Harriett (17 page)

“
You mean that some devout believers may want to conduct
another séance so that they can contact the dead and see if they
can find out what really happened?” Mark sighed. “Who do you think
are believers, besides Madame Humphries and Miss
Hepplethwaite?”

Harriett
looked at Babette. “Well, now that I come to think about it, not
many of us to be honest with you. Most of us only agreed to the
circle in the first place out of curiosity but we are more sceptics
than firm believers. I do think that some may want to get hold of
Minerva though.”

“
Why? To try to prove that spirits do exist?” Mark hoped that
he wouldn’t have a group of amateur detectives on his hands. “Or to
get to the bottom of what happened to her?”

“
Both,” Babette and Harriett replied in unison.

Mark
mentally winced but couldn’t argue with their logic. Mr Montague
would undoubtedly want to do another séance out of curiosity, if
nothing else. Mr Bentwhistle? Mark couldn’t even be sure that the
man knew what was going on with the living let alone with the dead.
Miss Smethwick was by all accounts a firm non-believer, and would
probably attend just to be able to tell everyone to shut up. The
ladies? Definitely arm chair detectives and that, unfortunately,
made the circle a very dangerous group to be in, especially if one
of them was a murderer.

“
I am not one to question anyone’s religious beliefs, please
don’t get me wrong,” Mark sighed. “I do have to point out, however,
that if you had been in contact with spirits, surely you would have
been forewarned of the imminent death of one of you?”

“
I completely agree with you. We came away from the séance
with more questions than answers,” Harriett replied with a wry
smile. “Unfortunately, some of the group won’t be happy until they
have those questions answered.”

“
It’s dangerous though, now that one of the group has been
killed.” It was the closest Mark could come to issuing them both a
warning that they should not conduct any more séances. There wasn’t
anything illegal about what they were doing. The meetings were held
in their own homes and they weren’t profiteering from it. It just
gave him the chills to think that they were sitting in the dark
with someone who had sinister intentions.

“
You could always come to the next meeting,” Babette suggested
hopefully. She had read the look of warning Mark had given
Harriett. The man had clearly wanted to issue her niece with an
order not to attend another séance and Babette wanted to applaud
the almost proprietary way he looked at her. Unfortunately,
Harriett appeared to be completely oblivious to the police
officer’s rather personal interest.

Harriett’s lips quirked at that and she pushed to her feet to
follow Mark out.

“
Do you know something? I might just do that,” Mark replied
ruefully. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was the
solution.

Harriett’s smile left her face and she studied him, but felt
fairly certain that he was joking. Mark was by far the very last
person she would expect to attend something as farcical as a
séance. She felt strangely abandoned as she followed him through
the house and wondered what kind of affect he was having on her
senses. He shouldn’t have this much of an impact on her so quickly,
especially under such dire circumstances, but she couldn’t ignore
the familiarity she felt with him, or the strange, protected
feeling she felt when he was around. He always seemed to be calm,
thoughtful and in control. Without question, she knew that he would
always be counted on in a crisis, and she wasn’t sure what to make
of her apparent dependence on him. Was it her wayward imagination
that made her see protectiveness that wasn’t there? Was she trying
to make him into something she wanted him to be, rather than who he
really was: a policeman conducting an investigation into murder?
She wasn’t sure.

She
smothered a yawn and suddenly felt so weighed down by the events of
the last two days that nothing seemed to make much sense any more.
She wanted to lay her head down, if only to allow her mind to rest
for a while. Over the course of the day she had scoured her memory
for anything untoward that had happened during the night before;
well, except for the death of course. Then she had fretted and
worried over when she would see Mark again. Now, her worries were
heightened by the latest revelation that her prized possession had
been stolen by someone she had trusted in; someone who had been in
her parlour last night.

“
I will be in touch tomorrow, Harriett. Meantime, make sure
that the doors are kept locked and try to get a good night’s
sleep.”

Mark was
only vaguely aware of Babette in the kitchen out back. He dipped
his head to look down into Harriett’s face and was more concerned
than ever to see fear in the depths of her beautiful
eyes.

“
I will be glad to go to work tomorrow and at least get back
to some semblance of normality,” she sighed with a frown. She
wasn’t sure why she felt the need to confide in him. He was
certainly not interested in her personal issues, but the words
simply couldn’t be contained.

He
couldn’t resist it, and slowly lifted a finger that tipped her chin
up until her eyes lifted to meet his. Harriett froze and stared up
at him. The softness of his fingertip felt like a brand on her skin
and she shivered at the intimate touch. Nobody had ever touched her
like that before, especially not a man. Should she move away?
Should she allow more? She wasn’t sure what to do. Luckily, Mark
seemed to take the decision out of her hands and merely smiled
gently at her. He tried to put all of the reassurance he wanted to
offer her into his eyes, but wasn’t sure if she
understood.

“
Try not to worry, Harriett. I will get this sorted out for
you, trust me. Get some sleep. I will find you tomorrow if I have
further news.” More shaken by the feel of her soft skin than he
knew was wise, Mark yanked the door open and left the
house.

He
sucked in a huge breath of the crisp night air and caught sight of
a black carriage as it disappeared around the last house at the end
of the street. He recognised that coachman. He listened to the
hooves clip-clop into the distance. It was only when silence
settled around him that he slowly eased away from the house. It was
a good five mile walk back to Great Tipton, but he didn’t mind. It
gave him the chance to think about the investigation, and Harriett,
while keeping an eye out for the return of mysterious
carriage.

CHAPTER
NINE

Having spent
a dubious night running up and down stairs to the outhouse, Mark
was not in the mood to chase after the evasive Miss Smethwick. He
was tired, grumpy and really wanted to see Harriett
instead.

