

About the Book

Abi Button gets involved with the lazy nephews and nieces of their elderly uncle who lived in the creepy house at the far end of her road. Isaac Whittard Magritte Newton, to give him his full name, has set a cryptic clue in his will for the siblings to solve. The will says the first nephew or niece who can solve the clue is going to be extremely wealthy, but the puzzle seems unbreakable. The old man once set crossword puzzles for two of the national newspapers, and other puzzles for various magazines. Abi, with her modest skills in cryptic crosswords, has to admit defeat.

Also on Abi's mind, perhaps as a matter of greater importance than solving the clue that will help four squabbling siblings, is her developing friendship with junior solicitor Danny Wells. She wonders if she has at last found the right man. Melanie Upton ‒ Abi's co-owner of Button Up coffee shop ‒ assures Abi that this one is definitely a keeper. But as Abi points out, Melanie says the same thing about every man Abi gets to know.

This is the second Abi Button Cozy Mystery Romance.

### Poetry and Mayhem

### An Abi Button Cozy Mystery Romance #2

by

Lizzie Lewis ©2020

This eBook ISBN: 978-1-912529-49-0

Also available as a paperback

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-912529-55-1

Published by

White Tree Publishing

Bristol

UNITED KINGDOM

wtpbristol@gmail.com

Full list of books and updates on

www.whitetreepublishing.com

_Poetry and Mayhem is_ a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.

All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise), without the prior written permission of the copyright owner of this abridged edition.

### Table of Contents

Cover

About the Book

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Epilogue

More Abi Button Books

About White Tree Publishing

### Chapter 1

In my rather limited experience, men who are tall dark strangers are not necessarily all they are cracked up to be. Again, in my admittedly limited experience, a man who is the right height for who he is, and has fair hair, can beat the opposition hands down. Which means Danny Wells must be the right one for me.

Melanie Upton, who is co-owner with me of Button Up coffee shop in town says he's a keeper. But she says that about every man I tell her about. What does she know? Come to that, what do I know? But Danny and I have been seeing each other for a few months now, so perhaps Melanie is right for once.

Danny and I met in a purely professional capacity, when the elderly lady of ninety-one in my road sadly passed away. At the time, I was seeing Jack Thornley, but I've already forgotten about him completely. Jack who? I expect he has also forgotten about me, because he moved away in shame after his disgraceful behaviour. By disgraceful behaviour, I don't mean he molested me in any way. Ivy Smith, the elderly lady who died, was his aunt. It is his treatment of the old lady that should be filling him with shame every moment of every day ‒ and the way he used me to put on an appearance of innocence.

Danny is a junior solicitor in town, and he even has his own office with his name on the door. He seems to be moving rather slowly on his side of our relationship, but I guess that's a good thing. No point in rushing into a new relationship until we're sure of each other – although I'm pretty sure about Danny.

Danny comes into Button Up coffee shop most days for lunch. I reserve him a small table in the corner where we can chat, if I'm not too busy. Melanie does her best to make sure we don't get disturbed, although Pete Wilders who is nineteen perhaps resents the extra work involved. Not that he has any reason to complain. His girlfriend Hayley, who is just eighteen, now has a regular job in the café, much to the delight of both of them.

I was glad Melanie had taken care of Pete when he'd had a bit of trouble with the police a year or two back. He'd mixed with the wrong people, but he seemed to have a decent enough set of friends now. I certainly have no problems with Pete working at Button Up. It helps him pay for evening college which should enable him to get a proper job in the future ‒ not that working in the café isn't a proper job, but well ... you know what I mean.

When Danny came in, I naturally seated him at his usual table. We wear jeans in Button Up, so it's not a big deal when they collect the occasional spill or splash. We have short cream and black striped jackets with the café logo on them. I reckon we look pretty smart, and I always feel proud showing Danny Wells to his seat.

"I've not been able to share information with you before, Abi, but I've been given work that's just up your street. Literally," Danny said, lifting the knees of his trousers as he sat down so as not to spoil the line. Danny is obliged to wear a suit for work, to impress the clients. It's a slate blue Italian-cut mohair wool tailored suit that I'm sure must impress the clients no end – although I'm not too keen on Danny impressing the female clientele.

I frowned. "Up my street?"

Danny nodded. "Isaac Newton, the old gentleman at the other end of your road passed away several months ago, and the probate came to Branks, Davis & Waters."

Work just up your street. I smiled in acknowledgment of Danny's somewhat obscure play on words. Branks, Davis & Waters is the name of the solicitors' practice Danny works for. Maybe he will have his own name in that mouthful one day. I think Waters and Wells together is going to cause some wry comments! Anyway, if or when the time comes, Mr Waters might have left Branks, Davis & Waters, in all probability due to death or disgrace.

"Old Isaac Newton? He died a few months ago. Wasn't much of a funeral. I heard only four people came to it. He'd never once left the house in the past few years, so no one in the road knew him. I think that's really sad."

I never saw the man, and I knew I never wanted to meet him in the dark. Or in the light. When I was young I heard he'd lived with his mother, although she'd been dead for donkey's years. The house was built with the ground floor raised from the garden level, with a flight of stone steps leading up to the front door.

You can see the top half of the basement windows, because the garden has been cut away to let the light in. And the windows have bars on them. At school we used to tell each other scary stories about the house, and dared each other to go there after dark and knock on the door and run away. I don't think anyone did. Certainly I didn't.

When I think of it now, I can't believe we really thought his mother was still alive and shut in the basement behind the bars on the windows, living the life of a witch, a vampire or a zombie ‒ take your pick.

I knew the old man was dead, because someone told me, but there was no way anyone would know just looking at the house. The curtains had not been pulled open for years, and various species of plants grew rampantly in the chimney stacks and gutters, and the garden was a jungle ‒ the town's own natural rainforest.

"Do you know much about him?"

Danny shook his head. "Nobody does. I gather his grandmother was Russian, and fled to England before the Revolution, with Isaac's mother as a small child. His mother married someone called Newton. And that's about it."

"So has he left a fortune?" I asked Danny.

"He has and he hasn't," Danny said paradoxically. A good word, that. Paradoxically.

I sat well clear as Melanie served Danny with a cheese and ham panini with salad. I always insist Melanie places the sauces on the table well clear of customers. I'd hate Danny to get any marks on that lovely suit.

"Well?"

Danny smiled. "I expect you've heard the story over the years that he was a miser sitting on millions. That doesn't seem to be the situation ‒ as it stands at the moment."

"I've heard gossip that he has nephews and nieces who only visited their uncle when they wanted money. Perhaps they were the four at the funeral."

Danny nodded. "Indeed, they were."

"If he's left them the house, surely they're going to be in for a shock when they go inside. Has he left them loads of money? Fabergé eggs from his Russian grandmother?"

Danny put his hand to his lips. "I couldn't discuss this with you until now. It came under the category of client confidentiality. Mr Newton‒‒‒‒"

"Was he _really_ called Isaac Newton? That's what we all called him when I was at school. We probably thought he was so old that he must have been _the_ Isaac Newton. I take it he wasn't." I grinned, just in case Danny thought I was serious, although surely he knew me too well by now to understand it was my sense of humour. Well, what passes for a sense of humour.

Danny returned the grin and put a hand on the back of my hand that was still on my lap. This was yet another promising sign that the relationship was going well, although I had gone out with guys who thought it was appropriate to do that on the first date. And they didn't seem bothered that my hand wasn't actually on my lap at the time.

"Isaac Whittard Magritte Newton, to give him his full name. Did you know he once set crossword puzzles for the national newspapers, and all sorts of puzzles for various magazines?"

I shrugged. "All I know is he once lived with his mother, and when she died he never came out again. Or if he did, it might have been at night when he grew wings and flew out looking for young maidens he could bite on the neck."

"I think that was his mother," Danny said, keeping a straight face. He seemed to be developing a weird sense of humour. Can't think why. "She died when the plumber opened a large box in the basement, looking for some tools. Unfortunately the sun was shining through the window at the time."

"So he wasn't really a multimillionaire with a collection of Fabergé eggs?"

Danny took a deep breath. "Not eggs. What he _has_ left is a conundrum. In writing. He often set obscure clues for his nephews and nieces to earn a birthday or Christmas present, but they usually failed and got nothing. They are brothers and sisters, the children of his brother who died some time ago. He called them spineless scroungers, with no love of poetry and the arts!"

"That must have gone down well. You've seen them. Are they?"

Danny nodded. "They're all single, with a poor standard of living. And yes, I would call most of them lazy. The will suggests the first nephew or niece who can solve a cryptic clue is going to be extremely wealthy. But I can't make head or tail of it. They've each had a copy, and from the responses I've received they seem to be having the same problem."

"But if _you_ solve it, will _you_ get the money if the family don't?"

Danny knew I was joking, but he shook his head firmly. "Don't even think about it, Abi. As far as I can tell, if the two nephews and two nieces are unable to solve the cryptic clue, the money simply disappears into thin air and no one gets it."

"Hasn't Isaac Newton left the answer?"

Danny shook his head. "Not with us."

"Perhaps it was cremated with him. Did anyone think to check the coffin? Anyway, if _I_ solve it, does that mean _I_ get the money?"

Danny started on his panini. I think my questions came under the heading of rhetorical, or perhaps not worthy of a reply. Well, I could always dream, and with a fortune in the bank I might feel I could ask Danny to marry me. I supposed I could ask him there and then, but I have to admit I like a bit of tradition in these things, and was prepared to hang on for him to ask me – before I got round to asking him.

I left Danny to eat his lunch, and popped behind the counter to give Melanie and Pete a hand. We were surprisingly busy, which of course is good for business, but not so good for talking to Danny. It then occurred to me that perhaps he liked to eat his lunch in peace sometimes. Well, I'd be seeing him after work, and I might be able to twist his arm and find out this cryptic clue to a hoard of millions.

Chapter 2

The houses in my road were built over a hundred and fifty years ago for the workers in the cotton mill that has been closed since time immemorial. Well, long before my parents' time, which is more or less the same thing. My house stands in a medium sized garden backing onto some woodland. The house belonged to my parents and it's where I grew up, but they gave me the house when they moved to Spain for good.

As far as I know my parents aren't wanted fugitives, but after my father's early retirement they decided to seek warmer climes. It's an area in southern Spain where we often spent our holidays, and my handyman father almost single-handedly turned an old Spanish villa into a smart home. The house I'm in now, my house, was originally built for the foreman of the cotton mill.

On the opposite side of the road is a children's play area, and leading away from it to the left is a long terrace of small houses that once housed some of the mill workers. Like nearly every building in town, the houses are built of brick.

On my side, at the far end of the road, there's the detached house that originally belonged to the mill manager, in slightly larger grounds than mine. It has double bays windows to the front, whereas mine only has a single bay window. The status of the mill employees was clearly indicated to all and sundry by the architecture of their houses.

Mr Newton occupies the original mill manager's house. No, he _occupied_ , not _occupies_. At least, I hope that's the case, since he's now dead. Over the years I've watched his house slowly decay.

I wondered who would be living there next. Probably a builder would buy it for renovation, although if one of the nephews and nieces managed to crack the cryptic clue to the wealth, I suppose one of them might move in. I shuddered. No matter how well a builder renovated the house, I could never live there. Every time I came home I would expect to see Isaac Newton's mother, as one of the undead, peering through the bars of the basement windows, gripping them tightly with a face that resembled _The Scream_ by Edvard Munch. I might have a crazy imagination, but that's not imagination. It's a dead certainty. Or maybe an undead certainty.

Ivy Smith's little terraced house will soon be occupied by a granddaughter she never knew about. Danny had to sort out Ivy Smith's will, which led to some amazing revelations. Unlike Isaac Newton's house, I have good memories of Ivy's small house, and certainly wouldn't mind going inside there again.

The new occupant will be Julia Wilkins, although I know nothing about her. When she moves in, I must invite her in for a cup of coffee to make her feel welcome to the area. And, with an eye on business, tell her about Button Up before she has a chance to feel at home in one of the inferior cafés in town.

I returned to Danny's table with pleading eyes. I'm quite good at that. "Perhaps if I was able to have a squint at the puzzle...."

"That's interesting you should say that," Danny said. "I came here to ask a favour."

"The answer is yes," I said. "Yes, I'll marry you." No, I didn't actually say that. I was hoping when Danny eventually proposed to me it would be in more romantic surroundings than Button Up, but I wasn't particularly fussy. Anywhere would do. Except in the old house.

Danny was talking again.

"Sorry, Danny, my mind was far away. What was the question?"

"Probate has been granted, and the will is now available to the public. But this document was attached to the will, purely for their eyes. Considering how eccentric Mr Newton was, I'm surprised our Mr Waters actually agreed that the old fellow was of sound mind."

(That's Mr Waters of Branks, Davis & Waters, solicitors, where my Danny works.)

Danny took a drink of his OJ before continuing. "Mr Newton never went out. He had his food delivered. The doctor called when necessary, because the old man had a telephone. I don't know how sound his mind really was, but it's too late for Mr Wells to change his opinion on that. Probate has been granted."

"And the cryptic question?" Oh, how I hoped when Danny eventually proposed to me, he wouldn't dither about like that.

"Well, Abi, as I said, the four siblings who are going to inherit haven't been able to make head or tail of the cryptic clue. Since you're always into various sorts of puzzles, I thought you might like to see it. And no, you _don't_ get the money."

"Okay, I'll give it a go, but please don't think I'm going to crack it." Cryptic crosswords are something I enjoy, but rarely complete without cheating with the internet. "Do you have it with you?"

Danny reached into the inside pocket of his slate blue Italian-cut mohair wool tailored jacket and produced a folded sheet of paper. Without a word he unfolded it and placed it on the table for me to read.

_To my spineless scroungers, namely my nephews and nieces, Richard, Michael, Esther and Alice Newton, wake up, examine your spines, and you will learn to appreciate one of the poets. When you perceive his guilt is visible_ _with_ _you_ _, and visible_ _without_ _you_ _, you are_ _seeking_ _for a nearby neighbour. Much reward awaits my first spineless nephew or niece who is an upright reader and thereby solves this clue, and proves their worth at last._

The paper was a photocopy of a document that had been typed on a word processor. No copperplate handwriting here. I noticed a couple of words were underlined. "And the two words with the underlining are in the original?" I asked.

Danny smiled, the sort of smile that said, "I can see how clever you are with this, smarty-pants." Or maybe he was thinking something else. It was difficult to tell. "Yes, this is an exact copy. I agree, the underlined words may be significant. Got it yet?"

"Of course," I lied. "It's so obvious I thought you would have got it straight away."

"Not really?" Danny said, and before he could answer I got up and hurried to give Melanie a hand.

"What is it?" Melanie asked, turning from the coffee machine that was hissing loudly as it dispensed a large Americano. "What's Danny frowning about?"

"It's some sort of legal puzzle," I said. "It's so complex I can't think there's really an answer, but Danny thinks I've managed to solve it using my experience of cryptic crosswords."

Melanie frowned. "I thought you always got stuck halfway through."

"Sadly, I do. But I enjoy them. This is a hundred times longer than a cryptic crossword clue. Danny and I will need to get our heads together tonight over this one."

"As close together as possible," Melanie said, laughing. "You don't have nits, do you?"

"In a relationship like ours we share everything," I said, giving Melanie a nudge.

I noticed Danny getting up from the table. "I'll leave you the paper," he said, "but don't leave it anywhere for your customers to discover. This was an attachment to the will just for the siblings. I don't want news of it leaking out, and someone breaking into Mr Newton's property and wrecking the place in search of his treasure, with or without solving the clue."

"Call for me here when we close at six," I said, taking the sheet of paper from him. "You can take me out for a nice meal somewhere and we can discuss it in detail." See, there's nothing like arranging your own date!

By four o'clock things were slowing down in Button Up. It would be insulting to say Melanie isn't as bright as me. In many ways she's brighter, but she doesn't exactly excel with solving puzzles. However, as the co-owner of Button Up she's the brains behind the business. Without her, we would probably have been forced to sell out to a takeaway burger bar or something, instead of having our really sophisticated café with a large clock shaped like a cup of coffee above the counter. How's that for class!

"Come on then, girl," Melanie said. "Share."

Melanie is ten years older than me. She's forty-two, but I don't like to say how old I am. Whereas I am five foot seven, slim, with long, naturally blonde hair parted just right of centre and curling at the ends, Melanie is stocky, more than slightly overweight, with curly black hair that seems to defy any sort of organization.

She is also cheerful, amazingly cheerful, and hoping one day to marry. In fact, the only time she's less than cheerful is when she's discussing her relationship with Steve Donovan. The man seems unwilling to commit, even after five years. Maybe longer. I've known Melanie Upton for five years, and she was already seeing Steve then.

Steve does have some sort of excuse for his reticence. He was in a long term relationship before he met Melanie, and had a small boy. But Steve's partner decided a young neighbour who had plenty of money was a better bet than Steve, and it was bye-bye Steve, hello young man. The boy stayed with his mum, due to the lies she told about Steve's behaviour.

Having had his fingers burnt ‒ metaphorically ‒ Steve doesn't want the same thing to happen again. But five years? Anyway, Melanie began to read the cryptic puzzle.

_To my spineless scroungers, namely my nephews and nieces, Richard, Michael, Esther and Alice Newton, wake up, examine your spines, and you will learn to appreciate one of the poets. When you perceive his guilt is visible_ _with_ _you_ _, and visible_ _without_ _you_ _, you are_ _seeking_ _for a nearby neighbour. Much reward awaits my first spineless nephew or niece who is an upright reader and thereby solves this clue, and proves their worth at last._

Melanie gasped as she read it, and for one glorious moment I thought she'd solved it. No such luck. "Spineless scroungers? And this will is being published? Wow, that's going to go down well!"

I laughed. "This paper is private, but if anyone finds out, the treasure may help ease the pain."

Melanie stabbed the paper with her finger. "Only for one of them. Anyway, this doesn't make sense. Guilt? The only thing those four seem to be guilty of is being spineless scroungers."

"That's how cryptic clues work," I explained. "They only make sense when you crack them."

"I think the old gent was cracked for sure," Melanie said. "How come raving loonies are allowed to write wills? Look out, Pete's desperately calling for us to help." Melanie folded the paper with the clue and handed it back to me. "Have a great meal with Danny this evening."

I nodded, and then it occurred to me. "How did you know about the meal?"

Melanie winked at me. "Nothing gets past me, girl. I might not be bright enough to solve your cryptic clues, but I always know what's going on around me. Besides, you might be a multimillionaire one day if you solve the clue. If you share some of it with me I'm sure I could persuade Steve to marry me. We could buy a house of our own. It's his psychotic old grandmother who's the problem. We can't afford a place of our own. She won't move out, and I'm not going to move in there to live with her. And Steve won't move in with my family, because my nan keeps shouting rude things at him."

And there we had to leave the discussion of dysfunctional family life. Hayley had come in after college, and Pete seemed to be paying more attention to her than to the two women wondering which pastries to choose.

I prefer to go home and change out of my work jeans before going for a meal with Danny, but needs must, and since he'd invited me ‒ after my very heavy hint earlier ‒ I slipped off my cream and black striped Button Up coffee shop jacket and replaced it with a lightweight cream jacket I keep at the shop for special occasions. It's quite stylish and eye-catching, and detracts from any stains there might be on my work jeans.

It's easy enough to change in the storeroom at the back of the café, and one day I'll learn my lesson and bring a smart pair of jeans to work, and keep them hanging on a peg for unexpected dates. Dates with Danny, of course.

"Well?" Danny said, but not until giving me a kiss. At least he was getting his priorities right.

"You mean about the cryptic clue? I showed it to Melanie. She thinks the old guy was completely crackers and should never have been allowed to write a will."

Danny nodded. "I never met the man personally. Mr Wells says he also had his doubts, but since the company was getting the business, and Mr Newton knew the answers to simple questions such as what is two plus two, and what is your name, he wasn't going to turn good business away."

I had been giving the matter some thought in spare moments during the afternoon, but had to share Melanie's doubts about the man's sanity. "It might help if I could see around the house?" I said. "Only I'd need to take a crucifix and garlic to be persuaded to go in there ‒ even in broad daylight."

Danny smiled, and took two large keys from the small briefcase he was carrying. "It just so happens...."

I felt my stomach sink. "It's going to be dark soon. No way."

Danny looked at his watch. "It won't be dark for hours. And there's electric light in the house if we get trapped inside."

Although I felt uneasy about going into Isaac Newton's crumbling dwelling, I had a sort of weird fascination to actually step foot inside. "And you're sure he really _is_ dead?"

"Probably," Danny said, keeping a straight face. "We won't go into his bedroom, just in case his body is lying in the bed with its arms around his old mother's skeleton."

"Yuck," I said. "Danny, you should be ashamed of yourself. You've got a horrible mind when it comes to sick jokes. Please stop it."

"Sorry," Danny said. Of course I knew he wasn't sorry in the slightest. He just enjoyed winding me up. "We'll forget the bedrooms for now. I think the answer has to do with the large library. Isaac Newton had antiques and other valuables, plus a large collection of books."

"Have you had them valued?" I was still making up my mind whether to actually venture inside Creepy Mansion, or just look in through the grimy windows.

"We've had a couple of valuers in. One for the antiques and paintings, and the other for the books. The antiques aren't especially valuable. Twenty or thirty years ago they would have been worth more than they are now. People who want antiques in their homes have generally got them already. But collectively they add up to quite a bit."

"What about the books? Signed first editions and so on?" I wanted to impress Danny that I knew a thing or two about books.

Danny shook his head. "A large collection of old books, ranging from Shakespeare's plays, to the classics, poetry, and non-fiction books of topography of the British Isles. The valuer is a respected dealer in antiquarian books, as they're called. He pulled a few out for special attention and wrote down some values. The rest he estimated at about five pounds each. So a few thousand pounds for the books and the antiques, max."

I thought of the cryptic clue again to the fortune, but had to take the multi-folded piece of paper from the back pocket of my jeans to refresh my memory for sure.

_To my spineless scroungers, namely my nephews and nieces, Richard, Michael, Esther and Alice Newton, wake up, examine your spines, and you will learn to appreciate one of the poets. When you perceive his guilt is visible_ _with_ _you_ _, and visible_ _without_ _you_ _, you are_ _seeking_ _for a nearby neighbour. Much reward awaits my first spineless nephew or niece who is an upright reader and thereby solves this clue, and proves their worth at last._

I decided Melanie had hit the nail on the head. Hit it bang in the centre. Mr Isaac Newton had definitely been what is medically described as a nutcase. Or maybe a lunatic. Maybe even a living cadaver ‒ if some of my school friends had been correct in their diagnosis. No wonder I was now having second thoughts about going inside the house, even with Danny for support.

"I thought we were going out for a meal," I protested.

Danny just smiled. "Surely you've learnt by now that there's no such thing as a free meal, Abigail Button. There will be plenty of time for eating once we've had a look round."

