Page 35 of A Scottish Country Escape

Chapter Twenty-Three

My head felt like it was spiralling.

So, had my gran lost Lorenzo Carlucci because of Adam Fraser’s spiteful, jealous behaviour? I was struggling to rationalise any of this. She had never mentioned Lorenzo, let alone his sister Linda. She had been my grandmother for twenty-nine years and yet I knew nothing about this.

I glanced at Dexter, next to me. He had sat back down again, a concoction of intrigue and confusion charging across his features. He wasn’t the only one. I had doubted his outlandish claims, but what if what Fran had just told us was true? I had no reason to doubt her, and my grandmother had believed him from the start.

Oh, this is ridiculous!

Dexter turned to me, a glint of quiet satisfaction and empathy in his penetrating gaze. Then he spoke to Fran. ‘I need to find Linda Carlucci.’

Fran pursed her lips, which carried a trace of frosted-pink lipstick. ‘Whatever did you do?’

‘He almost killed her,’ I interjected. ‘And me and my best friend too. I suspect that probably annoyed her somewhat.’

I could have sworn Fran’s mouth twitched at the corners.

‘It was an accident!’ insisted Dexter. ‘I keep telling you that!’ He angled his body away from me and towards Fran. ‘Is there anything I can do to stop all this?’ He rubbed at his stubbled chin. ‘Since that accident happened, it’s like I’ve lost my mojo.’

He stared past Fran. ‘I can’t even come up with any new ideas, let alone finish the draft of my next novel.’

Fran’s round face read Dexter’s desperation. ‘I don’t know if there’s any truth in this. It might just be all a load of old hokum.’ She steepled her hands in her lap. ‘The story goes that there were two different people who did manage to have their curses reversed.’

Dexter’s eyes promised to fall out of his head. ‘Go on.’

‘They had to show the error of their ways and prove they had changed for the better.’

‘I can do that!’ he exclaimed, leaping to his feet again. ‘That should be easy enough.’

Fran studied him from the comfort of her armchair. ‘It isn’t enough to say the right thing. You have to genuinely mean it.’

Dexter appeared suitably chastened and sank back down again beside me.

‘Do you know anything about these two people who were purported to have had curses put on them?’ I asked.

Dexter’s mouth flatlined beside me. ‘There’s no bloody purported about it.’

Fran delved into her memory. ‘One was said to be Daphne Curtis. She lived in Fir Haven, but passed away a few years ago now.’

Dexter’s broad shoulders slumped.

‘But the other one is a gentleman by the name of Robert Masters, who still lives locally.’

Recognition pinged in my mind. ‘Robert Masters? As in, Roberts Masters, the former provost?’

Fran nodded. ‘He might not be willing to talk to you though. He can be a bit prickly.’

Dexter’s head travelled between the two of us. ‘Provost?’

‘Like a Scottish mayor. Don’t you know anything?’ I teased.

Dexter pulled a sarcastic expression. ‘It’s not my fault you don’t speak proper English.’

We exchanged teasing smiles, before remembering we were supposed to be on frosty terms with one another. I quickly turned back to Fran. She was examining us both, her head angled to one side. ‘Are you two sure you’re not an item?’

Colour flooded my face. ‘Nope. No! No. Just acquaintances.’ I cleared my throat. ‘So, you were saying, Fran?’

‘The Carlucci family,’ continued Fran, choosing her words with care, ‘haven’t been treated well by some folks around here over the years.’