Harriett (13 page)

“
Curiosity, of course. Isn’t that why everyone chose to go? I
was hoping I would get a proper message from my mother. Everyone
thinks I am still mourning her, but the woman was a lot of hard
work. I am not saying I was glad to see the back of her, but I am
considerably happier now that she is with the dearly departed, I
don’t mind admitting. I have worn mourning clothes because it keeps
the gossips from prying, you understand? They carefully skirt the
subject if they think it is likely to touch on a sore
nerve.”

“
I take it that there is a lot of gossip in Tipton Hollow?”
Mark asked carefully.

“
Isn’t there everywhere? Some people don’t really have
anything else to do.”

“
As far as you are aware has anyone who attended the meeting
last night fallen out?”

“
Do you mean was anyone at loggerheads so much that they might
want to do the other in at the circle? No, I don’t think that for
one second. After all, if I was to murder someone, I would hardly
do it with a dozen or more people there. It’s an absolutely
ridiculous notion, no.”

Duly put
in his place, Mark ignored Isaac’s snort of humour and dug around
for anything else.

“
Have you heard any gossip about a fob watch being missing
from Mr Bentwhistle’s funeral parlour?”

Miss
Haversham looked him straight in the eye. “I have spent the last
twelve months living in wretched black clothes to avoid the
gossips. Do you really think that I would spend my days exchanging
news with any of them? I don’t gossip,” she declared firmly but
without rancour. “I now live alone and have more than enough to do
to fill my time, I can assure you. If I do get lonely or bored, I
go to Mabel next door and we go out somewhere together. I enjoy my
life and don’t get any satisfaction from dragging anyone’s name
through the mud.”

“
Did Minerva mention to you that she felt ill at
all?”

“
I haven’t seen Minerva before last night for at least several
weeks now but no, she didn’t mention anything last night to me. But
then, why would she? We aren’t friends. She kept fretting about
whether they would get messages and, if so, what they would be.
Other than that, she seemed perfectly fine if you ask me.” Miss
Haversham was so forthright and calm in her manner that Mark was
relieved his job had been made considerably easier. He knew that
there was one person he could cross of the list of suspects,
although what was going on with this cake he couldn’t quite decide.
He glanced at his empty tea cup but felt it would be rude to ask
for a top-up. With a sigh, he picked up a piece of the remaining
cake and took a bite.

“
I think it would be wise for you not to discuss this with
anyone, not even Mabel. We have more investigating to do to get to
the bottom of what happened to Minerva Bobbington last night. Until
we know for definite, I need you to think carefully if there is
anything you have forgotten; anything someone said to you or
something strange and mysterious that you had forgotten about. If
you do remember something then please don’t hesitate to get in
touch with either Detective Isaac, or myself.”

Upon
receiving Miss Haversham’s assurance that she would give the matter
some careful thought, Mark and Isaac took their leave with their
stomachs blessedly full, if a little heavy from the
cake.

CHAPTER SEVEN

“
Who is
next?”

“
I think we need to go and see Constance Dalrymple and Mrs
Dalrymple. At least we can then cross two more names off our list
in one go.”

Mark
wondered if he would get back to Harriett’s at all today. He had
hoped to pay another visit, ostensibly to see if she was alright
after last night’s trauma, but it now looked less and less likely
that he would manage to get back to his own home any time before
midnight.

“
Come on in, gentlemen, take a seat.” Mrs Dalrymple waved
toward the chairs before the fireplace and smiled her thanks at
Constance, who immediately brought in a tray of tea
things.

