The Mercedes pulled up to the black wrought-iron gates and Sophie peered through the windscreen up the driveway to the large house beyond. The house had been an old manse and large mature trees and hedges gave it a grand look. One of the bushes on the left-hand side of the gates had been trimmed into the shape of a mouse, and on the opposite side one was trimmed into the shape of a man who had been made to look like he was holding a net. Next to the gates was an intercom at the level of the driver’s window. Sophie waited. ‘Well …?’
Alasdair sighed loudly and lowered his window, ‘I’m still not happy about this,’ he said as he pressed the button.
‘Yes, I think I got that but you’re here now so you might as well behave with some measure of good grace about it. This means a lot to me and if we don’t get Mr Scott on board then I’m going to have a bit of a hole in the event on Sunday as we haven’t come up with any other worthwhile suggestions. Quick, answer the speaker …’
Alasdair leaned his head out of the window. ‘It’s Mr and Mrs Mills to see Milton Scott.’
A crackling voice came back through the intercom. ‘Who? Do you have an appointment? Mr Scott is a very busy man and he can’t be available to just anyone who happens to be passing.’
Alasdair turned to Sophie and rolled his eyes. ‘Yes. We telephoned earlier and we have arranged to meet with him at twelve o’clock. It’s a matter of great importance.’ There was another crackling noise and then a creek as the gates started to swing open. Alasdair closed his window. ‘Why is it that when you have to speak through an intercom it makes you feel like English isn’t your first language? Ghastly contraptions.’ They drove up to the house and parked outside the large, black, double front doors.
‘Nice,’ said Sophie.
‘Awful,’ Alasdair snorted. ‘It’s all for show. I bet he’s put a stainless steel kitchen in there; it shouldn’t be allowed in a period property.’ Sophie didn’t indulge him any further and got out of the car with Alasdair following. ‘If he’s got a musical doorbell then I’m leaving now,’ he said.
‘Come on,’ she rang the bell and a reassuring chiming noise came from within. ‘There you go, no sign of “The Yellow Rose of Texas” to be heard.’ A few moments later the door swung open and a young man with ruffled hair and a goatee beard stood before them.
‘If you’d like to come in please,’ he said, gesturing them in. They walked into a large hallway in which antique furniture was placed quite elegantly and a large grandfather clock ticked away at the bottom of the sweeping stairs. Sophie introduced herself to the young man.
‘We’re very pleased you could fit us in Mr Scott.’
He blushed. ‘Oh, I’m not Mr Scott, I just work for him, he told me to let you in. I think he’ll …’
‘Thank you Graham,’ a voice came from the stairs and Sophie and Alasdair looked up to see a man of around thirty in a dark pinstripe suit descending towards them. ‘Mr and Mrs Mills, I’m sorry I couldn’t greet you at the door but I was on a conference call to the States. Business never sleeps and all that.’ He came over and shook their hands, giving them both a warm smile. ‘That’s the trouble with running an online business, we’re always open somewhere and there’s always someone asking a question. Still, it keeps the wolf from the door. Why don’t we go into the drawing room and we can have some tea?’ Sophie was smiling and glanced at Alasdair as Milton led them from the hallway into a large room.
‘See, I told you he would be fine,’ she whispered, ‘he seems like a real gentleman, just who we need. Don’t be difficult now, you know how you can go.’
Alasdair raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Me?’ he followed them into a large room which was again adorned with antique furniture and artwork around the walls. He was immediately drawn to a fine oak bookcase in which were housed an array of old books including, he noticed, a complete set of first edition Waverly novels by Sir Walter Scott.
‘I thought those might catch your attention,’ Milton Scott wandered over, ‘very difficult to get a hold of but then you know that already I’m sure, not to mention how expensive they were. I managed to source them only recently and they’re one of the most valued parts of my book collection.’ Alasdair scanned along, looking at the other books on the shelf, all of which seemed to be first editions. Kidnapped, Lady of the Lake, Ivanhoe and a few others which made up quite a collection and, much to Alasdair’s annoyance, stirred in him a pang of jealousy.
