“We were going to interview her this morning,” Isaac drawled. They had called by the ageing spinster’s house just after nine that morning, only to find the house empty once again. “Do you want to go after her?”
Mark contemplated following the woman home but then shook his head. He desperately needed to go back to Harriett and make sure that she was alright.
“We will go once we have found out what Miss Haversham has discovered. At least we know now that Miss Smethwick is back in the village. We will go around to hers once we have left the tea shop.”
“Wait!” Isaac growled and turned to study the window display of the general store. When Mark drew alongside, he looked up at the perfect view of the Coal Merchant’s yard directly behind them. “Move to stand beside me, Mark, and look at the reflection in the window. What do you see?”
Mark scowled at him and studied the row of houses for several moments before his gaze was drawn to the large green doors of Brewster’s Coal Merchants. There, in the far corner of the yard, under a large open-fronted storage barn was a large, perfectly black, carriage. He didn’t need to search the yard to know that somewhere nearby would be an equally large, very black horse.
“Jesus,” Mark whispered. He longed to turn around, march across the road and go and search the building, yard and surrounding area but, given that the carriage had just been seen used, daren’t alert the driver to the fact that they had been discovered.
“What do you want to do?”
“Right now, I think that we ignore it. We will arrange for Fred to keep watch. I want to see who comes and fetches it. They have a lot of questions to answer.”
Neither man even looked at the yard as they passed and appeared to be deep in conversation as they returned to Harriett. Within minutes of their return they had dispatched Bobby to find Fred.
“Do you want me to go and question the coal merchant?” Isaac growled as he hungrily eyed the large plate of cakes on the table in the back room of the tea shop.
“I will do it later.”
The men sat down and helped themselves while Babette and Harriett began to close the shop. As soon as the last patron had left and the closed sign had been flipped over, Harriett recounted Miss Haversham’s revelation.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Mark was thoughtful when he followed Harriett into the sitting room at the back of 29 Daventry Street an hour later. Given the latest revelations about Miss Smethwick, he needed to question Harriett a bit more before he decided whether to pay the old woman a visit with Isaac, or the rest of Great Tipton Constabulary behind him.
He took what was rapidly becoming his habitual seat at the table while Harriett removed her cloak and put a pot of water on to boil. It seemed a strangely domesticated scene; one that he had never considered before, but it felt eminently right, entirely comfortable, and something he would be happy to do time and time again.
“I think that you have to be very careful around Miss Smethwick,” Mark sighed. He didn’t want her to be terrified of going out, just wary about Miss Smethwick. Right now Miss Haversham’s suspicious, confirmed as accurate by Harriett and Babette, was the only valuable piece of information they had, and it pointed to the fact that Miss Smethwick had something to do with the threats at the séance and the attempt on Harriett’s life. Unfortunately, it also looked as though she was involved in the murders although, as yet, he couldn’t prove it or link it all together.
“What do you think the person who is pretending to be Miss Smethwick has done with the real one?”
Mark looked at her pointedly over the table. “I think that we have to take into account the fact that there have been two murders here, Harriett. The only leads I have are the threat that was issued at the séance table, and the reports that Miss Smethwick has recently grown considerably younger.” He rose to lift the kettle off the stove when it began to bubble and carefully poured the steaming water into the teapot before he sat back down. “Can you remember when you last saw the old Miss Smethwick?”
After several moments, Harriett shook her head. She honestly couldn’t remember.
“Miss Smethwick has always been rather odd, you understand. She is a spinster; has never married and, although she isn’t cruel, has never been particularly friendly to children who played in the street outside her house. Everyone generally keeps a wary distance. She has a way of being rather spiteful with her comments, so I don’t usually stand and chat with her. I think – and this is only an approximation, you understand – that the first time I thought she seemed a little odd was about three or four months ago. Whereupon once she used to stand and chat to Mr Abernathy on the high street, she now scurries past and keeps her head down. Along with the facial blemish, and her unlined face, I think that the woman in Miss Smethwick’s house is not the old woman at all.”
“Does Miss Smethwick still go to church?”
Harriett nodded. “But she sits at the back of the church and doesn’t take in her usual seat any more. It raised a few eyebrows when she first did it, but she was limping at the time and everyone put her seating choice down to the fact that she didn’t want to walk very far.”
“Does she have any relatives in the village, or the surrounding area?”
Harriett shook her head. “I think that she does have someone who visits occasionally, but they live miles away and certainly haven’t been around of late, I don’t think.”
“So, it’s about three or four months ago that you can recall the old Miss Smethwick?” Mark puffed out his cheeks and took a sip of his tea.
The sudden rattle of the front door was accompanied by the rapid clip of footsteps as Babette returned home.
“Tea?” Harriett called when Babette didn’t immediately appear in the doorway.
“No, thank you. I am going to get some supper on before Charles comes back. Then I have to go to the church to sort out the flowers for the Sunday service,” Babette replied as she stomped up the stairs.
