Treasure Sleuth (16 page)

"A friend of a friend's garden?"

"And maybe if you were to find this ring, this ticket might.. er... be lost."

Mark was stunned. He looked at the officer's hand and noticed a white band of skin on his finger where a ring had obviously been.

"Even though you say I was doing a hundred and fifty five, you'll be willing to overlook this ticket if I find a ring... for your friend?"

The officer gave a cough into his fist. "What ticket? I'm not sure how fast you thought you were travelling, but there's a chance your speedometer suffered a momentary glitch and may have spiked upwards for a few seconds before settling back down. Don't you suppose?"

"Yes that could be the case. These British cars have been known to suffer the odd electrical issue now and then. Do you have an address for me?"

The officer scribbled down the lady's details. "She'll be out later after seven, so you can let yourself into the garden via the side entrance. There's two plant pots on the patio, when you've found it, place it under one of the pots."

"So I take it your friend's girlfriend doesn't know about the ring being lost in her garden?"

"That's correct."

"And your wife doesn't know anything about this either?"

"Look Mr. Munro, it appears we are both in a bit of bother here and could help each other out. Would you like to be sitting back here or in your own leather seat?"

Mark didn't need asking twice and just nodded. The officer got out of the BMW and let Mark out of the back.

"Remember, full discretion here. I have your address, you understand?"

"Full discretion," Mark said. "I understand."

"And don't let me ever see this car doing speeds like this again."

As Mark sat back in his driving seat and closed his door shut, it took a moment to fully appreciate the situation. He heard the BMW start up behind and there was a quick flash of blue from the lights hidden behind the front grill as the officer pulled out, tapping his nose as he drove by. Mark nodded back and pressed the red starter button, then shook his head in disbelief as the silver unmarked squad car rejoined the carriageway.

"And now we turn to Lot 67, Hope Lighthouse in Hope Cove, South Devon. An original lighthouse built in 1836 on the site of a previous Iron Age and Roman fortress. No longer operating as a full-time lighthouse, the lantern room has been converted by professional standards to a living and dining area with full electricity and mains water," the auctioneer read out loud from the agent's brochure.

"Adjoining this property is a one bedroom cottage with kitchen area, bathroom and living area. Set in half an acre of land with a private driveway, stunning views to the sea and I'm told on a clear day the city of Plymouth can be seen. Estimated between two hundred and fifty and three hundred thousand, who will start me off at two hundred?"

Abby scanned the room but no hands were moving. She felt her heartbeat starting to quicken.

Where the hell is Mark?
she thought to herself.

"Who will start the bidding at one eighty?" the auctioneer asked.

"Thank you M'am, one-eighty, one-eight-five, one-ninety, one-nine-five," the auctioneer stated.

Hands were moving up and the lighthouse started gaining momentum.

"Two hundred, two-ten, two-twenty, two-thirty," the auctioneer continued, his head darting back and forth. Uncle Brad's hand had not moved yet.

Has he lost interest or is he biding his time?
Abby wondered.

She sat hardly breathing as the price went into the three hundreds.

"Three-twenty, three-forty, thank you sir, three hundred and forty thousand."

It was Brad's hand.

Damn.

"We have three-sixty on the phone, do I see three- eighty?"

Abby started feeling light-headed and looked around for the nearest seat. Then she felt a pair of hands grip her hips and a cheek brushed against hers.

"How we doing?" It was Mark.

Abby turned to Mark with tears in her eyes.

"Get your hands off me, and get them up in the air," she said.

Mark turned her hips so she was facing the front again.

"Do you trust me?" he whispered into her ear.

"Oh my God Mark, what are you doing? You're supposed to be bidding. Where is your number card?" she asked, her voice trembling.

"Three-eighty sir, thank you," the voice boomed, the auctioneer looking down directly at Brad.

"Four-hundred, four-twenty, four-forty," he continued.

Mark could feel Abby go light under him so he wrapped his arms around her waist and held her tight.

