Page 72 of The Cottage in the Highlands

Mrs Oates eyes widened. “Well, I never.” She glanced back over her shoulder and into the polished hallway, her expression now tinged with alarm. Then she tapped down the steps and approached me at the gate. She dropped her voice. “Where did you find this letter, Ms Baxter?”

“Please call me Leonie.”

“Leonie,” she repeated with an awkward smile.

Harley gazed up at me from the pavement, giving Mrs Oates a regular thump of her tail.

“I came across the letter by accident in a house called Merry Wood.”

Mrs Oates hand fluttered to her chest. “Are you sure? No. That can’t be right. Merry Wood was sold years ago.”

Another person who had no idea about Merry Wood’s current status. I shook my head. “But the house wasn’t sold. That’s the strange thing. Merry Wood is sitting there all furnished and Mr & Mrs Talbot are still the registered owners of the property.”

Mrs Oates screwed up her face. “I don’t understand. Why on earth would that have happened? It was supposed to have been sold when the Talbots got divorced.”

But our hushed conversation was interrupted.

“How dare you!” came an enraged roar from inside the house, making us both flinch with alarm.

Flynn Talbot senior emerged, all wild silvery hair, moustache, and thunderous mouth. He turned his ire on Mrs Oates first. “Having a good gossip about me, were you? I thought I could trust you, Mary.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous. You know you can.”

He growled something incomprehensible and whirled to confront me behind the gate. His pale-blue eyes blazed. “And as for you, I want you to leave my property now and take your mutt with you.”

Harley emitted a low bark.

“Mr Talbot, I don’t know what you heard—”

“I heard you’ve been poking your nose in about Merry Wood. My business is mine alone and has nothing to do with anyone else, let alone a bloody reporter.” A deeper grimace overtook his mouth. “Did that grandson of mine put you up to this?”

“No. Not at all.” I shoved a hand into my shoulder bag and produced Lily’s letter. “I have this—”

He cut me off, his attention momentarily transfixed by the letter in my hand. “My grandson tries to speak to me after Lord knows how long and now you turn up. More than a coincidence, if you ask me.”

He folded his arms and glowered. “Leave now, otherwise I’m ringing the police.”

“But Mr Talbot—”

His eyes brimmed with fury. “I want you to go. Now!”

Mrs Oates jerked her head in an anxious, encouraging motion for me to leave.

With frustration clawing at my insides, I slid Lily’s letter back into my bag and led Harley away.

Kerry cornered me as I made my way to my desk the next morning, inhaling the strong, smoky scent of the takeaway coffee I was clutching.

“Sorry to spring this on you, Leonie, but do you have a minute? It’s about the Lulu Stark story.”

I switched on my PC and shrugged my jacket onto the back of my chair. “Sure.”

Her complexion was pinched.

“Are you ok?” I asked her.

But she didn’t have time to reply.

“Leonie, I’m so sorry. I asked this gentleman to wait in reception, but he was insistent that he speak to you.”