“Would you care to stay for supper with us, Mark?” Harriett felt a tiny thrill of anticipation sweep through her at the thought of sharing a meal with him, and felt more than a little deflated when he shook his head.
“I am sorry, but I have to get back to the station before I can call it a day,” he replied gently, although made no attempt to leave the table. “I take it that you are not going out tonight?”
Harriett shook her head. “I have some embroidery to do, then I am going to get an early night. With everything that has happened over the last few days, I need to see if I can get a good night’s sleep.”
“You are worried about the carriage nearly running into you?”
“I cannot see what I could have done to anybody to make anyone want to kill me. I mean, I go about my business. I don’t engage in gossip much at all and am either here, or at work at the tea shop.”
“I don’t think it is you, Harriett,” Mark replied. He couldn’t resist some kind of contact with her and pushed away from the table to draw her out of her seat. Once she was settled comfortably in his arms, he rested his chin on her head and savoured the feel of her feminine curves against him. He could hear the soft thud of Babette’s feet on the floor boards above and mentally thanked the woman for her discretion.
“I promise you here and now Harriett, that as long as you do as I suggest and don’t take any risks, you will remain safe. However, it is imperative that you stay away from Miss Smethwick until I can check her out. I will go and see her because I need to see for myself that everyone’s suspicions are accurate. I just need to catch her at home.” He leaned back to look down at her face. He didn’t raise the question as to what Miss Smethwick could be up to that took her out of the house so early in the morning and kept her away for practically most of the day, especially if most of the villagers kept a wary distance and she had no relatives in the area to visit.
Harriett had to tip her head back to look him in the eye. He was so close, and she couldn’t move away from the temptation he placed before h
er. She felt slightly brazen in allowing him to hold her so tightly but the warmth of his hold felt wonderful.
“The sight of that carriage last night is enough to put paid to any untoward outings. The house would have to be on fire for me to go out at night,” she murmured softly.
Her thoughts turned toward Babette’s mysterious journey in the early hours of the morning. It was on the tip of her tongue to confide in him: he was a police officer after all, but the tug of family loyalty kept her silent. She knew that she had to raise the issue with Babette, she just didn’t know how yet. It bothered her that her aunt was being so secretive, but she couldn’t conceive of any way that Babette might be linked to either of the murders, or the black carriage. It just wasn’t like her aunt.
Mark knew she was worried about what had happened and tried to find a way to reassure her but couldn’t without giving her promises that he wasn’t sure he could keep. It was going to take some time before she started to feel secure again. He could only hope that those doubts and insecurities would be eradicated once she moved into their marital home.
When Babette was on the stairs, Mark slowly eased his arms from around Harriett but not before he dropped a very thorough kiss on her lips. His mouth captured her soft gasp and he almost groaned with the need to plunder. Instead, he was forced to loosen his hold and only just managed to put some respectable distance between them before Babette appeared in the doorway.
“Oh, are you off already?”
“I am afraid so, I have a few calls to make before I go back to the station,” Mark sighed.
Although 29 Daventry Street was a far cry from the huge house he had grown up in, he liked Harriett’s home. It was of an average size for a middle class house, but was warm and inviting. He would much prefer to stay and laze in front of the fire than traipse out into the dark to think about death and theft. With a sigh, he captured Harriett’s hand and drew her after him as he walked toward the front door.
“I will be back in the morning, same time, to escort you to work again,” Mark warned her and took the opportunity of being alone with her again to drop a kiss on her lips. “Lock the door behind me.”
He disappeared into the night and drew his jacket closer around him while he waited for Harriett to slide the bolts home. As soon as the metallic clunk resounded through the night air, he left the front step and headed off down the street toward the pub.
The heady atmosphere of the busy pub was in contrast to the relative quiet of the street outside. All of the shops were now shut, leaving the streets practically deserted. Only a few stray people hurried this way and that before night fell upon them completely. The pub was full of miners and various tradesmen: most of the women were at home cooking tea or getting children in bed. The air was heavy with tobacco smoke and the heady scent of ale, but Mark paid no attention to any of it as he made his way toward the bar. He had already walked past the coal merchants and noted the gates closed to trade.
“Ale please, barman,” Mark dropped a couple of coins on the table and waited until the barman returned. “Can you tell me if Brewster from the Coal Merchants is here?”
“Down there.” The barman nodded to the far end of the room. “The one with the hair like a foggy day.”
Mark immediately knew which man he meant. Not only was the coal man still covered in black dust, and had a wild mass of tangled white hair that stood out like a beacon on his head. Mark headed in his direction and, moments later, placed his glass next to the man’s on the bar. When the merchant glanced sideways at him, Mark nodded.
“You’re that Detective who is working on the murders, ain’t ya?” Brewster muttered with a frown.
“Afraid so.” Mark took a sip of his ale. “I need to ask you a few questions.” He felt, rather than saw, the man’s hackles raise.
“I ain’t got nothing to do with it.”
“I know. I just need to ask you a few questions.” He nodded to an empty table in the corner of the room and waited for the man to sit with him. As soon as they were seated, Mark leaned his elbows on the rickety wooden table.