"Oh God Mark, it's at our budget, what do we do?" her voice sounding weaker by the moment.

"Let it go," he whispered in her ear. "We have a new plan now, just watch."

Abby took in a deep breath and did all she could to stop herself from crying out right there in the auction room.

"Four-sixty, do I have any takers for four-sixty?" the auctioneer asked the audience. A man on one of the telephones at the front nodded his head.

"Thank you, I have four-sixty on the phone, do I see four-eighty?"

"That's it. It's all over. It's way past our budget, we're out. It's over. It's all over. I can't believe it," Abby kept mumbling to herself.

Mark leaned forward and put his cheek alongside hers and whispered, "Yeah baby, it's all over. . . for them. This puppy is gonna be ours, you just watch. Trust me on this. I've had a bloody busy day."

There was a delay at the front, and Mark watched Brad talk with his business partner sat next to him, and then his hand and card went up again.

"Thank you sir," the auctioneer acknowledged Brad. "Four-eighty in the front, do I see five hundred?"

The room was filled with an invisible tension. Abby was breathing heavily and Mark continued to support her with his arm. The man on the phone gave a nod.

"Five hundred, do I see five-twenty?" the auctioneer asked. Mark watched Brad lean into his partner and chat. "Sir, we are at five-hundred, are you going to five-twenty?" the auctioneer asked.

Brad shook his head.

"That's you out dickhead," Mark muttered under his breath.

The auctioneer looked around the rest of the room at the bidders in case of any extra bids. "Do I see any advances on five hundred?" he asked.

There was no movement. No hands, no cards, no more nods from the phone staff.

"For the first time, it's against you sir, it's on the telephone at five hundred... for the second time... for the third and final time... sold at five hundred thousand pounds, thank you."

The auctioneer's gavel went down with a thundering whack that caused Abby to jump. She turned around slowly to face Mark, still in his grip.

Shaking, she said, "Wow, my Mom just sold the lighthouse for five hundred thousand pounds. I have no idea what that is in dollars. But I'm sure she'll be delighted."

"It's just under a million," Mark said calm and cool.

"Let me go, I want to get out of here," she said breaking away from Mark's arms.

Mark grabbed Abby's hand and said, "Come with me."

Leading her up a flight of wooden stairs at the back of the auction room he took her into the corner where several chairs were stacked. Taking two of the chairs from the stack he placed them behind the balcony overlooking the room. Feeling exhausted Abby immediately sat down. Mark sat opposite and took both of her hands into his.

"You made a discovery yesterday which, without realizing it at the time, has changed the course of our lives," Mark said looking intensely into Abby's eyes. "You remember the ring you found that belonged to Mrs. Prescott?" he asked.

"Yes, of course I remember. That was the moment I knew for sure that I wanted to help people recover lost artifacts. But how does finding Mrs. Prescott's late husband's ring have any bearing on what has just happened down there?"

"No," said Mark, "Not the pilot's ring. Mrs. Prescott's ring. You were right, it did belong to her. Because you found her ring on the beach, I took it to her this morning."

"That's why you were late?"

"That's one of the reasons. We had a cup of tea together and a long chat."

"You were having a cup of tea when you promised me you'd be here?"

"Stop interrupting for a moment and just listen. I made a promise to you that I broke for a good reason. Mrs. Prescott was so delighted that you found her ring, but even more made up when you found her Howard's ring the day before. She felt it was fate that she thought he lost his ring on the beach but you found it in her garden. When bizarrely, she thought she lost her own ring in her garden but you found it on the beach. She asked after you and I explained the situation as best I could. And this is where it gets interesting."

"Interesting, how?" Abby asked.

"After Howard was killed in the war, she received a payout from his life insurance. It was for ten thousand dollars which amounted to a little over five thousand pounds. She didn't know what to do with it so she bought National War Bonds which were issued by the Post Office to help raise money for airplanes, tanks and stuff like that for the war."

"Five thousand pounds?"

Mark nodded, "Yep, five thousand. And would you believe, it's been there ever since?"

