“We moved into the old watermill a couple of months ago.”
“I’m not sure I know it.”
“It’s in Middle Tweaking.”
“Oh yes. I remember now. Didn’t that Turtle woman used to live there?”
“Myrtle, yes she did. She moved to the coast about six years ago.”
“I thought it was strange that I hadn’t heard from her in a while. She had a bad habit of sticking her nose where it wasn’t wanted. Tell me, Jill, are you familiar with Tweaking Manor?”
“Only in as much as I’ve driven past it several times. That’s all.”
Mrs V came in with the tea. “Is there enough milk in there for you, your ladyship?”
“Yes, that’s splendid. Thank you.”
I did a double take at the china cups.
After Mrs V had left us alone, Winky came out from under the sofa and jumped onto the windowsill.
Memo to self: Kill him later.
“I see you have a cat.” Caroline looked up from her tea.
“Err, yes.”
“He only has one eye.”
“That’s right. His name is Winky.”
“I have a few cats of my own; five at the last count. Although, Arthur probably won’t be with us for much longer.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Is he very old?”
“No. Barely more than a kitten. He’s too lively for me so I’ve found him a good home with a friend of mine: Lorna Warner. You probably know her.”
“I don’t think so.”
“You must do. She’s one of the Sussex Warners.”
“Oh, right. The Sussex Warners.” I had no idea who she was talking about. “Of course.”
“Your young man looks full of life too.” She gestured towards Winky.
“Too much sometimes. So, Caroline, what is it that I can do for you?”
“Some blighter has stolen the Tweaking Goblet.”
“From Tweaking Manor? Is it very valuable?”
“Not particularly. It is silver, but it’s quite small. I doubt it would fetch much as scrap, and you certainly wouldn’t find a buyer for it as it is. Between you and me, it’s an ugly thing, but it has been in the family for centuries and is rich with tradition.”
“Oh?”
“As the estate passes from one generation to the next, the name of the new owner is engraved on the goblet. The thought that it should disappear on my watch is simply unbearable.”
“And you say it went missing from Tweaking Manor? Where exactly was it kept?”
“In the games room.”
“Is that room normally locked?”
“No, it has never seemed necessary.”
“Was there a break-in? Was anything else stolen?”
“There are no signs of a break-in and as far as I can ascertain, nothing else seems to be missing. Just the goblet.”
“Have you contacted the police?”
“No. I’d prefer to keep them out of this if I can. Our family likes to maintain a low profile. If people were to see police cars milling around the manor, well, you know how they gossip.”
“I understand. If the goblet isn’t valuable, can you think of any other reason why someone might want to take it?”
“No, I can’t. I’ve racked my brain, but I haven’t come up with a single reason. It doesn’t make any sense.”
“When was it taken?”
“It must have happened sometime between midnight on Wednesday and six o’clock on Thursday morning. That’s when I noticed that it had gone.
“And you’re positive it was there on Wednesday at midnight?”
“Absolutely. I was up much later than usual that night because we’d had a family gathering. It was my birthday.”
“Not the best of birthday presents.”
“Indeed. To be honest, at my age, I’d prefer not to celebrate my birthday, but the family insisted, so I was forced to go along with it.”
“And you went into the games room before you retired for the night?”
“Yes. I’d told Mulgrave he could call it a day at ten o’clock. He normally finishes after dinner at about seven, but I’d asked him to work later that night. After everyone had left, I checked all the rooms downstairs before retiring to bed. Just to make sure the lights were out—that kind of thing. The goblet was definitely in the games room then.”
“Who is Mulgrave?”
“My butler.”
“Who was at your birthday party?”
“It was hardly a party. Just a dinner for the family: My brother, my sister, and my son and his wife. That was pretty much it, really.”
“Was there anyone else in the manor at the time? Apart from Mulgrave?”
“Mrs Jones was there, but she’d gone by ten too.”
“Who’s she?”
“The cook.”
“Do both she and Mulgrave live on the premises?”
“Mulgrave does. Mrs Jones lives in Lower Tweaking. I’ve known them for many years—they’re both extremely trustworthy. I can’t believe they had anything to do with the theft.”
“Where is Mulgrave’s room?”
“In the east wing. It’s the only room that hasn’t been boarded up in that wing.”
“Does he spend most of his time at the house?”
“Yes. He doesn’t have any relatives as far as I can make out. Or friends. He seems to prefer his own company. The only time he goes out, other than to run errands for me, is when he takes his evening walk.”
“Into the village?”
“No. He usually just walks around the grounds. He must be a hardy soul because he does it in all weathers. So, tell me, Jill, do you think you’ll be able to help us to find the goblet?”
“I’ll do my best. I will need to pay a visit to Tweaking Manor. I assume that’s okay?”
“Yes, provided you don’t turn up in a car with flashing lights and a siren.”
“Could we possibly arrange my visit now? How about this afternoon?”
“I’m afraid I’m busy for the rest of the day. I have lunch with the Leadbeaters and those usually stretch out for the whole afternoon.”
“What about tomorrow?”
She took a diary from her handbag. “I’m tied
