The faint ring of footsteps could be heard from inside moments before the door swung silently open. The vision that greeted their eyes made them both step back and they stared at the woman who held the door open. Mark coughed and tried to shake off his stupor. The woman, although beautiful, was strange. There was something about the clear, brilliant blue of her eyes that seemed to see straight through him, and he didn’t like it one bit. He felt as though she could see deep into his very soul and knew everything about him, even his darkest secrets.
Mark took a breath and tried to focus on the job at hand. “Helena Cridlingham?” At the woman’s nod he made his introductions and followed her into the house.
In stark contrast to the appearance of the building, inside was warm and cosy. Dark wooden panelling had been polished to a high shine inside the grand sitting room. The scattered furniture that was old and well worn, but still comfortable. A fire roared heartily in the grate and bathed the room in warmth that immediately removed their unease about the place. Within seconds of taking a seat, Mark felt himself begin to relax. His ease was emphasised by the loud rumble of his stomach as he breathed in the delicious scent of freshly baked cakes that hung in the air.
“I am sorry for calling by unannounced but I was talking to Fred Dinage, the village constable, about your grandfather’s fob watch. I take it that you think that the watch was stolen from your grandfather’s body while he was at Bentwhistle’s Funeral Directors.”
“Yes, I don’t think that it was stolen. I know it was stolen, sir,” Helena’s voice was calm, yet firm. There was something too intuitive in the gaze she levelled on him so steadily.
“When did you last see the watch?”
“It was when Alan Bentwhistle and his men took my grandfather’s body out of the house. I didn’t think to ask for it to be taken off him at the time because I was so upset. Afterward, when my grandfather had gone, I realised he still had his watch on him.”
“You know with certainty that he was wearing it that day?”
“Yes, at breakfast he took it out and looked at it before he said he had to go to an appointment at the solicitors. By the time he got to the front room he felt poorly, so I sat him down in front of the fire. I don’t know what happened but, within about an hour, he passed away. I was upset and sent for the Doctor, who said it was his heart.” Helena’s voice was sad but calm. “I know he has passed on to the other realm, but I miss having him here to talk to.”
“Passed on to the other realm?” Mark asked with a frown. Good Lord, don’t tell me this is someone else who believes in the ridiculous notion of spirits? Mark cursed ruefully and watched with a sinking feeling when Helena glared at him defiantly.
“Heaven, Detective Inspector. My grandfather went to heaven.”
Mark made no attempt to raise issue with her declaration. She could think what she liked; it was of no concern to him, as long as she was clear about the facts about her grandfather’s fob watch.
“Can you provide us with a drawing of the watch?”
Helena rose and handed him a neatly folded piece of paper that rested on the mantle. Mark glanced at the perfect drawing of a fob-watch, with its chain, before he handed it to Isaac.
“I take it that you have searched the house?”
“From top to bottom, on more than one occasion, but it isn’t here. I know that grandfather was wearing it when Mr Bentwhistle took him to the funeral parlour.” Helena sighed and resumed her seat. “I think you should know that I have reason to understand that Bentwhistle Funeral Directors is in serious financial trouble.”
“How so?” Mark shared a look with Isaac.
“My father owns a timber yard in Yorkshire, which supplies the funeral trade with wood for coffins. One of his associates has mentioned that there is a funeral directors who has a sizeable account outstanding and isn’t forthcoming with the funds to make payment. Rumour has it that he is in serious financial difficulty. It’s Mr Bentwhistle.”
“Have you heard any gossip in the village about it?”
Helena smiled wryly. “I am afraid that I am not really in the gossiping circles, Detective. I am more one of the people who are gossiped about on account of who I am.”
“Who is that then?” Mark asked curiously.
Helena didn’t answer, merely lifted her tea cup and took a sip. Seconds ticked by before she slowly replaced her cup on the table before her. “I have been told to tell you that your deceit will get you rich rewards, but you have to be careful that it doesn’t trip you up in the long term.”
“Pardon?” Mark frowned at her and knew instinctively what she referred to. His thoughts immediately turned to his use of the séance to declare that Harriett was his wife. He had every intention of reaping the reward of that particular piece of subterfuge. Unfortunately, there was also the issue of Babette’s secret journeys out at night, which he hadn’t mentioned to Harriett yet, mainly because he didn’t know if he was looking for ghosts where there were none.
“You need to be honest with those around you and resolve matters before they come to a head and put blocks into your pathway that shouldn’t be there. I can assure you, with certainty, that you will get what you want and there will be a wedding on 20th December of this year.”
Mark felt his blood run cold. He couldn’t break his gaze away from her even though her words made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Your grandmother passed away at the end of May, and used to love tea and Battenberg cake. She is bringing that to you now to bring the sweetness back into your life. You have worked long and hard at your job, but she wants you to ease back a little and enjoy some of the softness life can offer you. I also have a Hugo Montague here. He is very distressed and anxious. He is glad that the lady next door is looking after his cat. He knows she will do a good job of it but he keeps muttering about the vase. The clue is in the vase. He wants you to find it for him. It isn’t where it should be and he begs you to look for the vase. He is giving you a ball of string but it isn’t a neatly wound up ball of string, it is a tangled mess.” Helena frowned off into the distance as though she could see something nobody else could. “He is showing me an image of a green vase and he is winding the string around it. I can only assume that if you find the vase you will unravel the tangled mess.”