"Okay," I grudgingly agreed. I rather liked it when he called me by my full name. "But I need to call home on the way. I want to put on a really old jacket, and a beanie. The house is bound to be full of thick cobwebs, amongst other horrors ‒ both living and dead."

Chapter 3

I'd like to say the interior of Mr Newton's house was not nearly as bad as I'd feared it would be. It was worse. Definitely worse. The whole house was stinking, and I started to feel sick.

Since the nephews and nieces were inheriting the house and contents, I thought they would have paid someone to come in and clean up. The state of the kitchen was well ... it defies description. I just hoped I could hold out and wouldn't need to use the upstairs bathroom before we left. I could just imagine what it must be like up there. My fault for not going when I called at home on the way.

"Show me the library," I said. "Let's find the poetry section." There, I was hoping my amazing aptitude for solving puzzles would impress Danny.

Danny shook his head. "The valuer pulled out a couple of first editions, but they are pretty run-of-the-mill poetry books. I think that might be what's called a red herring. Doesn't that often happen in cryptic crosswords?"

I felt slightly embarrassed, but not completely deflated. After all, the word "poets" did seem important. "Which way to the library?"

The so-called library was in what would originally have been the dining room at the front. Mr Newton seemed to have mainly lived in the sitting room which also faced the front garden, and also lived in the kitchen. How he could live in that mess I had no idea. I think he'd also experienced problems with living in it, because the living room had almost as many unwashed items of crockery and pans as did the kitchen. I felt like tidying everything up.

No, I didn't really!

The library walls had been lined with wooden shelves supported on metal uprights. I hoped they were substantial, because there were a lot of books. I imagined pulling one out from the bottom, and starting a whole avalanche.

"The poetry books are over here," Danny said.

I've never been a great one for poetry, and only recognised a few names on the spines of the books. Spines? _That was it!_

"What we need," I said rather pretentiously, "is a poetry book that doesn't have a spine. Spineless? Get it? It will have some sort of code written inside the book."

"Sorry, Abi, I was ahead of you there. There are no books without spines here ‒ poetry or other subjects. Good try though."

I went across and gave Danny a hug. "If you love me, please don't patronise me, but it's okay to patronise me if you do love me."

Oh what a crafty girl I am. Yes, I'm still sure I'm a girl at thirty-two. It was a bit like the prisoner telling the judge that the question could not be answered with a simple yes or no. The judge said any question could be answered with a yes or no, and the prisoner said, "In that case, m'lud, let me ask you a question. Have you stopped beating your wife? Yes, or no?"

So what was Danny going to do? Was he going to apologise for patronising me, which indicated he loved me, or was he going to continue to patronise me? I waited for him to dig himself into or out of a hole.

He came across and put his arms around me, and gave me the best kiss I have ever had from anyone. Not that I'm an expert on kisses, but I could tell this was a kiss for me, and not for my body.

"Abi, Abi, I really do love you. I would never patronise you. You mean so much to me. From the time I saw you in church, till now, I've been falling more and more in love with you. I think that kiss we had after school when we were sixteen must have planted something in my heart."

I'd forgotten all about that kiss until I saw Danny again for the first time last year. "Oh, Danny, I love you too."

Okay, it might have been getting a bit soppy, especially as I started to cry, but that's the way it is with love.

"Abigail Button, will you...."

I knew what was coming. At least, I hoped I did. I pointed to the floor. Danny knelt in the dirt, still wearing his Italian-cut slate grey mohair wool suit trousers.

"Abigail Button," he began again, gently wiping my eyes with a perfectly clean white handkerchief, "I love you so much. Will you marry me?"

I have always carried romantic visions in my head of a proposal in an expensive restaurant or out on a moonlit hillside. Never in my wildest dreams did I expect it to be anywhere as unromantic as this stinking house covered in dust and filth.

"Danny Wells, nothing could make me happier. It's just that this has come as such a surprise."

"Abi, I'm sure you will be the perfect wife. I just hope I can live up to your expectations."

I have to admit my expectations in a husband had been more realistic than the stuff of fairytales, so of course I helped him to his feet and gave him a kiss, my tears wetting his cheeks.

"Is that a yes?" Danny whispered into my ear.

"It certainly is. Yes, yes, yes."

Danny's deep blue eyes flooded with tears. Presumably tears of happiness. My eyes did the same.

After that we rather lost interest in solving the cryptic clue. We locked up and went back to my place to wash. No way was I washing in Isaac Newton's old bathroom. Then we went into town and had the celebratory meal I'd always expected for such an occasion. And, like Danny himself, it was _completely_ up to my wildest expectations.

Chapter 4

The next morning I arrived at Button Up earlier than my usual nine o'clock. Melanie Upton gets in before seven to handle the coffee-to-go customers. One person can easily handle the number who come, and Pete gets in at about seven thirty to help lay out the pastries in the chilled display cabinet for the sit-down customers who arrive a bit later.

I was absolutely bursting with excitement to tell the good news, but I was aware I had to be careful how I broke it, bearing in mind the somewhat precarious relationship with Melanie and Steve.

"He's asked you, hasn't he?" Melanie greeted me as I came through the door. She ran forward and gave me a large, girly hug.

"Has Danny been here and told you already?" I asked, struggling for breath.

Melanie laughed. Then she said, "Your face is glowing. I thought the sun was extra bright today. It must have been you walking down the road." She turned to Pete. "Avert your eyes, laddie. This is strictly girl time."

"That's not fair," Pete protested. "Why can't I say‒‒‒"

"Go and clean the storeroom," Melanie said, putting on a fierce voice. "And when you've done that, you can clean the toilet."

I had to laugh. Pete seemed to be taken aback by Melanie's response. "Don't take any notice, Pete," I said. "Melanie is only joking. Danny Wells has asked me to marry him."

"Come on, Pete," Melanie said, letting go of me, "it's your turn to give your employer a big hug."

He turned a bit red. "I think I'll go and tidy the storeroom again," he muttered. Then he grinned. "Only kidding."

In spite of his rather bashful tendencies, Pete came across to give me a hug and plant a big kiss on my cheek. It's the first time I've ever been kissed by a teenager. No, cancel that. It's the first time I've ever been kissed by a teenager since being a teenager myself.

"Thanks, Pete. I hope it happens to you one day."

Pete turned to Melanie. "And to‒‒‒‒"

That's as far as he got, because four noisy businessmen barged their way in through the door, sharing some private joke. They looked to be what I would call typical loud salesmen. Or should that be salespersons? I wasn't sure what Pete had been going to say to Melanie, but I had an idea it would have been something unwise. He was probably going to wish the same to her and Steve.

We seemed to be particularly busy all morning. I could see Melanie wanted to pump me for every detail, and whenever we got a moment free I told her bit by bit. She couldn't believe Danny had done something as unromantic as kneeling on the dirty floor in an old miser's house surrounded by cobwebs.

"It didn't seem like that," I protested. "My eyes were only on Danny. We could have been in a magical palace for all I knew. I heard him asking me to marry him, and I heard what sounded like angels singing in the background. I think it was just the siren of a police car going by, but I don't really care."

"And the ring?" Melanie managed to ask me ten minutes later while waiting for a panini to grill.

"We're going to look on Saturday afternoon. You'll have to give me the afternoon off."

"You can have the whole day off, girl, if it helps you get the right ring. On one condition."

"Yes?"

"You bring the ring here to show me before you go home. Agreed?"

"And me," Pete added.

I didn't realise how close he was standing.

"Clean the toilet," Melanie said, but she was only teasing, and Pete knew it. "I'm going to need some advice, Abi, when I propose to Hayley."

"Don't rush into anything just yet, Pete" Melanie warned him. "You need to be sure first. And you're much too young to be even thinking of marriage yet."

Pete shrugged. "I'll wait a bit, but I don't want to be old like you two when the time comes."

He leapt clear before Melanie could hit him with the tea towel she was holding. "Okay, I'm off to clean the toilet." He disappeared out of sight laughing to himself. But he only went as far as the storeroom.

Pete, not only being the youngest employee, but having two women to boss him around, accepted from his first day that it was his job to clean the unisex toilet. He was okay with it, except that he categorically refused to empty what he called the ladies' bin.

Danny came in at twelve for lunch as usual, and seated himself at the small table in the corner that was permanently reserved for him at lunchtime, whether he managed to get away from the office or not.

He looked embarrassed when Melanie gave him a big hug and a kiss. I can't say it made me feel jealous to see him kissing another woman, because Melanie was like family, but she did seem to take a very long time delivering a single kiss.

Danny called me across and I sat next to him. He unfolded the photocopy of the cryptic puzzle. "Have you given this any more thought?"

I shook my head. I'd not given it a single thought since he had proposed to me yesterday evening. "Let me see it again."

I watched Danny place it on the table. I glanced at the counter, and Pete and Melanie seemed to have everything under control. I read it again. To be honest, with all the excitement of Danny's proposal, it was almost like seeing it for the first time.

_To my spineless scroungers, namely my nephews and nieces, Richard, Michael, Esther and Alice Newton, wake up, examine your spines, and you will learn to appreciate one of the poets. When you perceive his guilt is visible_ _with_ _you_ _, and visible_ _without_ _you_ _, you are_ _seeking_ _for a nearby neighbour. Much reward awaits my first spineless nephew or niece who is an upright reader and thereby solves this clue, and proves their worth at last._

"I think you might be right about the spineless bit applying to a book," Danny said. "I must confess I've not thought much more about it, either." He gave me a cheeky grin. "All I've been thinking about is you."

"Aah," I said, "that's lovely."

I gave him a quick kiss. And I didn't even do it furtively. I was in love and I didn't care who knew. In fact, the more people who knew the better.

I pointed to the names of the layabout nephews and nieces. Richard, Michael, Esther and Alice. "Are those really their names? I mean, they might be anagrams of something."

Danny shook his head. Very gently I ran my fingers through his fair slightly curly hair. "Definitely their names, Abi. Any other ideas?"

"I keep looking for anagrams. You say the old man used to set cryptic crosswords, so I'd expect to see anagrams there. Of course, it could be a word search, but because it's been typed on a computer, the letters aren't directly above and below each other, so I don't think that's a goer."

"I agree," Danny said, "although I bow to you as the expert in these things."

I waved across to Melanie to let her know I would be shortly on my way to help out. "When do we have to solve it by?"

" _We_ don't," Danny said. "It's up to the spineless scroungers to solve it if they want the money. If they can't solve it, then the fortune disappears into thin air."

"Like Bitcoins?"

Danny banged his hand on the table, making his plate jump. Several eyes turned in our direction. "Exactly like Bitcoins. That could be it. If you don't claim your crypto currency, it's gone for ever. No one else can claim it without the pass code."

I waved to Melanie again, as she seemed to be growing a bit anxious.

"So we should be looking for the password to cash in a fortune in crypto currency," Danny said. "Crypto and cryptic. Get it?" He frowned. "I'll leave it with you, Abi. See if you can find some sort of cryptic relationship between Bitcoins and poetry. I think Melanie needs you. She's looking a bit agitated."

She was indeed, but I made my peace and worked hard for the next hour to see out the lunchtime rush. It's good to be busy!

I wondered if Pete had any ideas. Maybe I was trying too hard to see some hidden message in the words. I excused myself from the counter and sat at the table with a pen.

To start with, I wrote down the first letter of every word. That didn't spell anything at all, not even nonsense words. Then I wrote down the last letter of every word, and read the result forwards and then backwards. I gave a deep sigh and realised Pete had come across to see the reason for so much agony.

"What is it, Abi? Are you in serious trouble?"

I wasn't sure what sort of trouble he was thinking I might be in, so I made it clear that I wasn't in _any_ sort of trouble. "It's this puzzle, and I'm trying to solve it."

I couldn't see the need to explain it was part of Isaac Newton's last will and testament. I turned it so Pete could read it.

"It seems to me to be like a conundrum," he said when he had finished reading. "What does it mean?"

"That's what I'm trying to find out," I said patiently. "It's the clue to finding some money."

"So who gets the money? You?"

I shook my head. "Sadly, no, Pete. But if you can crack it, there might be a small reward."

"How small?" Pete said.

I knew immediately what the lad had in mind. "Enough for a nice night out, not enough to buy a diamond ring."

I could see disappointment on Pete's face, but he returned to reading the puzzle. Then he looked up, enlightenment on his face. "Got it!"

"Really?"

"Piece of cake. It's not even in code. It says ' _you are_ _seeking_ _for a nearby neighbour.'_ A neighbour has got the money. Simple. Has anyone thought of asking? It's probably stuffed inside a large envelope with someone's name on."

I wasn't sure if Pete was messing around, and I had to assume he was joking. I pretended to be taking him seriously. "Great. I'll knock on every door in the road as soon as I get back from work."

Pete looked a little disappointed. "You don't think that's the answer, do you, Abi?"

Oh dear, he had been serious after all. "It's right to consider every possibility, Pete," I said. "But I think the _whole_ message has to make sense, not just the bit about the neighbour. I'll certainly ask the immediate neighbours this evening if they know anything. It has to be worth a try."

When I thought about it, it did, although I couldn't see how it really fitted with the rest of the message. Would I have a red face if it turned out Pete had got the answer so easily!

Chapter 5

Love is a many splendored thing. Someone ought to put that into a song. Perhaps they already have. There are two jewellers' shops in town. One is part of a large chain, and the other is a small family business. There is also a pawnshop, but I didn't fancy the idea of wearing someone else's engagement ring. You never know how the engagement ended and why the ring is for sale.

Although we close Button Up on the dot of six, Danny phoned from work at five and asked if he could come round and take me out to do a bit of window shopping. I told him he would have to be quick, because if the jewellers both closed at five thirty, they would soon be starting to put their more _valuable_ stock away from the window.

Oh dear, I instantly wished I hadn't put the emphasis on valuable. I had no idea what sort of ring Danny had in mind, although I'd already seen a couple of designs I liked, now Danny had proposed to me. To be more accurate, I'd already seen a couple of designs _before_ Danny proposed to me. Being a presumptuous sort of girl, as soon as Danny first asked me out, I had a feeling this was finally it.

I wondered if we'd be able to take the ring away, or get it adjusted by Saturday. Did jewellers need time to size it? I guessed they did, although there must be a range of sizes they kept in stock, but probably not the ring I had in mind. But if they did have it, and Danny let me wear it straight away, how proud I would feel in church on Sunday.

Oh dear, pride and church don't exactly go well together. Pleased might be a better word. I guessed it was okay to feel _pleased_ in church. But first, I would need to get the ring. So when Danny turned up just before five, I was waiting for him at the door. No point in keeping your fiancé waiting.

What I had in mind was a large single diamond set in white gold or platinum. By large, I don't mean the sort that celebrities flaunt, but a single diamond rather than a cluster. I had to think of Danny's purse, although as a junior solicitor he surely wasn't living on the poverty line.

The jeweller that was part of a large chain still had their stock in the window, and I pointed to a couple that might be worth looking at on Saturday. And Saturday was tomorrow. Whoopee!

We decided not to go in, as there would hardly be time to look. In any case, I hoped the local independent jeweller still had his wares in the window. And he did.

"That's it," I said. "That's exactly what I have in mind!" Then I noticed the price. "Well, not that _exact_ one, of course. Something like it ‒ but smaller."

Danny put his arm around me and pulled me tight. "Let's go in and see if it's your size. It's exactly what I had in mind, too."

The jeweller was preparing to shut the shop, and was just about to clear the window for overnight safety. But when we mentioned the ring in the window, he didn't seem to be in any hurry to go home.

"It looks lovely, Abi. Try it on for size," Danny said.

I noticed he hadn't gone white when he noticed the price, and he was speaking with a very calm voice.

"It's a bit pricey," I whispered to him, as the jeweller laid the ring on a dark blue velvet mat on the counter.

It was probably the clever shop lighting, but the diamond seemed to be on fire.

"Don't worry about the price," Danny said quietly. "It's something for the rest of your life. Our lives."

That really brought a lump to my throat, and my hands were shaking as I picked up the ring and slipped it on my ring finger. It was a bit loose, but not really _too_ loose.

The jeweller noticed. "We have our own workshop on the premises. We can resize any ring overnight. Is that the design you have in mind? I have a couple of others, but the stones are smaller."

It wasn't only the _design_ I had in mind, it was the actual ring. But I guessed that smaller stones meant a smaller price. "We can come back in the morning," I said. "It looks like you're getting ready to close soon."

The jeweller laughed, and called an assistant from the back. "Angela, would you please clear the stock from the window and lock it in the safe overnight. But first, bring me the two white gold solitaire diamond rings."

"Danny, would it be better if...."

Danny shook his head. "Abi, let's not look at any others. This is the one you seem to have set your heart on."

"But the price...."

"The price is fine, Abi." Danny turned to the jeweller. "My fiancée thinks the ring is a bit large. Could you resize it ready for collection after lunch tomorrow?"

The jeweller really perked up now. Just about to close, and he was making a sale that should keep him in food for a few days. "Let me check the young lady's finger size." He produced a large ring with an assortment of smaller grey finger rings hanging from it. He was pretty sharp, because he got the size right first time.

Apparently the ring I ‒ the young lady ‒ had just tried on was two sizes too large. Although I'm slim, my hands are certainly not slender pianist's fingers. I guess all the rings on sale were slightly on the large size, because it would be easier to cut a bit out and rejoin, than to splice a matching piece of metal into it.

Danny took out his debit card and gave his name and address. I hoped the card wouldn't bounce. I realised how old-fashioned it was to be getting married and have no idea what your potential marriage partner earns.

The card didn't bounce, which was certainly promising for a comfortable future together. Danny had a small flat in town, which he rented. Well, I had a detached house that my father had carefully renovated over the years, which is where I assumed we would move into once we were married.

Why hadn't we got round to discussing such things? I suppose it was because Danny sprung his proposal on me out of the blue. Well, out of the blue for me. Perhaps he'd been planning it since the first time he saw me in church.

Melanie and I earned enough to keep the proverbial wolf from the door. We are co-owners of Button Up. Perhaps I should offer to buy her out, then she and Steve would be able to get married and move out of grandma's house of horrors. I suggested it once, but Melanie wouldn't even consider it. And just as well, because she's the brains behind the business.

And if we collected the ring in the morning, I would be able to wear it to church. _Not_ with pride – with pleasure!

Danny took me by the arm, bringing me back to the present. I keep going off into a dream world of my own. I don't think I'm getting senile just yet. I'm sure it's just the sign of a fertile brain with a great sense of imagination. And getting engaged to Danny was reality. Mrs Abigail Wells. It certainly sounded good. Danny must never find out, but I'd even practised writing the name secretly at home ‒ soon after that day in church.

"Come on, Abi," Danny said, leading me from the jeweller's shop, "we're going to Parke's. We can talk about the wedding and where we'll live while we're eating. I've booked a table where we'll be private."

I started to feel guilty. Parke's isn't exactly a budget restaurant. "Danny, let's go to my house and we'll order Chinese."

Danny shook his head vigorously. "Not today, Abi. Today is very, very special. We'll order a Chinese next time."

So we sat in a quiet corner of Parke's, holding hands across the table that was lit by candlelight. I'd never been inside before, and being a simple girl I was enraptured by the soft carpet and the mood music that played gently. It was certainly a change from hard floors and raucous music that made it difficult to talk in the sort of restaurants I usually went to.

"We can live in my house," I said, when the discussion got round to where we would live. "Once we're married, of course."

Danny nodded. "I think you said you own the house?"

"My parents gave it to me. They're living permanently in Spain now." I thought for a moment. "I hope the house wasn't the reason you've asked me to marry you."

For a moment Danny looked almost hurt, and then he laughed. "Abi, I'm still not used to your sense of humour."

I smiled. "There's plenty of time for that. Our marriage is for ever." Of course it was. I'd not thought otherwise. Melanie was absolutely right – this time. Danny was _definitely_ a keeper.

I didn't feel especially hungry. Clearly it was the excitement. I ordered a small portion of chicken something-or-other. It sounded great in French in the classy menu, but when it came it was small enough to be a starter, placed delicately in the centre of the plate with the vegetables, such as they were, arranged over and around it as though it was a work of art not intended to be eaten.

Danny hadn't done much better, with a tiny steak and posh fries, and a few vegetables doing their best to keep out of sight. He noticed me eyeing his plate, and without saying anything he picked up the posh fries and dumped them on my plate. Oh, what a thoughtful man I was marrying.

Somehow we got away from the arrangement for our nuptials, and began talking about Isaac Newton's weird will.

"I think I said the nephews and nieces have already been given copies. They've not been allowed in the house yet. When they are, they will each have five minutes in turn to choose just one item. If one of them has already cracked the code, then that will count as one item. The oldest starts first, down to the youngest. So I imagine the youngest ‒ that's Alice Newton ‒ if she's cracked the code, is desperately hoping her three siblings haven't managed it."

"So what happens if none of them cracks it on the first round?"

"In that case, they can choose a piece of furniture or a painting or anything that takes their fancy. They haven't seen the valuer's report, but it's a fair bet they'll go for the paintings, rather than the furniture. They can go round a total of six times, then the house and everything unclaimed will be sold and the proceeds divided equally amongst the four of them."

"Is this a first for you, Danny?"

Danny grinned. "I have to say it's the wackiest will that has come the way of Branks, Davis & Waters. Mr Waters who drew up the will says he's certainly never come across anything like it before. Anyway, it's a legal document that has to be followed to the letter."

"And when does this weird and wacky charade take place?"

"Monday," Danny said. "If you're free, you're welcome to come and help supervise things. I don't want the whole thing turning into chaos as the four search for Mr Newton's so-called treasure."

"What time?"

"We're gathering at ten o'clock in the hallway. I've had a quick look and can't see anything of value there." He thought for a moment. "Of course, two pairs of eyes are better than one. Would you be free to go through everything in the hallway with me, and move things into one of the other rooms, just in case one of the four decides they want one of the items there? For all I know the treasure is hiding there in the hallway where the four will be waiting, although I can't see the battered coat-and-hat rack and the umbrella stand are going to be valuable. The hall stand isn't exactly Chippendale. I guess it's early twentieth century."

"I'm not sure about Monday morning," I said, letting disappointment show in my voice. "Not unless Hayley is available. I'll phone and see what I can arrange. I know the whole house is creepy, but I'm as keen as anyone to crack the clue. I just love cryptic puzzles."

"I wasn't thinking of Monday morning, although it would be good if you were free. Could you manage to go with me to Mr Newton's house after lunch tomorrow, after we collect the ring? Is Saturday afternoon a busy time at Button Up?"

"I'm sure it will be okay. Pete can get Hayley in to help, but most of our business comes from the offices in town, which aren't open on Saturday afternoon. I won't phone Melanie now. I'll check with her in the morning."

"Sounds good," Danny said, leaning back as the waiter cleared our plates. I hoped the blackcurrant meringue and lemon sorbet I'd ordered would be a full-size portion for an excited young lady who was now engaged to what was probably the most wonderful man in the whole world. No, not probably. _Was_ the most wonderful man in the whole world. Wahoo!

