The Carlswick Mysteries Box-Set by SL Beaumont

Author:SL Beaumont
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, mystery, young adult, rock band, historical mystery, stolen art, historical ya, international mystery and crime, looted nazi art
Publisher: SL Beaumont

Chapter 18

Midnight, Wednesday 28th December

It was nearly midnight when Stephanie finally turned off the TV and climbed the stairs to bed. She was still having trouble sleeping and wasn’t going to bed until she felt really tired. A little while later she yawned and closed her book, finding it hard to concentrate. She was reaching for the switch on her bedside lamp, when her mobile rang.

The caller ID displayed the words ‘unknown’.

“Hello,” she answered.

“Stephanie.” The voice from the past jolted her upright in bed. It oozed false charm and mockery.

“Alex?” she whispered, flashes of her nightmares of being locked in a dark place came rushing back to her.

“I see you’ve found your half of the map,” he stated.

“What map?” she replied.

Alex sighed. “Don’t give me that. I thought if I focused your attention you’d solve it for me. And you didn’t let me down.”

“What do you mean—focus my attention?”

“You were so engrossed with my little brother that you weren’t doing the things that I needed you to, so that had to end,” he said with a cruel laugh.

“I don’t understand,” Stephanie replied

“You know for an intelligent girl, you can really be quite thick sometimes. That groupie cost me two hundred quid. BZP in his drink. A text to you, and then sit in bed waiting for you to arrive. Simple really.”

Stephanie felt sick.

“But you know that whatever smugglers’ contraband there was, is long gone,” she said.

“Oh, I know that,” Alex scoffed. “But the real treasure is still to be found. My grandfather, you see, used the map to hide a cache of Renaissance jewellery paid to him by some wealthy Europeans in exchange for their safe passage to Canada before the war. Trouble is, the silly old fool has lost his marbles and can’t remember where he left it. And your half of the map had disappeared, or so I thought until I read your Uncle David’s memoir.”

“I don’t see how I can help you,” Stephanie replied.

“David thought he was being clever and changed something on his half of the map. I want those changes,” Alex explained.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

Alex sighed again. “Don’t lie to me, Stephanie. Something led you to the cave in the churchyard.”

“So I am supposed to just give the map to you? Tell you what. Why don’t you come by the house and you can pick it up.”

“No, I won’t be walking into that trap. I just want you to tell me what David changed.”

“I have no idea—it all looks old to me.”

“I need that map, Stephanie. One way or another I will get it,” he said. “You know better than to make an enemy of me. There are bigger forces at play here, even I cannot control everything.”

“You’re rambling, Alex. If you want the map, come and get it.”

* * *

“Alex just called me,” Stephanie hissed into her phone, the darkness of her bedroom only broken by the glow from the phone’s screen.

“What?” Michael’s voice was groggy from sleep.

“He wants the map. The poem that David wrote is the key to finding the jewels.

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