Harriett (14 page)

“
Thank you,” he muttered around an uncomfortable cough. “Now,
I would like one of you to go through the events of last night.” He
gave each woman a hard look. “Leave nothing out. I want to hear
everything.”

“
I take it she was murdered then?” Beatrice asked with a
sigh.

“
What makes you ask that?”

Constance gave him a pointed look that essentially told him
that she wasn’t fooled. “I don’t know much about police procedures,
but I don’t think that the police usually investigate deaths from
natural causes.”

Mark’s
lips twisted in wry amusement. “At the moment, she died from
unnatural causes,” he sighed. He wasn’t sure why he felt the need
to be frank with these ladies. Was it because they were close
friends with Harriett, and he hadn’t been evasive with her? Or was
it because they were both matter of fact; calm and steady as they
sat, side by side, ready to talk to him. Both ladies looked well
rested and completely unfazed by last night’s events and were in
total contrast to Mr Bentwhistle, whose bizarre behaviour continued
to plague Mark with questions.

“
What did she die of?” The directness of Beatrice’s gaze
assured Mark that they wouldn’t proceed until she knew.

“
She choked on something in her drink.”

“
It wasn’t Harriett,” Beatrice snapped with a definite shake
of her head. “She isn’t like that.”

“
I am not for one second suggesting that she would. I am here
for facts, ladies, and facts only.

“
Right then,” Constance said and cast a questioning glance at
Beatrice, who nodded her approval. She took a paper and pen, and
sketched out the seating arrangements at the séance table, and
began to detail exactly what had happened with the precision and
skill of an experienced detective.

By the
time she had finished, Mark was shocked and Isaac openly impressed
by their thoroughness. “What about the stool upstairs?”

“
Oh, that,” Constance sighed. “Well, I have thought about that
over and over again. I cannot see any conceivable reason why the
stool would fall over as it did, except for the fact that it may
have been knocked over by someone who was up there.”

“
But the house was checked and nobody else was there,” Isaac
argued. After a couple of minutes he jerked and seemed to realise
that he was staring at Beatrice a little too intently. He liked the
clear, level-headedness and pure honesty in her eyes. Something
within him wanted to challenge her high intellect and he almost
relished going head to head with her in a battle of
wits.

“
It was dark in the room though. The heavy curtains were
closed and there was only one candle on. I could barely see my hand
in front of my face and, if I hadn’t made a mental note of where
everyone was sitting, I would not have been able to identify who
was where. Who is to say that someone didn’t creep out of the room
while the lights were out and go upstairs?”

“
Whatever for?” Constance replied with a frown. “The only
person who could have snuck away was Miss Hepplethwaite. Everyone
else was engaged in conversation.”

“
Miss Hepplethwaite barely spoke, so it wasn’t inconceivable
that she could disappear for a couple of minutes, go upstairs, look
for whatever she was after and then race back downstairs. She is
thin and wiry, and wouldn’t make much noise.”

Mark
shared a glance with Isaac. He hadn’t thought of the séance being a
ruse to actually rob people’s homes but it was a possibility that
they had to look into.

“
The curtains were open when we got there,” Isaac
noted.

“
Yes, when there was a bump upstairs, everyone was seated
around the table, but it was so dark that someone suggested that
the curtains be opened. It didn’t do much to help except cast the
room in shadows, but it was a bit better.” Constance took a sip of
tea while she thought carefully about last night.

“
So someone could have crept back into the room without being
noticed.”

“
I didn’t recall seeing Miss Hepplethwaite around the table
all the time,” Beatrice sighed. “I cannot say for definite that she
was there throughout the séance.”

Constance shook her head. “Me either.”

“
I will look into it. Was there anything else untoward that
you can remember?”

Both
ladies shook their heads.

“
What do you think about the messages? Do you think that they
were real, or do you think that they were a prank of some
sort?”

“
Almost definitely a prank,” Constance replied crisply. “There
was nothing coming through that a good gossip couldn’t have known
about beforehand.”

“
I agree. The message about Minerva getting a cat points to
the fact that someone was playing a joke, or had overheard the
wrong piece of gossip,” Beatrice added.

“
How so?” Isaac frowned. He really did like the way her mind
worked.

“
Because if the spirits were getting messages, they would
surely have been aware that Minerva was going to die?” Beatrice
stated plainly. “After all, if the great beyond is what the good
Lord says it is, then they know when to expect the newly departed.
They wouldn’t predict someone would have a cat if they were waiting
for her to join them.”

“
Good point,” Isaac coughed and caught Constance eyeing his
still untouched cake with a frown. Duly warned, he shot Mark a look
and took a bite of his cake. The buttery moistness positively
exploded in his mouth. The taste of the rich sponge was quickly
followed by what tasted like strawberry jam and rich, frothy cream.
Despite his full stomach, he sighed with pleasure. “Did you make
this?” He asked Beatrice and gave her a look of approval when she
nodded. “It’s good.”

He made
a few notes in his little black book while Mark sampled his own
piece of cake, and was surprised by the almost companionable
silence that settled over them for several minutes. He had spent
many years working with Mark, and was more than comfortable with
engaging in an interview rather than merely making notes. While
Mark finished his cake, Isaac leaned forward in his
seat.

“
What made you want to go to the séance? You both seem level
headed and practical women. Why would you want to waste an evening
on such a questionable activity? Have you read the papers about the
fraudulent psychics?”