The only disappointment was the dessert. If the portions were always this small, I was surprised Parke's was so busy. If I wanted to see a display of fine art, I could go to the town museum.

Chapter 6

The next morning I was in early once again at Button Up, even though Saturday morning before nine is a fairly dead time. I wanted to explain to Melanie about taking the afternoon off to collect the ring and then checking out old Isaac Newton's dump.

To my surprise, it was Pete who saw me first. He came across rather shyly and handed me an envelope that clearly contained a greetings card.

"For you," he muttered.

I opened it in front of him and pulled out a really tasteful "Congratulations on your Engagement" card. Inside, it had both his and Hayley's names.

"Thank you so much," I said. And I really meant it. Whether Pete or Hayley had chosen it, or whether they'd done it together, it meant a lot to me that teenagers could be so thoughtful.

"Could I have a word?" Pete said, looking even more embarrassed and awkward than he had when he handed me the card. Button Up was nearly empty, and he pointed to the corner table that I reserved for Danny during the weekday lunchtimes.

Pete Wilders is quite small, and he seems to take life seriously. One of his best characteristics is that he's a hard worker and reliable. I'm not sure if he sees me and Melanie as mother figures ‒ more likely Melanie ‒ but he occasionally confides in me some of his concerns about Hayley and her parents. Maybe as his big sister. I get the impression Hayley's parents view Pete with a certain amount of anxiety. If or when I have a daughter Hayley's age I hope I'll be protective, but I'd be happy if she was friends with someone like Pete.

I hoped I wasn't going to be an Agony Aunt. What do I know about young men's personal problems!

"It's about me and Hayley," Pete said.

I waited for him to summon up the courage for whatever he was about to say. "Yes?"

"I know you and Melanie are old, but I want some advice."

"Hold on a minute, young man. I'm thirty-two. And that's definitely not old."

"Well, _Melanie_ is old," Pete said defensively. "She's the same age as my mum."

"Pete," I said as gently as I could, which wasn't particularly gently, "if your mum is the same age as Melanie, then your mum is young as well. That's the way to look at it."

"Perhaps," Pete said, without any conviction. "Anyway, there's a big problem with Hayley."

My mind immediately jumped to the most obvious possibility. "You haven't got her――"

"Of course I haven't! She won't even let me ... you know."

That came as a relief. "That's good," I said. "You need to respect a girl who won't let you ... you know." I felt myself going red, relieved Pete hadn't used a more obvious word. "There's a lot more to a steady relationship than that."

Pete was in deep thought. "How old were you when‒‒‒?

"Pete," I said swiftly, "you said _you_ have a problem. Can you please talk about that?"

Pete nodded, and I'm sure he noticed how red I'd gone. "We want to get married, but we don't have any money. Hayley says all we need is love. Her parents are very strict. They only let me in the house if they're both there, _and_ we have to stay downstairs."

At least Hayley was blessed with sensible parents. "How can you be thinking of getting married at your age?" I certainly hadn't been expecting the problem to be this. "Hayley is only eighteen, and full time at college, and you're doing an evening course. There's no way you can get married, even if you both think it _is_ the right thing."

"But we love each other so much," Pete said. "When we bought the card for you after work yesterday, we got talking about getting married. We really do want to."

So I was an Agony Aunt after all. "Pete, you need to think about the future. In a few years' time you will both have good jobs. I'm sure you won't want to go on working here once you've finished college. That will be the time to talk about marriage with Hayley."

I could see it wasn't the advice Pete was looking for. "But we might not be seeing each other by then," he muttered.

I gave a short laugh, although I didn't mean to. "In that case, Pete, you're not right for each other."

Pete shook his head. "I'm sure we are. I've felt we're meant to be together from the moment I first met her. And when Hayley comes here to help out, when she's not at college, I can hardly wait to see her coming through the door."

Still wearing my Agony Aunt hat I put a hand gently on his arm. He turned in embarrassment to see if Melanie was watching, but she was busy topping up the coffee machine. "You've not told me the problem yet," I said, relieved it hadn't been the problem I first thought of.

"I think Hayley is seeing someone else. There, I've said it."

I took my hand off his arm in surprise. "Why do you think that?" It might have been a silly question, but it's what came out in my state of shock.

"I saw her on a bench together with a young guy down by the river. He was trying to hold her hand but she kept moving away. But they were laughing together as though they were great friends."

"Did she know you'd seen her?"

"She called me across, and said it was John, a cousin who's turned up out of the blue and is staying with her for a few days. She said he'd arrived that morning. It's the first time I've heard of a cousin called John."

"Lots of people have cousins," I said, my mind feverishly searching for something sensible to say.

"Hayley said he's staying with her family for the week. She lives with her parents. Could I borrow your night vision camera you use to watch the wildlife in your back garden? The little one you set up by Ivy Smith's house to see if anyone was breaking in, and you caught you-know-who. I could set it up by Hayley's house."

I could see the way his mind was working. "What would that prove, Pete?"

"I could put it on a windowsill and keep watch inside the house. As long as they don't close the curtains completely."

"Pete!" I said in horror, "you could end up in court if you get caught. You don't want to go to prison and be labelled a Peeping Tom for the rest of your life, do you?"

Pete shrugged. "It might be worth it. I mean, why are Hayley's parents allowing a young man who wants to hold Hayley's hand to live in the house with them?"

That was when I had my eureka moment. When I saw light at the end of the tunnel. Caught sight of the silver lining to the cloud. How was it cousin John was allowed to stay with Hayley? "Pete, if Hayley's parents keep a close eye on the two of you in the house, they're hardly going to let a young guy live there for a week ‒ _if_ he's Hayley's boyfriend. It sounds to me like he really _is_ a cousin. Think about it."

Pete thought about it. He thought about it for a long time, and his face finally broke into a smile. "I guess I've been stupid," he said. "But at least it shows I really want Hayley. That's a good sign, isn't it?"

I nodded. "Take it slowly, Pete. If you really are meant for each other, as you think you are, your relationship will get stronger. But you need to learn to trust Hayley."

At that moment the door burst open, and a family with five kids and two large buggies pushed their way in noisily, knocking into a table and spilling one of the vases with the orange chrysanthemum in it that Melanie replaced fresh every three days.

Pete jumped to his feet, as though a great burden had been taken from his shoulders. It was probably why he was able to get up so quickly. I knew all about burdens. I'd had a few of them in the past, but now the future was golden ‒ in sickness or in health, come what may, Danny and I were now an item.

He would be here soon to take me to pick up the ring. Of course I felt sorry for Pete in his first experience of love, but I had Danny, and what more proof did _I_ need of an everlasting love!

After lunch, Danny came to collect me. The jeweller was expecting us. I slipped the ring onto my finger and showed it to Danny, my face glowing with excitement. The ring fitted perfectly. It would be a mistake to say I knew it would. I'd woken that morning from a dream I could barely remember, where I realised the engagement ring wasn't gold, but made of red plastic. It was too small, then too big, then too small ‒ till finally the ring had been resized so many times it looked a wreck. I hoped I didn't look like a wreck after trying to give Pete good matrimonial advice. I felt I was the one who needed help.

To my amazement, but not my displeasure, Danny gave me a big kiss in front of the jeweller and Angela who were watching.

I heard a small round of applause from behind, and turned to see another young couple. I grinned at them. "Thank you," I said.

"Do you want to look at wedding rings yet?" Danny asked me.

Wow, he was certainly keen to get married. "Let's think about it nearer the time," I said, my head in a whirl. "Something quite slim I think, but there's another couple behind us waiting to be served." I turned and grinned at them again. I hoped I didn't look too scary.

The woman appeared to be only just in her twenties. I thought again of Pete. Perhaps he wasn't too young to be thinking about marriage after all. Or maybe the couple weren't after an engagement ring. Somehow I had become obsessed with young marriage, perhaps because of Pete.

Danny turned to the jeweller. "Thank you for such a prompt service, and for such a lovely ring." He smiled at Angela, and it seemed a safe sort of smile. Again I thought of Pete and Hayley. I could see why Pete felt anxious when he saw Hayley sitting on a bench by the river with another man. Surely he was just a cousin. Yes, he had to be.

"Come on then, gorgeous," Danny said. "We've got a house to look at."

I noticed the jeweller raising his eyebrows. Perhaps he thought we were house-hunting already. Well, I could have told him we already had the house, but the house we were going to look at had belonged to a creepy old man. I said nothing, of course.

Danny lifted my left hand, kissed the back of it and the ring, and led me out of the shop, blushing. That's me blushing, not Danny. He was looking like the cat that got the cream.

Chapter 7

Danny had a small Kia runabout car which he kept back at his apartment. It wasn't anything special, but it had got us down to see his parents a couple of times, which is when I first learnt that they approved of me. My previous short lived romance, if it could be called a romance, was with someone who tried to impress me with a classic dark green E-type Jaguar in which he took me out with the top down. I have to admit the car was a good experience, but not the guy.

Danny said he had all of Mr Newton's paperwork at home, and he'd collect it when we picked up his car. The street where Danny lived was only a short distance from Button Up, and I walked with him with mixed feelings. Going to Danny's was fine, but going to the house of Mr Creepy wasn't my idea of a Saturday date to celebrate my new ring.

As we walked, I couldn't keep my eyes off it, noticing how the single diamond caught the sun. It was beautiful. Nearly as beautiful as Danny.

He ran in for the paperwork, while I thought about what lay ahead. Not the wedding ‒ the house at the far end of my road.

When we stopped the car outside Isaac Newton's old place, the sun was shining both in the sky and in my heart. I couldn't think why I'd been concerned about coming here.

"Come on," I said, jumping from Danny's car. I expect he would have come round to let me out, like a real gentleman, but I didn't give him time.

Danny opened the large front door and the stink of decay hit me again. The sun certainly wasn't shining inside here, and it didn't seem to be shining so brightly inside me, either. He hurried to unset the alarm, which was already emitting an urgent beep to let us know it was about to go off full blast and disturb the whole neighbourhood.

The alarm controller now silent, Danny opened his slim briefcase and pulled out a copy of the will and the document with the cryptic clue. "Remember," he said, "we're not here to solve it. All we're here to do is make sure the answer isn't hidden in something in the hallway, before it all gets shifted to another room. It's location might be part of the clue, and we don't want to mess things up."

I stared around at the mess.

Danny just shrugged when he saw my expression. "This is where the four will wait for their turns to select whatever they think is valuable. I can't see how the word 'hallway' is encrypted in any sort of way in the clue, but let's consider it carefully."

That made sense. "I sort of know the wording off by heart," I said, "but if you read it to me there might be something that triggers a flash of brilliance."

"Like your ring?"

I laughed. "There's no way those spineless scroungers, to quote Isaac Newton, are going to get my ring. There's nothing in this house that's more valuable to me than that ring ... oh, except you, obviously."

Of course Danny gave me another hug, and this time a kiss on the lips. In more romantic settings this might have gone further, but in this old dump I merely let him continue the kiss for several seconds. Although when I came to think of it, it was in the dusty old study that Danny had actually proposed to me.

The house is larger than mine, and for a moment I thought maybe we should buy it when we were married and live there. I could tell my children and grandchildren that X marks the spot where their father and grandfather knelt in the dust to propose to me.

Enough of that nonsense. Danny began to read aloud, emphasising the words that were underlined. "To my spineless scroungers, namely my nephews and nieces, Richard, Michael, Esther and Alice Newton, wake up, examine your spines, and you will learn to appreciate one of the poets. When you perceive his guilt is visible _with_ _you_ , and visible _without_ _you_ , you are _seeking_ for a nearby neighbour. Much reward awaits my first spineless nephew or niece who is an upright reader and thereby solves this clue, and proves their worth at last."

I shook my head. " _Richard, Michael, Esther and Alice Newton_. R-M-E-N and A. Namer? Renam? Amern? Ramen?"

Danny shook his head. "I couldn't see anything special there, either, I think you were right when you said it's to do with poetry. Or maybe a nearby neighbour has whatever we're looking for. Let's go and knock on some doors. Coming with me?"

Danny didn't even need to ask. I'd go anywhere with him, even knocking on the doors of strangers.

Between my house and Isaac Newton's house there is the small woodland. So any neighbours would have to be in the brick terrace on the other side. We asked at four houses, and drew a blank, although they were all anxious to know what was going to happen to the old house. Danny explained it had been left to his nephews and nieces, and his guess was that they would sell it and share the money. What happened to the house after that was anybody's guess.

When we returned to the rubbish dump, a.k.a. the lately departed Mr Newton's pungent residence, I felt a sudden tug of excitement in my superbly flat stomach. Well, flattish. It's my hips that are slightly on the broad side. I think the polite expression is big boned.

"I'm not sure what we're looking for," Danny said. "There's not much here anyway, and nothing to do with poetry that I can see."

"What _we're_ looking for? I thought we'd only come to clear the hallway."

"That's what I meant," Danny said. "Something to do with poetry in the hall."

I had a feeling he didn't mean that at all. "I think we should check out the library shelves," I suggested. "Just as well to be prepared for some amazing discovery on Monday morning."

"Well ... if you really think so, Abi. I have been wondering about that myself, to tell the truth. But let's check out the hallway first."

The oak hall table combined with a coat and hat stand revealed nothing of any interest, apart from an assortment of fresh and ancient holes made by woodworm. The umbrella stand wasn't some rare Chinese vase, but a straightforward wicker and cane piece of rubbish. There were a couple of pictures on the wall. They looked like tinted prints rather than originals, and Danny said the valuer had taken both of them down and examined them briefly, then laughed before hanging them back up.

"I think that's it, Abi. Let's go to the library, or study, or whatever, but be careful what you disturb. We don't want to destroy any clues. That's up to the nephews and nieces to poke around in the time each one is allowed."

I nodded. "But didn't you say they get six goes of five minutes to choose something? So really they have half-an-hour each. If they've cracked the cryptic clue then that's more than enough time. And if they haven't cracked it, perhaps thirty days wouldn't be enough."

The dining table in the centre of the room was covered with various newspapers and jotting pads. Also a large thesaurus, but no computer. The latest copy of a newspaper was several years old. This must be Isaac Newton's workstation, where he once set cryptic clues and other puzzles for newspapers and magazines the old fashioned way.

Danny had said Isaac Newton was once well known in the crossword world, but it looked as though he hadn't been setting puzzles for a long time. Here were partly set puzzles the old man must have been messing around with more recently, but not for publication.

There was also a small and attractive dark oak chest containing a batch of society magazines from the 1930s. I flicked through them quickly, noting that celebrities from the 1930s were very different to celebrities today! But no obvious clue to the old man's hidden fortune.

All very interesting no doubt to some people, but the answer _had_ to be in the poetry books. I began to work my way along the bookshelves. History books, books on economics. All boring. Some slightly more interesting books of local history caught my eye, and some of them were in extremely old bindings. "Are any of these valuable?"

Danny nodded. "Don't touch them now, Abi. Two of those books are extremely rare. An identical copy of one of them is for sale on the internet in America for nearly ten thousand dollars. And the valuer said this copy is even more valuable because it has a dedication by the author in 1782, the year of publication."

I had no idea books could cost that much. "And what about this one?" I asked, pointing to it and not daring to touch it.

Danny came to look at it and took out his copy of the valuation list. "Not that one. The other valuable one is here. Not that it looks anything special, so I was surprised. Again, it's the author's signature that helps."

"I get it. So suppose there's a poetry book signed by William Shakespeare. That would be worth a bob or two." I laughed at Danny's expression. "Can't you tell when I'm kidding?"

Danny smiled. "You're still a bit of a mystery to me, Abi, but you could be onto something. A run-of-the-mill poetry book signed by the poet, someone like Milton, would be very collectable."

"Didn't the valuer go through everything?"

"He was only looking for valuable books in good bindings. Look how many books there are here. He couldn't possibly open every one and check for a poet's signature."

I went forward and pulled out a book at random. It was in a fairly smart green binding, with poems by Keats.

"Put it back, Abi," Danny said quickly. "It's best not to touch things now."

I frowned. "If the valuer could touch whatever he wanted, what's the harm in having a quick look for signed copies? The poet might even have written a completely new poem in there for whoever he was giving the book to. It might be something completely unknown that people would pay thousands for. If we find it, we can put it back exactly as it was. Yes?"

Danny looked at his watch. "We only came to check out the hallway before the four siblings come on Monday, but I can't see any harm in checking out a few of the books. But apart from an original folio signed by William Shakespeare, I can't think the signature of an author like Keats or somebody of his ilk would be worth much. Certainly not enough to be worth writing a cryptic clue about."

The poetry books were on two low shelves each nearly six foot long. Old man Newton had certainly been a poetry nut. "Spineless and spineless," I said to myself. "Are there definitely no books anywhere without spines? If there is one, there's probably a sheet of paper tucked inside it."

I must have been talking aloud. That's something I have to be careful about, because sometimes my thoughts are not for sharing. But in this case it wasn't a problem.

"A great idea, Abi, but there aren't any damaged books here. You're the expert on cryptic clues. Could the word 'poets' have another meaning, or be an acronym for something?"

I shrugged. "I suppose it could be, but I reckon it's something to do with these poetry books." Then I had a flash of brilliance. "Perhaps there's something hidden _behind_ some of these books. They're not pushed all the way back to the wall. See?"

I went to start pulling them away, but Danny stopped me. "Don't do that, Abi. We're not supposed to disturb anything."

I sometimes come up with the occasional good idea, if only to prove that blondes have brains. "There's a small mirror in my bag, and a flashlight on my phone. There's plenty of clearance between the top of most of the poetry books and the shelf above. Come on, don't stand there staring, Danny. I need a hand. You hold the flashlight and I'll hold the mirror."

It was a bit fiddly to do, because some of the books were on the large side, making it difficult to get my small mirror behind them. Then Danny had an even brighter idea. He remembered seeing a mirror on a stand in the bathroom, and he ran up to get it. Rather him than me.

I heard him reach the top of the stairs, then there was silence. Not even a scream. "Are you all right up there?"

"Be down in a moment," a muffled voice called.

I assumed he wasn't kissing anyone up there. Hopefully not the living dead ‒ a.k.a. Old Mother Newton. Of course he wasn't. It's the way my stupid mind occasionally works. Often works. Maybe always works. Perhaps I'll grow to be more sensible when I'm married to Danny. For sure!

It took a quarter of an hour of neck craning and arm stretching before we were sure there was nothing hidden behind any of the books. I have to admit it was an amazing idea, all the same!

"Any more brilliant ideas, Abi?"

I was looking at the top of some of the books in better bindings, and noticed they were gilt edged. And that reminded me of gold. And gold reminded me of valuable coins. I had once read a story where a miser had hidden his gold sovereigns in the spines of old books. "I've got it! I really _have_ got it this time, Danny!"

"Well, are you going to share?"

"We need to _find_ the money before we can share it," I said slowly, as though speaking to a simple child. Oh, I can be really annoying when I try.

Danny groaned. He seemed to like having his leg pulled. "How about sharing the _idea_?"

"These books are gilt edged. That's not your sort of clients' guilt, Danny. It's _guilt_ without the _u_. That's why the word _you_ is underlined in the will. That's how some crossword clues work. The words sound alike. Get it?"

Danny merely nodded, indicating he'd got it.

I felt really fired up now. "My theory is old Isaac Newton has hidden all his gold as coins in the spines of these books. To get the gold, the books have to be spineless. It's so simple I'm amazed neither of us got it before. All we have to do is to rip the spines from the books, and Bob's your uncle."

Danny shook his head. "I don't have an Uncle Bob."

Yes, his sense of humour can be as annoying as mine.

Danny took a deep breath. "I'm training on the forensic side of legal work. That's why Mr Wells gave me this job. He thought there might be forensic work involved. Have you heard of non-destructive testing? For instance you can examine welded metal joints for cracks, without actually destroying anything. X-rays are a good example."

I stared at him, open-mouthed. "Okay," I said at last, matching my humour with his, "it just so happens I have a mobile x-ray machine in my bag. Hold on a moment, and I'll get it out."

"Think, Abi. What are coins made from?"

"Gold if they're valuable. Silver. Some sort of metal, anyway."

"And how do you detect metal?"

"With a metal detector, of course. Oh yes, I happen to have one of those in my bag as well." And I laughed, just to let Danny know I was making gentle fun, not being insulting in any way.

"I've got one at home," he said.

"I didn't know you're a treasure hunter," I said in surprise. I definitely still had a lot to learn about my fiancé.

"You're thinking of the big things like pancakes on the end of long handles. We don't need anything like that. I was knocking nails in the wall a few months ago to hang some pictures. You know, the views of the Scottish mountains. Well, I was afraid of banging the nails through a water pipe or cable hidden in the plaster, so I bought a simple detector from the hardware shop. I'll pop back and get it. You might as well wait here."

I shuddered, and it was an involuntary shudder. "Danny, if you think I'm staying here without you, you have to be out of your mind!"

Chapter 8

Fifteen minutes later we were back, with Danny holding a small black and red device in his hands. He'd had the sense to check the battery still worked before we drove back to Gloomy Manor. He placed it close to one of the metal shelf supports and it emitted a loud scream. There, I knew we'd hear some sort of screaming in the house today.

He pulled a one pound coin from his pocket and placed it on the table. He fiddled with the controls until the detector was on the point of screaming and lighting up red, and moved it close to the coin. He wasn't even close when the detector came alive.

I could hardly wait for Danny to run the detector along the rows of poetry books. And if that failed, to run it along every single book on every single shelf.

And that's exactly what we did. No squeal, no scream, no red light. Several times I asked Danny to check the detector was really working, by using the pound coin. So from time to time he held the coin and ran the detector over his hand. One hundred percent success with the coin. One hundred percent failure with the book spines.

Back to the drawing board, as they say. Actually, I'm not sure who says it, but everyone knows what it means. I think it might have originated from early flight, when planes crashed frequently through poor design. Who knows? Who cares? Well, presumably the pilots cared.

Danny switched the detector off. "That's it then. Two bright ideas doomed to failure. But at least we tried. That's the main thing in life, Abi. To try. And I know you're a trier." He thought for a moment. "And you try me too, at times." He gave me a kiss to prove that no insult was intended. I think he rather liked me being a bit of a trial. Sort of cute. No, I've never thought of myself as cute. Highly intelligent, alert, fast-thinking with a great sense of humour. And perhaps a bit crazy. Well, at least one out of those five would be good.

Danny seemed to be thinking hard. "What did you say before you came up with the idea of the gold coins in the spines?" he said at last. "Something gave you the idea for gold."

I think I said books with the gilt edging might be valuable. I thought for a moment and laughed. I said, "That's G-I-L-T. Not G-U-I-L-T which is probably what you were thinking as a solicitor. Was that it?"

Danny looked excited, although I couldn't think why. There was hardly enough gold on the edge of a thousand books to be worth more than the cost of a drink at Button Up. Whatever was he thinking of?

"Say it the other way round, Abi," he said slowly.

