Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery

by King, Rebecca

  “Stay right there!” Jack bellowed, lurching from his chair to turn toward his youngest son. Pointing a long finger at Sammy, he scowled darkly as he motioned the young boy back to the rug. He waited until Sammy did as he was told before turning back to a trembling Archie.

  Placing a gentle hand upon Archie’s bony shoulder, he eased his eldest son down into the rickety chair beside the table. He was physically shaking so hard that Jack wondered if he would have fallen anyway. He had no cause to doubt the truth of what Archie had told him. Archie never usually told lies, and his upset was clear for everyone to see. Jack dropped down onto his haunches before him to look up at Archie’s pale face. Large, haunted eyes gazed back at him imploringly, and bore testament to the truth of the horrors he had witnessed.

  With a nod, he smiled reassuringly at his eldest son and stood to collect his gun.

  “Marjorie, lock the door behind me, and don’t answer it to no-one.” Archie watched as his dad took his gun down from the top shelf above the fireplace and checked it for shot before donning his coat.

  “Will you get the others?” Marjorie asked with a worried glance at her children. Stepping over Sammy and Ben on the rug, she followed her husband to the back door, glancing back at her children with a worried frown.

  “Aye. I’ll go and fetch John Masterson, Georgie and as many of the others as I can. You sit tight. I’ll shout when I get back. Until then, don’t answer the door to no-one.” Jack gave the instructions as he quickly tugged on his work boots, coat and hat. At the door, he paused to drop a quick kiss onto his wife’s stunned lips before disappearing out of the door. He rapped sharply a few times on the outside until Marjorie slid the bolt across with a heavy thud.

  Silence settled around the room for a few moments, while Marjorie settled in the chair next to Archie and placed a comforting, work roughened hand upon his. She wasn’t sure what to do – what to say.

  “Are you sure it was Mr Harriman?” she asked her son, sweeping back a tangled knot of hair from his brow in concern. She had never seen her eldest son look so ill.

  The change in him since he had happily left to play with his friend Edward, to the terrified, almost haunted young boy who sat before her now, was startling.

  “Edward,” Marjorie gasped. “Was he with you?” She hated to broach the subject and bring her Archie any more distress.

  “No. He couldn’t stay and play because he had to visit his aunt. He had just passed by the spinney with his mum and dad, when this strange man appeared. I didn’t see the murderer’s face. I was only going to sit up in the tree for a bit, when he appeared beneath me. I waited for him to move but didn’t expect –” Archie paused, at a loss for words.

  Clearly striving for normality, Archie watched as Marjorie set about calming her two agitated young sons down, before soothingly answering the terrified concerns of Emilie and Betsy. Eventually shooing everyone off to bed with a sigh, she left Archie to savour the warmth of the fire.

  She took a moment to drape a thick blanket over Archie’s knees, giving his hand a gentle pat in silent reassurance before shooing an awed Sammy and Ben out of the door again, this time chasing them up the stairs to make sure they washed their dirty hands before getting into bed. They didn’t have much money, and the few meagre possessions they did have were old and worn, but his mum made sure that all of her children washed regularly and were mostly always clean.

  Once the room was empty and silence prevailed, she resumed her seat at the table and carefully sipped a mug of cider while watching her son pick absently at the edges of the blanket. She should scold him for fraying the edges of her best furnishings but couldn’t find the heart. He was so pale, he was almost grey. His dark blue eyes were large and slightly glazed, and despite being in the comforting embrace of his home, he still trembled with fright.

  Although milk was usually kept for breakfast, given the ordeal he had been subjected to, Marjorie poured him half a cup from the pitcher in the kitchen, and returned to the table. Satisfied, for a short time at least, when he gulped it down thirstily and gave her a shiver of a smile in thanks.

  “You’ve torn your shirt, Archie,” Marjorie tutted, shaking her head reproachfully at Archie. “You’ll have to let me have it, so I can see if I can mend it, now won’t you? I don’t know if I can though, it’s in a strange place. Must be climbing that tree, no doubt, that’s what did it.” She didn’t want to think of the alternatives, and hadn’t missed Archie’s start when she mentioned the torn fabric.

