Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery

by King, Rebecca

  He burst out of the trees moments later, propelled by the certainty that home wasn’t far away, only for disappointment to surge forward, grasping at any relief he might have felt. Somewhere in the woods he had become disorientated and was now at the far edge of the woods, further from home than ever before.

  “Ar-ch-ie,” the soulless voice sing-songed around him.

  The small hairs rose on the back of Archie’s neck as the softly sung words penetrated his frozen fear. He knew he had heard that voice before somewhere.

  Refusing to allow fear to render him useless, Archie took full advantage of the ground being more solid beneath his feet and increased his pace as much as he could. His eyes locked on the hedgerow lying further ahead, like the shaft of an arrow in the darkness, it gave him somewhere to aim for. For the first time in his life, he felt completely alone and helpless, and he didn’t like it, but rather than collapsing into girlish tears, he felt his anger build.

  He almost wished the man would appear in front of him, so he could give him sound kick - but then again.....

  As his legs pounded the uneven earth, he wondered where Edward was, and if he had managed to reach home yet. At least the murderer hadn’t decided to follow Edward instead, giving his friend a chance to reach safety.

  “Ar-ch-ie,” the voice called again, this time closer.

  Archie shivered at the emotionless voice carried hauntingly on the wind. He didn’t know which was worse, the voice, or the awful howling of the winds echoing around the trees. The trees that now held the body of Mrs Humble.

  Determined he wouldn’t be the murderer’s third victim, Archie kept his eyes locked on the hedge – his goal was growing closer and closer by the minute. Any second now he would be there, then he could jump the hedge, run down the track and if the murderer appeared in front of him, scream his head off and alert half of the village. Hopefully the murderer wouldn’t have finished with him before the villagers got themselves out of bed to see what all the fuss was about.

  Oblivious to the cold night air making his breath fog out before him, Archie puffed and panted. Sweat popped out on his brow through a mixture of fear and exertion.

  If only the moon would appear, it would be enough to light his way and he could see further into the trees. As it was, he had no way of knowing if the murderer was alongside him, or behind him. He could be fairly certain he hadn’t managed to get ahead. The forest floor was too uneven to run over with any speed and the man wasn’t swift enough to overtake him.

  Unfortunately, not being able to overtake Archie meant that the man was able to draw alongside. He was aware of a brief flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye a second before the now familiar dark shape of a hooded figure appeared beside him. Archie instinctively swerved away from the trees and out toward the open field. He couldn’t afford for the man to drive him further away from the village, and fought down the panic at the thought of being so far away that nobody would be able to hear him scream.

  “Leave me alone!” he shouted desperately, his voice thin with fear.

  “I just want to talk to you,” the deep voice rasped. Again, a sense of familiarity swept through Archie. He knew he had heard that voice before – but where? Whose was it?

  He didn’t have the time to stop and think. With a deep breath, he tried his hardest to quicken his pace, despite the deep ruts in the ground underfoot.

  The sense of relief he felt as the hedge approached was so strong that he wondered if he would be able to manage jumping it. He could only pray he wouldn’t fall over when he landed on the other side. He hadn’t thought the man would be so fit – he had certainly not run this fast or so far on the afternoon Mr Harriman had been murdered.

  Taking a deep breath, he sent a silent prayer heavenward and lunged over the hedge, landing on the ground on the other side with a solid thump that barely broke his stride. He took the opportunity to glance behind him, surprised to see the figure standing in the field – watching. Had he run out of steam? Archie slowed his pace a bit, glad for the brief respite. His heart hammered in his chest, so loudly that the rhythmic hammering nearly blocked out the constant rush of the winds whirling ferociously around him.

  Refusing to be tricked, Archie slowed his pace to a steady run, all of his senses tuned to any sign of movement from the trees up ahead.

  His limbs trembled but he refused to allow them to cave in. His heart hammered madly for him to stop and rest for a while, but he refused to succumb to exhaustion. Instead, he locked on the steady thump, thump, thump of his feet hitting the dirt track. Quick glances back every now and then assured him that nobody was following, and with each step he took, he relaxed just a little bit more.

  Unfortunately, he was lulled into a false sense of security. He was within six cart lengths of the first house at the edge of the village, when the cloaked figure appeared out of the trees before him and moved to stand in the middle of the track. Archie glanced behind him, unsurprised to find the track empty.

  Spinning back around, this time he did stop running, and simply stood, panting heavily as he tried to work out what to do.

  “What do you want with me?” Archie yelled, holding his arms wide and glaring at the ominous looking figure a few feet away. He hated having to face forward, and was aware that anyone could creep up behind him, but he couldn’t risk keep checking over his shoulder and give the man opposite any opportunity to attack.

  “I just want to talk to you, that’s all,” a different voice reasoned.

  Archie felt cold. This voice was very different to the sing-song voice in the woods. The man standing before him was the man who had stopped him in the road on his way home the other afternoon. He was certainly not the man who had just chased him through the woods – or was he? Beginning to feel confused, Archie felt his stomach churn with a mixture of fear and exertion.