"I don't understand."

"Sorry, I'm not making myself clear. Let me say it. You said, 'These books are gilt edged. That's not your sort of clients' guilt, Danny. It's _guilt_ without the _u_.'"

"And you laughed, politely. Thank you, Danny, but I still don't get it."

Danny repeated part of the cryptic code. "Examine your spines, and you will learn to appreciate one of the poets. When you perceive his guilt is visible _with_ _you_ , and visible _without_ _you_ , you are _seeking_ for a nearby neighbour." Once gain he emphasised the words that were underlined in the will.

"Okay," I said, trying to sound extremely erudite, "we have _guilt_ and _gilt_ , spelt both ways. Are there any poetry books on crimes with gilt edging? Let's look."

"Lots of the poetry books have gilt edging, especially the ones in expensive leather bindings," Danny observed.

I couldn't tell if he was smitten by my idea or not. Probably not. After the failure with the metal detector and the non-existent gold coins I suspected his enthusiasm could be wearing a little thin.

"Shall we go?" he said.

Something was nagging me. Nothing to do with Danny. A nagging thought was banging around inside my head. "Let's read all the titles of the poetry books," I said. "Let's not give up."

"Abi," Danny said patiently, "it's not for us to crack the clue. I think it's time we went."

I shook my head. "Do it for me," I pleaded. I can do a very good pleading when I put my mind to it.

"Okay, just for you, Abi. What do you have in mind?"

Had Danny been listening? "We're looking for a poetry book on crime, with gilt edging. And it's neighbour is the magic pot."

That certainly got Danny's attention. I was right, he hadn't been listening. "Abi, whoever writes poetry on crime?"

"Someone might," I said impatiently. Oh dear, time to take better control of myself. "What I mean is, in the hundreds of years poets have been poeting, there must have been someone with crime on his mind. Or her mind. Let's look. If we draw a blank, we go. Promise."

I worked my way along the first shelf of the poetry books from left to right. I had no idea so many poets existed in the history of the world. These were all Victorian books, or maybe earlier. Danny pointed to a poetry book in a battered leather binding. He said the valuer had said it was an extremely valuable book. The thought that people had been writing poetry and publishing it for hundreds of years filled me with concern. Did those people have nothing better to do with their lives?

Crime, crime, crime. Everything but. I picked out a book at random and opened it at random. I couldn't make head or tail of what the poet was trying to convey. Poetry like _that_ ought to be the crime. Was I a peasant? Perhaps. I think I had enough of poetry at school. Maybe if I took an interest in it I might get into the mind of the poet and see things their way.

_The History of a Crime ‒ The Testimony of an Eye-Witness_ by Victor Hugo. That sounded like a bundle of fun. " _Wait, I've found it!"_ I said, making Danny jump. He was close to me, working through the poetry books on the lower shelf. "And it's a major clue, Danny!"

Danny merely raised his eyebrows.

" _It's not poetry!_ " I yelled into his ear. Woops. Time to keep my excitement in check. "Sorry, Danny, but I don't think this book counts as poetry. Look at it. It's a story. Nothing like poetry. So why is it here if it's not a clue? It's sort of, I don't know, sort of like a bull's eye in a target."

Danny stood up and stretched himself. I was about to pass him the book, but he held onto my arm to stop me. "We need to be careful, Abi. If it _is_ a clue, we don't want to spoil anything."

"G _uilt is visible_ _with you_ _, and visible_ _without_ _you_. _With_ the letter U and _without_ the letter U," I said as I replaced the book carefully on the shelf, speaking more to myself than to Danny. "The word _you_ was underlined, and now it makes sense. It's a gilt edged book about guilt ‒ a crime. So why was _seeking_ underlined?"

"Why indeed? What is the neighbour on the right of your bull's eye, Abi?"

We both looked at the title of a green book called _Odes_ by someone I'd never heard of. Then we looked at the book immediately to the left of Victor Hugo's _History of a Crime_. It was a smartly bound book of poetry by Tennyson. To its left was a dark red volume simply called _Poems_ by Charles Kingsley. Strangely, the one on the right side of Victor Hugo's book, next to _Odes_ , was a slightly slimmer _Poems_ by Charles Kingsley.

I looked at Danny. "How many books away would count as a near neighbour? Hey, perhaps the neighbour is above or below, not left or right."

"Nice thinking, Abi, but there are history books immediately above, and I've been looking at the row of poetry books below. I think you're right when you say there's a cryptic clue in _seeking_ being underlined. Seeking, seeking, seeking."

I laughed and pointed to the book of _Poems_ by Charles Kingsley. "Seeking. C King, C Kingsley. Get it, Danny?"

Danny gave me a hug. "You're the Cryptic Queen, Abi. There are two almost identical volumes here, one on the left and one on the right of Victor Hugo's book. Don't touch them yet. Left or right?"

I gave an exaggerated sigh. "I can't think of everything, Danny. You say."

Danny went for the slimmer volume on the right and carefully removed it from its place. "The valuer always placed the books on the table before opening them," he explained. "He said it protects the binding."

He carried it to the table where he laid it flat and opened it gently, as though something was going to jump out into his face. Nothing did.

The first two pages were blank. So nothing signed by Charles Kingsley. The next page had the word POEMS all alone in the middle. Then over the page, POEMS again in larger font with Charles Kingsley's name and the London publishers. There was the date 1892.

The next page showed in minute italic font that the book had first been published in 1871, reprinted time after time until 1891. Must have been exciting times! Nothing had been added in handwriting.

Very gently Danny flicked through the pages. Nothing seemed to be trapped between them, and there didn't seem to be any handwriting. He closed it and placed it back on the shelf.

"It must be in the other volume," I said, demonstrating just how astute I could be. It's important for blondes to demonstrate it from time to time.

Without making a comment, Danny removed the slightly fatter volume that was also covered in dark red cloth. Maroon might be a better description. This had to be it.

Again he laid the book flat on the table before opening it carefully, and again the first page was blank, but the next had writing on it. At the top it said E. O. Oliphant Birthday 1891.

"Cracked it! I told you this was the volume!" I said, sounding excited.

"I don't get it," Danny said, looking closely at the handwriting.

"Oliphant," I said, pointing to the writing. Then I burst out laughing. "Sorry, Danny, I just said that to see your puzzled face. I love it when you screw it up in deep thought. No, Oliphant is just someone's name."

Danny rolled his deep blue eyes. "You're a clown, Abi, and I love you. You had me going there for a moment."

We turned the pages and they were identical, apart from the publishing date of 1889. Over the page was the usual stuff in very small italic font listing the various reprints. It turned out that this 1889 printing was called a New Edition.

"Great," Danny said with a groan. "That means there are probably some word differences between the two editions, and if you work your way through both books, Abi, and write down any differences, we may be nearer solving the puzzle."

I didn't know if he was serious or not, but reading the whole book of Charles Kingsley's poems would be bad enough, without having to read it twice. I asked Danny to bring the first volume across and he laid them side-by-side on the table.

Handling the books carefully, I checked a few poems at random to see if they were on the same page numbers. They were. I didn't know if it was good news or bad, but it might have some significance.

I flicked through a few pages. "This is starting to make my brain hurt. Is this the sort of thing that counted as entertainment before the invention of television and computers? No wonder people died young in those days."

Danny looked at me as though he was uncertain if I was joking or not. To tell the truth, I wasn't sure either, but this sort of thing was not for me. It made me realise just how much the world had changed. Whether it had changed for richer or poorer, for better or for worse, I had no idea. Where did those words come from? Okay, I couldn't get the wedding vows out of my mind every time I looked at my sparkly diamond ring.

"You surprise me, Abi," Danny said, giving me a squeeze. "Happy Button. That's what we called you at school. You are always laughing and making jokes about things." He squeezed a little bit more tightly. "Some of us called you the Happy Bookworm, because of your love of books. You should be right in your element here."

"I know I was a bookworm. Still am. I've always loved reading. Love stories and ... well, love stories." I gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I won't need to read them now. I have the real thing." How mushy can you get!

"I think the words New Edition only apply to the binding," Danny said. "I was only pulling your leg about reading every word in the two editions. The thicker one is on better quality paper. That's all." He looked at his watch. "I think we've done enough, Abi. We only came to check that the hallway didn't have anything to do with the cryptic clue. It's up to Mr Newton's nephews and nieces now."

I felt disappointed to be giving up at this stage. "One more try?"

Danny shook his head firmly. "Time to set the alarm, lock up, and go. You've got me and you've got your ring. What more could you possibly want?"

I ran to Danny, throwing my arms around him. "I love you, Danny. You are definitely all I need." To anyone listening, that might have sounded rather soppy ‒ but no one was listening, not even Isaac Newton (I hoped), so I wasn't bothered. Yes, time to set the alarm, lock up, and go. And time to get a most welcome breath of fresh air.

Chapter 9

On the steps outside, I watched Danny start to lock the front door with the double security locks. I turned round to find four people coming through the front gate. I now know them as Richard, Michael, Esther and Alice Newton: Isaac Newton's four nephews and nieces.

"We thought you'd be here," said the one I was soon to discover was Richard, the oldest. "It's this crazy will," he said as the four came up the steps towards us. I almost felt threatened.

Danny finished locking the door and put on his professional smile. "I can't discuss anything with you here," he said, sounding surprisingly firm. "You each have a copy, and you will have the opportunity on Monday to select what you want. You're Richard, aren't you?"

Richard nodded. The four seemed to be in their late twenties to mid thirties.

"Well, Richard," Danny said, "under the terms of your uncle's will, you're lucky. You get to go first."

"That's not fair," the other three said almost in unison.

"Richard might already have solved it, which means we get almost nothing," the other young man said. By deduction he had to be Michael. Cryptic clues aren't the only puzzles I can solve.

"Good luck with that," I said.

"Do _you_ know the answer, miss?" one of the nieces said. I didn't know if it was Esther or Alice, and quite honestly I didn't want to know. Three of the four seemed odious, and were badly dressed. It wasn't designer gear ‒ more like grunge wear. Of course, they might be dressed for a treasure hunt in the filthy house, but more likely they just needed the money. I reckoned they would be getting quite a lot from the house and contents, even if they missed the jackpot.

Richard shook his head. "We've been waiting for years for the old guy to snuff it – and now the stupid duffer has set us some sort of crazy puzzle."

Not quite the way to speak about the dead ‒ or the living, come to that. Danny had said they weren't married, which didn't surprise me. They seemed so unpleasant. When I looked more closely I could see the youngest, a girl perhaps a couple of years younger than me, actually seemed different. Civilized would be a good description, in spite of the old clothes she was wearing.

I know you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, although looking at the covers of most of the books in the study I could surely judge that the majority came under the heading of boring ‒ or maybe exceptionally boring. And if I were to judge Isaac Newton's two nephews and one of his nieces, I would put them high on the scale of lazy and not very bright. Of course, they could be highflying geniuses. Well, they could be.

At that moment Danny's phone rang. He slipped the keys into his briefcase before answering it. He confirmed his name and then listened anxiously. He turned away, and I guessed it was none of my business, although I did think I caught a word that sounded like Pete. I walked to the bottom of the stone steps to give him some privacy.

The younger girl, the decent looking one, stayed back as the remaining three immediately surrounded me. "You know the answer, don't you?" Richard said. "Tell us what it is, and we'll share the money with you."

I shook my head. "Even if I did know, and I don't, there's no way I'd do that."

Richard moved to stand in front of me, very close. I felt anxious, although with Danny at the top of the steps I should be safe. "I think you know the answer, so let's share the takings. Okay?"

I stood my ground. "Just leave me alone. I'm not telling you anything, except to let you know I find you offensive." I can speak my mind when I'm pressed.

The other brother came forward. Michael. "I know all about you. Where you work. Imagine how it would sound if someone fell ill in your coffee shop. It would be on the local news and the local paper. Nothing to do with us. Just thinking aloud, and hoping you never suffer such a misfortune. It could destroy your business."

I desperately wished Danny was with me to hear this threat. Although it was indirect, it had to be against the law.

"It's to do with poetry, isn't it, miss?" This was either Esther or Alice again. "The old loony has lots of poetry books. We all know that. He used to make us look at them before he'd give us any money, and we had to read them to him. Stupid old man. Thought he was educating us or something. Go on, tell us if it's something to do with those old books."

Again I shook my head. "It's your problem, not mine."

"What were you both doing in there just now?" Richard demanded.

I looked back up the steps to where Danny was still standing by the front door. He had his briefcase on the ground and the phone glued to his ear. I wasn't going to get any help from him.

Clearly the three had no understanding of the need for privacy. Three of them ran up the steps to where Danny was still on the phone, and crowded round him. One of the girls stayed behind. Not the one who had confronted me just now. There wasn't much I could do to help Danny, and he probably didn't need my help anyway.

Danny turned to them irately. "Go back down the steps. You have no business here until Monday. Go away, I'm on the phone."

There seemed to be a bit of a scuffle, and then the three looked at each other and nodded. I wasn't sure what had happened, but Danny seemed unhurt. Looking sheepish, they made their way down the steps and stood facing me.

"You'd better tell us," one of the girls said.

"Esther is right," Richard said. "We can make trouble for you."

I was starting to get the names together now. Esther had just confronted me, so it must be Alice who was standing back, looking embarrassed by her siblings' behaviour. She was clearly the younger sister, painfully thin and badly dressed. I immediately felt sorry for her.

Michael was at it again. "We can either share the money with you, or we can make trouble for you. And your poncy boss up there in the suit won't be able to help you."

I shook my head. "Don't you get it? I don't _know_ the answer to the clue. And even if I _did_ know, there's no way I would share it with you. You heard what Mr Wells said. _Go away_ _!_ "

They looked at each other, nodded, and went off together. I was amazed my voice carried so much authority ‒ but wow, such power.

Danny finished his call, and I ran up the steps to him. He looked disturbed by the phone call, and I felt shaken by the encounter with Isaac Newton's ghastly relatives. I gave him a hug, which I hoped would make both of us feel better.

"That lot just threatened me," I grunted. "I'm surprised old Isaac Newton had _anything_ to do with them. They even said.... What? What is it? You look really worried."

"That was Hayley on the phone. Melanie gave her my number. You gave it to Melanie to put in her contacts for emergencies. It's Pete," he said slowly.

Of course I always suspect the worst, and I felt my stomach lurch. "Is he dead?"

Danny shook his head, but he didn't smile. "He's been picked up by the police. Hayley thinks they're going to charge him with theft. You'd better come with me."

Danny and I hurried off in the car to see Pete. Contrary to my expectations, Danny said he wasn't locked up in a cell in the police station, but had been let out pending enquiries. He'd gone to Hayley's house for help.

"And Hayley was the one who suggested contacting me, as a solicitor," Danny said.

At least Pete wasn't dead, but what on earth persuaded him to get involved in a theft? He'd probably lose his place in college, and he'd almost certainly seen the last of Hayley. I doubted Melanie would want to keep him on at Button Up. I wasn't sure I would, either. I'd thought his run-in with the police a couple of years ago had been a one-off. It seemed I'd been wrong.

I'd not seen Hayley's house before, or met her parents. She lived in a semi-detached council house on the estate to the east of the town. The garden was tidy and the front door was a modern one, with a small enclosed porch.

To me, putting on my detective's hat, I knew Hayley's parents had bought the house from the local council. Whenever anyone opted to buy a council house they had lived in for some time, the purchaser always changed the front door and the windows. It was a way of saying, "It's mine now!" And why not?

We were invited in by a man I presumed was Hayley's dad, and found Pete sitting alone at the table in the small kitchen. He looked completely miserable, which didn't come as a surprise.

"I didn't do it, Abi," he said, as we came into the room. "Honest I didn't."

I couldn't tell if Pete was telling the truth or not, but he certainly looked scared.

The man was indeed Hayley's father, and he invited us all into a room he called the lounge where Hayley's mum was sitting. She had tears in her eyes. I wondered if she was sorry for Pete, or for Hayley having become friendly with a dangerous criminal. Well, that might be an exaggeration, but in my experience mothers always exaggerate bad situations. Judging by mine, anyway.

"I didn't do it," Pete repeated, coming in to join us. "It's a case of mistaken identity. I wasn't anywhere near."

Then the story came out. From the reaction of Hayley's parents, it was clear they already knew about Pete's previous misdemeanour. I say _previous_ misdemeanour, but it wasn't at all clear that he had committed another ‒ even though the police were apparently convinced.

The police claimed he had been identified on CCTV, hanging around outside a pub waiting for closing time. Then he disappeared round the back for half-an-hour, and reappeared with a large backpack that was clearly full. The pub till had been emptied, and several bottles of expensive spirits taken.

"But it wasn't me," Pete insisted. "I kept telling them that, but they still say they're going to charge me."

"Do they have any other evidence," Danny asked. "Fingerprints or anything?"

Pete turned on Danny almost angrily. "Of course they don't! I told you, I wasn't there. I was somewhere else."

"That's good," Danny said calmly. "Can you prove where you were? Any witnesses?"

I was pleased to see how composed Danny could be. It obviously went with being a good solicitor – even a junior one.

Pete shook his head but said nothing.

"You must say where you were," Danny explained. "If you can prove you were somewhere else, there can be no evidence. Were you with someone?"

Again Pete shook his head, and again he said nothing. All he did was continue to look miserable.

"Were you with Hayley?"

"Certainly not," Hayley's mother said. "Hayley was here with her cousin John. John is staying with us for a few days. We were all watching television at half past ten last night."

The same thought occurred to me and to Hayley at exactly the same moment. "Were you with another girl?" Hayley demanded. "Go on, tell me. Tell me if you were." Then she started to cry.

I thought Pete would deny it immediately, but he said nothing. Instead, he looked at Hayley with sad eyes and shook his head.

Hayley smiled through her tears. "I'm sorry, Pete. I knew you wouldn't have been with another girl." She turned to her mother. "There you are, Mum, I told you he wasn't seeing anyone else. We love each other too much."

I looked from Hayley's mother to her father. I wasn't sure he was entirely convinced, but he looked more convinced than Hayley's mum. "Now Mr Wells is here," Hayley's father said, nodding, "he'll get to the truth."

At that moment everything went crazy. There was a ring at the doorbell and two young male police officers stood there. They said they had a warrant to search the premises for stolen goods. They explained they'd sent a team to search Pete's house at the same time, and because they knew Pete was friendly with Hayley, they suspected he might have hidden the goods at her house.

The reaction of Hayley's parents was predictable: they sounded shocked. "You've no right to come here accusing us of harbouring the proceeds of crime," Hayley's father said, angrily.

One of the officers handed him the warrant. "I'm sure you'll find it's all in order, sir."

Danny took over and explained he was a solicitor. He inspected the search warrant closely. He seemed satisfied, but at that moment his phone rang.

"Excuse me a moment," he said, disappearing into the kitchen. I wondered what could be so urgent. There seemed to be a stand-off between the police and Hayley's parents as we waited for Danny to return.

He came back a couple of minutes later. "I'm sorry," he said, "but I have to go on urgent business."

"More urgent than this?" I asked, probably sounding rather angry. How could Danny turn his back on Pete?

"It's Mr Newton's house," Danny explained to me. "The police have caught some trespassers."

"His nephews and nieces?"

Danny nodded. "That's who they claim they are. I need to identify them and discover how they got in ‒ _and_ what they were doing there. The police want to charge them with illegal entry, but it seems they had keys and knew how to switch off the alarm." He turned to Hayley's parents. "I'm sorry, but this is really urgent. I have to go."

"But what about the police and their search warrant?" Hayley's father asked.

"The search warrant seems to be in order," Danny said. "I'm sorry, but you'll have to let them carry out their search. But don't worry, I'll be back as soon as I can. I'm sure Pete is innocent. They'll not find anything incriminating."

I certainly hoped Pete was innocent, was almost certain he was, but I couldn't help wondering what might be lying about the place. Nothing illegal, but personal and embarrassing things in various bedroom drawers. The neighbours would already be having a field day if they'd noticed the police car parked outside ‒ and it was hardly difficult to spot.

"Abi, I want you to take over my role as their solicitor and give them good legal advice," Danny said, looking me straight in the eyes.

No he didn't. He just dashed off in his Kia, forgetting to take me with him. Perhaps deliberately leaving me behind. I think he said something about Pete and Hayley needing my support at this difficult time. So I was stuck with Hayley and her parents ‒ and Pete. What a mess.

Chapter 10

One of the police officers went outside to search the garage and small garden shed. The other stayed with us, presumably to make sure we didn't dispose of any evidence.

Then they searched the living room ‒ the lounge ‒ where we were and didn't find anything of interest. Then the first officer stayed with us and his colleague sounded as though he was going through the kitchen cupboards. He called Hayley's father, and I could hear a brief discussion, ending in laughter.

All well so far.

Then the searchers went through the cupboard under the stairs, then the downstairs cloakroom, and finally the bedrooms. Amazingly, they even fetched a ladder from the garage and checked out the roof space. That certainly brought back memories of the time I looked into Ivy Smith's loft!

"We're done here," the more senior of the two officers said. At least, I guessed he was the more senior. Although they were both young, he was the one who told the other officer to do most of the searching, while he sat with us.

Hayley's parents looked at each other, and then her father turned to Pete. "You'd better tell us exactly where you were last night," he said. It was the first time I'd met the man, but he sounded genuinely concerned. I guess many fathers of an eighteen-year-old girl would have been pretty antsy by now with a boyfriend accused of theft.

I decided to intervene. "Pete, my advice to you is to tell us," I chipped in. Well, two can play at being solicitors!

Pete shook his head. "It doesn't matter where I was. I wasn't anywhere near that pub. I swear I wasn't. You've got to believe me, Abi. I've never done anything wrong at Button Up, have I?"

It was my turn to shake my head. "Pete, can't you trust us, if you weren't doing anything wrong?"

"I was on my own, Abi."

Still wearing my _very_ junior solicitor's hat ‒ ha ha ‒ I said, "Someone might have seen you. Someone who knows you, even if you didn't see _them_. Think, who might have seen you out last night at half past ten?"

Pete just sat there looking miserable.

I tried again. "Look, Pete, you're in serious trouble. If you say you weren't anywhere near the pub, and I believe you, just say exactly _where_ you were."

Hayley would have moved and sat by Pete, but I could see her parents were viewing Pete with a certain amount of suspicion.

"Tell us, Pete," Hayley begged. "I don't want you going to prison."

I could see no mileage in pestering Pete for an alibi. If he had one, surely he would have let us know by now. Then it occurred to me that he might have been doing something equally dishonest, or even _more_ dishonest, if he didn't want to say where he'd been.

"Were you out with friends?" Hayley's father asked, rather aggressively I thought. "Lads like you can get mixed up with a bad lot."

Pete said nothing.

"Danny will be back soon, I'm sure," I said brightly. Well, not exactly brightly, but I was trying to lift the gloom that had descended on the house.

