Harriett (16 page)

“
I like cake as much as the next man, Harriett, don’t get me
wrong, but not morning, luncheon, afternoon, tea-time and,” he
paused and glanced at his pocket watch, “evening.”

“
The ladies are all part of the church and involved in the
village fetes, that kind of thing. I know Miss Haversham was quite
put out that Beatrice won the first prize in the cake competition
with her Victoria sponge, and Constance Dalrymple nearly put one of
the judges in hospital with her fruit cake.”

Mark
snorted at that, “I can understand,” he reported with a wry grin.
“It hasn’t sat with me too well either.” He rubbed his aching
stomach and shook his head in mock despair. “Are they trying to
issue us a warning?”

“
Sit and rest for a while, you will feel better soon. You need
to wash it through with water.”

“
I have drunk more tea today than I usually drink in an entire
week.”

“
Strange that, I could almost certainly detect a whiff of ale
about you,” Harriett replied with a smirk as she disappeared into
the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Mark
smiled, aware of the familiarity of their conversation and the ease
in which he was made to feel at home. As he waited for Harriett to
reappear, he took the opportunity to study the sitting room in more
detail. The whole house was larger than most two up, two down
terraces, and was more in keeping with the home of a wealthy but
middle-class businessman than a hard-working family such as the
Marchingtons. There was the usual aged and heavily used furniture,
namely a table and several chairs which took up pride of place in
the centre of the room and two large chairs which bracketed the
huge stove. Cupboards on either side of the fireplace hid most of
the paraphernalia used in houses these days, while a large dresser
along the back wall displayed the family china. Everywhere was
scrubbed to a high shine and smelled of lemons and soap. It was
wonderfully cosy room, and far less ostentatious than the front
parlour.

He
absorbed the warmth of the fire and had to work to resist the urge
to rest his boots on the fender. As he studied the glowing embers,
he couldn’t help but wonder how they managed to live in a house the
size of this from the profits of running a tea shop in a relatively
small village like Tipton Hollow. The cost of the coal needed to
keep the stoves heated would cost an arm and a leg. He glanced over
at the fairly modest fireplace. From the look of it, it had just
been blacked and stood in highly polished splendour. The room
glowed with hazy warmth that bathed the room in a homely
atmosphere, even without the additional soft light from the gas
lamp seated on the dresser.

“
How long have you been living here, Harriett?” He asked when
she reappeared.

Harriett
placed a tray of tea things on the table and frowned for a moment.
“I moved in when I was about twelve. My parents died within a year
of each other so I moved in with Uncle Charles and Aunt
Babette.”

“
Your Uncle Charles is your father’s brother, I take
it?”

“
That’s right. They were the closest family I had.”

“
Where were you born? My family come from Great Tipton, and I
have lived there all of my life. I have been aware of the tea shop
in Tipton Hollow. You have a commendable reputation, even in Great
Tipton, but I cannot recall ever seeing you about before.” He
wondered how he could have lived to close and never noticed someone
as beautiful as Harriett.

“
My parents lived in Sodsbury, about twenty miles
away.”

“
I know it. Nice little market town just outside of
Pemberton.”

“
That’s right.” Harriett had very little memory of what had
been her childhood home and could only vaguely remember her mother,
or father for that matter. They were but faint and distant memories
to her.

“
Do you still live in Great Tipton?” The question was out
before Harriett could stop it, and she wondered if she had just
crossed some invisible line of politeness, especially given he was
a police officer working on investigating a murder in her home. Was
it right and proper that she should be asking him personal
questions?

“
I do. My mother lives on this side of Great Tipton, on the
Avenue Road. Do you know of it? The Mill House, next to the Tavern
Green?” Mark described the village green on the outskirts of Great
Tipton.

Harriett
had been there regularly on her way to market. Despite the huge
town just beyond it, the small green that had used to be a major
part of the old village held a hint of timeless elegance that
captivated the imagination and always made her want to
explore.

“
I know of it. You are very lucky; it is a very pretty part of
town.” She didn’t add that it was also the most affluent. The
houses that lined the village green were largely huge mansions that
were owned by the town’s wealthiest businessmen. Only the richest
could afford to live there. She studied Mark with fresh eyes and
felt a little deflated, although she couldn’t quite work out why.
It wasn’t as though there was anything between them, except a
natural friendship that was at odds with the newness of their
acquaintance. To Harriett though, his news felt as though some
invisible line had just been drawn across the room, with him on one
side and her on the other. A gulf opened up between them and left
an almost awkward silence in its wake. She struggled to find
something to say that would bridge the chasm. Luckily, Babette
chose that moment to join them.

“
Would you like something to eat?” Babette offered almost
hopefully. She was poised, ready to return to the kitchen if he
dared say yes.

“
I am fine, thank you. I need to ask you a few questions.” He
included Harriett in his gaze, but wondered what he had just said
that had put her on edge. The way she had suddenly become distant
and uncomfortable slightly perturbed him and, for the life of him,
couldn’t figure out what he had said that could have upset her. Was
it the mention of her childhood? He mentally winced at the thought
that he had touched on a raw nerve.

After
today, and even yesterday for that matter, he had no doubt they
would become better acquainted. A small voice reminded him of
Alice, and he resolved to meet with her as soon as possible. He
tucked that thought aside for now and turned his attention back to
the ladies, who sat at the table expectantly. Reluctant to leave
the warmth of the fire, Mark leaned forward and braced his elbows
on his knees.

“
I need you ladies to tell me if you have noticed anything
missing in the house since the séance?”

Harriett
frowned at him. “Like what?” She shared a look with Babette, who
shrugged.