  “I don’t know anything,” Archie protested loudly, wondering when the other man was going to appear behind him, and more importantly, if Edward had managed to get home yet.

  “Your friend is at home, Archie. If you want to get there too, you must listen to me,” the voice dropped to a warning whisper. Archie stayed where he was, uncertainty gnawing at him.

  “I know you are scared,” the man continued. “I also know you know more than you are letting on. You need to trust me, Archie,”

  “Ha!” Archie spat, shifting from one foot to the other. “You killed Mrs Humble and Mr Harriman. Why should I trust you?”

  “I didn’t kill them, but I know who did, and so do you, don’t you, Archie?” The voice dropped conversationally, but Archie still wasn’t going to be duped, and remained quiet.

  He watched as the man lowered the cloak hood to reveal his face. It wasn’t the macabre, twisted face of the man who had murdered Mr Harriman.

  “Who are you?”

  “I am your friend, Archie. I can help you.”

  Archie shifted uncomfortably.

  “Together, we can bring the murderer to account for his crimes.”

  Archie moved from one foot to the other as the man moved imperceptibly closer. A quick glance behind him assured him that he was safe from attack for now, if only the man approaching didn’t get too close. He began to shiver from cold and fright, and wondered why his dad wasn’t coming to find him. Had Edward managed to get home? Or had the man before him stopped him?

  “Just tell me what you have found.” The man’s voice was reason personified, but it did little to gain Archie’s trust.

  “I didn’t find anything,” Archie snapped. Desperation to get out of the cold, and away from the looming menace around him made his voice sharp. He felt rather proud of himself for standing his ground, despite the risk to his safety.

  “Why were you running, then?”

  “You were chasing me.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them.

  The man shook his head and frowned. “It wasn’t me.” He glanced cautiously toward the trees, clearly looking for anyone who
was nearby. “What did he look like?”

  Archie stared at him for several moments. “You!”

  The man’s brows shot skyward.

  The moon chose that moment to make a brief resurgence, lighting the area in a hazy glow for several long minutes. It was enough to light up the edge of the trees, and clearly outlined the solitary figure standing at the base of a tree, watching silently.

  Archie gasped, and watched in amazement as the man standing opposite suddenly lunged toward the figure, which in turn took flight. Within seconds, both men had vanished, leaving Archie standing cold and alone in the middle of the track.

  He wasn’t sure what to do. Should he go after them? The thought of Mrs Humble’s still and lifeless body lying amongst the twigs and branches gave him the quivers, and he immediately dismissed the thought of going after them to see what was going to happen. He had seen quite enough of late to last him for quite some time, and had no interest in who was going to win any particular skirmish between a murderer and a stranger.

  With a shudder, he began to run down the track toward home. As soon as he turned down the lane that would take him toward home he quickened his pace, seeing no reason to try to hide away from prying eyes. He had a feeling that the man he had just spoken to was the same man who had been watching the house, although it could have been the man who had been hiding in the trees.

  He could see the soft glow of the sitting room window in the darkness of the night. It was like a beacon of welcoming warmth to his chilled flesh, and with his eyes firmly locked on the end of his ordeal, he quickened his pace. Driven by the need to get out of sight, and quickly, he didn’t bother to hide behind the stone wall at the rear of the house and instead stepped over the obstacle and walked up to the front door as though calling for an afternoon visit. Only this time, he didn’t knock. He was surprised when the latch lifted and the door swung silently open. A quick glance up and down the road confirmed that nobody was around, and it was all Archie needed to know before he slipped silently into the front room of home.

  He was almost smothered by Edward’s hug as the door closed behind him.

  “Where have you been?” Edward gasped, shaking him roughly by the shoulders.

  “You wouldn’t believe it.” Archie shook his head and gave his friend a rueful look. “Is he still snoring?”

  “I didn’t know whether to wake him or not. Did you get caught? What happened? Did you see the man?”

  Archie held up a hand to stave off Edward’s relentless questioning. Bending over, he wearily toed off his muddy boots and shrugged out of his jacket.

  “Do you still have the packet?”

  At Edward’s nod, Archie slumped down onto the blankets on the floor, watching as Edward proudly produced the folded piece of cloth from beneath his shirt.

  “Do you know what’s in it?”

  Edward hesitated. He had been dying to know what was inside, but didn’t want to open it in case it was something gruesome, like a knife or the cloth that was used to kill Mr Harriman. Shaking his head slowly, he handed the object to Archie, who promptly placed it on the floor between them like they had the night before.

  Both boys stared solemnly at the bundle for a moment. The door was closed, and Edward had luckily had the foresight to light a single candle, which sat on the floor beside them.

  “Unroll it then,” Archie said, trying to ignore the quiver in his voice. He was still trembling from the mad rush across the field followed by the meeting with the stranger in the track. He was certain that Edward would be able to see his fingers fumbling with the material if he tried to unravel the parcel.

  “You do it, Archie, this is your adventure,” Edward replied, frowning at Archie’s pale face. He suddenly realised that Archie hadn’t told him what had happened outside.