I heard someone at the door, and a young man came in who I guessed was Hayley's cousin, John. "What's the police car doing outside?" he asked, and he pointed to Pete. "It's you, isn't it? I knew you were no good for Hayley."

Immediately, Pete jumped to his feet. "You take that back!"

John shook his head. "What's he been doing?" he asked no one in particular.

Then the two police officers came downstairs and into the living room. "All done," the first officer said. "Sorry to put you to any inconvenience, but a break-in at the pub is a serious business, bearing in mind the whole day's takings were stolen."

John pointed at Pete. "You get out of this house now," he demanded.

Once again Pete denied his involvement. "It's all a mistake, based on someone on CCTV who looks a bit like me. That's all."

"How would the police know about you? You have a criminal record, do you?" Cousin John turned to his uncle and aunt. "Did you know about this? How could you let Hayley mix with a known criminal?"

"Stop it, John," Hayley said. "It was two years ago, and it wasn't anything serious. Pete let me and my mum and dad know about it when we first started going out. So keep out of this."

But John clearly wasn't going to keep out of it. He began shouting at Pete, telling him again to get out of the house. Rather to my surprise, Pete stood up and went to the door. "Don't worry, John, I'm going. I can't stand being in the same room as you. And keep your hands off Hayley. I know what you're trying to do. She's your cousin. You should know better than to try it on with her."

I saw Hayley's parents look at each other and then at John. "Is this true?" Hayley's mum asked.

"He's talking nonsense. Why would I be interested in Hayley?"

I could see from the parents' reaction that something had been triggered in both their minds. Perhaps they'd subconsciously sensed it earlier. I heard Pete opening the front door. "Hold on, Pete, I'm coming with you. You don't deserve this sort of treatment."

As I began to close the front door behind us, I could hear John shout, "What _you_ deserve is prison!"

I got the feeling Pete was glad I'd come out with him. Perhaps he was going to confide in me. Well, I wouldn't say anything straight away. I'd let him be the first to speak.

We stood in the garden for a couple of minutes not saying a word, then Pete said, "I'm walking home. You can come with me if you like."

I took this as an invitation to pry a little. "Are you going to tell me?"

"I'm going to go to prison anyway," Pete said. "I'm in real trouble."

Then he put his arm round me. Not in an affectionate way, I'm sure, but maybe he saw me as his only hope. "You told me I'd go to prison," he said.

I shook my head. "No I didn't, Pete," I protested. "I told Hayley's mum and dad I thought you were innocent."

Pete suddenly let go of me. Perhaps he realised what he'd been doing. Not that I minded. I really wanted to help the kid. "Not today. Yesterday."

"What did I tell you yesterday?" Then I understood everything. "You were looking in through the curtains of Hayley's house last night. Yes?"

Pete nodded miserably. "Not just looking. I took some photographs. But I turned the flash off first."

"Where?" I asked in panic. "Her bedroom? The bathroom when she was having a shower?" Yes, I decided, Pete might end up in prison. He would certainly end up with some sort of police record.

"Of course not," Pete said firmly. "As if I'd do a thing like that. I wanted to see what John was up to. Was he sitting on the sofa with his arm round Hayley? I'd never do anything sneaky."

It sounded pretty sneaky to me, but certainly not in an indecent way. "What sort of camera did you use?" There, the solicitor was coming out in me. Or was it the detective?

"It was only my phone. I didn't know the police would come looking for me. I must delete the photos straight away." And he pulled out his phone and switched it on.

"Hold on a moment, hero," I said. "Those photographs could be vital evidence that you weren't at the pub."

Pete was still fiddling with his phone. "I could have taken them at any time," he said. "They won't prove anything. Leave me alone while I delete them."

I was having none of it. Before Pete could react, I snatched the phone from him and held it behind my back. "When you take a photograph with your phone, it logs the date and exact time of day. It will even show on the map where you took it, if you have the location set."

Pete shook his head, and he didn't seem to be making any effort to retrieve his phone. Perhaps he was hoping to catch me unawares, as he was when I took it in the first place. I transferred it to my other hand behind my back and held it firmly. That should fool him for a few seconds if he tried to get it.

"You told me Peeping Toms could go to prison," he said with a deep sigh. "I can't see any point in proving I was here last night. Even if the police don't charge me for the break-in at the pub, Hayley's mum and dad will tell Hayley she's never to go near me in the future. I can't win either way."

Yes, he had a point. The question was, which was the worse crime ‒ theft, or taking pictures through people's curtains at night? Danny would know. Where was he? He ought to be back by now. I'd contact him to ask him where he was, but Pete might retrieve his phone and delete all his pics while I was using my own phone.

I noticed Pete looking slightly calmer. "Let's go into the park," I suggested. "We need to look at this sensibly. When Danny comes he can give us the benefit of his experience. The more I think about it, I reckon you ought to admit to taking the photographs through Hayley's window. That should give you a good alibi, and the police won't be able to pin the pub break-in on you."

"They wouldn't even let me see the security video with whoever looks like me on it. I don't think that's fair. I asked them if they'd found fingerprints and they said the crime was still being investigated, and they were giving me a caution of intended prosecution. Great, you aren't going to want me at Button Up now. And I'll probably have to give up my evening course at college."

We sat on a bench together away from any eavesdroppers. "You have to trust me, Pete. I'm giving you your phone back. Promise me you won't delete the pictures. Just open the folder and show them to me. I'm sure they'll be all right." As long as they don't show Hayley in the shower, or getting undressed ready for bed. Why did my suspicious mind keep coming up with these thoughts?

Meekly, Pete opened his photo gallery and handed the phone to me. I hardly dared look. Did I have reason to be so suspicious of the boy? There were only four photographs taken of what was clearly the living room of Hayley's house. These were followed by another Pete had taken in daylight, presumably today, showing the outside of somebody's house. "Is this your house?" I asked. I hoped I sounded interested rather than aggressive. I could see a glimmer of hope here.

Pete went to take the phone back from me. "You've seen them now, Abi. Let me delete them all before the police find them. They'll probably claim I've deleted all the private ones, anyway, so I might as well get rid of these."

I shook my head and kept hold of the phone. "Even if you delete them on your phone, they may still be in the cloud. No, don't look at me like that. These pictures will prove you weren't at the pub, and that you weren't committing a serious offence at Hayley's house." I pressed a couple of keys. "Look, every one of these pictures shows that between ten forty-five and eleven o'clock last night you were taking them in Hayley's road. And this is clearly Hayley's living room. And there's nothing obscene here, if you'll pardon my directness."

I guessed I was right in my deductions. Four people sitting watching television wasn't exactly an obscene act, although what was on the television might have been. But I couldn't see the television from the angle at which the photographs had been taken. "And the next picture in the sequence is somebody's house. Yours?"

"I cut the hedge last night for my dad. He's got a bad back at the moment. I was proud of what I'd done, and took the photograph early this morning. See? But I don't see that proves anything. I didn't, but I might have deleted all the ones you're suggesting were ... you know ... obscene."

I shook my head. "Pete, I thought you young guys were whiz kids with phones and computers. Haven't you realised that every time you take a photograph it not only records the time and location, it gives the sequential number? So the file number of anything you deleted would be missing. See, all the numbers are in sequence right up to the last one. This is definitely going to prove you're innocent of the pub break-in. Aren't you glad?"

"I really love Hayley," Pete muttered. By the street light I could see his eyes were wet, and he swallowed hard. "I'll never be allowed to see her again. And all because of her cousin John. I'm sure he's making moves on Hayley, although she doesn't see it. That's the only reason I took the pictures. And look, see how close they're sitting."

I took the phone and had another look, enlarging the relevant part of the image with my fingers. Hayley seemed to be glued to whatever was showing on the TV, and although John was sitting close, he didn't have.... Okay, he _did_ have his arm along the back of the sofa behind Hayley's head, but I couldn't see any hanky-panky taking place. Hanky-panky is my mother's expression. When I was in my teens she warned me not to get up to any hanky-panky with the boys. That's another of those expressions you don't even need to interpret. Even if you don't know exactly what it means, it conveys everything necessary.

What had Pete been thinking when he took these pics? It wasn't as though I hadn't warned him. I could sympathise with him in some way, because it's not nice to suspect someone of being unfaithful. Anyway, I had thrown my tiny trainee solicitor's hat in the bin. I needed Danny to come and sort this out, before I made things worse for Pete.

Pete said he was walking home, and I phoned Danny and asked him to pick me up in the road outside Hayley's house.

Chapter 11

"It was a neighbour who phoned the police," Danny said when we finally met up. "An older woman who has lived in the road for years."

I had already explained Pete's dilemma in choosing which of the two crimes to admit to, and Danny seemed to be taking it surprisingly calmly. "He needs to see Hayley's parents and tell them what he's done," was Danny's advice. "Hopefully, there'll understand Pete's concerns about her cousin. If, as you say, the pictures only show the family watching television, he's not likely to be in trouble with the police. Whether Hayley's parents will ever let them meet up again is another matter."

Danny and I sat in a small restaurant in town, and updated each other on what had been happening.

"What made the neighbour suspicious?" I asked, placing my hands on top of Danny's as we sat opposite each other waiting to be served. No, it wasn't Parke's. I wasn't in any hurry to be served, either. It was good to have Danny back.

"The neighbour along the road knows it's unoccupied. If she's on her own, she says she hurries past because she feels she's picking up some sort of bad vibes, according to her explanation, even though her husband says it's all nonsense. So you can imagine her concern today when she heard shouting coming from the house."

I could identify with that.

"So against her better judgement she waited around to see exactly where the noise was coming from. Then she saw a couple of young people at the window, and they seemed to be tipping furniture over. She decided some vandals had got in, and it was her duty to phone the police. And she did. Of course, she hoped she wasn't reporting a family who had bought the house and were now clearing it ready to live there."

I shuddered. "No one is going to buy that house. The nephews and nieces will have to sell it as a building plot. The place is a wreck, and far too creepy to live in."

Danny nodded. "I couldn't agree more. I gather there's no preservation order on it. I suppose someone might restore it, but the grounds are large enough for a luxury house, or maybe a couple of high quality smaller houses. With the woodland at the back and side, it's almost in the country, like yours is."

"How did they get in?"

I thought Danny looked a bit awkward. "You remember when I got the phone call about Pete, as I was locking the door?"

"Of course. Three of them went up the steps to you and there was a bit of a scuffle. You had your briefcase with your keys in it on the ground, and.... What a nerve! But why didn't they set the alarm off?"

"That's easy. Don't forget, they visited their uncle from time to time."

"Only when they needed money."

"That's when they learnt the code. They took a chance on it not being altered since their uncle died. I feel Branks, Davis & Waters were a bit remiss there, bearing in mind the house contains antiques and collectables."

"So what were the four of them doing?"

"Causing mayhem. They'd pulled out all the cushions and turned the armchairs and sofas upside-down looking for treasure. They'd pulled out drawers to make sure nothing was taped to the back or underneath. And the books. They'd shoved them back on the shelves in any old order, and some of the valuable bindings have been damaged."

"Then they're idiots," I said quickly. "They're selling all that stuff once they've chosen their six items each. Why damage anything?"

"They were looking for the so-called treasure. They had agreed to share it equally, rather than risk one of the others getting the lot. You and I thought it was to do with poetry, but I think they were too stupid to even get that clue. All except one of the nieces."

"Which one?"

Danny glanced round to see if a waiter was hovering. No one. Perhaps they were leaving us to have a private time together as a romantic couple. Well, I was enjoying just sitting there chatting with Danny.

"Since you're so clever at puzzles, Ms Button, let me put her name to you in a riddle I remembered hearing a long time ago."

I groaned. "Not a cryptic clue, please, Danny. I'm tired out, what with Pete and Hayley."

"I think you'll find this one really clever. What was the disease Christopher Robin caught when he hoped to see the King?"

Pete, Hayley, Hayley, Pete. That was all I could think about at the moment. And Danny of course. Then I got it. Should I give him the answer straight away, or pretend he'd set me a really difficult puzzle?

"You want me to give you any help?"

"Danny, it's clever, but I've got it. The answer is Alice. Christopher Robin went down with Alice when they went to see the changing of the guards, and hoped to see the King. Yes?"

Danny pretended to look disappointed. "Well, if you're so clever, why can't you solve Mr Newton's cryptic clue?"

I shrugged. "I'm slowly sharing Melanie's opinion that the man was crazy and only imagined he was setting a clue, but instead he wrote nonsense. Anyway, tell me more about Alice."

Danny signalled for a waiter to come, but he seemed to be beckoning into empty space. "She seems a decent young woman," he said. "I think she didn't really want to break in, but of course she didn't want to miss out on her share."

"I take it they didn't have any luck."

"As far as I can tell, the basement, the bedrooms and every cupboard was searched."

"Have they been arrested?"

Danny gave one of the wry smiles that I've come to love. "It's hard to see what offence they've committed. They inherit everything in the will."

"But they stole your keys."

"But only to get access to their own property. The keys are part of the house, so technically they belong to them. But don't worry, I've called a security engineer to change the locks and the alarm code immediately. I've told them the cost will be added to Branks, Davis & Waters _'_ invoice for probate and other legal fees. That sobered them up a bit. I don't think Branks, Davis & Waters will be pressing charges of trespass and damage."

To my surprise, a waiter appeared as if by magic. I sat back while Danny ordered the food. He ordered lasagne for himself, and tuna niçoise salad for me. Well, a girl has to stay slim while engaged. Once we're married, I shall probably sit on the sofa all day watching television and snacking, until I'm too heavy to get up to open the door to welcome my husband home. Oh, I really, really hope not. I don't find it too difficult to stay slim, especially when having the occasional salad and other low-calorie food, although I did have my eye on the exotic banana longboat illustrated on the dessert menu.

"Well," I said, "it's Sunday tomorrow. What are we doing after church?"

"I don't like to talk business, but I think I need to have a chat with Pete, and tell him it would be better to confess to the lesser offence, rather than take the rap for the pub break-in and definitely get a criminal record. We can offer to go with him to see Hayley's parents if he wants some support."

I knew Danny didn't like working on Sunday, but surely in situations like this it came under the heading of pulling animals out of deep holes, to quote Jesus.

My salad was surprisingly filling, because it was surrounded by breadsticks. Warm bread sticks. Yum, with leaves of gem lettuce with onion, tomatoes, black olives, beans and potatoes, with flaked tuna chunks in brine. Not forgetting the anchovies and slices of hard-boiled egg.

In spite of feeling full, I managed to stuff myself with the exotic banana longboat. If anything, it was even more exotic than the illustration on the dessert menu. I certainly know what to order if Danny invites me there again. Then it occurred to me that this being the age of equal opportunities, I could be the one to give the invitation. Probably next weekend. But I'd let him pay ‒ if he insisted.

The church Danny and I go to is informal, and also spiritual, concentrating on individual faith, rather than asking for nothing more than regular church attendance. I'd only been to church on special occasions since I grew up ‒ assuming I count as being grown up now. I was first taken to this church by a previous boyfriend who wanted to impress me with how righteous and honest he was. I was blown away by the great welcome I got, and by the feeling of friendship that pervaded the whole building.

It was on that first visit that I saw Danny. We'd been at school together, and he'd even given me a quick and embarrassing kiss when I was sixteen, but neither of us got turned on by it at the time. Anyway, Danny and I had chatted briefly before the service started, but I didn't give him another thought. Well, not much of one. I was far more interested in what was being said from the front. I had got the idea into my head that we only get to heaven if we earn enough gold stars, or brownie points, or whatever to qualify.

We had sung the golden oldie, _Rock of Ages_ , with the words, "Nothing in my hand I bring, Simply to Thy cross I cling." During the following week I learnt every single word of the hymn from the internet, and when we sang it again on the second Sunday I broke down.

The words went on to ask Jesus to wash us clean. And that's when I became aware of just how much I needed washing. Gold stars counted for nothing with God. So I went forward for prayer. Danny noticed and gave me a wink and a thumbs up as I came back. All I got from my boyfriend was a scowl and a reprimand for doing something so stupid.

We broke up almost immediately after that, but I kept going to the church, and Danny and I became more and more friendly. The rest is history.

A young woman with her back to me nodded to Danny as we went into church on Sunday. He smiled back at her, as though he knew her well. She had frizzy dark brown hair and was dressed in a black jacket and tight black skirt. I didn't recognise her from behind. The little green bug of jealousy started to whisper in my ear that this was not good news.

Danny turned to me. "This is Alice Newton," he said. "She's one of Mr Newton's nieces. I think you already met at Mr Newton's house. Alice, this is Abi, my fiancée."

It was no wonder I hadn't recognised Alice, seeing her now in clothes that were smarter than yesterday, but still old. She looked healthier and neater now she wasn't wearing what had looked like baggy hand-me-downs. I flicked the little green bug of jealousy away, and gave a genuine smile.

"Sorry, I didn't recognise you for a moment. You were with your two brothers and sister. And what a ghastly lot they are." No, I didn't add that last sentence, even though it was true. Instead, I said, "It's nice to see you here in church, Alice. You're very welcome." And I meant it. My genuine smile really was genuine.

I thought Alice looked embarrassed. "Oh, Abi, I'm so glad we've met away from my brothers and sister. I feel so ashamed of the way I behaved yesterday. I let myself get talked into searching for the clue to a fortune. I'm afraid my brothers and sister are so greedy for money they'll resort to anything, and I got caught up in it because I didn't want to miss out."

What could I say that would sound sensible? One of the brothers had threatened me and my business, but Alice had kept out of the way. "It's fine." There, was that sensible or not? Probably not.

"I expect you know our parents were killed in a boating accident when I was eighteen. Esther was just twenty, and Michael and Richard weren't much older."

That was news to me, and I shook my head.

"It was a great shock," Alice said. "But since our father and Uncle Isaac were brothers we thought he would provide for us. He helped us out generously at first, and we expected him to continue the handouts. But he became horribly mean with his money." She put her hand to her mouth. "No, I didn't mean that. He made sure we didn't starve, but he kept calling us spineless scroungers whenever we asked for more money, and told us to find work and support ourselves."

I wasn't clear whose side to be on. Even if Old Man Newton had a fortune, he might have felt it wasn't good for his brother's children to keep asking for money once they were old enough to work. But I also felt some empathy with Alice. "I imagine this caused quite a bit of resentment."

Alice nodded. "My brothers especially. I suppose we felt isolated in the world. Our parents were always hard up, and there was no compensation from the boating accident. It was judged to be their fault entirely, and we were left with a mountain of debts. So yesterday when we had the chance to solve this mysterious clue, we got carried away. Oh, Abi, I feel so bad about the way I've behaved in the past. I've got a job back home working in my local library. The others gave up their jobs as soon as they learnt Uncle Isaac was leaving us his house and contents."

The expression spineless scroungers came again to my mind. That certainly added up. I nodded. "I'm glad you still have a job."

Alice smiled. "But I feel so guilty about the things I've said about Uncle Isaac. I'm almost too ashamed to come to church today. I think the police would have charged us with something if your fiancé hadn't spoken up for us. You've got a lovely man there, Abi."

I thanked her. "What about you, Alice? Do you have a significant man in your life?"

I thought she looked embarrassed by the question. Maybe I'd presumed too much in thinking she would be close to a man. She was younger than me, I guessed, but certainly not too young to be interested in Danny.

"I've got Rupert," she said quietly. "Rupert Forrester."

I looked around, expecting to see the young man called Rupert, but Alice seemed to be on her own. She explained she and her siblings lived the other side of the country. Rupert Forrester was a mechanic in their local garage, and had to work yesterday, but she was expecting him later to give her some support during the so-called treasure hunt tomorrow, even though he wasn't allowed to be present during the search. It seemed he was suspicious of Alice's two brothers and sister and wanted to make sure she was treated fairly.

"We met at church when I first became a Christian, and we've been going out for nearly a year now. One day, of course we hope...." And she blushed as her voice tailed off. Then she added, "I don't think it will be for ages yet. We've hardly got any money, and we certainly won't be able to afford a house."

"Perhaps you'll both decide to settle here," I said, trying to save her some embarrassment. "I'm a co-owner of a coffee shop in town. Button Up. We don't open on Sunday, but you're welcome to drop in during the week. With Rupert, if you like."

"I do like your town, from what I've seen of it," Alice said, "and this looks as though it could be my sort of church. So thanks for the welcome. Is it all right if I sit with you?" She looked around. "I don't see anyone I know here."

"What about your sister and brothers?"

She seemed a little wistful. "I'm afraid church isn't their thing." She gave a slight laugh. "It wasn't my thing either, until eighteen months ago."

I gave her a big hug. It's the sort of thing we do in our church. "Longer than me. A few months ago I went to the front and gave myself to Jesus." I laughed out loud and prolonged the hug. "Alice, that means we're sisters. Sisters in Christ. Welcome!"

We quickly exchanged phone numbers and Alice came to sit with me and Danny.

We sing mostly modern worship songs in our church, but songs with words that have depth rather than the sort that you can sing without thinking about the words. We also have the occasional oldie, again with words that have great meaning. Hymns like _Rock of Ages_.

Talking with Alice had brought back memories of the time I first went to the front. My problem was my mistake in believing I could only get to heaven if I was good enough, and in my heart of hearts I knew I'd failed. I've not led a bad life, but there are things in my past, and even things in the present that I very much regret. Even though I knew I was now safe for eternity, I sometimes felt the past was like ropes holding me back from living a healthy Christian life.

Then, in the way God used the hymn _Rock of Ages_ to challenge me, He did the same with _And Can it Be_ , the closing hymn, by Charles Wesley. The pastor said Charles Wesley had written it immediately on becoming a Christian, realising it wasn't possible to work for forgiveness and heaven. In Charles Wesley's words, his chains had fallen off.

Yes, that was it exactly ‒ _chains_ , not ropes! So why did I still have mine, sometimes dragging me down with feelings of guilt for the past? I read the words, but didn't join in until we came to the fourth verse.

"Long my imprisoned spirit lay,

Fast bound in sin and nature's night;

Thine eye diffused a quickening ray,

I woke, the dungeon flamed with light;

My chains fell off, my heart was free,

I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

My chains fell off, my heart was free,

I rose, went forth, and followed Thee."

I loved the way the last two lines were repeated in every verse, just in case the point didn't get through the first time. In our church we can go forward for confidential prayer with the pastor or one of the small team, for all sorts of reasons. Could I go forward at the end of the service? Yes, I needed to get rid of those chains ‒ and properly understand that I really was free of them. The past was definitely forgiven.

When we came to the last verse, I could hardly wait to go forward. The words in that verse were _my_ words, not just Charles Wesley's.

"No condemnation now I dread;

Jesus, and all in Him, is mine;

Alive in Him, my living head,

And clothed in righteousness divine,

Bold I approach the eternal throne,

And claim the crown, through Christ my own.

Bold I approach the eternal throne,

And claim the crown, through Christ my own."

No condemnation to dread. Wow. Alice had been sitting by me on the outside of the row of chairs. When the hymn was finished and the invitation for prayer was given, I knew it was for me. I turned from Danny and went to ask Alice to let me past. But she was gone. Was she ever quick! She was already kneeling at the front. I went to join my sister in prayer.