Once
again, the ladies seemed to know that Mark and Isaac were about to
arrive, or else they had kept the kettle on the fire, and the tea
things prepared all day, in preparation for their arrival. Mark
silently groaned at the plate of cake that was placed on the table
and waved away the huge piece that Constance held out for him with
a rueful smile. “I won’t if you don’t mind. Got to watch the
waist,” he patted his already full stomach only to instantly feel
like an eel at the crestfallen look on Mrs Dalrymple’s
face

“
Thank you,” Isaac mumbled awkwardly. He studied the cake and
carefully placed it down on the small table before him. He wondered
if Mark would get any information out of the ladies now that he had
just turned down their home-baked cake. One thing he had learned
from his Ma was that if a lady spent any time in the kitchen
baking, it was the height of good manners to at least taste what
she offered.

“
Won’t you at least try a small piece?” Mrs Dalrymple cajoled
and held out a large slice of cake with a look of hope in her eye.
“You must be hungry after all that traipsing about.”

“
How do you know we have been traipsing about?” Mark replied
and felt a wave of defeat wash over him.

“
Well, it is now mid-afternoon and you have just gotten here.
I have no doubt that you have already called on some of the others
who were there last night, so you must have worked up an
appetite.”

Mark
couldn’t fault her powers of deduction and heaved a sigh as he
nodded his thanks, and relieved her of the plate. As soon as he put
the plate on the table before him, he realised that the ladies were
waiting for him to take a bite. He dutifully lifted his fork and
took a mouthful of the fruit cake that was more than a little dry,
had hard crunchy bits in and felt more like a door stop in his
mouth. Nevertheless, he manfully smiled and swallowed several times
in an attempt to get the offending foodstuff out of his mouth. He
coughed uncomfortably as it scratched his throat, and took a
desperate sip of his tea to wash it down. He wanted to warn Isaac
not to bother with the doorstop, erm, cake, and watched with a
smile of male superiority as his associate took a healthy bite of
his own doorstop, erm, cake. The hesitation on Isaac’s face when
the over baked cake exploded in his mouth like sawdust was enough
to tell Mark that his assistant wouldn’t be able to speak for
several minutes.

“
Now, if you would, I should like you to recount events as
they happened last night. In your own words, if you would.” He
watched Isaac carefully put his cake plate down and smile around a
mouthful that he clearly didn’t want to swallow. Mark drew out his
own notebook and pencil and began to scribble notes.

“
We have thought about this. Constance will tell you and I
will add in anything that I think we may have
forgotten.”

Together, the ladies recounted everything, including the
final moments of Minerva Bobbington’s death. It was somewhat
reassuring that they were as calm and matter of fact as Mr Montague
and the facts they relayed matched everyone else’s account almost
to the letter.

“
Was Minerva Bobbington well thought of in the
village?”

“
I don’t know really. She arranged the flowers in the church,
you know, and, as far as I am aware, she wasn’t at odds with
anyone. Why? Was it murder?”

“
Minerva Bobbington’s death is suspicious,” Mark replied
carefully. “We are awaiting further tests but, until they come
through, I would ask that you don’t discuss this with anyone. This
has to remain entirely confidential. Now then, is there anything
unusual you can recall about the evening?”

“
Well, apart from the stool falling over in Harriett’s room
upstairs, I cannot think of anything other than poor Minerva’s
death.”

“
Are you certain that you didn’t see anyone leave the
parlour?”

“
Well, it was very dark you see. There wasn’t much light to
even see the letters on the table. Miss Haversham called the
letters out as the glass landed on them, and Babette wrote them
down. Eloisa picked up on the meaning of the messages once the
lights had been turned on and she could read what Babette had
written a bit more clearly.”

“
Was Minerva bothered about anything? Did she seem worried at
all?”

“
Not as far as I can recall. We were all sceptical, and Miss
Smethwick kept objecting to things people were saying and doing
but, other than that, there was nothing untoward about Minerva. She
had some sort of message about a cat, and she said that she didn’t
have a cat, but I cannot remember much else to be frank. It is all
a bit of a blur.”

Mark
looked at Constance, one brow lifted in query. “Minerva had a
message that she was going to get a cat. Oh, and Mr Bentwhistle had
a message about a missing watch he had lost in the funeral
parlour.”