  “What happened to you in the woods? I wasn’t sure if you had fallen over, or if the murderer had got you,” Edward murmured. The minutes he had paced the floor waiting for Archie to appear had been the longest in Edward’s life. It was only the thought of the serious trouble they would be in if he told Archie’s dad, that had kept Edward quiet for as long as he had been. He had been so close to walking across the room and going into the sitting room.

  “He almost did,” Archie replied with a sigh. He glanced solemnly at Edward. “I fell over Mrs Humble.”

  “What?” Edward’s brows shot skyward.

  “I fell over Mrs Humble?”

  “Dead?”

  Archie rolled his eyes, and heaved a sigh of impatience. “Of course she was dead. What do you think she was doing, lying on the forest floor because she likes the sound the twigs make?”

  “What about the murderer?” Edward inched forward expectantly.

  “He chased me, only I got confused in the trees with it being so dark and all. I ended up coming out in Mr Smethurst’s field.” He ignored Edward’s astonished gasp. “Anyway, I raced toward the hedge and jumped it with the murderer giving chase, only to find another cloaked figure further ahead.”

  “Who was it?” Edward gasped, his eyes round with a mixture of horror and wonder.

  “I don’t know his name. I haven’t seen him around here before, but he was the man who stopped me the other afternoon on my way home. Do you remember?”

  Edward screwed up his face. “I can remember you asking if I saw him, but there wasn’t anyone there,” he said hesitantly, clearly not wanting to disappoint Archie.

  “He was definitely there, and appeared again tonight. Guess what? He says he knows who the murderer is, and wants me to help bring him to justice.” Archie finished in a flurry, and sat back expectantly.

  Edward paused and considered that for a moment. “How?”

  Archie shrugged and frowned thoughtfully at the parcel. “I don’t know, I didn’t wait to find out, but I do know the man who chased me through the woods was watching us because the moon came out, we could see him standing at the bottom of a tree, just like he did outside here the other night.”

  Edward gasped. “Did you see his face?”

  “No, I didn’t, but the man saw him and ran after him –”

  “Did you follow them?”

  Archie shook his head. “No. I don’t care if they kill each other, as long as they don’t expect me to watch or see any more dead bodies. They disappeared into the trees and I ran home.”

  “Good for you. I was worried,” Edward gushed, shaking his head ruefully. “We should never have gone out there in the first place.”

  “But then we wouldn’t have this, and I know that this is what everyone wants.”

  “How?”

  “Because the man in the track asked me what we had found.” Ignoring Edward’s startled look, Archie began to slowly roll it over to unravel the cloth.

  Both boys gazed down in astonishment at what lay before them.

  On an old piece of gnarled and stained cloth lay an odd assortment of items. A small scrap of parchment was the mate to the small piece of parchment still tucked in his pocket. It lay next to a flat piece of metal. It was the image on the coin that drew their attention. There, in the middle, was a perfectly designed image of the coin in Archie’s pocket. Beside that was a small bundle of parchments that were rolled and tied with a black piece of cloth similar to the one used to murder Mr Harriman.

  Archie fingered the cloth absently and shuddered in distaste. At first glance it was the cloth used to murder Mr Harriman, although Archie knew it couldn’t be. That had been taken by Lord Brentwood as evidence of the murder and had vanished. Lord Brentwood couldn’t have been near this packet, or he would have taken the entire thing, and Archie and Edward would never have found it.

  “What do you think it means?” Edward murmured, lifting the map and studying the scrawl on it carefully.

  Archie dug deep into his breeches and pulled out the matching piece. The boys laid them both side by side on the floor.

  Sure enough, a roughly drawn outline of the churchyard, including the larger gravestones was et
ched in ink, along with the name of the churchyard. Although Archie couldn’t read, he had seen the name on the sign outside every Sunday and recognised the familiar shapes.

  Only on this map, one of the graves was circled over and over again, as though it was the point that was of significant interest.

  “It’s a map pointing to something being hidden. Something that involves this lot, that I am certain that Lord Brentwood, the murderer and the man in the track are all looking for,” Archie replied quietly.

  “Do they know we have it?” Edward gulped and glanced toward the front door, jumping to his feet and sliding the bolt home with a reassuring thump.

  Archie shook his head. “I am fairly certain that they think we have it but can’t be sure.” He glanced at his friend warningly. “I do know one thing. If Lord Brentwood has anything to do with either of those two men outside tonight, then he will be hanging around the mill again asking more questions, only this time he may come to the bakery.”

  “What will he do?” Edward muttered, dropping back down on the floor with a heavy thump. His stomach lurched at the thought of coming into contact with the horrid rich man from the big house.

  “Ask you loads of questions.”

  “What do I say?” Edward whispered, wishing Archie could go to work with him in the morning.

  “Deny everything. Just keep saying over and over that you know nothing and saw nothing.”

  “What if he asks what I have been doing outside with you in the dark?”

  Archie paused and frowned.

  “The vicar said it isn’t good to lie,” Edward reminded him, the stern look on the vicar’s face swimming before him alarmingly.

  “I know but I think he will forgive us given that we are trying to find the man who has committed the worst sin of all.”