Chapter 12

After church, Alice said she was meeting up with her brothers and sister at the small hotel where they were staying. I'd planned a light lunch for me and Danny back at mine, and then we were going for a drive. The weather forecast for the evening and overnight was really bad. The weather forecasters warned of a huge storm on its way. Although I don't normally believe weather forecasts, this one did seem to be true. So the sooner we got out on our drive into the countryside while it was still sunny, the better.

A phone call from Pete on the walk back from church put an immediate end to that.

"Please tell Danny I've been thinking about what he said," Pete said slowly, almost hesitantly. "I want to confess to Hayley's parents what I did, even if it means I never see her again. I did a stupid thing sneaking up to the house and taking those pictures. Is Danny with you? I'd like to have a word with him."

I passed the phone to Danny. "It's Pete. He wants a word."

The word, such as it was, was brief. It consisted mostly of Danny saying, "I see," and, "That's good."

Danny finished the call and handed the phone back. "Change of plan," he said. "Pete's phoned Hayley's parents and they've agreed to see him at two o'clock this afternoon ‒ with us."

"With _us_?"

Danny nodded. "He wants some moral support. It's a big thing he's doing."

"Well, it will put him in the clear with the police, so maybe it's not such a big thing."

"Pete didn't have time to tell you. The police have told him he's no longer part of their enquiries. They've picked up somebody else in connection with the crime, and have even apologised for accusing him in the first place. I think there's going to be a lot of trouble in the future with this facial recognition technology. It's useful, but it's not infallible."

"As the police have just discovered," I added. "You might be able to work your charms as you did with the Newton clan, and persuade Hayley's parents not to go to the police."

Well, all this trauma was going to take place at two o'clock, and we had plenty of time to get back for the light lunch I'd prepared. Yes, I was still keen to impress my fiancé with my diet. And when I came to think of it, Danny could do with losing a little bit of weight, although in truth I liked him exactly as he was.

We had to hurry our lunch in order to collect Pete on the way. He'd asked if we could take him with us, so we would all arrive at the same time. Yes, I could see he really wanted our support. Needed it, rather than wanted it.

As we approached Hayley's house in Danny's small car, I felt sick in the pit of my stomach. Hayley's parents seemed decent enough folk, but who knows how loving parents of an eighteen-year-old daughter will react when they discover the boyfriend has been sneaking pictures through the curtains late at night?

I had no doubt Hayley's cousin John had been stirring things up. Even if Hayley hadn't noticed it, Pete had seen signs that John was starting to make moves on her. Could cousins get married? I had a feeling it was unwise, but John and Hayley didn't have to be married to have what Pete had coyly described as "you know."

I've often noticed that people who don't want to use words like sex and death, find ways of conveying the meaning perfectly without needing to mention the word ‒ although I was sure Pete knew plenty of alternative words for sexual activity.

We pulled up in front of Hayley's house and Danny came round to open the door of his Kia for me. Although the car had back doors, Pete still hadn't undone his seatbelt.

"Come on, Pete," I cajoled him. "You've gone past the point of no return now." Then something occurred to me that gave me a jolt. "You've got your phone with you, I hope."

He merely nodded and showed me the phone, his seatbelt still latched in place.

So far so good. Now to the important bit. "And you've not deleted the pictures, have you?" The feeling in the pit of my flattish stomach made itself presence felt again, even more forcefully than it had on the way.

Pete nodded.

"What does that mean, Pete? Does it mean you've deleted them or not deleted them?"

This time Pete shook his head.

"Just tell me. Are the pictures still on your phone?" A nod or shake of the head would mean something now.

Fortunately, Pete nodded.

"Then undo your seatbelt and get out. Danny and I are here to support you."

I turned as I heard voices coming from the front door of Hayley's house. Hayley's father came down the path. I thought I must be mistaken. He was actually smiling. And to my amazement Hayley's mother was following him, also with a smile. I decided I must be going crazy. Going?

"Come in, Pete," Hayley's father said. "We're so glad you've come." He nodded to me and Danny. "You're all welcome."

Seeing the smiling faces, I recalled a childhood poem I'd learnt at school. So maybe poetry was my thing after all. _"_ _Will you walk into my parlour_ _?"_ _said the spider to the fly_ _, "'_ Tis the prettiest little _parlour_ that ever _you did_ spy." I could even remember the bit about the winding stair and the spider's offer to tuck the fly snugly up in bed.

I was six or seven when I first heard it, and I thought it was a deliciously nasty little poem, and I couldn't make up my mind whether to feel sorry for the fly or pleased for the spider. It was only later that I realised it was a boring morality tale about the dangers of listening to flattery. Not that Danny is ever guilty of flattery. When he tells me I'm gorgeous and beautiful, he's clearly telling the truth. Well perhaps there's a little bit of flattery involved, but with the most commendable motives.

This had to be a trick. Hayley's parents would get us inside, lock the front door, and give us such a dressing down that I would probably burst into tears. I can do that when I'm upset – no trouble.

We were quickly ushered into the spider's web. I wondered if being eaten by a spider was better than being eaten by an old witch living in a gingerbread house. Neither prospect seemed like fun. I think I must have had a disturbed childhood, reading too many scary stories and poems before I got hooked on reading about romance. And romance can be scary at times, too.

I thought I heard Hayley's father saying something about a misunderstanding. Perhaps the news that Pete was not involved in the break-in at the pub had reached them. And indeed it had.

"Pete," Hayley's father said, "we're sorry we were so quick to jump to conclusions that you were guilty of the theft. Really, really sorry."

"And now we want to thank you," Hayley's mother said.

Pete frowned, obviously sharing my puzzlement. I looked at Danny and he looked equally mystified.

"It's what you said to John last night," Hayley's mother said.

Pete looked round. "Where _is_ John? I thought he'd be here trying to make more trouble for me."

Hayley's dad took a deep breath. "He's gone. He left just after midnight."

"I don't understand," Pete said. "I thought he was here for a few more days. Was it some sort of emergency?"

I noticed Hayley had gone red. This must be something that involved her. Had she and John been caught in bed together? Well, it had to be something serious. I feared for Pete.

Hayley's mum held out her hand to Hayley, and mother and daughter sat close together.

"Pete, you were right to think John had intentions towards Hayley, although I have to say we weren't aware of it," Hayley's father said. He turned to Hayley. "You don't mind me telling them, do you, love?"

Hayley looked really embarrassed. "Go on, Dad. Pete ought to know."

Her father took another deep breath. "As soon as you walked out of the house, Pete, I realised John had been looking at my daughter with more than a little interest. Then I wondered why he'd been spending so long in the bathroom when he first arrived. He said he was having a shower, but I didn't hear the water running for long."

I could guess where this was going. Having a night vision camera in my back garden to keep an eye on the wildlife, I knew just how small video cameras can be.

"So I decided to investigate. Hayley, are you sure you don't mind me telling?"

If this was indeed going where I expected, I could see why Hayley would be embarrassed. But she just shook her head. I presumed the shake of the head meant she didn't mind, rather than she didn't want Pete to know. It can be very confusing when people nod or shake their heads without saying anything.

"I don't know how to say this," her father said. "You see, and this may come as a shock, Pete, but John had.... When he was in there ... he managed...."

"I'm guessing you found a hidden camera," I said, trying to help the poor man out of his embarrassment.

"That's terrible," Pete said. "Did he get pictures of ... of ... Hayley?"

"We don't know if he did or not," Hayley's mother said. "The camera had only been up there a couple of days. Sam took out the memory card and cut it in two, and then stamped on the camera in the back garden. He's got big feet."

I assumed Sam was Hayley's father. I glanced at his feet. Yes, he must be Sam.

"So whatever was on the camera has been destroyed. The camera wasn't on wi-fi or anything, and it was fixed in such a way that it wasn't possible to remove the memory card without removing the camera." The newly named Sam turned to Pete. "I think you have something you wanted to share with us."

"It seems you already know," Danny said quickly, before Pete could answer. "Isn't it good that he hasn't been charged?"

"But, but I‒‒‒‒" Pete started to say.

I looked at him and shook my head vigorously, hoping to convey the correct answer. "There's no need to say anything more, Pete," I assured him. "Enough is enough."

What he had done with the camera on his phone had been stupid, but his intentions had been honourable. It was thanks to those honourable intentions that John had been thrown out of the house ‒ before _his_ perverted intentions had been realised.

I saw a smile spread across Pete's face. A smile of relief. Fortunately he'd caught on to what Danny and I meant. He had taken his phone from his pocket as soon we arrived, and he winked at me as he slipped it back safely out of sight.

"Does that mean I can keep seeing Hayley?" he asked.

"Pete," Hayley's mum said, "you are welcome to come here anytime. Just as long as your intentions with our daughter are honourable."

I wondered if she had been going to say "no hanky-panky," but the word "honourable" meant more or less the same thing. Yet more proof that when it comes to matters of sex, in polite circles everything seems to be in code.

Danny and I stayed for a bit, and then I explained that we were going for a drive. Pete was invited to stay with Hayley and her parents for the rest of the day.

"Thanks," he said, as he saw us to the gate. "You've really got me out of a hole. But, Abi, you won't tell Melanie about what I did, will you?"

I assured him his secret was safe with me ‒ poor kid.

Chapter 13

"Did you get the keys back from the gang of four?" I asked, as Danny started his Kia and we waved goodbye to Hayley and Pete who were standing just outside the front door.

"You're not thinking of going there again, are you?" Danny said, as we rounded the bend out of sight of Hayley's house. "I thought you'd seen enough of the old place. I'm sure it's a hazard to health just going inside. The sooner they knock it down the better."

"I've been doing something unusual," I said dryly. "I've been thinking."

"And what brilliant thoughts have you come up with?"

I gave Danny a nudge, but not so hard that it knocked his steering off-line. "The more I think about it, the more sure I am that the book by Victor Hugo and the poetry books each side are essential to the clue."

"And?" As he said this, Danny had to brake hard as some kid kicked a football across the road. Fortunately the kicker didn't follow it.

"That's it. I think those books are the clue."

"Okay," Danny said slowly, "is that all you've been thinking?"

"You said the four siblings mucked around with the books, so are they still in the right order? I know it's their fault if they've messed up the clue, but I think we ought to put those few books back as they were, but not worry about all the others."

"Very noble of you," Danny said. "Such a thoughtful young lady. Of course, you're not thinking we could have another go at solving the clue."

Was it a statement or a question? I decided the man could read my mind. "Well, now you mention it, I suppose we could do that at the same time."

We were approaching the crossroads where turning left would take us out into the countryside, and straight ahead would take me to the road where I lived, and where Mr Creepy Old Isaac Newton had also lived.

We went straight ahead.

As soon as we were inside Isaac Newton's house, I was nearly knocked back by the stink. How could someone living on their own make the house smell like this, through and through? Well, there was one way I didn't want to think about.

I could see immediately just how much mayhem those four had caused. Nothing actually looked broken, but some of the chairs were overturned, and drawers from various chests were still on the floor where they had been discarded because there was no treasure there.

"I've been through Mr Newton's two bank accounts and he doesn't have a lot in either of them. That makes me wonder if the treasure could be hidden in the garden," Danny said. "I've still got a bit of the young boy left in me. You know, pirates and buried treasure and so on."

"Well," I said, " _you_ don't need to be digging for treasure in the garden. I'm _your_ treasure now." I can be surprisingly mushy when it comes to romance. It's all that reading.

Danny had the common sense not to comment. Then he said, "There's an old shed in the back garden. No, I've already checked there. Just a few garden tools. As you can probably guess, they don't seem to have been used for years. Nothing else of interest."

"It's poetry, Danny. Poetry in books. There's no poetry about gardens."

"There are _lots_ of poems about gardens," Danny protested. "What about _Come into the Garden, Maud_?"

"Okay, I give you that. But please, please don't sing it. Do you know who wrote it?"

"Alfred, Lord Tennyson. Any cryptic clues there, Abi?"

"I don't think the treasure is actually here, Danny. The siblings will be searching for written instructions on how to recover it. Probably something like the code to a Swiss bank account, or a crypto currency account. I guess we'll know it when we find it."

Danny shook his head. " _We're_ not here to find it. And I hope we don't come across it by accident. If we do, we may reveal some clues of our own. You know how these things can slip out."

I knew he was getting at me. Sometimes my mouth does seem to go its own way, but surely not for something as important as this. "Let's put the Victor Hugo book and the others back in the right order," I said, ignoring his implication.

The four siblings had certainly not taken any great trouble to replace the books in the order in which they had originally been placed. There were history books, geography books, economics and other subjects in a jumbled order. Victor Hugo's _The History of a Crime ‒ The Testimony of an Eye-Witness_ was still more or less where I thought it had been yesterday.

The copy of _Odes_ and the other book next to it on the other side were still there. We found the two dark red copies of _Poems_ by Charles Kingsley on the floor.

Danny thought the fatter one was originally to the left, but I thought the slimmer volume was there. In the end I conceded ground to Danny. He was probably much more observant than me, being trained to be a solicitor with an interest in the forensic side of crime. Perhaps that was balanced out by my innate nosiness. Oh well, I'd let Danny have his way. Today.

Needless to say, I took my time replacing the poetry books, finding it necessary to flick through the pages to make sure the books were undamaged. As yesterday, the pages were just pages of poetry, with nothing folded up and tucked between them. Nor could I see any pencil marks that might identify certain words that would spell out what we were looking for, when I arranged them in the right order. Correction, what Isaac Newton's _nephews and nieces_ would be looking for in the morning.

It was no business of mine whether the lazy scroungers ‒ or whatever it was Isaac Newton had called them in his will ‒ found the treasure or not. Well, it was of some interest to know the solution. I just love solving cryptic crosswords, even though as Melanie pointed out, I usually give up halfway through. I even cheat sometimes and look up the clues on the internet. No way do I claim to have completed a crossword that has completely stumped me.

I was feeling a bit queasy from bending down and standing up so many times, and I decided to sit at the table. Isaac Newton's paperwork was still spread out. I looked with interest to see how he had once worked the clues for his cryptic crosswords. It looked as though he had done them for two newspapers, one highbrow and one that was rather rudely referred to as a red top. But not for several years.

I could hear Danny moving furniture around in the next room. I couldn't see any sense in doing that, unless he was also hoping to find a clue. The nephews and nieces had messed the place up, and if they had damaged anything it wouldn't be worth so much. So they'd only hurt themselves in their pockets in their frantic search.

I discovered a word search that was in the process of being set. That really surprised me. How could a man who had once set cryptic crosswords in one of the leading highbrow papers lower himself to devise simple word searches? Ah, maybe he knew he was dying and deliberately left a clue in the word search. How ingenious would that be!

There were only three words filled in. _Caterpillar_ , _mother_ and _breakfast_. I gave up on that one, and kept eyeing the two poetry books by Charles Kingsley. The word "seeking" was underlined in the will. Seeking. C King. C Kingsley. That had to be it. If this was a cryptic crossword and it said two words, seven and eight letters, I wouldn't have thought twice about filling that name in the squares. Although I have to admit that on occasions I do mess up.

Danny said we had done all we came to do. It was time we had the delayed drive out into the wild blue yonder: a.k.a. the area up by the reservoir. At least we'd be going in daylight. What couples got up to at night wasn't what I had in mind right now. I'm not saying the thought of "you know" with Danny wasn't often on my mind, but we'd both discussed it and decided to wait. I knew that with Danny it would be very special ‒ and worth waiting for. And I _wouldn't_ be sharing any subsequent details with Melanie.

Chapter 14

We were sitting comfortably shoulder to shoulder in the rather cramped interior of Danny's small Kia, watching the storm clouds gathering, and of course discussing marriage plans ‒ what else! ‒ when my phone rang. I didn't recognise the caller ID and nearly didn't bother to answer it. But I did. I simply can't stop being nosy.

"Abi? Is that Abi Button?"

At least it wasn't a voice asking me if I'd been involved in an accident recently that wasn't my fault. I really hate getting those, and wonder how anyone can spend their time making nuisance calls. "Yes?" I said cautiously.

"This is Alice Newton. You gave me your number at church this morning."

Indeed I did. The poor girl sounded anxious. I'm calling her a girl, because she's slightly younger than me, and at thirty-two I'm still a girl, that's for sure.

"Can we talk?"

I wasn't sure if she meant was it convenient to talk on the phone now. If she wanted to meet me somewhere, well, if she did, Danny would have to come. I wasn't going to leave him now. I switched to speaker-phone so Danny could hear.

"Like now?"

"The four of us are staying in a hotel in the centre of town. The others have gone out to celebrate getting our Uncle's house, I think. Anyway, they've gone out. I didn't want to go with them. Rupert is here, and we want to have an urgent talk with you. Can we meet somewhere in town?"

I pressed the mute button and turned to Danny. "It's Alice Newton. Her boyfriend Rupert Forrester has arrived, and they need to see us urgently. Now, if we can make it. Is that okay?"

Danny started the engine and dropped the gearlever into reverse. So thoughtful. So typical of the man. The only other man I'd known like this was my father. They say girls marry men like their fathers. They also say women turn into their mothers when they grow up. Well, one out of two can't be bad. No, that's not fair. I love my mother in spite of her interfering ways.

"We're on our way, Alice. We'll pick you up at your hotel. Which hotel is it?"

She gave me the name and sounded relieved. I wondered what the urgent problem could possibly be. I looked at the sky. Those weren't just ordinary clouds. My dad called them anvil clouds. There was going to be one massive thunderstorm.

By the time we reached the hotel, I could hear rumbling in the sky. It was going to rain very soon, that was for sure. Alice and a young man were waiting in the hotel doorway for us, and they hurried out as soon as we arrived, looking skywards before diving into the back seats of Danny's Kia.

I twisted around in my seat to greet the man Alice introduced as Rupert. He wasn't at all what I'd been expecting. When Alice said he was a garage mechanic, I pictured a tough guy, but Rupert Forrester was quite slim, although wiry. Maybe there was more required for fixing modern cars than brute force.

Then the rain started. Not ordinary rain. It crashed down onto the little Kia before we drove off, and at the same moment lightning flashed across the sky. The loud crack of thunder followed almost immediately.

"Thanks for coming for us," Alice said as soon as the rumbling overhead quietened down.

Danny also turned. "You want to talk about something special?"

Alice nodded. I was still turned in my seat. I wondered for how much longer I would be this supple. My mum and dad would certainly have groaned a bit if they had tried to turn this far. I hoped the warm climate in Spain was easing their joints. So what hope did I have here in England with this rotten climate as I got older?

"We want to be open with you both," Alice explained. "Is there somewhere private we can go to talk?"

It struck me that the Kia was about as private as anyone could get, unless Alice thought it was bugged. Perhaps she thought it was rather cramped ‒ and it was, if they wanted a prolonged talk.

"You can come to mine," I said. "I live at the other end of your uncle's road. The small detached house. All the houses in the road were built for the workers at the cotton mill. We think your uncle's house was built for the mill manager."

"This, I can't wait to see," Rupert said. He seemed and sounded remarkably unruffled. "Alice says it's smelly and a complete disaster waiting for demolition."

"Rupert!" I heard Alice say. I didn't turn round to look, but from the grunt he gave I guessed she was giving him a dig with her elbow. "We're talking about Abi's road," she added.

That made me laugh. "Don't worry, Rupert, I've lived with that old house all my life. Over the years I've watched it fall further and further into disaster, as you call it. I'd love to see someone renovating it, rather than knock it down. There's something special about all the houses in this road being built for the cotton mill. Of course, it's going to go to Alice and her brothers and sister, so it's up to them what happens to it."

"I'd love to stop and have a look at it from the road if we're going that way to your house, Abi."

"We won't be able to go in today, Rupert," Danny said as we drove away, without turning round. I always feel safe with a driver who doesn't turn round to speak to the passengers in the back whilst driving. "The locks have been changed and I don't have‒‒‒‒"

I waited for Danny to continue. He put the brakes on quickly, but I couldn't see anything in the road ahead.

"Hold on a minute while I make a phone call," he said. "We won't be able to get in tomorrow morning for the treasure hunt. I need to phone the locksmith and pick up the set of new keys."

Danny switched off the hands free. This was obviously going to be a private call. As Danny started speaking, the rain came down in a great sheet, completely obscuring the windscreen which already had the wipers going.

He must have got through to the locksmith. Yes, my ability to deduce the obvious is amazing.

"What do you mean? ... Of course I haven't. ... No, nothing to do with me. ... You're going to have to change the locks again. ... Not until tomorrow? ... I don't understand how. ... Okay, the spare set will have to do for now ... Yes, I'm on my way."

Danny switched his phone off and sat staring out at the rain, not saying a word.

I have _no_ difficulty in saying words. "What's happened?"

Danny started the car and did a U-turn. "The locksmith says the keys have already been collected. I don't understand it. He saw me when I dropped the old keys in so he could go and change the locks, but he says someone from Branks, Davis & Waters called in half an hour ago. They even had a company card with them." He thought for a moment. "When they got the keys out of my briefcase at the house. It must be either Richard or Michael."

"Wow, he's going to be in serious trouble," I said.

Alice leaned forward. "They're desperate to find the treasure, but that takes the biscuit. I'm so sorry, Danny. Makes me ashamed to have brothers like that."

In spite of the heavy rain and huge puddles forming in the road, Danny certainly kept the little Kia buzzing along at a fair old rate. "The locksmith has spare keys. That's where we're going."

"The three might already be ransacking Uncle Isaac's house," Alice said. "That's just not fair. I've already got an idea where the treasure is. I don't want them finding it by breaking in today."

"Can they be charged with anything?" I asked Danny.

"I need to think about that. Impersonating a solicitor is a possible offence, although they probably didn't pretend to be me, just someone from the office in Branks, Davis & Waters."

"But if they've broken into the house again, and Branks, Davis & Waters press for prosecution, would they forfeit everything?"

"Abi, at the moment my head is going round. If it really _is_ Alice's brothers and sister, then I guess it's a civil case, not a criminal one. I can't remember anything in the will covering such a thing."

"If I may say something, Mr Wells," Rupert said, "I think we ought to go straight to Alice's uncle's house once you've got the keys."

I laughed. "It's Danny, not Mr Wells, Rupert. I know he sometimes wears a posh suit and works for Branks, Davis & Waters, but he's definitely Danny." I turned round in the seat far enough to be able to give him a wink.

"Yes, please call me Danny, Rupert." Danny pulled the phone out again and brought up the satnav. "I've never heard of the locksmith's road. Have you, Abi? Barley Croft Drive."

I'd not heard of it either, but Danny quickly found it on his phone and had to turn round in the road again. It was on the other side of town, but unless the roads were closed from flooding we could skirt round rather than going through the centre with all the traffic lights, and save a bit of time."

"So what are we going to do when we get to Mr Newton's house?" I asked. "Assuming they're not already there."