  She continued to whitter on, something about the amount of sewing she had from the big house, Brentwood Manor, but Archie wasn’t listening. Her voice dulled to a steady, monotonous rumble as his ears picked up new noises. Outside there was an increasing rumble of voices as the village men were mustered in search of Mr Harriman, and the murderer. Archie shuddered.

  “Let’s leave the men to it, dear, there is nothing more you can do tonight. Go and get to bed,” Marjorie urged, not missing Archie’s shiver of fear at the noise outside.

  Archie turned his attention back to his mum, who was now standing before him. He wanted to object, but the thought of sitting around doing nothing but waiting and listening to his mum ramble on, was awful. Nodding slowly, Archie reluctantly bade his mum a quiet, “Good night,” and went to this room.

  As he passed the first bedroom, he could hear Betsy and Emilie chattering about who the murderer could be, and if dad would take them to work in the morning. Leaving them to it, he quickly passed the half-open doorway and closed the door to his bedroom with a quiet click.

  Unsurprisingly, his two brothers were wide awake and jumping. Literally. Up and down on the bed as they waited for Archie; bristling with impatience for all of the gory details.

  “Was it really bad?” Ben panted as he bounced up and down on his knees over and over.

  “Was there lots of blood?” Sammy squeaked, as he was jostled by Ben before they fell off the bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

  Archie tutted, and shook his head in disgust. They just didn’t understand. He was about to turn away from the bed when Ben’s head popped up from the other side of the bed.

  “Did he scream?” he gasped before Sammy’s arm appeared around his neck and he was tugged back down to the floor.

  “Shut up you two,” Archie scolded in disgust. “Get to bed before Mum comes up and tells you off!”

  He could hear the muffled giggles and thumps as the young boys wrestled, completely oblivious to the seriousness of the afternoon’s events.

  They would learn soon enough, Archie thought, feeling far older than his eight years. Tugging his boots off, he gave the twins a few more minutes before climbing gratefully between the covers of his bed, and leaning over the side to glare down at Ben who was sitting on Sammy’s chest.

  “I’m going to fetch Mum if you don’t get in this bed now,” he snapped, fighting the urge to allow his lips to fall into a glimmer of a smile.

  His threat worked. Within moments two warm, wriggling bodies were lying beside him in the bed, elbowing and jostling for position.

  He didn’t want to, but after several moments of wriggling and sighing, Archie leaned over to the rickety table beside the bed and blew the candle out, shivering as darkness immediately enveloped the room. He hated the dark, he really did. When he got a house of his own, he was going to live with the candles on all the time. For now though, he knew that Ben and Sammy wouldn’t sleep with the candle flickering, they would just continue bickering and elbowing, and Archie needed the peace and quiet to gather his thoughts.

  Carefully eyeing his younger brothers through the gloom, Archie turned his back and settled down against the pillow, trying to find sleep.

  After several long moments, it was clear that sleep was going to be a long way off. To begin with Ben and Sammy continued to shuffle and murmur, as they found a comfortable spot and gave in to the need to elbow and thump each other one last time.

  Eventually, silence settled around them until A
rchie could hear nothing but the howling winds, echoed by the faint murmur of his sisters’ quiet conversation in the next room.

  Downstairs his mum added more wood to the fire. The heavy clang of the poker against the iron grate echoed up the chimney breast. They were everyday sounds Archie had never really paid any attention to before. Until now. Now they were familiar noises that bespoke warmth and safety.

  As the sounds eventually quietened down, he became aware of the persistent winds gathering outside, rattling the window panes with increasing gusto. In the far distance, the faint barking of a dog heralded the continued search of the villagers as they sought to find the remains of one of their own.

  Despite the warmth of the bed, Archie shivered. Ignoring the grumbling of Ben beside him, he tugged the thin cover high over his ears with a sigh, certain that tonight sleep would elude him.

  Within seconds he was fast asleep.

