Page 60 of A Scottish Highland Surprise

I re-read the last few paragraphs again, Victor Prentice’s handwriting skittering across the page. PC Doolan had made the assumption at the time that it was a member of the Castle Marrian staff who was guilty of taking it. But what if they weren’t? What if that was what someone wanted the police to think?

I moved on to another diary excerpt;

2nd April 1900

Rumours in the town are rife that Castle Marrian perhaps may change hands again in only a matter of months.

It may be idle talk, but there are tales circulating that Leonora and Chadwick Gray, the current owners of the grand house, have experienced a sudden and unexpected change of heart over not only remaining in Briar Glen, but also over residing in Castle Marrian.

The gossip is that their intention is now to sell the property and locate elsewhere.

I cannot help but reflect on the ugly scene I witnessed on Christmas Eve, with their son verbally berating that poor young woman and abandoning her to the elements.

Perhaps I am allowing my imagination to dominate my common sense, but I cannot help but speculate their abrupt decision may well be connected in some way to that Christmas Eve night, Jonathan Gray and whatever misdemeanours he seems more than capable of committing.

I thought again about the letter written to Jonathan Gray by the distressed Briar Forsyth, insisting she didn’t want any treasures, just to be recognised and granted respect. Was the treasure she was referring to the tea set itself?

And why the sudden decision by the Gray family to move away from Briar Glen and leave Castle Marrian behind? It just all seemed rather rushed and impetuous.

My imagination was going into overdrive. What if the supposed theft of the tea set had been orchestrated deliberately? What if it hadn’t been an employee that had stolen the tea set after all – but someone closer to home?

An idea pulled at my thoughts and wouldn’t let go.

What if their son, Jonathan, had been responsible?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

My mind was still churning the next morning, as I arrived at The Cup That Cheers.

I strolled up to the shop door, after having enjoyed the walk from my flat, to see that there were already signs of life inside.

Cass was drifting about the shop floor, in preparation for opening up at 9a.m. She beamed at me as I entered. “Good morning, boss,” she said cheekily. “Yesterday was great, wasn’t it?”

“It certainly was. Far better than we could have hoped!”

I was greeting an elderly lady and her well-dressed daughter, when my mobile chirruped from the depths of my shoulder bag.

It was Xander.

I pointed down to my office, indicating to Cass I would take the call there, and she nodded.

I closed my office door behind me and tugged open the hopper window. A zingy breeze wafted in and there was a sudden fizz of birdsong. It was the first day of July and there was the promise of summer holidays in the air.

I switched on my computer. “How are you?” I asked him, mentally running through what Jake had said about Xander last night.

“I’m okay, thanks.” I noticed his rumbly, deep voice seemed somewhat off-kilter this morning. He didn’t sound okay.

“So, what can I help you with?” I asked, realising I sounded every bit as odd as he did.

Xander appeared to detect the sudden inflection in my voice. There was a weighted pause before he cleared his throat. “I’ve been reading more of Saffy’s great-grandfather’s diary. I think you were correct about the tea set.”

I paced up and down my office, my mobile clutched to my ear. A kernel of optimism started to grow.

“It seems that one of the staff up at Castle Marrian took it to begin with and then goodness knows what happened to it after that.”

My indignation kicked in. He had read the same journal entries as me and yet he was viewing it all from a loftier, opposite position. “Does it?”

“What do you mean?”