“
Bloody Dalrymples,” Mark muttered as he climbed into the
carriage to join Isaac.

“
Didn’t settle with you either, eh?” Isaac asked wryly as he
handed Mark the morning newspaper.

Mark
threw him a dour look. “The next time you go to the village fete
and they are having a cake competition, head back to work. It isn’t
worth the misery.”

Isaac
looked a little green around the gills and voiced no objection as
the carriage lurched into motion with a little too much
enthusiasm.

“
What do we do if Smethwick isn’t there?” Isaac asked as he
studied the landscape that swept past the window.

“
Kick the door down,” Mark grumbled. He frowned at a small
article on the fifth page that referred to the mysterious
disappearance of renowned Psychic medium, Olga Hegedus. Having
stolen hundreds of pounds from victims in the Charing Cross area,
she had mysteriously vanished several weeks ago, along with her
associate, Charlotte Fotheringill. Both women were wanted for
fraud, theft and were still at large. Anyone with information
should inform Scotland Yard. Mark folded the newspaper and showed
Isaac, who glanced at it and nodded.

“
See if you can find out what these two look like. I think we
need to see if we can tie in the appearance of the mysterious
Madame Humphries to the disappearance of these two.” He tapped the
newspaper.

“
I have already requested Scotland Yard sends us descriptions
and a copy of the case file. As soon as it arrives, we will see if
they match.”

“
Good, I have a sneaking suspicion these are one and the
same.”

“
More importantly though, would they murder for
money?”

“
You mean did Minerva see Miss Hepplethwaite disappear from
the table? Would it be enough to ensure that she would be murdered
to stop her talking to someone about it?” Mark sighed and tossed
the newspaper onto the seat beside him. “I think it is a strong
possibility. As soon as we have seen the illusive Miss Smethwick,
we will head over to Madame Humphries and co, and get a good
description.”

Isaac’s
loud knock on Miss Smethwick’s door was enough to make the window
panes rattle. Smoke billowed slowly out of the chimney pot, so they
knew that someone was at home. They waited for several minutes
before Mark heaved a sigh. He stood back to study the windows and
was contemplating kicking the door down when the rattle of bolts
inside heralded the arrival of the elusive Miss
Smethwick.

Mark
studied the wary eyes of the dishevelled woman who stood just
inside the darkened hallway and nodded to her. She clutched her
shawl tightly to her neck and looked as though she was about to
turn on her heel and run. Mark studied the white knuckles on her
hands and wondered what she knew that made her feel so unnerved. He
was fairly certain that she as frightened about something. Was it
their visit?

“
Can we come in?”

Miss
Smethwick stood back and waved them inside. From all accounts, the
woman was parsimonious and quite vocal. The descriptions the others
had given of her were in stark contrast to the rather timid woman
who stood before them now. So what was it that had made her so
worried? Had she got something to hide?

“
Take a seat, gentlemen,” Miss Smethwick offered cautiously.
“What can I do for you today?”

Mark
stared at her for a moment but kept his expression blank. Had the
woman forgotten the important event of someone’s death the other
night?

“
We came yesterday. Unfortunately, you appeared to have been
out at the time we called but I do believe that we told you to
remain at home until we questioned you about the events at the
séance,” Mark replied pointedly and with no small measure of
censure in his voice.

“
I wasn’t out at all,” Miss Smethwick argued. Her small
straight nose lifted piously and she stared evilly at him with
narrowed eyes that were filled with scorn. “I was here all day. I
waited for you as per your instruction. However, if you have the
ill manners not to turn up then I can hardly be to blame, can I.
About eight o’clock in the evening, I was so tired that I fell
asleep. It was dark outside when I woke up, so I went to
bed.”

“
That’s very odd, I thought I saw movement upstairs in the
window when we left about six,” Isaac drawled. There was something
about this woman that irked him. Was it the way her beady eyes
seemed to accuse them, or the slightly odd way she carried herself?
He frowned and continued to study her, even when she turned away
with an angry sniff.

“
Cats,” Miss Smethwick snapped. She nodded to a spot behind
Isaac, where a large black cat lay curled up on the window
sill.

Isaac immediately thought
witch’s
cat,
but remained silent as he glanced at
the huge beast.

“
They like to lie in the windows and watch the gardens for
mice.” As if on cue, the cat chose that moment to jump down. His
hind quarters brushed against the curtain, which moved against the
window.

Isaac
lapsed into silence and studied the woman before him. There was
something strange about her only he couldn’t quite put a finger on
what it was. She was a little too defensive, a little too wary and,
although he had yet to discover her age, there was something odd
about her face. He eyed the wild mass of hair that sat like a halo
atop her head. It looked as though it belonged to someone else.
Liberally streaked with grey, it would be best suited to someone in
their eighties. Something about Miss Smethwick’s eyes bespoke of a
person who was several years younger than they appeared to be. He
mentally shook his head at his wayward imagination and turned his
attention back to the interview.

“
I want you to go through the night of the séance,” Mark
began. “Please tell us everything that happened and don’t leave
anything out. I want you to try and remember as much as you can. I
know it was dark at the time, but try to think about the times you
looked up and studied the faces of the people around
you.”

Miss
Smethwick took a breath and slowly recounted the night with
astonishing detail. Every nuance, every lifted brow, all of it came
tumbling out until, by the time the old woman lapsed into silence,
Mark was a little bit stunned. He couldn’t be sure that she was
entirely accurate with all of the details, and was positive that
she had embellished a few facts to make herself a credible witness;
he just had no idea why. After all, if it was as dark as everyone
had reported it to be, she could not have seen Madame Humphries’
brows lift at some of Hugo’s comments or Tuppence share a scowl
with Harriett. Nevertheless, he couldn’t actually call the woman a
liar.