“Is the black carriage in the yard yours?” He knew that it was not likely to be but had to ask.
“Do I really look like the kind of man who would use a bloody contraption like that?” Brewster snorted.
“Whose is it?”
Brewster shrugged. “Damned if I know. A woman turned up one day for a basket of coal. Don’t know her name. I don’t think she was from around here. She started nosing around the yard, you know, petting the horses, that kind of thing.”
“What did she look like?”
Brewster frowned absently at the floor beneath his boots. “Well, she was about medium height with brown hair. There was nothing odd about her, if that is what you are about to ask. I had a barn empty and she asked if I rented it out. I don’t usually and didn’t want to rent it to her, if I am honest. I don’t want people coming and going from my yard at all hours, so I named her a sum that would shock you out of your boots.” He gave Mark a completely unrepentant grin and Mark smothered a smile. “To my shock, she handed the money over on the understanding that I house her horse in the field with mine. She moved the carriage in within the hour and now, each month, gives me the money to pay for the rent of the barn.”
“Same amount each month?”
Brewster nodded and named a sum that made Mark whistle.
“Did you get a name?”
“Nope. Didn’t ask, don’t care. I told her that if she didn’t pay the rent, I would sell the blasted carriage, and horse, but she has turned up each month with the cash as promised.” The man shrugged.
“Has she ever used it, as far as you know?”
Brewster shook his head. “It goes out sometimes but I am a busy man and don’t pay it that much attention.”
“Do you not live near the coal yard?” Mark knew that the nearest house to the coal yard was the general store across the road but, on a still night, it would be easy to get the carriage out of the yard without too much noise.
“There has been the odd day when it has been gone in the morning when I get there, and stayed out all day. From when I open up to when I close at the end of the day but not very often.”
“You live in Tipton Hollow?”
“Aye, near the riverside.”
Mark nodded. “So it is being used, you just don’t know when.”
“She doesn’t have to report to me.”
“You haven’t seen it arrive and leave? No sign of any occupiers, coachmen or anything?” Mark sighed. “I take it that the woman has a key to the yard?”
“Aye. That was the proviso for the huge amount of money. I can secure the coal because I lock it into the sheds at night. She insisted on having a key in case she needed the carriage for emergencies. For the amount that she is paying me I can hardly object, so I gave her a spare. Mr Thomas from the general store made her a new one for the lock.”
“I see that Miss Smethwick is one of your regular customers.”
“The entire village are my regular customers,” Brewster replied wryly.
“I need you to think carefully. Do you think that the woman who owns the carriage looks like any of the villagers?”
“A relation to one of them you think?” As sharp as a tack, the man turned curious eyes on Mark. “You mean like Miss Smethwick?”
Mark sighed and wondered if he had just handed over the latest juicy gossip to the locals and made his job considerably harder. He studied the dark frown on Brewster’s face as he considered the possibility, and sighed when the man slowly shook his head.
“I didn’t see any resemblance there at all. But I can’t say for sure if she looked like anyone else. There wasn’t anything striking about her, that’s for sure. Someone with cash like she has would stand out, if you know what I mean.”
Mark did. They could afford to travel in style and would dress far more finely than most of the villagers. If they blended in, they did so for a reason.
&nbs
p; “When was the last time you saw the carriage being used?”
“About last week, I think. On Sunday, I think. Dropped back at the yard on my way home from church and noticed it wasn’t there.”
“Sunday,” Mark replied wryly, and remembered of his sighting of the carriage in Great Tipton.
“Does Miss Smethwick come for her coal on a daily basis?”
Brewster sighed and shot Mark a wry look. “Damned woman is unnerving, I don’t mind admitting it.”
“How so?”
“Well, she turns up out of nowhere. Always seems to nose around the yard and then disappears again just as quickly. There is something damned odd about her but I can’t quite figure out what it is.”
Mark nodded. “Look, this is part of a murder investigation so I am going to ask you not to repeat what we have discussed tonight with anyone. I have to tell you that I think the carriage may be linked to the murders of Minerva Bobbington and Hugo Montague.” He saw Brewster’s face drop for a moment before outrage filled his face. “We are investigating, but I need you to play your part. When is the rent on the barn due again?”
“End of next week. What do you want me to do?”
“You will help?”
“Of course I will. I am not having anyone come into this village, start to kill off our friends and just sit back and let it happen, especially out of my own blasted yard. It would kill my business if I was linked to the murders in any way. Tell me what you want me to do,” the man demanded in a voice that was as fierce as the look in his eye.
“Keep an eye on the carriage and make note of when it goes out. The next time the woman turns up to pay you, look at her closely. I need her eye colour, details of any facial features like moles, scars, that kind of thing. See if you can get a name out of her as well. I want to put a man in your yard to watch the carriage, but I need your help to hide him.”
Brewster nodded enthusiastically. “I have the perfect place for him. It is out of sight, but he will have a clear view of the main gates and the carriage. Do you need me to tell you if it is going out?”
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