Sergeant Derek Owen was a bear of a man. At six foot seven, weighing in at around
250 pounds, with a thick bushy greying beard, he would have been well suited to play either Santa Claus, or the character Grizzly Adams from television. His partner by contrast couldn't have looked any different, and Mr. Rusk wondered if the pairing had been a station joke at some stage. Gerard Davidson looked like he might hit 100lbs, fully clothed, and with all his pockets filled with stones. He was barely five foot eight, had short, shaved, jet black hair, that looked out of place on his thin pale and highly freckled face, and standing beside Derek Owen, he looked like a schoolboy out on a day trip.
Sergeant Owen had spread the contents of the box out on the kitchen table and was now counting the notes. "I make that one thousand, seven hundred and fifty five pounds. The change is useless as it's old money. I've no idea about the jewellery, but I'd say it's all good quality stuff. All of it is hallmarked in some way."
"Do you think it's stolen property?" Mrs. Rusk enquired excitedly.
"It looks that way, but proving who it's been stolen from or by whom might prove to be a stiff challenge. It looks like the box has been in the ground for many years," agreed the sergeant.
"You'll be speaking to the owner of the house though?" Mrs. Rusk asked hopefully.
"We'll try and speak to anyone that's had access to the property since the late sixties, early seventies. That way we'll cover the time period in and around the changing of our currency. Douglas Galbraith will of course be one of the people we speak too."
"Thank goodness for that," Mrs. Rusk said quietly, before regretting her words immediately.
"Why do you say that Mrs. Rusk?" Constable Davidson asked suspiciously.
Mrs. Rusk frowned. "No particular reason really. I just think seeing as Mr. Galbraith owns the Manor House, he might be able to suggest who you talk to that's all."
"Will you dig up the rest of the garden?" Katie asked, trying to take the pressure away from her mother.
"Did it look like there might be more boxes hidden nearby?" Derek Owen wanted to know.
Katie shrugged. "It was dark and difficult to tell. I haven't been back there since I found the box."
"It might be worth sending some cadets over to dig the area around where you found this one. Can I ask, why did you go digging in the first place?"
Katie wasn't expecting the question. She felt her insides tightening and her throat went dry.
"You okay miss?" Constable Davidson asked.
Katie nodded and walked towards the sink. "Just thirsty that's all," she replied, as she filled a glass full of water and then drained it quickly. "I woke up and went out for some fresh air. I thought I saw something shiny on the ground. When I bent down to look, I spotted the edge of the box, so I dug it up."
"That was extremely lucky," Davidson pointed out suspiciously.
"It will be if the money and jewellery are returned to their rightful owners," Christopher said strongly from behind the constable.
Davidson turned and glared at Christopher. "And were you with her when she found the box?"
"No. I was asleep in the lounge. Katie showed me the box when she came back inside."
"Didn't you find that strange?" Owen persisted, taking the lead again.
"Why would I find it strange. Katie has done you a favour finding stolen property. Why are you questioning us like this?"
YOU ARE READING
Lost Souls
Ficción GeneralA family move into an old Mansion in the Highlands of Scotland unaware of the buildings terrible secrets. One of the children is particularly aware something is vastly wrong with the families new home.
