by Blythe Baker
Mrs. Trent nodded, but the wrinkles in her forehead told me she was far from consoled. “I hope he is, because yesterday I saw him giving a ticket to Mr. Michaels on his bicycle. Apparently he had parked it in the wrong place.”
My face flushed, wondering what on earth he could have been doing. “Well, I suppose the police have many jobs, don’t they? Even if there is a murder case to be dealt with, they still must ensure the law is upheld elsewhere.”
“I suppose…” Mrs. Trent said. “To be honest, I’m beginning to wonder if there even is a murderer.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, pausing as I tied a thick, red ribbon around the box.
“Well, what if no one killed her, but she in fact, took her own life?” Mrs. Trent asked.
Goosepimples popped up on my arms as I finished tying the ribbon and pushed the box across the counter to her. “I’m sure that would have been rather clear from the police investigation,” I said.
“But the article said that she was simply found dead in her home, by that young daughter of hers, no less… How can we be certain the child would have even understood what was happening?”
That was a valid point. Had Sam even considered it?
Of course he would have. He had been doing this for many more years than I had. He had more training than I ever would. Surely he would have been able to tell a suicide from a murder?
“Inspector Graves will get down to the bottom of it,” I said. “I’m certain of it.”
Mrs. Trent gave me a sharp look. “You are quite quick to come to his aid and defend him,” she said, a glint in her eye. “I wonder why that might be?”
The color in my face deepened. “It’s nothing,” I said quickly. “I just know that Sam is very capable, and always does his job to the best of his – ”
“Sam?” Mrs. Trent interrupted. “On a first name basis now, are we?”
I wasn’t sure why this woman’s remarks were so easily getting under my skin, but I managed to keep a smile on my face. “It’s nothing, I assure you. I hope you have a pleasant day today, Mrs. Trent.”
She paid me, and started out of the shop.
I turned and pretended to go through a box of miscellaneous glass beads I had, dropping the fake smile. She had somehow managed to hit the nail right on the head. Were Sam and I too familiar with one another? And would Mrs. Trent now go and tell others about my familiarity with him?
What in the world would he think of me if anything like that were to reach him? He would think I started it, that I was going around telling everyone we were so friendly with one another.
Appalled, I tried not to think about it. I was likely reading too much into the exchange. Mrs. Trent was a very pleasant woman. I always enjoyed serving her when I worked with Irene at the teahouse. She wasn’t the sort to go around and start rumors.
I had to be careful though, now, didn’t I? Perhaps it would be unwise for me to be so utterly familiar with Sam. It might come back and harm his reputation. Or mine.
I thought of his words the night before, how he’d been pleased that I had gone with him…
I shook my head, clearing it of those thoughts. It wouldn’t do to dwell on them, especially not when there were so many people who might misinterpret things.
I certainly did believe in Sam’s skills. I would stand by that. It wasn’t my fault that Mrs. Trent saw it in a far more romantic sense than how I had intended it to seem.
The bell over the door at the front chimed, and I turned to see Irene hurry into the shop, a distressed look on her face.
She smiled at Mrs. Georgianna who was standing near the front, looking through some postcards I’d set out, but her smile quickly faded as she hurried toward the back where I was standing.
“Do you have a moment?” she asked. Up close, I could see the fear in her gaze.
“Yes, of course,” I said. “Mrs. Georgianna, I’ll be right back. I’m just heading upstairs for a few moments.”
She gave me a friendly wave in response, and returned her attention to the postcards.
I put up a small sign near the till, saying I was just upstairs and would return momentarily. I then hurried to the back door to my flat, and Irene and I started upstairs.
“What’s the matter?” I asked as soon as we reached the landing just inside my kitchen. I closed the door behind her as she hurried inside.
She walked over into the sitting room, and began to pace. “I just overheard something troubling.”
“At the teahouse?” I asked.
She looked over at me, nodding. “Yes,” she said. “Nathanial overheard it as well, and agreed to watch the shop so I could come and speak to you, and discern whether or not we needed to go to Inspector Graves.”
I asked her to sit at the table, and she shook her head.
“It’s that serious?” I asked. “Then why didn’t you take it right to Sam?”
“Because I wasn’t sure if it really was anything more than…” Irene said. “It’s Tessa Harmon. She was back in the teashop today.”
I nodded. “What happened?”
Irene, wringing her hands, stared blankly at me. “Well, she came into the shop with that friend of hers that she was with last week. They ordered tea, just like last time…and I didn’t mean to overhear it, but that woman’s voice carries, and she certainly doesn’t seem to care if everyone overhears her. I’m not entirely convinced that wasn’t her intention in the first place – ”
“But what did she say that required you to run all the way over here?” I asked, my heart beginning to beat more quickly.
She sucked in a heavy breath. “She was bragging,” Irene said. “About her genius. She said that everyone seemed so utterly convinced that it was that crochety old woman, someone who seemed far more likely than someone who was less connected to her…”
“Did she mention names?” I asked, a knot forming in my chest.