“
Missing watch?” Mark studied Constance and Mrs Dalrymple but
couldn’t see anything other than honesty in either face.

“
Yes, apparently he has lost a watch belonging to one of his
clients. He had searched high and low for it but couldn’t find it.
A message came through that it was in the embalming
fluid.”

“
Was it?”

Constance shrugged. “I have no idea. Nobody had the stomach
to go and check and, to be honest with you, Mr Bentwhistle didn’t
seem all that bothered. We did briefly discuss whether to carry on
with the séance or not because the messages we did get didn’t make
much sense, but everyone said that they weren’t going to go outside
because it was windy and raining, so we carried on.”

There
was a slight undercurrent of tension in the room, but he couldn’t
quite put a finger on what it was. He wondered if the ladies had
fallen out, or were waiting for something from him. He eyed the
relatively untouched cake still on his plate and felt Mrs
Dalrymple’s avid stare. Was she waiting for him to finish it? He
fought the urge to tug at his collar like a school boy and heaved a
sigh. There was no way out of it; he just had to finish the
wretched stuff before he left. After all, there was no telling
whether he would need to return for more information off either
lady. He glanced at Isaac, who was doing his best to crumble down
some of his portion while he ate the rest, and manfully took a
healthy bite of his own slab.

Several
moments later, feeling slightly sick and more than a little
uncomfortable, Mark pushed to his feet. “I think that’s all for
now. If you think of anything else, please don’t hesitate to get in
touch.”

“
Will you need to question us again?”

Mark
sighed and hoped to God he never had to go back to the Dalrymple
house again. “Only if I have some more questions for you. We are in
the early days of our investigation, so it is feasible that I may
need to return if I require any further information. Meantime,
don’t discuss this with anyone and if you think of anything, you
know where to find us.”

They
hurriedly took their leave and closed the door on an atmosphere
that was so tense it could have been cut with the cake knife they
had used to saw into the door stop, erm, fruit cake they had forced
upon Mark and Isaac. Mark secretly wondered if the cake had been
offered on purpose as a way to stop them asking questions. Mark was
about to close the gate at the end of the garden when the front
door opened and Mrs Dalrymple came out clutching a piece of wrapped
cloth.

Like a
man who sensed danger, Mark groaned at the sight of the small,
neatly wrapped parcel. He knew what it was before Mrs Dalrymple
handed the heavy weight over the gate.

“
You didn’t eat much of your cake,” she remarked more than a
little pointedly. “So I thought you might like to take a piece home
with you so you can enjoy it later.” She pushed the package at a
stupefied Mark, who dumbly took it off her with a mumbled thanks.
He heard Isaac snigger, and watched as Constance hurried out of the
house with a rueful look on her face.

With
their pockets weighed down, the men headed off to their next
suspect.

Mark
sighed despondently and stared down at the large Victoria sponge
cake that sat in the middle of the well scrubbed kitchen table. He
shared an askance look at Isaac, and felt his stomach churn. He
didn’t need to touch his pocket to feel the weight of the heavy
slab of cake still nestled there courtesy of Mrs
Dalrymple.

As soon
as Beatrice turned around, cake knife in her hand, he knew what was
coming and shared a horrified look with Isaac.

“
Now, let’s have some tea and cake, then we can chat,”
Beatrice offered.

Constance was already seated on the other side of the table
and was busy pouring tea. After the séance last night neither woman
had wanted to spend the rest of the night alone, and so Constance
had agreed to stop overnight in Beatrice’s spare room. After a late
morning, they had spent the afternoon chatting about the events of
last night. Constance had been about to head home when Detective
Inspector Bosville and Detective Brown arrived.

Mark
studied the huge wedge of sponge cake placed at his elbow as though
it was about to leap up and strike him. A quick glance at Isaac
revealed that he had similar enthusiasm for the offending
foodstuff, but neither man was ill mannered enough to refuse such a
generous offering.