“
Yes, we have, and to be honest with you, I was driven by
curiosity more than anything else. We didn’t want to go to Great
Tipton to see a demonstration. Tuppence went once and said that it
was stuff and nonsense. She could see nothing more than strange
lighting and muslin. However, we were curious as to how Madame
Humphries could manage to con people with false information given
that she doesn’t live in the village and wouldn’t know much of the
gossip, so we decided to invite her to a séance to give us a
clairvoyant demonstration. She wasn’t very expensive and with so
many people attending, it was a small price to pay for an evening’s
entertainment. Harriett and Tuppence had a conversation with Mr
Montague, who suggested that we set up a psychic circle and, well,
word went round really. Various people asked if they could join.
Eventually there were twelve of us, notwithstanding Miss
Hepplethwaite and Madame Humphries. To make it appear that we were
genuine believers, not curious villagers, we decided to call
ourselves a Psychic Circle.”

“
Did you pay her?”

“
Yes. A small donation plus travelling expenses Madame
Humphries called it,” Constance sighed.

“
What about the lights that were surrounding Madame Humphries
during the demonstration? What do you think they were?”

Beatrice
shrugged. “I have no idea, but they didn’t smell. Tuppence said
that she had seen strange lights at the demonstration, so I am sure
it is some sort of trick. They had that carpet bag on the floor
beside Madame’s chair. Anything could have been in
that.”

“
Did you see either of them go in it for anything?”

“
No, sorry, but as I say, it was rather dark because Madame
insisted that the room have only minimal light,” Constance sighed
and shook her head. “If Miss Hepplethwaite went upstairs and helped
herself to anything, and I am not for one moment suggesting that
she did, then it could have been placed into the carpet bag at any
point throughout the evening.”

Mark
nodded. He had to agree with her logic. Madame Humphries could use
mediumship as a diversion to keep everyone’s attention away from
Miss Hepplethwaite, while she hid her stolen items in the carpet
bag.

Were
they thieves though?

A small
part of him grew acutely angry at the thought of anyone being so
brazen as to burgle Harriett’s house at all, let alone while she
was in residence.

“
Does Harriett know it was murder?”

“
Yes, she does. For the purpose of the investigation, we don’t
want this gossiped about and it will be impossible to keep quiet if
people get wind of Minerva’s death as being anything less than
natural,” Isaac reported. “However, because you may be called in
for further questioning and, as witnesses may be required to attend
court, we have no choice but to tell those who were present last
night the truth about Minerva’s death. We would, however, ask that
you don’t discuss what happened with anyone else.”

“
Can we discuss it with Harriett? I mean, it was her house,”
Constance reasoned.

“
I don’t see why not as long as you don’t discuss it in her
tea shop, or anywhere else where you may be overheard.”

“
Sounds reasonable to me,” Constance replied and looked at
Beatrice, who nodded her approval.

Mark
knew that the ladies would undoubtedly want to discuss last night
with Harriett. They were close friends, and Minerva’s death had
been in Harriett’s house. On a personal note, he didn’t want
Harriett feeling alone and isolated. She had to cope with the
ramifications of having a murder take place in her house. On a more
professional level, he felt fairly certain that the ladies before
him could be trusted to be circumspect with their deliberations
and, between them, were more likely to come up with a more feasible
explanation for some of the events of last night.

Feeling
slightly sick from too much food, Mark moved toward the door. “I
think that is about all for now. If there is anything else, then
don’t hesitate to contact either myself or Isaac, here. For now,
this is a criminal investigation, so please be careful.”

“
Wait!”

Mark
froze with his hand on the door knob, and turned to glance
enquiringly Beatrice. His stomach dropped as he caught sight of
Constance in the kitchen, and knew what was coming.

“
Here, take some of this with you. There is far too much here
for just us two, and you seemed to enjoy it so much,” Beatrice
grinned and handed them both a piece of tightly wrapped sponge
cake.

Isaac
accepted his with a smile of thanks. The rather impish grin
Beatrice had on her face warned him that the residents of the
seemingly sleepy Tipton Hollow were up to something, only for the
life of him he couldn’t figure out what. Unless they were all
involved in the murder of Minerva Bobbington, and were trying to
silence the questions through killing the investigating detectives
with cake, he had no idea where to start looking for
suspects.

Mark
stared down at the lump of cake in his hand and swallowed. “Thank
you, that is most kind of you,” he offered with a weak
smile.

Weighed
down with more cake, the men quickly left.

“
Good Lord, what it is about this village and cake?” Mark
muttered as he walked toward Hilltop Farm. It was half a mile out
of the village but, right now, Mark needed fresh air and some
exercise if only to walk off the heavy weight in his
stomach.

Isaac
chuckled and glanced back at the village. For all intents and
purposes it was a quaint country village. There was nothing in the
picturesque cottages and scenic moors that would suggest anything
sinister was possible in such a beautiful location. He only hoped
that the murderer was Madame Humphries, because she lived five
miles away in Great Tipton, and it would mean that Tipton Hollow
would remain untainted by the tawdry business of harbouring a
murderer in its midst.

“
Going back for more cake?” Mark asked wryly when Isaac
continued to look back at the village.

“
There is a black carriage outside Beatrice’s house,” Isaac
reported. “Nobody has got out yet though, or in for that
matter.”

Mark
glanced at him and turned to stare back down the lane. It was
difficult to see the coachman because he was dressed from head to
foot in a large black cloak. Even the horse was black from head to
hoof. There was something slightly disturbing and unnatural about
the sight given that dusk was falling and it certainly wasn’t cold
enough to warrant the coachman being wrapped up in winter
woollens.

“
Want to go back to take a look?” Isaac offered, not liking
the fact that the black coach was so close to Beatrice’s
house.