Danny shrugged. "I guess I'll have to barricade the door and stay the night. I'll be okay. Perhaps I can borrow a sleeping bag, Abi."

No way was I going to let Danny stay in that house alone. And no way was I going to spend the night with him yet.

"We could all stay," Alice said. "Couldn't we, Rupert?"

I couldn't see what was happening in the seat behind, but I surmised that Alice was giving Rupert a few more digs in the ribs, because he said, "Yes, that's fine by me, as long as you girls have one bedroom and I share another bedroom with Danny."

"Rupert," Alice said, "you've no idea how disgusting it is in that house. If we have to spend the night there, we sleep downstairs in the hall and in the dining room. And try not to use the bathroom, please."

That made me laugh. Actually, the idea of sleeping in Creepy Mansion held a sort of weird fascination. It would be the first, and hopefully the last, time I slept in a haunted house. No, of course it wasn't haunted. Why should I think such a thing?

Within a few minutes Danny drew up outside a private house. The locksmith obviously didn't go to work on Sundays unless he was called out in an emergency. I shuddered to think what his callout fee was, but Branks, Davis & Waters would be putting it on the bill. That made me feel sorry for Alice. She and Rupert Forrester were very different from Alice's brothers and sister. In that case, those three should be footing the bill on their own.

Chapter 15

The rain was still hammering down relentlessly, but Danny hadn't thought to bring a coat. He steeled himself for a mad dash to the locksmith's front door. At least there was a porch, which was something. And of course he wasn't wearing his slate blue Italian-cut mohair wool tailored suit. This was Sunday, and Sunday is a day for very informal dress at church.

Danny wasn't even invited in. A man handed him a small package and got him to sign for it. There was a brief discussion and the locksmith was shaking his head vigorously. Two minutes later Danny resumed his mad dash, this time for the safety of the car. I'm sure he was wishing he'd parked with the driver's door near the curb, but men aren't the same as women. They don't think of things like that.

With rain dripping down his face from his fair hair, Danny opened the package. Two brand-new gleaming keys fell out into his lap.

"He wasn't happy," Danny said. "He always keeps a spare set of keys in the safe at work, and he had to drive in specially to collect them for me. From the description of the man who took them, it sounds like Richard Newton. Well, I'll have strong words with him when we meet tomorrow for the search. You can be sure of that."

I'd not heard Danny speak as forcefully as this. Clearly he was wearing his solicitor's hat, not the hat that belonged to my lovely fiancé. Alice's older brother was going to hear a very powerful message in the morning, probably full of lots of legalese.

Danny slipped the car into gear, and we drove off, the rain splashing underneath the car with a sharp sound every time we hit a large puddle. At least the car was fairly new, so we were unlikely to break down on the way to Isaac Newton's old house.

As we stopped outside, I could hear a gasp from Rupert. It seemed no matter how gloomy a picture Alice had painted, he was unprepared for the reality.

"I'm going in, to make sure the house is empty, and unset the alarm," Danny said, undoing his seatbelt. "If you like, the three of you can stay here until it clears a bit."

The rain was bad, and the inside of the house was also bad, but I didn't want to sit in the car. It might be hours, perhaps days, before the torrential rain and thunderstorm eased. "You go and open the door, Danny, and if it's all clear inside, we'll dash in as fast as we can."

Since the storm had been predicted, and we'd heard the forecast, I felt we should have been better prepared. Well, I suppose the forecasters have to be right from time to time. I'd heard that the _Times_ newspaper printed their first weather forecast in August 1861. When the year was up, some cynic commented that if they'd repeated the first day's forecast every day of the year, it would have been more accurate!

Danny signalled from the front door that all was well, and the three of us raced to the house and up the stone steps, throwing ourselves through the doorway. Danny pressed the remote blipper, and locked the car doors.

He turned to Rupert. "It's good of you to come, but I must make one thing clear. We are here to guard the house, not to carry out the treasure hunt. Tomorrow morning at ten o'clock Alice, her sister and two brothers will assemble here to carry out the terms of the will. But first, we need to check every room to make sure there are no intruders."

"You can go upstairs, Danny," I gave a small laugh to let him know I wasn't serious. Come to think of it, perhaps I was. I'd forgotten just how creepy and smelly the house was. It was a good thing to have extra company here at the moment.

Danny locked the front door on the inside. I noticed there were strong bolts, and he slid them across. "That should keep anyone out who has the keys."

I nodded, although I was more concerned about who or what might already be inside, rather than worrying about uninvited guests at the door.

The house was definitely empty. I desperately wanted Alice to look at the poetry books, and perhaps crack the cryptic clue, but I knew that would be wrong. Poor Alice with the dark frizzy hair, frozen out by her siblings.

When I looked at her, her hair had become a complete mess in the rain, but it seemed to be naturally frizzy, and would probably dry out looking as though nothing had happened to it. My own long blonde hair would probably frizz up when it dried, which wasn't what I wanted at all. If I wanted frizzy hair, I would have done it that way. Anyway, I was sure Danny would love me whether my hair was straight or a complete mess. That's one of the things I love about him. And being a man he probably wouldn't even notice.

"Are you serious about us spending the night here, Danny?" I asked, as we plonked ourselves down on the dining chairs, the only seats remaining in the house. "We'll have to get bedding and food if we're staying here overnight."

"I'm not expecting you three to stay," Danny said. "I'll be all right here on my own."

He didn't sound totally convinced about being all right, and I felt sure he'd love some company. So it was either Danny on his own, or with me plus Alice and Rupert – just to make things respectable.

Deep down, I think I was hoping Danny would stay on his own, but he brightened up and said, "As soon as the rain stops, you and Alice go and get some bedding, and Rupert and I will keep guard while you're gone. And we need enough food for the night and something for my breakfast. You can go home early morning, but I need to stay here until Alice's brothers and sister arrive."

Alice pulled out her phone. "I need to phone them to explain what we're doing. Should I tell them we're all staying here at Uncle Isaac's house?"

Danny smiled. "Great idea, Alice. If they know we're here, there's no way they're going to come round in the night and break in."

"I can see a big problem," I said. "The neighbour who phoned the police will see the lights on and call the police again. How do we stop that happening?"

"Good thinking," Danny said. "I wish I always kept a coat or even a brolly in the car for emergencies. Especially as we could see it was going to rain today. It isn't as though we didn't have any warning. As soon as it looks like stopping, I'll pop down the road and tell her what's happening."

After a few minutes Alice and Rupert stood up and said they were going into the kitchen. I had no idea they wanted to talk together, and didn't realise it was especially private. They had left the kitchen door wide, and when I went into the hallway I could hear them discussing the house.

"We could do it up if we buy it from the others," I heard Alice say.

"It's worth a try," Rupert said. "I don't think it will cost too much to make it habitable."

No, I didn't stay to listen, but I did shake my head as I went back into the living room. I had Alice down as being quite smart, and Rupert seemed pretty much on the ball. But if they were thinking of buying and renovating Creepy Castle, they were as daft as each other and deserved no sympathy if they were really planning to live here.

Unfortunately, the rain didn't look anything like stopping, either soon or later. Again and again the thunder rolled and crashed – sometimes in the distance, and sometimes overhead.

"Come with me, Alice," I said. "We'll get soaked on the way, but it's only the other end of the road. We can change into dry things, and I've got several waterproof coats."

I saw Alice look at me with a smile on her face. "I'm going to have to roll the legs and sleeves up a bit, but okay, you're on. Let's go."

As we opened the front door to go out, I almost screamed as lightning flashed, followed almost immediately by the sound of thunder. "I think I'll wait a couple of minutes," I said.

"There's no rush," Alice agreed, jumping back into the hallway. "Perhaps we should see what sort of bedding there is upstairs."

"Mouldy and smelly," I said. Again the thunder crashed. "Well, perhaps not too mouldy and smelly for one night. Come up with me and we'll check it out. We have first dibs, and the guys will have to put up with whatever else there is. But keep out of your uncle's room. He died in his bed and wasn't found for over a week."

"What about food?" Danny asked. Trust a man to be thinking of his stomach.

"See if there are any tins in the kitchen," I suggested, as Alice dragged me impatiently up the stairs. Oh, what a shock she was going to get.

There were three rooms with beds. Actually, there were originally five bedrooms, but one of them had been turned into the bathroom years ago, and the other contained mostly junk which had been disturbed during yesterday's unofficial treasure hunt, making it look even more of a mess.

The room Mr Creepy had been using for his own bedroom was definitely unfit for habitation, and the bedding was best left where it was. Thinking it might walk around by itself at night, I closed the door firmly to make sure it stayed put.

Meanwhile, Alice had checked out one bedroom that smelt absolutely yuck, but at least it was dry, and that was more than could be said for the third room. The rain probably came through at the best of times, but tonight the heavy rain had found more than enough gaps in the slates to cause a constant dripping onto the bed.

Alice grinned. "It looks like you and I have got one bed to share. I don't think we're going to need all this bedding. The guys can sleep in the hallway with whatever spares there are here."

I nodded, and returned the grin. Oh, how mischievous we both felt!

We returned to the hallway with an armful of spare bedding that was dry, but certainly not freshly aired. Danny called us into the kitchen where he proudly showed us half a dozen tins.

"Take your pick, girls. A tin each of ham, peas, peaches and fruit cocktail, and three tins that the labels have come off. And what's that terrible smell?"

"That's your bedding," I said, winking at Alice. That knocked the smug look from Danny's face straight away. "If you don't like it, I'll give you my keys and you can walk to my house in the rain and get whatever bedding you want, as long as it's not off my bed. And if you get soaked on the way, and need to change, there are dresses in the wardrobe."

That made Alice and Rupert laugh, but Danny just shook his head. "Unless the rain stops, I'm not going anywhere. There's no point in coming back with wet bedding. Perhaps the stuff you've brought down isn't so bad after all."

It _was_ bad. In fact it was probably worse than Danny imagined, but we made short work of the mystery tins that we discovered contained new potatoes. How tinned potatoes can get that weird taste I have no idea, but at least they were still edible. Or if they weren't, we would quickly find out in the night. There was only the one bathroom, and it was worse than disgusting and in no fit state to use. I could imagine us queuing up at the door in the early hours to use it. Oh what fun we were going to have!

Alice phoned Esther, as in her opinion she was the most reasonable of her three siblings. She explained she was having to spend the night in Uncle Isaac's house, because some authorised person – she didn't say who – had illegally taken possession of the house keys, and she was with the solicitor and friends protecting the house from unauthorised entry. I thought that was pretty smart, although it was Danny who had primed her with what to say.

I felt obliged to warn Alice that when I was small my parents told me I sometimes shouted out in my sleep, frightening them. I have no idea why it happened, and of course I had no one now to tell me if I still did. Perhaps I ought to warn Danny as well. I don't know what caused it, but it could be something simple like the spider and the fly. I seem to remember eventually feeling very bad for the fly, and shouting out a warning that the web was a trap. Even if it wasn't that, something must have disturbed me in my childhood. Danny was certainly in for some surprises.

Danny said he was leaving the lights on in every room to allay suspicions from anyone passing. He reckoned burglars would be walking around with flashlights, not lighting up the whole house like a Christmas tree with all the curtains open wide. Good thinking.

We turned in for the night, and Alice sat on the side of the bed and looked directly at me. "Will you pray with me, Abi?"

I couldn't say no, even though it would probably feel strange. Since I became a Christian I could pray with Danny, although at first I didn't like to pray with the church home group in case my mouth said something silly. It can do that. Danny said it didn't matter, and I really did want to join in. So he suggested I wrote something down in case my brain froze. It works well, and now I don't even bother to look at what I've written. We all know each other so well that I'm not too bothered about saying something a bit unusual. Thanks, Danny.

I nodded. "Of course, Alice. But I'd like you to start."

Alice prayed confidently for Richard, Michael and Esther, that they would come to faith. I found myself praying for Alice, for her witness to her siblings. And then it seemed I couldn't really stop, and I probably kept going for far too long, but Alice clearly didn't mind.

We decided to sleep on top of the bedding in our clothes, just as we were, because I didn't fancy getting under the bedclothes. I had no idea what wildlife might be lurking there.

"Do you know what I'd do with this house if it was mine?" Alice said suddenly, making me jump. I was almost into the land of nod.

"Knock it down?"

Alice laughed. "I'd love to restore it to its former glory."

"Good luck with that," I said, putting on an exaggerated yawn to let her know the time for chatting had come to an end.

So nearly asleep, and now I lay awake for ages, staring at the ceiling, listening to Alice breathing. Never in a million years would I have imagined I'd be spending the night in Creepy Castle.

I woke up suddenly. Someone was knocking loudly on the bedroom door which we'd left ajar in the vain hope of getting some fresher air into the room. Even if we could have managed to open the sash window, the heavy rain would have blown into the room, soaking the bed.

"It's me, Danny. Are you girls all right?"

Of course we were. I'd been asleep in the blackness. Blackness? "What's happened to the lights?" I said quietly.

I needn't have bothered to whisper. Alice was already sitting up.

"The power's gone off. It must be the storm."

I don't know how my mind managed to jump into gear so quickly, because I'm normally a slow waker, but the obvious question occurred to me. "What about the rest of the road? The streetlights?"

For a moment I had visions of Alice's siblings climbing the stairs armed with axes. But if they'd come up the stairs they would have reached Danny and Rupert in the hallway first, and Danny was clearly still alive.

"It's the whole area," Danny said.

As he spoke, the lights flickered on and then off again, and then on a couple of times before finally plunging us back into blackness. A faint light came round the door from the flashlight on Danny's phone, proving just what a gentleman he is, not shining the beam of light directly onto the bed.

I don't know if the lights came on again in the night or not, because by the time I woke it was broad daylight. Alice agreed she had also spent a reasonably comfortable night, and as far as she knew I hadn't shouted out in my sleep. That was a relief, and unless I slept incredibly soundly the police didn't arrive in the night to see what was happening.

The storm had blown itself out, and the sun suddenly broke through the clearing clouds. I wanted to get home, freshen up and change. And have something decent to eat. It was only half past six. Oh, and as far as I knew, Alice's siblings didn't attempt to gain entry into their own house during the hours of darkness. If they had, would that have been a crime? I still had some way to go if I wanted to be an untrained junior solicitor.

I phoned Melanie and told her Pete would be in at the usual time, and reminded her she would have to manage without me for the morning. Perhaps the whole day if the treasure hunt took too long. I didn't bother to explain I had spent the night with Danny. She would only have got completely the wrong idea. And if I explained I had shared a bed with Alice, and Danny had slept in the draughty hallway with Rupert, she would probably imagine something kinky had taken place. That's Melanie for you. I might have drawn the same conclusions, but that's the way women's minds work.

I walked back to my house with Alice. It's only a couple of hundred yards, and I was surprised how many leaves and small branches had been brought down during the night. That had certainly been some storm. Alice seemed bright and chatty as we made our way along the wet pavement. As we passed the house that had been Ivy's, I noticed someone waving from the window. I waited and a middle aged lady came out.

"I think you must be one of our new neighbours," she said. "We've not really spoken before."

I introduced myself as Abi Button, and she said she was Julie Watkins, and she and her husband Paul would be moving in shortly. She and Paul had called in to measure the rooms and been forced to spend the night there because of the weather. The traffic reports showed a lot of the roads were closed, and they had a long journey ahead. So they decided it was safer to spend the night in the house rather than getting stuck in the floods in some remote place.

I explained that Alice was a niece of the old man who had lived in the house at the end of the road, but although Julie had seen the house, she knew nothing about Isaac Newton.

I told her I didn't think many people had actually seen him, because he never came out. It was a wonder anyone found him dead. A carer from the local council called round to see him several times a week, but Isaac Newton usually refused to let her in. But when she failed to gain any sort of response one day, she called the police.

For a couple of minutes we discussed the storm, and Julie said their roofing felt was rotten and had let rain in, making one of the bedroom ceilings damp. She said she and her husband wouldn't be moving in until things had been fixed. I could have told her I knew about the roofing felt, and the scary circumstances in which I had discovered it, but I wanted to get home, have some breakfast, take a shower and change. My clothes had certainly picked up the disgusting smell of Isaac Newton's house ‒ perhaps permanently.

Alice and I didn't rush. When I got the breakfast ready, cereal and toast, she showered and tried to find some clothes that fitted. My cropped jeans worked well, although they didn't look particularly cropped on her legs. I ate while she got ready, and she took over the breakfast while I saw to my own hygiene and clothing.

I was afraid I would bear the odour from the House of Horrors for many days to come, but I thought I smelled surprisingly good as we left the house in clean clothes to give the two guys a break. I wasn't offering them my house. Danny could drive home in ten minutes, and offer Rupert the same service. Although Rupert had booked into the same hotel as the Newton Three, neither he nor Alice fancied going back and facing them.

Chapter 16

The treasure hunt was due to start at ten o'clock, prompt. It goes without saying that Richard, Michael and Esther were ringing the doorbell at nine thirty, demanding to know what Alice had been doing in the meantime. I don't think they were concerned with her honour, but with the suspicion that she had been hunting for the so-called treasure.

Danny had been back for some time, but Rupert decided he ought to keep out of things, and went back to claim the room he had reserved at the hotel. Danny reminded the siblings in his professional solicitor's voice that someone had unlawfully gained possession of the keys – he couldn't think who – and it had been necessary to spend the night in the house to protect their investment. And neither Alice nor anyone else had done anything more than tidy up some of the mess the three of them had made.

I had my doubts that they were persuaded, but since Danny had changed into his slate grey Italian-cut mohair wool suit when he went home to freshen up, they seemed unwilling to argue with him. Power dressing.

We gathered in the hallway and Danny once again explained the conditions of the will. They had all been given the cryptic clue, although judging by their expressions they weren't holding out much hope of finding the solution, except perhaps by applying brute force to areas they suspected might be relevant to the search.

"Right," Danny said, "you all know the rules. Richard, you go first and you have exactly five minutes to crack the clue or select one item which you may either keep or sell. If you sell it, the money will be yours." He turned to the other three. I thought Alice looked anxious. She was going last, and I really wanted her to be the winner.

"You will each get six turns of five minutes each. You will go in the order of Richard, Michael, Esther and Alice. Six turns each of five minutes is half an hour, which is plenty of time to select what you want. I will go with the searcher and make a note of the item selected. If any of you have cracked the cryptic clue, then that's more than enough time in which to collect it."

Judging by Richard's expression, he certainly hadn't cracked the clue. "What's special about whatever the clue leads us to? I mean, is it even worth bothering?"

The term spineless scroungers came to my mind. It seemed for Richard it was too much trouble to even start hunting. He probably had his mind on the pictures, if they were by famous artists. Most of the furniture was antique, but I'd heard that large brown wood items are hard to sell nowadays. Of course, there might be a magic drawer in the writing desk. I could imagine whoever chose it smashing it open with a sledgehammer hoping to reveal something much more valuable.

"I have no idea what the clue will lead you to if you find it, but I have reason to believe your uncle may have been a wealthy man."

Michael pointed vaguely around the house. "Wealthy? This looks like the house of a pauper."

"He was a miser," Esther said. "He's got money hidden somewhere, I'm sure of it. And I'm going to find it."

I noticed Alice roll her eyes at me when Esther said this. I really, really hoped she knew the answer to the clue, but I was almost certain she didn't, unless she'd somehow managed to keep silent about it last night. Unlikely.

"Right," Danny said. He pulled a digital stopwatch from his pocket. "I will accompany every person on their six searches. Abigail Button will stay here in the hallway with the three of you who are not searching. I have given her authority to call out if anyone leaves. Believe me, that person may well forfeit their turns."

"You can't do that," Richard said. "It's not in the will."

"Richard, you don't know what I'm able to do, so I advise you not to push it."

The others all nodded. Hopefully, I wouldn't have to exercise the authority I'd apparently been given. It was certainly news to me.

Danny pointed to Richard. "Right, your time starts _now_."

Richard sauntered into the sitting room. He presumably knew exactly what he wanted. While I was wondering what he had chosen, he returned almost immediately with Danny who was holding a clipboard.

"I'm having the old bureau," Richard said smugly. "I bet it's in there. Bound to be secret drawers we didn't find yesterday."

"That's not fair," Michael said, standing slowly to his feet. He'd been sitting on the stairs, as though it was too much trouble to stand while waiting for his turn. He noticed Alice smiling to herself.

Danny waved the electronic stopwatch. "Your turn, Michael. And your time starts _now_."

I guessed Michael had also expected the bureau to hold the clue, even though they'd obviously not found any hidden drawers and cubbyholes while they'd run riot through the building on Saturday evening.

Moaning and groaning, he also went into the living room – the sitting room I think it's called if you're posh. We waited in silence. Then I heard Danny warn him there were sixty seconds left. Perhaps Michael hadn't considered anything else other than the bureau.

"I'm having that," I heard him say.

Danny came out and announced that Michael had chosen the large picture over the fireplace showing a couple lying under a tree by the side of a harvested corn field.

"It's a Gainsborough," Michael said slyly. "It's going to be worth millions."

I guessed it wasn't. The valuer had examined everything, and would have known straight away if the painting was really valuable, or would at least have sought specialist advice.

"Right, Esther, it's your turn. Your time starts _now_."

To my dismay, Esther muttered, "Poetry, here I come," and went straight into the dining room with Danny, where all the books were, and slammed the door. She clearly didn't want her siblings getting clues as to where to search.

I noticed Alice frowning. She suspected the clue was something to do with the poetry books, even though I'd not shared my thoughts with her. I really wanted Alice to win, but I knew I couldn't give her any clues. Anyway, perhaps she had already cracked it, and when it was her turn she would emerge triumphantly holding a piece of paper – the password or whatever was needed for collecting the treasure.

I heard Danny call out, "Sixty seconds remaining."

Alice perked up a bit. It seemed Esther hadn't immediately dived straight for the right book, or whatever it was that held the clue.

I wanted to peep into the dining room to see what Esther was doing, but I knew I had to stay in the hallway and exercise my newly given authority should any of the three begin to stray.

"Five seconds," I heard Danny say.

I heard Esther shout out something that I won't repeat here. It wasn't a cry of triumph.

"Time is up," Danny said.

Esther emerged looking red in the face. She was carrying the ancient poetry book in the leather binding that Danny had pointed out to me as being especially valuable.

I didn't know why Esther had chosen it, apart from the fact it looked expensive. Expensive or not, Esther sat on the floor and started to rip off the binding. I watched in horror as a valuable book that could be two hundred years old was being destroyed in seconds. Had she really cracked the clue, and I'd been right off the scent with my theory on Charles Kingsley?

Esther probably didn't have a large vocabulary in obscenities, because she kept repeating the same one again and again. She had the whole cover off, including the spine. "I thought I'd got it," she said, bursting into tears. "Stupid, stupid Uncle Isaac!"

Those weren't exactly her words, but I noticed Alice smile. What Esther had just done obviously made as little sense to her as it did to me. I thought of the clue. _Much reward awaits my first spineless nephew or niece who is an upright reader_. Of course, something, obviously not metal, was concealed in the spine of one of the two editions of Charles Kingsley's _Poems_.