‘Quite an impressive collection, I suppose. They must have cost you quite a bit of money. I’m surprised you could afford all of these given your recent proceedings, which were in the newspaper. I know from personal experience how legal costs can mount up.’
Sophie cast Alasdair a cold stare. ‘Alasdair, you’re not being very courteous to our host.’
Milton gestured casually but gave a curt smile. ‘Oh, it was all in the papers so there’s nothing to hide. I’m sure Mr Mills will also have read that I was completely cleared of all charges and even received an apology from HM Revenue and Customs for their preposterous hounding of me and my business.’
‘I did read that, but then I don’t always believe everything I read in the papers.’
‘Hmm … perhaps only what you want to believe then I wonder? Speaking of which, I was very sorry to hear of your recent burglary. It must have been very traumatic for you Mrs Mills.’
Sophie, who was now sitting in a comfortable armchair, nodded agreeably. ‘It was quite distressing, although they seem to have been after only one thing, so they thankfully didn’t ransack our house and take any personal items. It was Alasdair that bore the fallout from it really. It must be quite worrying for you as well Mr Scott, knowing that something so valuable from your family heritage has been stolen?’
‘Please, I think we can possibly work on first names now, can’t we? I do get concerned when I hear about the careless loss of something valuable but thankfully those slippers weren’t so important in the grand scheme of things.’
Alasdair could feel his hackles rising. ‘It was not a careless loss as you put it. The police believe it may have been a professional gang that came in to steal them to order, for the very reason that they are so valuable. I suppose it’s not such a big concern for you given that you’re only very distantly descended from Walter Scott. If at all.’
Milton’s mouth thinned but he didn’t take the bait. ‘We’re all entitled to our opinion, Mr Mills, no matter how ill-informed. Now, if you’ll excuse me for one minute I’ll go and fetch us the tea and we can discuss the reason for your visit.’ He left the room and Alasdair sat down in the chair next to Sophie, who was shooting death rays out of her eyes at him.
‘What?’ he asked innocently.
‘What! Are you determined to ruin this for me? If you can’t maintain at least a civil attitude then can I ask if you can just keep quiet?’
Alasdair sat back with his legs crossed. ‘He was asking for it, Soph, lording it up over us like that. Careless loss indeed! But I realise you and the committee are intent on going ahead with this folly so I’ll just keep out of it if that’s what you want. I thought you brought me along so I could discuss our mutual interests. That’s all I was doing.’ He sat with an indignant look on his face, which did nothing to lessen Sophie’s infuriation. She had thought he might be an asset but she should have known when it came to having to give ground to Milton Scott, Alasdair had put his line in the sand. Milton came back into the room with a tea tray, which he set down on the coffee table. A fine china teapot and cups were laid out along with a plate of cream cakes.
‘I thought you might appreciate these, Sophie, given the impending event which I understand you are in charge of organising? Quite an undertaking, I hope it’s all going well?’
Sophie sipped her tea. ‘Oh well Mr Scott,’ she paused, smiling, ‘Milton. We’re well on track and almost everything is in place. We have our performers, catering is in hand and the marquees are going up tomorrow. Even the weather forecast is looking quite favourable so it should be a good day. I’m afraid we just have one problem.’
‘Oh?’ He looked vaguely interested as Sophie explained about the Provost dropping out at the last minute due to family issues.
‘You see Mr, I mean Milton, the guest of honour is a crucial part of our event. Rather like Stirling’s position as a city in Scotland, the guest of honour will be the brooch that holds the entire thing together. So the reason we are here, as I’m sure an intelligent man like yourself must have guessed,’ she could just see Alasdair silently tutting and rolling his eyes in her peripheral vision, ‘is that we would be, well, honoured if you would accept the role as our guest of honour?’