Irene shook her head. “No, and that’s why I came over here. We don’t know if she meant Abigail, or if she was referring to her landlady…we didn’t know. Does this sound like anything that might be of concern?”
She wanted me to say no. She had come all this way not to just tell me, but to have her fears soothed. From her wide-eyed expression, it was clear that she wanted nothing more than for me to dismiss it as nothing, instead of thinking that a possible murderer was sipping tea from her vintage tea set back at her shop.
My shoulders sank, and my heart grew heavy.
“I thought there was something suspicious about her,” I said. “From the very beginning…”
“Do you think – ” Irene said.
“I’m not positive,” I said. “But there is only one way to find out.”
15
It took me almost a quarter of an hour to check out all of the customers that happened to come into the haberdashery while Irene and I were speaking upstairs. I anxiously stood in the back, tapping my fingers impatiently on the counter, kindly asking those who were browsing if they needed any help.
When they didn’t seem to want to move, I went and flipped the Open sign over, so the Closed side was visible outside the door.
“You’re closing already?” asked Mrs. Georgianna. “But it isn’t even noon yet.”
“I’m sorry, but something very important has just come up,” I said, loud enough so all of the customers could hear. “If you have anything you wish to purchase, please bring it to the back counter, and I will help you on your way.”
It was clear that some of the customers were none too pleased, especially Mrs. Georgianna who likely would have enjoyed staying and looking through every single color of thread that I had recently received in an order.
Finally, the shop closed and the door locked, Irene and I hurried down High Street toward her teahouse.
“She was there when I left,” Irene said. “Perhaps she will still be.”
“I hope she is,” I said.
“Do you intend to talk to her?” Irene asked, the two of us som
ewhat breathless as we did our best to hurry while still looking inconspicuous.
“I have no idea,” I said. “I doubt she would admit anything to me if I was to outright ask her. But if we can maybe catch her talking about it, or if your husband heard anything else…”
The teahouse was bustling when we arrived. Despite the warm, summer morning, people still seemed to want to enjoy their tea and sandwiches.
I gazed around the room as soon as we stepped inside, looking for Tessa Harmon’s distinct, dark hair and pink coat. I found neither, however.
“She isn’t here,” I said.
“But her friend is,” Irene said, pointing to the back corner where they had been sitting the first time we had seen them there.
She was correct. Madeline Woods sat at the back table, her head wrapped in a beautiful silk scarf, sunglasses perched on top. She was pouring over what appeared to be a magazine.
“Let’s go find Nathanial,” Irene said. “He might have overheard something.”
I nodded, and together we hurried back to the kitchen.
Nathanial was inside, pouring tea into three ceramic pots. “There you are,” he said, setting the kettle down and coming over to Irene. “I wondered if you were all right.”
“Everything is fine, dear,” she said. “I went and retrieved Helen. Did she say anything else while we were gone?”
Nathanial’s face hardened, but he shook his head. “No, nothing else. She never dropped names, but it was clear that something strange was happening. The look on her face…she seemed far too pleased about whatever it was she was bragging about. And to be honest, I’m a little worried about what, exactly, she meant…”
“That’s my concern, as well,” I said. “And I’m certain that Sam Graves will be interested to hear about it – ”
“I’m wondering if taking this to the inspector is the wisest idea,” Nathanial said.
“Honey, why?” Irene asked.
“No, I’m sorry…what I meant to say was that I should be the one to go see him,” Nathanial said. “I was the one who overheard them in the first place.”
“But he has no idea that you are involved in any of this,” I said. “It really would be best if you let me go talk to him. I could keep you and Irene out of it completely, so you would never need to be disturbed.”
“This is just as much my home as it is yours, Helen,” said Nathanial. “I think that we need to stand up and be ready to fight for this village. If Miss Harmon is one of those who is causing trouble…then we need to make sure she answers for it.”
Irene laid a hand on her husband’s arm.
“I will go speak with him once we close up for the day,” Nathanial said. “So you ladies can rest easy. We will get this resolved.”
And with that, he lifted the teapots, and carried them back out into the dining room.
Irene sighed, leaning against the counter. She crossed her arms, frowning. “That husband of mine…I never thought I would worry over a trait that I love so dearly about him.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I have always loved his sense of right and wrong. His strong moral core. Now I worry that it might get him into trouble,” she said.
“I’m worried about Sam knowing I’ve dragged you both into this,” I said. “He certainly won’t be happy with me for being so open with everything.”
“It’s all right, dear,” Irene said. “I’m sure Inspector Graves knows that we aren’t the only ones in town discussing it.”
“That’s for certain,” I said, thinking back to Mrs. Trent’s comments in the shop earlier that morning.
I crossed to the door and pushed it open a crack, and peered out.
Madeline Woods was still sitting at the table, her foot bouncing as she sipped her tea.
“I wonder if she would be willing to tell us where Tessa lives…” I muttered.