Mark ran over her words and was flummoxed. He struggled to find a reasonable and sensible explanation for what she had told him, while an image of the vase in Hugo’s sitting room window hovered in the dark corners of his mind. The pretty green vase had captured the sunlight and been striking, even to him. He turned his attention to the woman seated next to him and studied her carefully. Where was she getting this information from? Was she involved in the murders? Why? What link did she have to the Psychic Circle?
“It is a tangled mess at the moment, I don’t mind admitting to you, but we will get to the bottom of it. It is what we do.” He didn’t know what else to say. Until he had the time to analyze what she had told him, and consider how she could get hold of such information, he couldn’t really form an opinion.
“The charlatans you have amongst you at the Psychic Circle will be unable to provide the facts and the figures of people’s personal details, officer. I suggest that if you want evidence, you should start to pin the so called ‘clairvoyants’ down a little on smaller details that only your nearest and dearest in the higher spiritual realm can provide you with, like personal preferences, dates of death, that kind of thing. The lack of answers from those who are masked will unveil the rogues.”
Isaac scribbled furiously in an attempt to get as much of her revelations down as he could. He was as stunned as he was horrified, but intrigued by the entire thing.
“I don’t have anything else for you, Detective Inspector.”
“Have your friends in the higher spiritual realm not told you where to find the fob watch?” Mark half-joked, and was stalled by the direct stare Helena gave him.
“They haven’t told me direct
ly because they don’t want me to challenge the person responsible myself. It is their job to protect me from the negativity on the earth plain, and they are keeping the identity secret. As an officer of the law, you have the capability to be swift and efficient in ensuring that the culprits responsible for the thefts, and the murders, are brought to justice before any more harm is done. They have told me that my grandfather’s fob watch and the vase were taken by the same person.”
“Is that person also responsible for the murders?” Mark wondered if this was a strange kind of séance where oblique references and vague hints didn’t actually mean anything.
“A very small amount of what you have received at those séances was actually accurate, Detective. Pushing the glass yourself proved to you that deception can be achieved at that kind of thing. You needed to know, and found that out for yourself.” She smiled when Mark flushed guiltily. He was stunned. She hadn’t even been there and he hadn’t told anyone what he had done, not even Harriett. How on earth could Helena have known? “Don’t worry, they understand and accept that you needed to do it. They warn you to watch those closest to you. She has to be protected, you understand?”
“Of course. I am doing everything I can.”
“It’s not enough, Mark. They are warning you that it is not enough.”
Isaac sighed and put his book away. Mark looked just as stunned as he felt. Deep in thought, he jumped when Helena appeared before him.
“You need to look deeper into the annoyance you feel for her.”
“Pardon?” Isaac replied warily. He had absolutely no belief in the paranormal at all and like most sane people on the ‘earth plain’, considered it stuff and nonsense, but there was something about the way Helena studied him that made him feel as though she was stripping his emotions bare and he hated it. He turned away only to pause at her next words.
“The distrust will turn to passion and you will get what you want in the end.”
Manners dictated that he should not insult the woman in her own home and he wisely kept his mouth shut. It took every ounce of fortitude to quirk his lips and nod at her politely as he followed Mark closely toward the door.
Mark frowned at her and wondered if she was issuing some kind of veiled threat. If she had of been at the séances, he would have arrested her there and then but she hadn’t been anywhere near, so what was her motive? He briefly considered the factual information she had given him, well, as factual as it could be right now, and once again thought of Mr Montague’s vase. Was she involved in some way, or was she playing some kind of trick?
“If you get anything else, or hear of anything else, please let us know as soon as possible.”
“Of course I will.” Helena followed them out of the room and stood beside the front door. “She will be alright. She isn’t meant to go over to the higher side for a good many years yet. You just need to stay close to Tipton Hollow right now. Well, as close as you can be.” The warning was written in her eyes and all Mark could do was nod before he swept out of the door.
Once outside, he took in a deep breath of fresh air but it did little to ease his worries. It wasn’t that he felt threatened or warned, it was just that something was driving him forward; compelling him to uncover the truth, and quickly. For the first time in nearly two weeks, he felt a sense of urgency that hung over him like a dark cloud.
Isaac moved to stand beside him. “Whew. Thank God that’s over. Let me tell you something boss, the next time you want to go there to interview her again, you are bloody well going alone.” Isaac knew he could get the sack for speaking to his boss like that, even though Mark was more of a friend than a superior but didn’t really care.
Mark coughed uncomfortably and could understand his sentiments. He had no intention of going back there again either. Not without Harriett, a large cross and a bible in his hand.