Milton sat pondering for a moment. Inside he was relishing this and he would love nothing more than to accept. Despite being the most successful businessman in the area he had never been given the respect and recognition which he felt he deserved. It was he after all who gave generously to many local clubs and charities and he ran a highly successful online company from within Stirling, helping to maintain the city’s acclaim as a centre for high-tech advances. His website www.itsworthwhat.com was a great success story, allowing people to upload pictures of their family heirlooms or collectibles and through his network of experts he could give them a value. There was no doubt that the biting recession had helped his business with ever increasing numbers of people searching their lofts for things to sell to bring them in some extra money which had meant a huge increase in business for Milton’s website and therefore in his fortunes. To act as the guest of honour at such a big local event would go a long way to the city paying him back for all his good deeds. But one did have to play hard to get in these matters and if he agreed too easily it would not be such a coup – after all, for him to re-arrange his hectic schedule to fit them in would make it look much better. Sophie looked at him expectantly while Alasdair tried to eat a generously filled chocolate éclair without falling into the double jeopardy of both cream and chocolate smearing on his nose. Milton sprang to his feet and began pacing around the room, almost rending his garments in a show of great distress.
‘Oh Mrs Mills, I would dearly love to help you out but my business and my commitments are great and I just can’t think of a way out of them.’
Sophie looked disappointed. ‘But Milton, the city is counting on you. This would not only help out our event but the city would owe you a huge debt of gratitude, even more than they do already.’
He paced around a little more for effect. ‘Let me just go and check my diary and see if there’s any way I can re-arrange my schedule.’ He left the room and Sophie sat back feeling drained.
Alasdair leaned over. ‘I think he might just go for it you know. If we can just offer him one of our kidneys then that might be enough to persuade him.’
She cast him a frosty glance. ‘Very funny. I think he might accept, no thanks to you. She stopped as Milton came back into the room with his hands held up looking like an evangelical preacher.
‘Good news! I can put back my conference call to New York and my meetings and I will be able to give you my time on Sunday.’ Before Sophie could respond he continued, ‘However, there is one thing I would ask in return. Just a small item.’
Sophie was on her feet and grinning inanely. ‘Anything, what can we do?’
‘I’d like the main stage to be named the Milton Scott Stage in honour of my being the guest at the inaugural event.’
Sophie glanced at Alasdair, who seemed disinterested. ‘Well, I would have to run it by the committee but considering our position and your generous agreement I’m sure it will be fine.’
‘Wonderful!’
Alasdair sighed and rose from his chair. ‘Perhaps we should be going now and let Mr Scott get back to his computer games,’ said Alasdair.
Sophie nodded and they were ushered towards the front door.
‘So,’ Milton said,’ I assume you’ll be in touch in the next couple of days to give me the details?’ Sophie nodded again, barely able to speak with the huge relief she was feeling. ‘I hope the police have some good news with your slippers too Alasdair. It’s a shame when you have such a small collection to lose such a vital part of it.’ Milton smiled at Alasdair, who for once decided to let it slide.
‘I’m sure they will. Can I ask you one thing though?’
‘Of course.’
‘I was surprised when the slippers came up for auction that you weren’t there bidding for them. In all seriousness, the fact that these were owned and worn by your illustrious ancestor, I would have thought you would have been desperate to get your hands on them?’
Milton paused a moment. ‘No, not really. The problem is I have so many good-quality items that belonged to Walter, such as his writing set, and some manuscripts, that his old slippers weren’t that much of a draw. Especially given the poor condition; I mean the hole in the sole of one of them is quite a disappointment. It really reduces their value, so much that I’m surprised they were sold at auction at all.’
Alasdair stared intently at him. ‘The hole in the sole?’
‘Yes, you should know, I think it was the left one wasn’t it?’
Alasdair again kept staring. ‘Yes, indeed it was,’ he replied as Sophie placed a hand on his arm and gestured him out of the now open front door.
‘Many thanks Mr Scott. Speak to you soon to go over timings.’ The door was closed behind them and they got back into the car. ‘What on earth was all that about?’ Alasdair turned the key in the ignition and started down the driveway.
‘It’s just very interesting that he was able to tell me about the hole in the sole of one of the slippers.’
‘Why? Everyone gets a chance to examine the lots before the auction don’t they? He would have seen it then.’ Alasdair pulled the car to a stop at the end of the driveway and glanced over at her.
‘That would be true. Except the hole wasn’t in them when they were auctioned; I did that when I tried them on at home to see if they would fit.’
Sophie looked confused. ‘So how would Milton know about it then?’
‘Good question,’ he answered, as he steered the car onto the main road and headed for home.