also fell back onto her bottom, clutching at her face and crying.
"How dare you hit a girl?" she screamed.
"Karma, Naomi," said the other girl with a giggle.
"Karma? I'll Karma you, bitch. You saw him. He punched me."
"Um, not really. His hand was open in a stop sign and you just ran into it. I can't see any blood so I don't think you connected very hard."
"Lot you know. He's broken my nose. I'm going to sue. That'll fix him. He can't go around beating up girls."
"If you sue you'd have to explain what we were doing here. I don't think that would go down too well with the judge."
"How about I slap you so that you can have a bit of karma of your own?"
"Hey, it was your idea. My karma for going along with it was being caught. You scored extra for having the idea in the first place."
I clapped my hands, bringing their attention back to me.
"A fascinating conversation," I told them, "but I thought we were supposed to be discussing you and the police. You might try to run but you can't both get through the window at once so number two would be an easy catch. That would probably be you, karma girl." That last was aimed at Naomi, seeing she was furthest from the window.
"My name's not Karma Girl," she snapped.
"I know, it's Naomi, but you're changing the subject again."
"What? How'd you know my name?"
I sighed. "The great mystic sees all, knows all," I said. "So -- police, run, or what?"
"What do you mean by what?" demanded the first girl.
"And your name is?"
"The great mystic doesn't know?" asked Naomi with a touch of sarcasm.
"No. Neither of you have said it yet. Unless her name really is bitch?"
