‘Removed from the premises… Do you think that’s something to do with the secret commission?’
‘The boy… that must be Wetherby.“We all know why, and I fear he will talk. I fear he will ruin our reputation,”’Theo repeated. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked up the letter.
‘There may be some substance in what Sebastian has been implying. Was Wetherby framed? If so, why? What did he actually know?’
‘I’m not entirely sure, but my gut is telling me that my grandfather knows something. We need to dig deeper,’ he admitted.
‘Let’s have a look through the rest of the desk.’
Together, they pulled out the remaining papers, but it was just old shopping lists, recipes, postcards, and small sketches– nothing of consequence. That is, until Theo opened the desk cupboard and reached for a thick leather-bound ledger that had been shoved to the very back. He pulled it out. Its dark brown cover was cracked and scuffed, with faint embossed letters spelling out, ‘INVENTORY– VALE BROTHERS, 1960–1970’.
Theo’s eyes widened. ‘This is their workshop inventory,’ he said. ‘Everything that was made by the Vale Brothers during this time.’
‘It’s huge,’ Pippa murmured. ‘Like… It’s giving giant bible energy.’
‘It basically is, in workshop terms.’
He carried it carefully to the coffee table, brushing dust off the cover with the sleeve of his jumper.
Pippa knelt on the floor beside him as they opened the ledger together.
Lines of neat handwriting stared back at them. Inventory lists, dates, quantities of materials, prices, notes about damaged tools, all written in old-fashioned ink.
Pippa leaned forward, squinting. ‘Whose handwriting is that?’
Theo didn’t hesitate. ‘Horace. It’s initialled with a tiny H.V. at the end of the line.’
They turned the first page. More supplies. More stock checks. Nothing interesting.
Theo flipped again. More pages of nothing but barrel screws and melted gold filings and faulty hinge pins.
‘There’s nothing remotely interesting,’ observed Pippa. ‘How about we skip to when we think everything kicked off? According to Wetherby’s book, it was around July 1965.’
Theo began turning the pages. ‘Here we go.’ His finger traced the lines. ‘Gold leaf… screws… orders for the lighthouse clock…’ he murmured. ‘The commissions are listed separately. There.’ He pointed.
At the bottom of the left-hand page, a heading read: COMMISSIONS– SPRING 1965.
‘They’re numbered.’
His finger pressed a line halfway down the page.
‘Here. Look at this.’
Commission #47– Stolen watch component– classified. Lost value: £12,000 / check A.V.
Pippa felt the hair on her arms stand up. ‘Twelve thousand pounds? Woah! That probably amounts to around £120,000 in today’s currency. I know because of the valuations and restored pieces I’ve done over the years. Jeez!’
‘Stolen… That’s got to be the one, so… it was a watch. That seems a hell of a lot of money for a watch back then.’
‘Classified… What exactly does that mean? Was it for a pop star, a member of the Royal Family?’
‘A political figure, maybe? It’s all very cloak and dagger, especially as there is no proof it was stolen, if it’s never been recovered.’
‘So do you think this entry is a cover-up?’
‘It’sgotto be a cover-up. Look at the letter Agatha wrote to Horace…’
‘It may be that Wetherby was guilty of taking some things from the workshop, but maybe not this.’
