The Ruby Encrusted Necklace of Rocha Macocha (part 2)

 PART 1 CAN BE FOUND IN ‘THE JOURNAL OF RAMON ATILA’ (ramonatila.blogspot.com)

The Ruby Encrusted Necklace of Rocha Macocha (Part 2)

Madame DuMilieu’s paranoia reached new heights as the day wore on. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Abel, the bumbling pool worker, was up to something. Every time she glanced out the window, he was there—tripping over hoses, spilling gravel, or knocking over tools. But his clumsiness felt… deliberate. Too deliberate.  

“Frederic!” she barked, storming into the kitchen where her butler was preparing Dernsgood’s smoked salmon. “That boy—Abel—he’s been in the garden for hours. What is he *doing* out there?”  

Mr. Frederic adjusted his monocle and sighed. “Madame, he is installing gravel for the underground pool, as per your instructions.”  

“Nonsense!” she snapped. “No one takes this long to shovel gravel. He’s stalling. He’s waiting for the right moment to strike!”  

“Strike, Madame?”  

“To steal my necklace, you fool!” she hissed, clutching the ruby-encrusted centerpiece. “I won’t let that imbecile outsmart me. Come, Frederic. We’re going to investigate.”  

Madame DuMilieu marched out to the garden, her heels sinking into the soft grass. Abel was there, struggling to push a wheelbarrow full of gravel. He stumbled, spilling half the load onto the lawn.  

“Careful, you oaf!” Juan Melas shouted, throwing his hands in the air. “Do you want to get fired?”  

“Sorry, Señor Melas!” Abel said, grinning sheepishly. “I’ll clean it up!”  

Madame DuMilieu narrowed her eyes. “You,” she said, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Abel. “What are you *really* doing here?”  

Abel blinked at her, his expression blank. “Uh… shoveling gravel?”  

“Don’t play dumb with me,” she snapped. “I know you’re up to something. You’re a spy, aren’t you? Sent by Esmeralda Valdiero to steal my necklace!”  

Abel scratched his head, looking genuinely confused. “Madame, I don’t even know what a ‘Valdiero’ is. I’m just here to help build your pool.”  

Juan stepped forward, his face red with frustration. “Madame, with all due respect, this boy is too stupid to be a spy. He can’t even tie his own shoes without falling over.”  

“Exactly!” Madame DuMilieu said, her voice rising. “It’s the perfect cover! No one would suspect someone so… so… incompetent!”  

Juan threw up his hands. “Madame, if you don’t trust us, maybe we should just leave!”  

“No!” she said quickly. “I mean… no. You may stay. But I’ll be watching. *Closely.*”  

She turned on her heel and marched back to the house, her mind racing. She couldn’t let Abel out of her sight. Not for a second.  

---

The day descended into a farcical game of cat and mouse. Every time Abel so much as sneezed, Madame DuMilieu was there, accusing him of plotting against her.  

At one point, Abel accidentally knocked over a potted plant, sending dirt and petals flying everywhere. Madame DuMilieu appeared out of nowhere, clutching Dernsgood to her chest.  

“Aha!” she cried. “Trying to create a distraction, are you? Well, it won’t work!”  

“Madame, I swear, it was an accident!” Abel said, holding up his hands.  

“Enough!” Juan roared, storming over. “Abel, if you break one more thing, I’m sending you back to the office to file paperwork for the rest of the year!”  

“But Señor Melas—”  

“No buts!”  

Madame DuMilieu smirked, satisfied that she was getting under their skin. But her triumph was short-lived. As the sun began to set, Abel disappeared into the washroom to clean himself after yet another “accident”—this time involving a spilled bucket of water and a very angry Juan.  

---

Inside the washroom, Abel locked the door and leaned against the sink. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, his bumbling demeanor melting away. He reached up and adjusted a tiny earpiece hidden in his ear.  

“This is Agent Abel,” he said, his voice low and steady. “The target is still wearing the necklace. She’s paranoid, but she hasn’t figured me out. Proceeding with Phase Two.”  

There was a pause as he listened to the response. Then he smirked.  

“Don’t worry. By the time she realizes what’s happening, it’ll be too late. Valdiero Industries will have the necklace, and Madame DuMilieu will be left with nothing but her delusions.”  

He splashed water on his face, his expression shifting back into the familiar, dopey grin. Then he unlocked the door and stepped back into the garden, ready to continue his charade.  

Madame DuMilieu watched him from the window, her eyes narrowing. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. But for now, Abel was just a clumsy pool worker.  

Or so she thought.  

To Be Continued...

AtilA