Harriett (10 page)

Harriett
looked more than a little shaken, to the point that Mark felt a
surge of sympathy for the fear he himself had just instilled in
her. “I am sorry to be so blunt with you both, but I really do not
want any more deaths in Tipton Hollow. Especially yours,” he added
gently. He ignored the curious stares Isaac and Babette gave him as
he moved around the table and knelt beside her chair. He could see
the tears on her lashes and handed her his handkerchief. “I know
last night’s events were traumatic for you, Harriett. I am sorry
for my heavy handedness just now. Please forgive me. However, I
need you to remain safe. Until we can discount the messages that
were given last night as stuff and nonsense, I won’t ignore the
fact that someone with the letter ‘H’ in their first name or
surname was threatened and, as angry as that makes me,
unfortunately that includes you. I promise you, Harriett, that
Isaac and me will get to the bottom of this. We will try to keep
you safe as safe as we can, but can’t be here all the time.” Mark
glanced across at Babette and read the silent approval on her face.
“It is important that you, and Babette, take every precaution
possible. We will leave no stone unturned and will find out exactly
what happened to Minerva but, until then, I will keep in regular
contact with you. If there is anything at all you remember that you
haven’t already told me, please feel free to contact me. If I am
out and about, leave a message at the station and I will be here as
soon as I can. If I am unavailable for whatever reason, Isaac will
deal with it.”

“
Of course I will,” Isaac rumbled. He looked cautiously at
Mark and wondered what was behind his odd behaviour. He had worked
with Mark for several years now and had never seen him this
fervent; this protective with anyone before. A small voice starkly
reminded him that they had never been involved in such a murder
case like this in either Great Tipton or Tipton Hollow. Whatever
reason Mark felt the need to reassure the young woman so fervently,
Isaac could see no objection to it. She was clearly upset by what
had happened and the implied threat to her own safety and, given
Minerva’s murder in her own house, Mark was right to warn Harriett
to remain safe.

“
Thank you,” Harriett whispered. His warm palms on her chilled
fingers were wonderfully steady and reassured her tremendously. She
offered him a brave smile while she blinked the tears away. “I
don’t know what has come over me. I am not usually like this.” It
took every ounce of her willpower not to cry out when he rose to
resume his seat and removed his hand from hers. The urge to lay her
head on his shoulder and cry her eyes out was so strong that she
physically trembled with the effort it took to remain in her
seat.

“
Now, I need to know if we can have the decanters, and the
glasses, that were used last night. Doctor Woods needs them for
analysis.”

“
Of course,” Babette rose from her chair and glanced at Isaac.
“In the kitchen, there is a box next to the cupboard. If you want
to take that, it should just about hold everything. The sitting
room has remained untouched. Neither Harriett nor I could bring
ourselves to go in there and clean up this morning. You are quite
welcome to take a look in there if you need to.”

Glad to
have something practical to do rather than think morose thoughts,
Harriet pushed out of the chair. She didn’t relish going back into
the parlour but drew strength from the presence of the two
policemen with her. Once inside though, the blanketed closeness of
the heavily curtained room was almost claustrophobic.

“
I know I should leave these closed as a mark of respect to
poor Minerva, but I really have to open them,” Harriett gasped and
stalked across the room to yank the curtains back and throw open
the windows. She stood before the main window and took a moment and
took in the wonderfully fresh air before she turned back to face
the room. It wasn’t as bad as she had thought it would be. Although
glasses were littered around the room, it was still ostensibly her
front parlour; the best room in the house.

“
I don’t know about you, Babette, but I think we need to get
rid of this rug.”

“
Quite. Let’s roll it up while the men here collect the
glassware, then we can leave the windows and curtains open for a
while. I am sure that everyone will understand our break in
protocol given the circumstances.”

“
It is awkward if they don’t because right now that window is
going to remain open,” Harriett declared firmly and knelt down to
roll the heavy woollen rug into a neat roll. She jumped when Mark
appeared beside her and hefted it onto his shoulder.

“
Where to?”

The
familiarity in which he jumped in to help out startled her and she
felt a thrill of pleasure at his willingness to roll his sleeves
up. Harriett offered him a smile and she motioned toward the door.
“The back yard, I think, for now. We can arrange for it to be
collected tomorrow.”

“
Are you not going to the tea shop this afternoon?” Mark asked
as he stood back to watch Harriett lock the back door once the rug
was outside.

“
No, I have given myself the day off. Charles will understand.
I need to clear up here a bit and get some chores done. Last night
was disconcerting to say the least, and that was before poor
Minerva, well, you know.” She gave him a pointed look to which he
nodded. “Then time seemed to stop and has moved so slowly since
that I seem to have been at home doing chores all day yet have
achieved nothing.”

“
Is Minerva’s glass where she dropped it?”

Harriett
frowned for a moment, acutely aware of him behind her as they
returned to the parlour.

“
It is, but there are no contents.” Isaac motioned to a dark
brown stain on the floor that had been the sherry. He carefully
picked up the glass with his clean handkerchief, wrapped it and
placed it in the box with the rest of the glassware that had been
neatly labelled.

Both men
studied the room, the contents of the table and the layout of the
room. Isaac drew pictures and made more notes as he asked about who
was seated next to whom at the table. Several minutes later, he
shook his head at Mark’s look of enquiry.

“
I think that is about it for now, ladies. Thank you for your
assistance today. If you think of anything else, please contact me.
Either call or send a message and I will come and see you. I don’t
care what time of day or night it is.”

“
I will do that, thank you,” Harriett replied softly. Her soft
brown eyes were captured by the emerald blaze of his and her breath
locked in her throat. Time seemed to freeze. How long they stood
locked in silent contemplation she couldn’t be sure. She wasn’t
even certain that she had remembered to breathe. It was only the
rustle of movement by the parlour door that made their gazes break
away and Mark moved to put a little more decorous distance between
them.

