There were so many possible scenarios and Grace felt determined to find out more. Compelled to, even. And if there was a daughter, then surely she would want to sort through her mother’s belongings herself. It was even possible that Mrs Donato’s daughter didn’t know that her mother had died … if they were estranged for some reason. So it was entirely possible she had no idea the items were stored here … just like the soldier’s son in Scotland, who’d had no idea that his dad’s medals were here at Cohen’s Convenient Storage Company on an industrial estate in southeast London.

‘Who knows, Grace.’ Larry shook his head. ‘Something I’ve come to realise in this line of work is that human beings are complex. Families, especially. We’ve had all kinds of situations over the years with the storage units. Divorce, deaths, affairs, even marriage, and that’s supposed to be a happy time for people. But weddings can cause tension too, especially when a newly married couple come to clear out a unit. Do you remember the Marples?’

‘Oh yes, how could I forget?’ Grace pulled a face on remembering the debacle that had ensued when Mrs Marple discovered that her new husband had stored a load of memorabilia of his time with an ex-girlfriend. Photo albums, clothes, letters, souvenirs from their travels were all dumped in the big rubbish container amidst much shouting and flouncing after Mr Marple had settled the bill.

‘So, where shall we start?’ Grace said cheerily as she put the diary down on the dressing table and looked at the jewellery box, determined to unravel the mystery of Mrs Connie Donato’s life and reach a happy outcome.

‘Here is as good a place as any,’ Larry nodded, lifting the padded lid of the jewellery box.

A moment of silence followed.

Grace glanced inside, looked at Larry, and then they both gasped in unison.

‘These stones can’t be real … surely?’ Grace managed, going to touch the sapphire- and diamond-encrusted bracelet nestling in its own little velvet tray inside the box. She hesitated, unsure if she should let the tip of her finger even dare to make contact with such an exquisite piece of jewellery. What if she damaged it somehow? She would spend a lifetime trying to save enough money to replace the bracelet, if it turned out to be real and therefore worth an absolute fortune.

‘I sure hope not.’ Larry carefully picked up the bracelet, worry etched on his aged face. ‘Because if it is, then Mrs Donato definitely isn’t insured for such a valuable item.’