Spy Trap

When catching a spy, you’ve got to be spry

Herbert Hazard looked in the drawer yes, his last will and testament had been moved. One of the ungrateful buggers had been snooping again, he thought. The tiny scrap of paper he’s hidden in one of its folds was not there.

He turned, his face furious. His granddaughters, it had to be one of them. ‘So, which of you nosy sods had been in here’ he growled ‘snooping again were yer’s?’

Vanessa looked shocked ‘Granddad, if you look at the drawer again you’ll see it has been tidied as have all the others. I did it this afternoon after I finished your ironing.’

‘A likely story’ he grumped ‘well, it’ll do you no good, ‘I’ll leave the lot to the cat’s home if it happens again.’

Vanessa burst into tears ‘Oh granddad, we don’t want your money, leave it to the cat’s home if it pleases you.’

Her older sister Catherine threw a protective arm around her, drawing her to her bosom ‘now look what you’ve done grandpa. She’s only looking after you, you stupid old man. Neither of us need your damn money anyway.’

Herbert glowered at them ‘bah’ he said, then stumped off upstairs muttering, as he went to sleep off his liquid lunch.

‘He’s always accusing me of prying and I’ve spent the afternoon cleaning and ironing for the old devil with never a word of thanks.’

‘It’s his age’ Catherine said, her big blues eyes fixed lovingly on her younger sister. ‘A lot of old folk go funny with age.’ Catherine managed an upmarket care home and had a lot of experience in these matters.

In his bedroom Herbert chuntered, ‘I’ll catch the buggers,  just wait, I’ll catch ‘em.’

Next day, after his usual visit to the pub, Herbert went to the ironmongers and bought what he thought he needed then weaved his way home.

Catherine had not come today and Vanessa, who had given a up good job to look after Herbert, was out shopping.

‘I’ll catch the buggers this time’ he muttered as he made his preparations.

Herbert awoke with a start as he heard the front door. ‘It’s only me Granddad do you want a cup of tea?’ Vanessa’s disembodied voice floated up the stairs. He turned over, not bothering to answer. ‘I’ll catch you’ he muttered.

Herbert didn’t know what time it was when he next awoke. He was sure he had heard a noise. Had he been dreaming? No, he thought, It was probably Vanessa sneaking a look at his bank statement.

It was still dark as he crept down stairs. He didn’t put on the light so as not to disturb the culprit. Had that crafty girl beaten his precautions? He slid the drawer open and felt gingerly with his hand. He’d have to be careful.

The huge rat trap with it’s saw-toothed edge was no longer there.

It was firmly clamped on Herbert’s bloodied fingers as he did a sprightly dance around the room, shrieking.