Page 39 of A Scottish Country Escape

We were directed to a solid panelled door to the right and into a study, choked with books. In front of those was a heavy office desk, dotted with papers and the remnants of two cups of cold coffee. The window was south-facing, with a view of stretching woodland. In the distance, the trees reminded me of clumps of broccoli, thrusting upwards into the horizon.

Robert Masters rose up from behind his desk and shook our hands. He carried an air of quiet confidence, exacerbated by his open twinkling gaze and welcoming smile. His features were long and weather-beaten, but there was something dashing about him.

I introduced us both and was about to smooth a path towards asking him about Linda Carlucci, when Dexter lurched right in with a torrent of questions about the Carlucci curse.

Robert Masters’s smile evaporated. ‘I’m confused. I thought Paul said you wanted to speak to me about the history of some former businesses.’

I shot Dexter a look and then composed myself. ‘It’s actually about Linda Carlucci, Mr Masters.’

Robert Masters’s clean-shaven jaw tensed. He remained standing and began to busy himself with papers on his desk. ‘Sorry, but I can’t help you.’

Desperation was creeping into Dexter’s voice. ‘Please, sir. We only want to ask you a few questions and then we’ll go.’

Robert Masters fired an agitated hand across the top of his close-cut grey hair.

What’s going on here? He clearly knew her – or at least knew of her. ‘Fran Boyd gave us your name,’ I tried again. ‘She said you might be willing to talk to us.’

Robert Masters trained his concerned petrol-blue eyes away from us. He stood resolute; his tanned hands now stuffed into the pockets of his dark-brown checked trousers. His cheeks were flushed.

‘Please, sir,’ begged Dexter again.

A flicker of sympathy lit up in my chest. Desperation was evident in Dexter’s downturned mouth.

‘Mr Masters,’ I began again. ‘We wouldn’t be bothering you about this unless it was important. I’m sorry that we misled you about why we are here, but we just weren’t sure what to say.’

From the study doorway, Paul hovered, his brows gathered in confusion. ‘Is everything OK, Mr Masters?’

Robert Masters moved towards his study window. Afternoon light glanced off his pensive features.

‘We were worried that if you knew the real reason we are here, you would refuse to talk to us.’

Robert Masters made an agonised noise. Without looking back over his shoulder, he spoke to his gardener. ‘Thank you, Paul. Everything is fine.’

‘Are you sure, sir?’

‘Yes.’

Paul gave us both brief smiles. ‘I’ll be off then.’

‘That’s fine, and thank you for your hard work. The lawns look as wonderful as always.’

Paul nodded, told me to take care, and closed the study door behind him.

Robert Masters gestured to us to sit down in two mismatched armchairs opposite his desk, before sinking into his black leather swivel chair. ‘OK,’ he conceded with a deflated sigh. ‘I think you should start at the beginning.’

Chapter Twenty-Six

I sat and listened while Dexter explained to Robert Masters what had happened when he almost ran over Linda Carlucci and the aftermath of the incident, which, at first, he hadn’t given much thought.

‘That was until I arrived home a bit later that day,’ Dexter carried on, twisting the leather strap of his chunky Tag Heuer, explaining his panic at finding he was suffering from a writing drought. He blew out a cloud of frustrated air. ‘I know this must all sound crazy.’ Dexter looked at me beside him for an instant, before transferring his attention back to Robert Masters. ‘I know what you must be thinking, sir.’

Robert Masters gave the briefest nod of understanding. He regarded Dexter for a few moments. ‘I’ve heard about you. You’re the crime writer who had the old council offices renovated.’

Now it was Dexter’s turn to nod. ‘That’s right.’ Anxiety rang out from his bright-blue eyes.

Robert Masters continued to listen, while the pale sun teased the clouds outside the window.

‘And you’re sure it was her? Linda Carlucci, I mean?’ he asked, his anxious stare travelling from me to Dexter.