“
Anything: jewellery, personal items, anything of even the
smallest worth that might have a market value to
someone?”

“
You mean someone was a thief?” Babette stared at him with
large, horrified eyes.

“
I think that we need to go and take a close look at your
rooms and find out if anything is missing.”

Harriett
stared at him and felt unnerved at the thought that someone had
rifled through her personal belongings. She pushed away from the
table with a glint of determination in her eyes. She had barely
reached the door before Babette and Mark joined her.

Together
they walked into Harriett’s room directly above the parlour. The
fire still glowed and took the chill off the room, but she still
took her shawl off the end of the bed and wrapped it around her
shoulders. She ignored the neatly made bed and skirted around the
cast iron frame to stand before the chest of drawers along the far
wall. She stared down at the contents of her top drawer for several
moments. Babette moved to stand beside her on the left, and Mark on
the right. He caught her hand as she was about to
rummage.

“
At first glance, does anything look disturbed to you?” He
nodded toward the drawer with a frown. He wasn’t lost to the
softness of her fingers beneath his and made no attempt to release
his hold. It bothered him a little that there were so very few
personal items there. One brooch, a beautiful hair comb, a
decorative brush and ladies’ mirror, along with several hand
stitched handkerchiefs and a small, well thumbed bible nestled on
what looked to be another shawl.

“
I had another decorative brooch. It had some beautiful enamel
work on it and was given to me by my mother.” Harriett whispered
and pulled her hand away from Mark’s to slide the drawer out
further. “It’s gone,” she whispered when she had finished a
thorough search of the contents. “It was my mother’s, and it has
gone.”

“
There, there, dear, I am sure that Mark will help us find
it.”

“
Of course I will, Harriett,” Mark hastened to assure her. He
felt his temper surge at the thought that someone would have the
audacity to rifle through her things and help themselves. A thief
had definitely been in their midst at the séance, he just had to
find out who.

“
I can promise you, Harriett, that I will find out who took
it,” he declared softly. “Firstly, I need you to tell me if you
have worn it recently and, if so, if anyone mentioned it being
particularly nice?”

Harriett
frowned at that. “I don’t wear it very often. It is not all that
expensive but more of a keep-sake than anything. I think I may have
worn it at a church service a couple of weeks back, but I can’t be
sure. Certainly nobody commented on it that I can
recall.”

He
glanced down at the stool seated beside the dressing table. “Is
this where the stool usually sits?”

“
Yes, and it was like this when I found it with Mr
Bentwhistle.” Babette turned the four legged, sturdy looking stool
onto its side to demonstrate that it would be virtually impossible
for the thing to fall over by itself. Someone had knocked it over
in their haste to get out of the room.

Mark
pushed the drawer closed and looked at Babette. “Do you have
anything missing?”

Mark
made no comment on the fact that Babette didn’t appear to share a
bedroom with her husband. They had passed a second bedroom on the
way to the small back bedroom. The door had been open and revealed
it to be a man’s room with a waistcoat hanging off a hook on the
wall, and a worn pair of boots under the high, cast-iron bed. He
made a mental note and stood back to watch Babette search her
personal belongings for any sign of theft.

“
Nothing’s gone as far as I can tell.”

One look
at the distress evident on Harriett’s face was enough to send
Mark’s blood boiling again. Had Mrs Bobbington seen something, and
that was why she had been murdered? Or had there been more than one
criminal at the séance? Mark mentally groaned at the possibility
that they might not be looking for one person, but
several.

“
I need you to draw me a picture of the item that is missing,”
Mark sighed and took a sip of his water once they were back
downstairs. It was clean and crisp but did little to ease the
gurgling in his stomach.

Harriett
nodded jerkily and rose to find a paper and pencil. She quickly
sketched the broach she had long since committed to memory and
handed him the paper with a hand that trembled slightly with fury
and distress.

“
I will get to the bottom of this, Harriet,” he promised her
when her eyes eventually met his. “I promise you. It just takes
time, unfortunately.”

“
I know, it is just a little unnerving to think that someone
has been in my bedroom and through my personal belongings, that’s
all.”

“
Was anything else disturbed in the house?”

Babette
and Harriett slowly shook their heads. “It would have been better
if it hadn’t been so dark in here, but Madame Humphries insisted
that the lights had to be out in order for the spirits to come
forward. Nobody could see much at all. I suppose it is a perfect
cover for someone who wants to burgle, or commit
murder.”

“
Right now, we cannot point fingers at anyone. There were
fourteen people at that séance, and nobody can be discounted as
innocent.” He mentally winced and immediately wanted to snatch his
words back. Luckily, neither Harriett nor Babette seemed to have
taken offense at his implication that they were suspects
too.

“
If there is anything that you find is unusual, or you
discover something else that has vanished, let me know as soon as
possible. I also meant to ask you if you had any further séances,
or meetings of the Psychic Circle planned in the near
future?”

Harriett
shared a look with Babette. They had discussed this earlier and
agreed that the second meeting scheduled for Friday should be
postponed. Unfortunately, they also felt fairly certain that one or
two members of the circle, not least Madame Humphries and Miss
Hepplethwaite, would object to any postponement or
cancellation.

“
On Friday, at Beatrice’s house,” Babette sighed reluctantly
after several moments of awkward silence. “Now, I know what you are
going to say; there has been a murder and it is too dangerous, but
I am just telling you that we had a meeting planned for Friday.
Harriett and I discussed this and would prefer to cancel it, but
believe that we are going to have to argue the case. Nobody could
foresee the events of last night. Unfortunately though, it may only
have encouraged some of the circle, rather than put them
off?”