  The following morning Archie awoke to find the house strangely quiet. Almost too quiet. He glanced curiously at the bed beside him, surprised to find it empty. Throwing back the covers, he stumbled to the washstand. The cold morning air danced across his skin, snatching the last vestige of warmth with brisk efficiency. Quickly using the cold water in the pitcher to wash, he gratefully donned his clothes before heading downstairs to see why everyone was being so quiet.

  Only his mum was in the house.

  “Where is everyone?” Archie asked, nonplussed. Surely he hadn’t overslept?

  Mum smiled at him gently and beckoned him toward the table.

  “They have gone to work. Ben and Sammy are with your dad today, and Betsy and Emilie are at work already.” She sensed Archie’s next question and pushed a plate of cheese and bread before him. “Your dad said to let you sleep. He’s explained to Mr Tompkins why you aren’t in work today.”

  “But I have to go to work,” Archie stammered, aghast that his dad would do such a thing as risk losing a day’s pay. Mr Thompkins would dock his wages for not working, and that would make next week hard for everyone.

  “Mr Tompkins understands, Archie,” Mum replied dismissively, as she set about scrubbing the hearth.

  “Did they find Mr Harriman?” Archie couldn’t quite hide the quiver from his voice as he posed the question he dreaded the answer to.

  “Yes, dear, they did.” His mum’s voice was soft with sympathy as she shot him a sad smile over her shoulder before turning back to her scrubbing. “In the spinney, just as you said.”

  Archie shuddered as the image of Mr Harriman’s mottled face rose starkly in his mind. “Any sign of the-“

  Silently, Marjorie shook her head. Archie’s stomach dropped and he fought the urge to tremble at the thought of the dark-garbed menace roaming the streets.

  “Don’t you worry none though, Archie. The Justice of the Peace, Lord Brentwood, has been informed. Your dad’s looking for strangers in the area. Maybe the man who did it is long gone.” Although her words were meant to be reassuring, her tone hinted that she didn’t believe them for a second.

  Archie shuddered and hoped she was right that the man had gone. Somehow though, he doubted it too. Something warned him that the man was still in the area.

  In the safety of his own home, having rested and eaten, Archie felt secure enough to think about the man who had put Mr Harriman so ruthlessly to death. There was something about the raw, husky whisper that had been familiar – only he couldn’t quite place why. With a frown, he studied the darkly open void of the empty grate with a shudder.

  “I’ll get to work then,” he murmured, pausing when his mum waved him back down.

  “Your dad says you have to stop here today.”

  “But -” Archie hated to remind her that they needed the money, but knew she understood when her eyes met and held his.

  “It’s alright, we’ll manage. After such a shock, nobody minds if you take a few hours, my dear. Rest for a while, maybe something that happened yesterday will come back to you.”

  Archie sensed there was something she wasn’t telling him, and sat watching her, waiting.

  Eventually she sighed, and put down the pot of black she was using to black the grate. “The Justice of the Peace is coming personally to ask you some questions later,” she confessed on a sigh, shooting him a frown. “But if you tell your dad I told you, I’ll be mighty cross with you, young man.”

  Archie felt his stomach drop, and considered her words. He had only met Lord Brentwood once. The Justice of the Peace was a well-to-do nob who lived in the big house on the outskirts of the village. His breeches alone must have cost ten years’ worth of Archie’s wages. There had been something about the stern-looking aristocrat that had immediately made Archie wary.

  That was probably why he made such a good Justice, Archie mused thoughtfully. After all, until yesterday there had been no crime in the area for some time. Except for the odd sheep of Mr Taylor’s going missing, and the occasional pail of milk, nothing much ever happened.

  Now it had, Archie wished it hadn’t. He thought of the boredom he had experienced earlier yesterday afternoon with a pang of longing. Life had suddenly turned very complicated, and he wasn’t certain he liked it. He suddenly wanted – needed - to be bored; living in a village where nothing much happened. He didn’t want to find himself in the middle of a murder investigation. But, unfortunately, there was no way out.