Alice looked delighted. I was relieved to know she had the answer – or probably had the answer. I could only hope, not help.

Alice disappeared into the dining room with Danny and shut the door. I could sense the others getting agitated. Esther had foolishly given away too much information. The answer wasn't inside furniture, it was inside a book spine.

Alice took ages to reappear. Whatever was she doing? I heard Danny give the one minute warning, and then Alice came out with Charles Kingsley's book of poems. I could only hope she had the right one.

"Well," Richard said, "aren't you going to pull the cover off?"

Alice shook her head. Clever girl. If she didn't find anything inside the cover of this edition, she would have to wait her turn before she could collect the other copy.

Richard came out almost immediately when having his turn. He bore Victor Hugo's _The History of a Crime_. "You always were stupid, Alice," he snapped. "Didn't you see the word guilt in the clue?" And like Esther he began to rip off the cover. I wanted to intervene, to tell him he'd got it wrong, but I managed to keep my mouth shut. Fortunately.

Michael came out with the poetry book by Keats. Clearly Esther had given too much away, and Michael had noticed the gap where Victor Hugo's book had been, and taken the book next to it. He also ripped the cover off without success.

Five minutes later Esther returned with _Odes_. That also refused to reveal any hidden secret.

Oh how I wanted Alice to pick the other book by Charles Kingsley. It would surely still be on the shelf, and it just _had_ to contain the answer to the clue. But supposing Alice wasn't thinking like that? Well, Richard, Michael and Esther would all follow her turn, and would almost certainly find the right book.

Was it all right to pray that Alice would find it? I prayed every day now, but I wasn't sure it was okay to pray for people to get money, even though Alice and Rupert would be able to get married, and probably buy a house.

I decided to pray.

I was surprised how long it took Alice to select _Poems_ by Charles Kingsley. Oh, Alice, Alice, please, _please_ , get the right book!

Again I heard Danny's one minute warning, and then Alice reappeared. I breathed a sigh of relief. I realised I'd been holding my breath for ages. She was carrying a book in a dark red binding. _Poems_!

Richard shook his head. "You're an idiot, Alice. That book is the same as the one you chose first. You always were stupid."

Sometimes I wished I'd had a brother or sister, but I was glad I hadn't grown up in a family like that.

"Not so stupid after all," Alice said. "I remembered uncle's clue saying it's for an upright reader." She stood where she was and opened the book wide in the centre, holding it upright. I noticed a piece of paper dislodge itself slightly from the spine. "Thank you, Esther, for showing me where to look."

Danny had always laid the books flat on the table to open them. Perhaps it was just as well, or we might have found it and put it back too firmly and it wouldn't fall out.

Esther was white with fury as she turned to Alice. "That's not fair," she screamed. "You have to share it with me for helping you."

Alice ignored her and pulled a folded piece of paper out from behind the spine. She frowned as she looked at it. "I don't think it's the answer after all," she said quietly. "It says 'Congratulations for solving my cryptic clue. Solve this one and the money is all yours.'"

She handed the piece of paper to Danny. "Is this it? It's just a list of names and numbers."

Danny took it. "I've no idea what it is, Alice. Don't worry. It's obviously important, and I'll investigate as soon as we get back to the office."

"Look at you," Richard said scornfully. "Little Miss Holy and Perfect. You've changed a lot in the last year, Alice. I expect you wrote this yourself, in spite of all your religious ways."

Alice shook her head. "Being religious isn't the same as being a Christian. And I'm glad you've noticed the changes in me. But how could I have faked this note? I don't even know what it means."

She turned to me as though I would have the answer. I turned to Danny. "Am I allowed to take a photograph of it with my phone?"

Danny nodded. "I don't see why not. There's nothing in the will about not getting help to solve a second clue. See if you can work it out between you."

Richard tried to snatch it from Danny. "That should be for all of us. We're sharing the house and that means we must be sharing the money."

"Not so," Danny said. "Read the will again, Richard." He straightened out the paper so I could take a pic with my phone, but I noticed he kept tight hold of it in case one of the angry siblings tried to snatch it, and maybe even destroy it to stop their younger sister inheriting a fortune.

I could see the names _Eamon Martyn Murdoch Scott_ and a long string of numbers. The numbers looked like a password for a computer. But we'd not seen a computer anywhere in the house. I suspected old Isaac Newton had never used one. So what was the long line of code? And who did those names belong to?

The nephews and nieces each had three turns left to choose items for themselves. They followed the necessary instructions and mostly chose smaller things, but it was obvious their hearts weren't in it, although Esther chose the small chest containing the society magazines, which she said she would keep, rather than sell in the auction. The attraction was probably the chest rather than the magazines showing well dressed people! I noticed no one chose the yucky old bed Alice and I had shared in the night. Indeed, everyone seemed remarkably keen to keep clear of the bedrooms.

I looked at Alice and smiled, but she merely shrugged. The excitement had gone from her face. She had solved one cryptic clue, only to find another.

Chapter 17

I phoned Melanie to explain I would be in well before lunchtime. Danny told everyone they had to leave the house, and reminded them that they had equal shares in the house and the furniture and other items that hadn't been selected. He told them they could arrange collection of their items whenever convenient, but the house would be locked and they would have to contact him at Branks, Davis & Waters to gain access.

With a mischievous smile on his face he also warned anyone who had keys to the door that the locks were being changed again, so they would be of no use. At that moment the locksmith arrived, and Danny introduced them to the gang of four.

"Just for the record," Danny said to the locksmith, "these four young people do _not_ represent Branks, Davis & Waters in any form whatsoever. Please deal only with me."

At least Richard had the decency to look embarrassed, or perhaps he was red with anger that his younger sister – the "stupid girl" ‒ had been the one to find the clue. Not that Alice had found the treasure yet.

Alice phoned Rupert who was in the hotel room he had booked, but not used overnight. She sounded flat. As far as I could hear, Rupert said he would put his brains to it when they met up.

Alice didn't seem keen on Rupert's suggestion that they should meet at the hotel, presumably because she knew her siblings would be making their way back there, and would give her no peace. She turned to me. "Do you have anywhere private at your coffee place?"

I thought of the little table in the corner I reserved for Danny every lunchtime. "Hold on a moment, Alice, and I'll see."

I phoned Melanie, and told her Alice and Rupert needed the corner table in a few minutes' time, so to make sure it was kept empty. Fortunately, the café was never busy on Mondays. I didn't know if it's because people have spent all their money over the weekend and can't afford to eat out, or if they've eaten so much that they don't need to eat again. It's a bit of a puzzle. One day I'll crack that one, too.

And that got me thinking about cracking old Isaac Newton's second clue. I just hoped we wouldn't be chasing around for the next month getting closer, but no closer, to the final answer. Did the old guy have a sense of humour? Well, it can't have been funny living in the mess he lived in, so he probably didn't.

Melanie and Pete welcomed Alice and Rupert, and Pete showed them to the corner table as though he was a waiter in some upmarket restaurant. We normally only show people to a table if they have a family with a buggy or two, to save them planting trip hazards around the place.

Amazingly, but perhaps sadly for business, no one was waiting to be served. Maybe we should do special offers on Mondays to tempt our customers in.

So we all gathered round the table, and I opened up the gallery on my phone and showed them the clue. The names were Eamon Martyn Murdoch Scott. Then followed a long number starting with five, interspersed with a couple of full stops and a comma.

For some reason everyone looked at me. "Could they be missing family members?" I turned to Alice. "Do the names mean anything to you?"

Alice shook her head. "Never heard of them."

I might be the Cryptic Queen when it comes to crosswords, so what else could those names possibly mean? Wowee, that was easy. Typical of a cryptic crossword. Clever, or what!

I switched my phone to the search engine. "It's probably an anagram," I said.

Everyone looked up at me in amazement. I shrugged modestly.

"Okay, clever clogs," Melanie said, obviously trying to put me in my place, "if the names are an anagram, what do they really say?"

Pete pointed to the paper. "And what about the long number?"

"It could be an account number for a Swiss bank, or maybe the login details for some sort of crypto currency. Or it might be a letter code. Each number stands for a letter," I suggested.

Rupert took the phone from me so he could read the numbers clearly. "The problem is there's no number higher than nine, so it's not the alphabet. It might be a substitution code, I suppose." He turned to Alice. "It depends how devious your uncle was. This might be impossible to break." He now looked at me. "Any ideas?"

I did indeed have an idea. "I think we're going to need the poetry book where Alice found this hidden in the spine. There might be something marked on the page numbers or line numbers." Then I groaned loudly in despair. "What it is, who knows?"

" _I_ know," Pete said. "We're studying it in college."

It was the turn of Alice, Rupert, Melanie and me to stare at Pete in amazement. And it was his turn to shrug modestly.

Alice gave Pete a big hug, nearly knocking the table over. "Oh, I do hope you're right."

At that moment the door opened and a family of four came in. Pete looked up. "My turn to serve," he said, standing up. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

No way were we going to let him go. Melanie and I dragged him back onto the chair he'd been using. The table was only meant for two, but we'd taken three chairs from the adjacent table.

I looked up and smiled warmly to the family. The kids were aged nine or ten, and not likely to run riot if they had to wait a couple of minutes. "Be with you in a moment," I called out.

They nodded and smiled. Perhaps they didn't know we were staff, but with our black and cream striped jackets it should be obvious.

"Sit down, and I'll be with you in a minute," Pete went across, and said. "There's a bit of an emergency here."

I wished Pete hadn't used those words. It sounded as though one of our customers was choking to death on some of our food. The two boys looked ready to come across to watch.

Pete stood up. "They're digital coordinates."

"How do you mean, digital coordinates?" I asked. "You mean some sort of computer code?"

I could see Pete was anxious to serve the customers, which was commendable in normal circumstances, but not now when we were so close to finding the so-called treasure.

I didn't know if Pete was trying to wind us up, but if so he was certainly succeeding. He went to the invaders' table to take their order.

"Get out," I shouted to them. "Get out of Button Up at once, and don't ever come back!"

No, of course I didn't, but the urge to do so was certainly strong. Not only that, but Pete was taking his time. He was asking for demotion, and he would have got it if he hadn't already been at the bottom of the pecking order of the full time staff.

Rupert asked if he could look at my phone. "I think I know what the young man means."

Young man? I guessed he was referring to Pete. I passed the phone to Rupert, who already had his phone open. "Read the numbers to me, Alice," he said, passing my phone to Alice. This was getting like a game of pass the parcel. I just hoped Alice would end up with the prize.

Rupert Forrester already had the maps open on his phone, and he tapped in the code as Alice read it out. Was it really going to be that easy?

Rupert pressed enter, waited a few seconds, and then nodded. He passed me his phone without saying anything.

The map showed some roads in the centre of town, with a picture of the local bank.

Pete had been popping across from time to time, following what we were doing. "I told you," he said triumphantly. "It's digital coordinates."

There wasn't much more to say. Melanie jumped up to help Pete with what seemed to be quite a large order. Business on Mondays wasn't all bad. As Melanie left the table, she turned to Alice. "What you need to do is go to the bank and tell them you want to look in the vault for a security box with your uncle's name. Simple."

I shook my head. "Not so simple. It might not be a security box. We need to crack this anagram first. It's no use just turning up at the bank and saying you want some money. You need an account."

Another Eureka moment. "Pass me one of the paper napkins and a pen," I said to no one in particular.

I wrote down _Eamon Martyn Murdoch Scott_ , and crossed out the letters that spelt _account_.

I hunted on my phone for my favourite anagram solver. The app allowed anyone to set anagrams. When it came up I entered the remaining letters, and dozens of possibilities appeared, but the obvious one was "Mother my mordants."

Pete came back to the table and leaned forward. "It sounds rude to me," he said, sounding serious.

I took out the words "mother" and "my" and was left with "mordants."

Pete shook his head. "I don't think you're getting anywhere, Abi. Not unless you know what mordants are." And he sniggered in a way that took me back to my school days.

At this stage my mind seemed to have frozen. I was no longer the Cryptic Queen. I called out to Melanie to bring me a coffee. While we waited, Alice and Rupert seemed to be putting their minds to it.

By this time I had written "mother my mordants account." Melanie took one look at it. Perhaps seeing it fresh made the answer seem obvious. My brain was exhausted.

"That should be 'my mother's dormant account'," she said. "You weren't stuck, were you?"

"Just letting my brain cool off," I said with a shrug. "I did all the hard work, you just did the easy bit."

Melanie laughed and pointed to my phone. "I knew you cheated at your cryptic crosswords."

I jumped up and gave her a hug. "Only when I'm really stuck, and then I don't pretend I've completed the crossword. But you're a real star, Melanie. Thanks."

Melanie smiled. "So all you need to do is find the bank and ask them how much money is in Isaac Newton's mother's account. Easy."

I didn't think it would be that easy, but Alice thanked her and said she would contact Danny at Branks, Davis & Waters and give him the news. She imagined he would have to contact the bank as the solicitor dealing with her uncle's probate.

She nodded. "Perhaps Uncle Isaac's mother had an account that's not been used for so long it's gone dormant. I think that's what they call bank accounts that don't get used."

"What about the money?" I asked, looking from Alice to Rupert and back. "Can someone still get it if it's been dormant for years?"

Alice didn't look bothered. "I'm sure Mr Wells will be able to convince the bank to examine the account when he shows them Uncle Isaac's death certificate and will."

I noticed that Alice, who had been calling Danny by his first name, had suddenly switched to something more formal. Good for her. It meant she was intending to use Danny in his professional capacity. A big job like this might even lead to Danny losing his junior status, and being offered a full partnership. Dream on, Abi.

I looked up and realised two couples had entered while we'd been getting excited about the digital coordinates. Perhaps Mondays were going to be good for business after all. The last thing I heard as I left the corner table to go and help Melanie and Pete with the sudden rush in business, was Rupert saying, "Alice, we'll be able to get married now, and carry out our plans."

I had no idea what Rupert and Alice's plans were. Have ten children? Go on a world cruise? Take early retirement? Probably none of those, but I intended to find out.

Then it occurred to me that the dormant account might contain just a couple of pounds, not millions. Well, I hoped Alice and Rupert weren't counting their eggs before the chickens hatched. Something like that, anyway.

###  Epilogue

Branks, Davis & Waters did well financially out of Isaac Newton's nephews and nieces. Not only were there the legal fees, but there were fees involved in selling the remainder of the furniture. Neither Richard nor Esther wanted to take their chosen items away, and agreed to take whatever money they sold for in the auction.

Michael convinced himself his painting of the couple by the cornfield was an unknown work by Gainsborough. He took it to several art dealers who agreed it was in the style of Gainsborough, but from the Victorian period, judging by the paints used, and definitely not worth a fortune. He decided not to put it in the auction because he insisted the experts were wrong, and one day he would get it authenticated as a genuine Gainsborough. He would then sell it for far more money than his sister Alice was going to get from their uncle.

Danny explained that when an account hasn't been used for a year, the bank writes to the account holder and gives them a few months to reply. Then the account becomes dormant and there's no more communication. The account can be revived at any time. Although after fifteen years the government gets the money, it can usually be reclaimed later. So Isaac Newton had obviously known this, and decided to let his mother's account lie there until one of his nephews or nieces discovered it. If they failed – and he probably expected the spineless scroungers to fail ‒ it would eventually disappear.

Finally, we learnt yesterday that the bank had given permission to open Isaac Newton's mother's dormant account and release the money to Alice. A reasonable sum of money has been sitting there for years and years, earning compound interest. Danny has warned Alice there will be substantial inheritance tax and death duty to pay, but as Alice said, "Half a fortune is better than no fortune."

Rupert has applied for a job as mechanic in the local garage and hopes to start next month ‒ so clearly brawn wasn't part of the job description ‒ and Alice has already moved and is staying with me. She's now working in the library of the local college. In spite of the inheritance, there is no way they can afford to give up work, nor do they wish to.

When plans were made to put Isaac Newton's scary house up for sale, Rupert and Alice said they wanted to buy it at the market rate. Of course, her siblings decided the market rate was much higher than the valuation put on it by one local estate agent, and found another who was prepared to give a ridiculously high valuation. And Alice agreed to it.

I know they took advantage of Alice, and I felt they didn't deserve her generosity the way they had treated her. But as a Christian, she told me she wanted to forgive them, and forget the past.

Even though Alice's inheritance isn't enough to retire on, Alice says it's more than enough to renovate the house and furnish it with Swedish flat pack. It seems she likes the furniture in my house, and I have to admire her fine taste.

The siblings haven't raised nearly enough money to stay out of work. I think the Protestant work ethic says that work is good for the soul, so no doubt their souls are going to be blessed. Maybe doubly blessed, because I know Alice and Rupert are praying for them together, every day.

Alice and Rupert's plans amaze me. They have discussed with a local builder the cost of renovating the House of Horrors, including a new roof and replastering throughout where necessary. The cost of doing that is significantly less than knocking it down and starting again. It also means the row of Victorian brick houses built for the mill workers will remain intact, as a memorial to an important industry in the town. Apparently, the right sort of paint will seal in the "residual odours" left behind by the previous occupant. Here's hoping!

I'm pleased Alice and Rupert are coming to live in my road when they're married. Rupert comes down at weekends to see Alice, and it's great to have three in my house. Yes, my house has three bedrooms! It originally had four, but when mains water and drains came to town, one bedroom was turned into a bathroom. With company in the house, it feels like a proper home again.

And now for the big news. Last weekend when Rupert was down, he and Alice came back from town and told us they had exciting news to share.

I noticed Alice was wearing an engagement ring ‒ observant me ‒ so I sort of guessed what the great news was.

"We're getting married," Alice said, her eyes shining. "In six months' time."

She showed me her ring. I was surprised how modest it was, with all their money, but Alice soon put me in my place.

"The property is now legally ours. You'll never guess what we're planning to do with it."

The obvious answer would be, "You're going to live there." But perhaps that was too obvious, especially for the Cryptic Queen.

"We're doing something we've always wanted to do, but we never had the money. We're not only going to live there, but we're offering it to the church for small group meetings, mums' groups, day retreats and so on. And when we've cleared the back garden we can open it for church and local residents' picnics and barbeques, and children's games."

"That's such a lovely thing to do," I said, giving Alice a hug, realising she already felt slightly less bony.

She smiled. "It was a gift for us, and we're passing the gift on to the Lord for Him to use. Pastor David says he's looking to start a midweek daytime home group next year, and maybe Rupert and I can host an evening group. We might even be able to house a refugee couple until they sort their lives out. The local council say they don't see a problem. Isn't that great!"

It certainly was. Of course, when Alice and Rupert broke the news to us of their forthcoming wedding, Danny suggested it should be a joint one.

That will be us as the other couple, of course.

THE END

The hymn And Can it Be was written by Charles Wesley on 21st May 1738, the day he realised the past, his past, was forgiven by the death of Jesus on the cross. Like us, he only had to repent and ask! Two days later his brother John also found salvation with Jesus, and the two became famous preachers and composers. Today, John is better known for his preaching and Charles for his hymns.

And can it be that I should gain

An interest in the Saviour's blood?

Died He for me, who caused His pain,

For me, who Him to death pursued?

Amazing love! How can it be,

That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

Amazing love! How can it be,

That Thou, my God, shouldst die for me?

'Tis mystery all: the Immortal dies:

Who can explore His strange design?

In vain the firstborn seraph tries

To sound the depths of love divine.

'Tis mercy all! Let earth adore,

Let angel minds inquire no more.

'Tis mercy all! Let earth adore;

Let angel minds inquire no more.

He left His Father's throne above

(So free, so infinite His grace)

Emptied Himself of all but love,

And bled for Adam's helpless race:

'Tis mercy all, immense and free,

For, O my God, it found out me!

'Tis mercy all, immense and free,

For, O my God, it found out me!

Long my imprisoned spirit lay,

Fast bound in sin and nature's night;

Thine eye diffused a quickening ray,

I woke, the dungeon flamed with light;

My chains fell off, my heart was free,

I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

My chains fell off, my heart was free,

I rose, went forth, and followed Thee.

No condemnation now I dread;

Jesus, and all in Him, is mine;

Alive in Him, my living head,

And clothed in righteousness divine,

Bold I approach the eternal throne,

And claim the crown, through Christ my own.

Bold I approach the eternal throne,

And claim the crown, through Christ my own.

<><><><>

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_Tall Men and Strangers_ is the first Abi Button Cozy Mystery Romance.

Abigail (Abi) Button is thirty-one, and in spite of kissing a few frogs she has yet to find her prince. On the lookout for a tall, dark stranger (but not too strange) she realises he has been living nearby all the time. It's just that she has not really noticed Jack Thornley until she meets him in her road late one evening, standing by an emergency ambulance.

Abi's elderly neighbour is Ivy Smith, and she's ninety-one. She gives Abi a small silver key, telling her to keep it secret from her nephew Jack who is helping to care for her. What the key opens, Abi has no idea.

Ivy worries that she hears someone moving around her house at night, when she should be alone. Abi tries to reassure her by saying it's only the old house settling at night, or noisy neighbours, but Ivy Smith is unconvinced. Soon Abi is unconvinced, too.

As Abi's friendship with Jack develops, he invites her to his local church where she meets Danny. Much to her embarrassment she remembers kissing Danny at school. Old memories start to surface, threatening to put the relationship with Jack in jeopardy.

A cozy mystery romance taking place in a small English town, told by Abi Button.

_Cake and Calamity_ , the third Abi Button Cozy Mystery Romance, is on the way.

"Organising a wedding is a piece of cake," to quote Abigail (Abi) Button. She could be right, because a local wedding shop provides the whole service: bridal gowns, venue, cake, food, cars ... everything that makes the perfect wedding. Apart from husbands!

Meanwhile, Melanie Upton ‒ Abi Button's co-owner of Button Up coffee shop ‒ confides in Abi that romance is in the air with an Italian property investor called Romero Rocco. Can it be true?

Abi's new friend and neighbour is also getting married. She now owns the house Abi calls Creepy Mansion. She says getting a builder to restore the old house should also be a simple matter. So with a joint wedding planned for Abi and her new friend, Abi asks, "What can possibly go wrong?"

A cozy mystery romance taking place in a small English town, told by Abi Button.

**White Tree Publishing** publishes mainstream evangelical Christian literature in paperback and eBook formats, for people of all ages. We aim to make our eBooks available free for all eBook devices, but some distributors will only list our books free at their discretion, and may make a small charge for some titles ‒ but they are still great value!

We rely on our readers to tell their families, friends and churches about our books. Social media is a great way of doing this. Take a look at our range of fiction and non-fiction books and pass the word on. You can even contact your Christian TV or radio station to let them know about these books. Also, please write a positive review if you are able.

Check out our website to find over 100 fiction and non-fiction books, including a range of books for younger readers. The majority of our fiction books are Victorian romances carefully and lovingly edited and abridged for readers today.

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