“She might,” Irene said.
I glanced over my shoulder at her. “I’m surprised. I expected you to tell me off for thinking it.”
She shrank a bit. “Well…If you and my husband are both involved now, then I suppose I cannot stand by and allow you both to stand in harm’s way. Besides, whatever information we get could be useful for Nathanial to take to Inspector Graves.”
“I’m going with him,” I said. “I have no intention of letting your husband speak to the inspector on his own. I know how to speak to him.”
“Yes, I’ve noticed,” Irene said.
I noticed the glint in her eyes, but she leaned over me and stared out into the dining room. “Do you still think you want to talk to her about it?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“And are you sure that you want to question Tessa?” Irene asked.
“I think so,” I said.
“Under what premise?” Irene asked.
“I’ll figure that out when we get there,” I said, and pushed my way out into the dining room.
Madeline seemed entirely aloof to our presence as we approached the table.
“Hello,” I said as kindly as I could.
Madeline looked up at me, slowly, deliberately, a glare in her blue, heavily painted eyes. “No, I don’t need any more tea. Thank you.”
“My apologies. We aren’t here to ask for your order. We had something else to ask you,” I said.
Madeline sat back in her chair, still glaring. “Very well.”
“There was a woman here with you earlier,” Irene said, coming up closer to the table. “We were wondering if you could tell us how we could contact her.”
Madeline’s eyes narrowed. “Who is asking?” she asked.
“I met her the other day,” I said, stepping back in. “And we made plans to have a meeting. She was interested in some of my custom hats.”
She snorted. “Your hats? And who might you be?”
I felt Irene’s gaze on me, but I smiled easily at Madeline. “My name is Elizabeth Warsaw,” I said, using my middle and maiden names. “I’m new to the area. Miss Harmon was kind enough to offer to help me adjust.”
Madeline’s eyes were no more than slits now. “That doesn’t sound like Tessa,” she said. “She never said anything to me about you.”
“I don’t imagine she would have,” I said. “Doesn’t Miss Harmon have a great many contacts? Especially those in the fashion world?”
Madeline tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Well, I suppose you are correct about that.”
“So you might know where she lives?” Irene asked. “I know Miss Warsaw would appreciate being able to take her stock over to Miss Harmon in person. She is very busy after all. Has to return to London the day after tomorrow.”
I knew this was going to come back and haunt me at some point, since this woman lived in town…even though she seemed like the sort of person that I would never spend any time with in the first place.
“Very well,” Madeline said. Her lips parted, and she looked suddenly disgusted. “What? Don’t you have something to write with? I’m only going to say this once.”
Irene fished her notepad from her apron, pencil poised and ready. “Go ahead, Miss Woods. We are all ears.”
16
“I never would have expected that she lived over here,” Irene said as we stared up at the house that Madeline Woods had assured us belonged to Tessa Harmon.
We were back near the bookshop where Mr. Fenton worked, and about three doors down from Mrs. Lowell’s rental house. The cottage itself was quite small, made of the same warm stone that the rest of Brookminster was known for. There was a sizable front garden, with gorgeous, overgrown rose bushes that were in full bloom. A stone fountain stood alongside the path, and a pair of bright yellow birds were bathing in it.
“For some reason, I imagined her in one of the larger homes on High Street,” I said. “What did you say she did again?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure,” Irene said. “I always thought she owned a shop, but I don’t know.”
I looked over
at Irene, my heart sinking. “You didn’t have to come along, you know. I can see that you’re worried.”
Irene straightened, her brow furrowing. “What do you mean? Of course I had to.”
“You didn’t,” I said. “I know you’re worried about Nathanial and Michael.”
“They’re both just fine,” Irene said. “Michael is staying with his cousins for the day, and Nathanial said he was going to go see Inspector Graves as soon as he closed up the teashop, which should be just about any minute now.”
“Yet you didn’t tell him that we were coming to speak with Tessa,” I said.
She frowned. “No, I didn’t. And I feel just awful about it.”
I laid a hand on her shoulder. “If you want to leave, I will completely understand. I don’t want to be a reason why you and your husband fight.”
“I will explain everything to him,” Irene said. “I should have before we left…but it’s all right. I will accept his frustration. But I didn’t want to leave you to do this alone, either, Helen. I’m worried about you. He and I both are.”
It warmed my heart to hear that. “I appreciate it, Irene. I really do.”
I turned my gaze to the house once again, and a chill ran down my spine.
The last time I went to confront a person that I thought was responsible for a murder…she turned on me, and I very nearly died.
I swallowed hard. Perhaps with two of us there, Tessa would be more willing to talk to us.
I wasn’t sure, though.
“Let’s go,” I said, stepping forward.
My heart was racing as we walked up to the front gate of the garden. What was she going to think? What was I going to say?
Even as we walked down the cobblestone path toward the front door, which was painted a soft grey, I still didn’t know what I would do.
My throat dry, I stopped before the door.