  “Why isn’t dad doing it? Why is the Justice involved?” Archie frowned. His dad was the village constable, it was for him to investigate a murder, surely?

  Marjorie sighed, clearly unsure herself. “I think it is because it is a very serious crime, Archie. We all know that your dad can deal with it, but the Justice wants the murderer caught quickly, and has said he is going to help with the investigation personally.”

  Archie frowned. Admittedly, the murder of Mr Harriman was by far the most serious crime that had ever happened in the village, but usually the Justice never got involved – whatever the crime. Sensing that there was something odd going on, Archie lapsed into silence.

  He tried to convince his mum to let him go to work several times over the course of the day, and failed. At home, he found himself with far too much time to think about what he had seen. Now the fear had subsided, he was able to consider things more clearly; something he suspected his mum and dad had been hoping for.

  In an attempt to get out of it, he had offered to take dad his lunch, and take the bread to the bakery to bake, or collect the butter from the buttery. He had even offered to churn the cheese in the cheese room, but instead had been made to stay at home and wait for the Justice to turn up and ask his questions.

  Unfortunately, that meant that Archie had spent most of the day thinking about the events of the day before. There was something that Archie had realised – something that until now he had not thought about. The more he considered it, the more he realised that he hadn’t attached any significance to it before. It made the small hairs on the back of his neck stand on end, and left him with even more of a problem. He had to decide just what he was going to do about the realisation that he had very nearly missed one very large clue – a clue that Mr Harriman had been trying to give him right up until the moment he died.

  “Now what?” Archie sighed, wandering aimlessly around the front room. He paused beside the front room window, and stared blankly out across the fields opposite. “What were you trying to give me?”

  His stomach still churned over whenever he thought about Mr Harriman’s last moments, he knew he owed it to Mr Harriman to think them through carefully. Especially as Archie hadn’t told his dad as soon as he had arrived home, and by keeping quiet had given the murderer time to escape, and left Mr Harriman to get rained upon.

  Archie knew that whatever Mr Harriman had been holding in the hand he had held out to Archie, the piece of white was probably still clenched in his tight fist. Was that what the murderer had been after? Had the murderer already gotten hold of it?

  “What do I do now?” Archie m
urmured, shaking his head in consternation. He jumped when his mum spoke from directly behind him.

  “What was that, Archie?”

  Archie spun on his heel and stared at his mum, giving himself a mental shake.

  “Nothing – just thinking.” He averted his gaze from his mum’s close scrutiny, praying that she wouldn’t ask any questions. He had so many of his own, he didn’t know where to start. The last thing he wanted – or needed – was to have a load of questions from his mum, or Dad, and especially the Justice.

  “Come and help me get the tea things ready,” Marjorie suggested. “Lord Brentwood should be here soon.”

  Archie shuddered, and quietly followed.

  They were just putting away the tea things when there was a knock on the front door. Archie knew before his dad answered it, that it was Lord Brentwood. His stomach dipped in nervous anticipation. He hated the thought of recounting that grizzly afternoon in detail again, especially to someone he didn’t trust, but he knew he had no choice. His dad would expect it of him, and there really was no real reason why he shouldn’t tell the Justice.

  Although it wasn’t Sunday, in deference to the importance of their new arrival, Archie was summoned to the front room – the poshest room in the whole house – to meet him.

  “Hello, Archie,” Lord Brentwood intoned, watching Archie enter with dark eyes.

  Archie nodded at the new arrival, sketching a quick bow.

  “Don’t bother with all that,” the Justice ordered, motioning widely to a seat. “Come and sit down.” His gaze met and held Jack’s for several moments as Archie took a seat beside his father.

  “You know why I am here, Archie. You are an intelligent lad. I want you to go through everything you saw that afternoon. Don’t leave anything out.”

  Archie shuddered. Although the request was made in a kindly voice, there was something about the man’s eyes that was cold and hard, and did little to encourage Archie to confide in him. Not wanting to get his dad in any trouble though, Archie took a breath and began to talk.