"You're kidding? The same bonds?"

"Okay, not the same bonds exactly. The money has been moved around into different bonds and savings when the War Savings Campaign finished, but it's always remained with the Post Office. She never touched it in all those years. She never needed it and just didn't know what to do with it."

"So what has she done with it exactly? Bought the lighthouse?"

"In a nutshell, yes! She called her financial advisor who I had to go and see in person to make sure I wasn't a fraudster trying to cheat an old lady out of her money. I had another long chat with him, and the upshot is, Mrs. Prescott has made a donation to HART."

"I don't understand. Who was that doing the phone bidding?"

"Mr. Birch. Mrs. Prescott's financial advisor. He agreed to help and we set him up an account with the auction. The auction would have called him before Lot 67 started when I was on my way. Before I got... doesn't matter," Mark said shaking his head. "What does matter is, with the sale of the coin, my gold funds and Mrs. Prescott's financial contribution, the lighthouse has been purchased in the name of HART care of one Miss Abby Hart."

"My God. Mrs. Prescott owns half the lighthouse too?"

"No, although her small investment has grown so much she could have paid for the whole thing and still had change. She was delighted to make a donation to help you get it so that you'd have a place to call home when you came to stay. But she also thought the treasure was exciting and wanted to make sure that we joined forces."

"You told her about the treasure?"

"I told her most, yes. She has a heart for adventure. Plus, she knew Howard would have been happy to keep a piece of Hope Cove going and she was touched by your Mum's work with the dogs. So it was a win all round."

"That's so massively generous of her, I can't believe it." Abby flung her arms around Mark in a state of overwhelming relief nearly knocking him from his chair. Her grip tightened as the reality slowly started to sink in. She owned the lighthouse. It was over and they had won.

Mark was just as relieved for now he knew he'd be seeing Abby again. He held her just as tight, the sensation of her body pressed against his confirmed the win was real. The fear of losing Abby was gone, and for that he could thank Brad for the little extra motivation.

"Yes it was generous, but she also didn't want your Uncle Brad winning so she told me to go to a million if we had to!" Mark said with a laugh.

Becoming all serious again he said, "Yes, I will be taking her down the tunnel into the Amber Room shortly to show her my Lamborghini model, perhaps she'd like to…"

"Mark, that's terrible!" Abby said releasing herself and hitting his shoulder with a smack.

"I know, I'm only kidding. So, lighthouse lady, let's go sign some paperwork."

After signing several papers and shaking several hands, Abby handed the files to Mark.

"Would you mind looking after these until I return?" she asked.

"Would be a pleasure to. So I guess you have a plane to catch?"

"Yes I do. Will you miss me?"

"Don't leave it too long."

"I won't, I just have some work to finish with my job. What about you?"

"Same. I have some clients to finish up with, and then I'm thinking of finishing for good. Maybe start looking for an apartment to rent in Hope Cove, get a fishing boat and sell crab sandwiches until you return."

"You could always move in with Mrs. Prescott," Abby said making Mark smile. "Tell her I said a big thank you and I will see her properly when I get back."

"I will. And when will you get back?" Mark asked.

Abby stepped towards him and kissed his lips pressing her hand against his chest. "I'll be back in a couple of months cowboy, look after the lighthouse until then."

Abby left the auction house at Exeter and started her journey back up the motorway before joining the motorway at Bristol leading direct to Heathrow airport.

Mark made his way to the market town of Newton Abbot and parked up outside a newly built house on a large estate. He lifted his bag out of the trunk and entered the rear garden from the side of the house. Looking around the empty garden and patio area he plugged in his earphones. "Right then officer," he muttered out loud, "Where have you been rolling around then?"

Two months later. . .

Five men and a woman sat along a large executive table in silence, waiting for the approval of Mr. Duncan, a businessman in his fifties. A monitor at the front of the room showcased Mr. Duncan's new website, and as the owner of London's latest online home shopping network, the website had been through months of changes and adjustments to reach this final stage.