Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
The Starr Bar was a marble and smoked glass affair, situated just past the harbour on a small green hill.
We had been directed by a brunette waitress to our table, which had squashy beige leather seats, although how she hadn’t managed to tumble through the mezzanine window was beyond me.
She was far more interested in Mason, who didn’t appear to have noticed her flirting.
She made one more last-ditch attempt to dazzle him with yet another blinding smile.
When he offered her a polite one in return, she marched off.
As we studied the lunchtime offerings, I stole a glance at him from over the top of the black-and-gold laminated menu. His furrowed brow was concentrating on the options, and his spidery black lashes were casting an impressive shadow on his cheekbones.
I jerked my attention back to the menu and opted for a potato omelette with peppers and salad, while Mason chose blueberry pancakes with yoghurt and honey, together with a black coffee.
The waitress returned with a jug of water, took our orders, then flounced off.
‘So,’ I exclaimed, fluttering my napkin, ‘what’s all this about McKerron Castle?’
He took a long sip of water and placed his glass back down, an earnest look settling across his face. ‘I take it you aren’t aware of two mysterious love letters that were discovered in a secret vault at the castle in August 2016.’
‘No. I’ve never heard of anything like that being found there.’ I lowered my voice. ‘How do you know about these letters?’
Mason sank back against his seat. ‘I would have been surprised if you had, because Mrs Compton appears to be the only person in Port Starr who does know about them – or at least, she wants us to think that.’
‘Sorry. I don’t follow.’
‘Let’s just say that Eliza Compton was very helpful when I explained I was aware of large amounts of money being donated to McKerron Castle by the Lapley family.’
My eyes threatened to roll out of my head.
Did this have anything to do with her odd behaviour towards Katie and me a few days ago in the main street?
Eliza Compton was head of the Port Starr Historical Society as well as a ferocious custodian of McKerron Castle.
She revelled in intimidating locals, unsuspecting tourists and coach parties of innocent schoolchildren who had the misfortune to cross her path.
She hadn’t been intimidating that day, though. She’d appeared distressed.
‘Did you just say Eliza Compton helped you? As in, she didn’t threaten to throw you from the battlements, or have you charged with wasting her time?’
Mason looked at me steadily from across the table. ‘Yes, she was very cooperative. It must be my dashing good looks and irresistible charm.’
I pulled a face. ‘Well, it must have been something.’ My mouth dropped open further. ‘And what was that you just said about donations to the castle by the Lapley family? That can’t be right, surely?’ I recalled Eliza’s alarmed face in the bakery once more.
He moved to speak again, but the waitress had returned with our meals.
When she’d disappeared, Mason carried on.
‘A friend of mine works in the finance department at Historical Heritage and she said these payments to maintain McKerron Castle have been going on for years – and that they’re all donations from the Lapley family. ’
I picked up my fork and held it in midair for a moment. ‘Why on earth would they be donating lots of money towards the castle? They’ve always been such a tight-fisted lot.’
He stirred his coffee. ‘I think it’s their way of trying to keep a lid on something they don’t want made public.’
‘And the letters?’
‘Well, Eliza Compton wasn’t at all keen to show them to me, but I made it clear I wasn’t going anywhere until she did.
’ Mason leaned forward. ‘She ushered me into a staff room so I could take a look at the letters, but she only let me read them briefly. I would have much preferred to have more time with them to study their delicate condition, reread them a few times…’
‘Go on,’ I pressed, savouring the warm aroma of my potato omelette.
‘I think there are hidden messages to the Scarlet Highwayman concealed in both of these letters.’
An excited bubble lodged in my throat as Mason dived into the pocket of his jacket, which was lying on the seat beside him, and tugged out a small notebook.
He flipped over several pages. ‘I’m assuming the author of the letters is a woman, going by the style of handwriting and the phrases.
It’s been written in a very clever way.’ He pointed one finger at his notes.
‘Words like “berries”, “blush”, “passion”, “crimson”…’ He flapped his notebook closed.
‘Many of the words she’s chosen relate, or can relate, to the colour scarlet or red.
’ Then he fished his mobile out of his pocket, jabbed at the screen and passed it over to me.
‘I took a couple of photos of the letters, too, when Mrs Compton was distracted. They aren’t great quality, but I suppose they’re better than nothing. ’
I stared down at the pictures of yellowing paper and the theatrical sweeps of black-inked handwriting.
‘The name “Linus” is mentioned in one of the letters. You do know that the Scarlet Highwayman’s horse was rumoured to be called Linus?’
I nodded and handed back the phone to Mason. ‘That’s what folks round here have always said.’
As forks clattered against plates around us and glasses clinked, a question formed in my mind. ‘And you’re sure these two letters were written by a woman?’
Mason sliced up the last of his pancake. ‘I’m certain of it. It’s not just the tone of what’s been written; everything about the two letters screams a besotted female.’
One of my eyebrows arched. ‘So, men don’t become besotted, then?’
‘I never said that.’
Hold on. Did he just wink at me? Or did he have a twitch I didn’t know about?
I took a sip of water to try and hide the creeping pink in my cheeks.
Was he toying with me? Oh, don’t tell me I had another Nick on my hands.
This man was so annoying! One minute he was insisting he wasn’t interested in having a relationship, and the next he was flirting.
Or was he flirting? I was out of practice.
Not that I was interested in Mason, anyway.
The cottages, my artwork and finding out the truth about The Scarlet Highwayman were all I cared about.
We both savoured a few more mouthfuls of food. ‘How did the person sign both letters?’ I asked.
‘She didn’t. It was more of an elaborate flourish of the pen, rather than a proper signature. That must have been deliberate to disguise her identity.’
I tasted the cold, fizzing water in my glass again and marvelled for a moment at a cloud skirting past the window down in the harbour.
‘What I don’t understand is why the discovery of these two letters was never made public.’ I pushed away my empty plate. ‘Something like this could well hold the key to the identity of the Scarlet Highwayman.’
Mason’s long fingers slid up and down the side of his glass. ‘Because I think the Lapley family insisted on it, in exchange for them contributing towards the maintenance of the castle.’
I blinked at him in disbelief. ‘What?’
His stare was unwavering. ‘It seems very odd that these payments towards the upkeep of McKerron Castle have been going on since these letters were discovered.’
‘And when did you say these letters were found again?’ I asked, even more intrigued.
‘Ten years ago.’
‘Ten years?’ I repeated. ‘Wow. Well, it’s impressive that Eliza Compton and the Lapley clan have managed to keep quiet about the letters all this time.’ I sat back in my chair. ‘And you think these donations are in exchange for the letters remaining a secret?’
He took a steady sip of his coffee. ‘I wouldn’t reject the idea.
When I mentioned the Lapley name, Mrs Compton became very nervous.
Perhaps the financial contribution began the very same day Eliza discovered the letters concealed in the castle?
It all fits in with her acting weird with you in the bakery. ’
Visions of the blond, smooth Alex Lapley oozing around the town popped up in my head.
I could understand why he would give anyone the creeps.
It was all that passive-aggressive thing he had going on.
It was unnerving. And what with his hair colour having changed from muddy brown to blond and him jazzing up his appearance in those sharp suits of his, maybe that was why the locals hadn’t recognised him and made the Lapley connection yet.
‘But why?’ I puzzled. ‘Why would they not want these letters to be made public?’
Mason shrugged. ‘I have no idea.’ His gaze never left mine. ‘But I’m determined to find out.’