He knew
that he had just behaved as unprofessionally as it was possible to
behave, but he didn’t really care. She had captivating eyes, and
the most profound effect on him, both mentally and physically. He
knew, in those last few moments, that he would do everything within
his power to protect her, far beyond what was required of him as a
police officer, even if that meant marriage.

Mark was
no idiot. He was very aware of the fact that by simply being called
Mrs Mark Bosville, wife of the Detective Inspector at Great Tipton
Constabulary, would ensure that no would-be murderer looking for
his – or her – next victim would even briefly consider Harriett to
be fair game. Strangely, the idea of going so far to protect her
didn’t bother him one bit.

With
plans beginning to form in his mind, and with a niggling question
as to where his sanity had gone, Mark took his leave and quietly
followed Isaac out of the house.

CHAPTER SIX

A brisk walk
through Tipton Hollow brought them to the door of Mr Bentwhistle,
the local undertaker. Within seconds of Mark’s knock, the door was
yanked open by a clearly anxious man who frantically beckoned them
into the house. They watched as Mr Bentwhistle stuck his head
outside, looked up and down the street then quickly slammed the
door closed and turned toward them with a frown.

Mark
shared a curious look with Isaac, who merely shrugged and stood
back to allow Mr Bentwhistle through into the sitting
room.

“
Well? I take it that you have news?” Mr Bentwhistle wasted no
time in frivolities and didn’t bother to offer the men drinks or
refreshments, or even a seat for that matter. They had been waved
into the room and now stood, rather awkwardly, while Mr Bentwhistle
shuffled from one foot to the other, seemingly impatient for
news.

“
I am afraid that I have to ask you some questions about what
happened last night.” Mark waved to the assorted chairs scattered
around the room. “Shall we take a seat?”

Mr
Bentwhistle’s head jerked up and down in a parody of a nod and,
with rather too much haste, plonked himself into a chair. Mark
studied the darkness beneath the man’s eyes and wondered whether he
had slept at all. While the events of last night had unquestionably
challenged everyone, the man looked worse than Harriett, and he was
an undertaker used to dead bodies. Why was he so shaken by
Minerva’s death?

“
How did she die?”

“
Choking,” Mark studied the man carefully as he spoke and
watched Mr Bentwhistle suddenly go pale and swallow
harshly.

Whenever anyone mentioned choking, people immediately
swallowed themselves, why was that?
Mark
wondered with a frown and studied the slightly panic stricken eyes
of the older man curiously. Was the man a little too
worried?

“
On her drink?” Mr Bentwhistle frowned. His gaze flew from
Mark, to Isaac and back to Mark as he waited.

“
I think you need tell us exactly what happened last
night.”

“
Have you spoken to any of the others?”

“
Just leave the investigation to us, Mr Bentwhistle,” Mark
replied in his most officious tone. “Now, about last night; I want
you to start at the beginning and leave nothing out.”

Mr
Bentwhistle studied the closed expression on Mark’s face and
realised that he would get nothing out of the Detective Inspector
other than bare facts. Questions tumbled through him but would have
to go unanswered for now. He drew in a deep breath and, as
instructed, began to recount the events of the previous
evening.

“
I take it that you poured everyone drinks?”

“
I helped Harriett. She poured the brandy and I poured the
sherry?”

“
Did you see anything untoward about the drinks?”

“
Like what?”

“
Well, did you notice, say, the colour of some of the drinks
being slightly different, or if any of the refreshments had a
strange smell perhaps?”

Mr
Bentwhistle frowned as he studied the floor and tried to think over
the details. “I remember that everyone had quite a lot to drink. I
don’t know if it was boredom or fright, but everyone needed a
little fortitude. I replenished several drinks, several times, but
cannot remember whose I did top up, in which order. I cannot recall
anything untoward about the drinks, or people, I am
sorry.”

“
Did Mrs Bobbington mention that she felt poorly to you at any
point throughout the evening?”

“
No, but then I talked to Mr Montague during pre-séance drinks
and, well, afterwards I was busy pouring drinks while we all had a
discussion whether to allow Madame Humphries to conduct the
demonstration. I didn’t get the chance to really engage in
conversation with anyone in particular. It was a group discussion
but at no point did Minerva look ill at all. Well, until
-”

Isaac
leaned forward in his seat. “Are you aware of any animosity between
anyone who attended the circle last night?”

“
Animosity? You mean arguments and the like? No, not really.
There are all sorts of gossip flying around most of the time.
Tipton Hollow is a village after all but, as far as I am aware,
there has been no falling out between anyone at the circle last
night. Mr Montague is the person to ask that question to. He hears
all sorts of things in his haberdashery and thrives on running the
hub of the gossip mill, if you know what I mean.”

Mark
knew exactly what the man meant. Mr Montague was at the heart of
all of the village gossip. If anyone knew anything about anybody,
Mr Montague would be the man. Mark could only hope that he hadn’t
already gossiped about Minerva Bobbington’s death last
night.

“
How did Minerva die of choking though? I mean, she was
drinking sherry just the same as most of the people there and they
were alright. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“
Tests are still ongoing, but it looks like she didn’t die
from natural causes. That’s all I can say right now.” Mark replied
blandly. In an attempt to stop any further questions, he stood and
looked down at Mr Bentwhistle with a stern look of caution on his
face. “I would advise you that this is now a criminal investigation
and I would request that you do not discuss matters with anyone for
the time being. If you do think of anything that happened last
night that you haven’t told us already, please contact either
myself or Detective Brown here. We may need to ask you some more
questions but, for now, I think that’s all. Thank you for your
time, Mr Bentwhistle.”