“I understand, Isaac, but we have to look at this logically. She is either the thief or the murder, or both, or bloody good at playing guessing games. Yes, she could know about the timber merchants through gossip. She could have known about my association to Harriett through the gossip about our engagement. After all, I made the announcement of our engagement at the séance, and it is bound to be talked about.” He shared a glance with Isaac. “But I think we have to be fair about this. First and foremost, I think we have to pay a visit to Hugo Montague’s house and take a look for that vase. If it is still in the window where I last saw it, I think we can put all of her predictions down to her living in that old mausoleum by herself for too long. If the vase has gone,” he puffed out his cheeks and blew a breath, “then I think that we have to take what she has said seriously, and look for ways to unravel the thefts in case Bentwhistle is the thief and has killed people to protect himself. The vase may be the clue after all, just like the lady says.” He frowned and studied the gravel beneath his feet.
For some reason, the thought that she had known he had pushed the glass at the séance on purpose to falsify a message plagued him.
Isaac shook his head and kept his gaze firmly locked on Tipton Hollow, which was situated a little way ahead of them.
“Hugo Montague’s next?”
“Definitely.”
Neither man could think of anything else to say.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The flat was still and quiet, and the air dank and musty when they entered it later that morning. It had only been a few days since Hugo had died, yet dampness already hung in the air. Mark actually felt quite unnerved when he opened the door to the sitting room and looked at the empty table in front of the window.
“Shit,” Isaac sighed and glanced around them. “I’ll take the bedroom and kitchen, you check in here.”
They had discovered from the neighbour that Alan Bentwhistle had borrowed the key from her in order to get some clothes for Hugo to be buried in, and had yet to return it. The neighbour did however, have Hugo’s cat, and had been busy cuddling it when she had answered the door.
An hour later, Mark brushed dust off his hands and watched Isaac reappear in the doorway with a dark scowl on his face.
“Do you want me to check the pawn brokers around town?”
“I think that would be wise. We need to see if it has been exchanged for cash and, if so, get a description of who traded it. If the vase cannot be found then we need to think again.”
“Do you want to bring him in for questioning?”
Mark shook his head. “Right now we have nothing to point in his direction. We need to get some evidence that will prove him guilty with absolute certainty. All we have is a missing vase. It could have been broken by that cat prior to Mr Montague’s demise.” Mark sighed and rubbed a weary hand down his face. “I think that I had better make tracks. There is a psychic demonstration that I want to go and see.” He withdrew his fob watch and glanced at the time. “Keep the key. Let’s see if Alan Bentwhistle asks for it back. He has no cause to come back here, but we don’t know if he intends to make free with his ability to help himself given that Hugo isn’t able to report any thefts himself now.”
“We don’t know what he has already taken though.”
“Quite. If we find the pawn broker who purchased that vase, find out if anything else was traded. We don’t know if anything else that was traded belonged to Hugo, but it may help us understand just how much Alan Bentwhistle has stolen.” Mark quickly closed out all thought of Helena Cridlingham’s strange predictions with a shudder. He didn’t relish Isaac having to traipse around the pawn brokers in town, but he would rather have preferred to have that job than what he was about to do.
Later that night, Mark escorted Harriett into the Civic Rooms in Great Tipton. His mother took a seat on one side of him, and he waited until Harriett had taken her seat before he settled down between them. He glanced at the doubt on Harriett’s face and wondered if she felt as nervous as he did. As the minutes ticked by, the crowd took their seats. Silence eventually settled over the room and everyone waited patiently f
or Madame Humphries to appear.
Marks attention began to wander and he thought again about the Hugo’s vase. Isaac hadn’t found anything in the rubbish and, according to the neighbour, since Hugo Montague had died, nobody had been to the flat except for Alan Bentwhistle. Sometime between Hugo leaving the flat on the day of his death and today, something had happened to the vase, but was it stolen as Helena had predicted, or broken?
Together with the missing fob-watch Helena had reported, the light of guilt was shining down on Alan Bentwhistle. If Helena was actually able to speak with spirit, and the warning to keep Harriett safe was indeed genuine, he had to seriously start to reconsider just how he was going to ensure that she remained as safe as possible while she was at work, in the tea shop, and at home. He couldn’t lose sight of the way Hugo Bentwhistle had died; innocuously drinking tea. Was it the murderer’s oblique way of referring to the very sinister and very real threat toward Harriett’s life? Or was he reading messages that weren’t there? If Alan Bentwhistle was a thief, where on earth did Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite come in to it all? Were they thieves too?
Until he could find either the fob watch or the vase, he had no way of getting to the bottom of just what the hell was going on and fought the urge to rest his aching head in his hands. He glanced at Babette, who sat on the other side of his mother and felt a pang of guilt. He hadn’t had the chance to speak to Harriett yet to see if she could tell him a bit more about why Babette was lying to get out of the house, and sneaking around in the evening.
A flurry of movement in front of him drew his attention and he faced forward in time to see Madame Humphries stalk regally into the centre of the empty floor. The audience were seated in a semi-circle and faced the chair in which Madame Humphries sat with her back perfectly straight and her chin tilted almost defiantly. She didn’t speak to the audience or acknowledge them in any way; merely sat and stared blankly into space. Mark wondered if she was on some sort of medication that left her a little out of her consciousness.
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