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“I can’t remember seeing Miss Hepplethwaite there all the time, but Madame Humphries was there. I kept looking at her but couldn’t detect any trickery going on.”
“What kind of trickery would you expect around the séance table?”
“Oh, you know, lights, knocking, that kind of thing. I have seen the newspapers and read about some of the things these spiritual mediums, psychics, clairvoyants, whatever you want to call them, get up to, but there was nothing unusual at all last night apart from the messages.”
“Ah, yes, ‘H is in danger’. Do you have any ideas who the ‘H’ might be?” Mark studied the woman carefully but was positive that she was being honest with him.
“Well, it could mean anyone with H in their name, couldn’t it? I mean, I have H in my name, as does Harriet, Hugo Montague and Madame Humphries herself, Miss Hepplethwaite.”
“Do you think someone could have been pushing the glass on purpose and playing a prank just to scare you?”
“I think it is a damned odd thing to do if that’s the case. I mean, giving warnings at a séance? Why for heavens’ sake? It doesn’t make sense. No, I cannot see anyone of my acquaintance doing anything like that, even for a joke.”
Mark watched her lift the lid on a tin that held a huge cake and groaned at the delicious smell that immediately filled the kitchen. He shared a glance with Isaac and watched Miss Haversham cut three over sized pieces and put them onto cake plates without even asking if they wanted any. Once everyone was furnished with cake she resumed her seat, apparently still lost in thought over last night.
“Why did you agree to go to the circle, if I might ask?” Mark mumbled around a mouthful of cake. It was slightly dry and he took a sip of tea to help its way into his stomach. He watched Isaac take a bite and glance at the cake warily for a moment before he placed it carefully back onto the plate.
“Curiosity, of course. Isn’t that why everyone chose to go? I was hoping I would get a proper message from my mother. Everyone thinks I am still mourning her, but the woman was a lot of hard work. I am not saying I was glad to see the back of her, but I am considerably happier now that she is with the dearly departed, I don’t mind admitting. I have worn mourning clothes because it keeps the gossips from prying, you understand? They carefully skirt the subject if they think it is likely to touch on a sore nerve.”
“I take it that there is a lot of gossip in Tipton Hollow?” Mark asked carefully.
“Isn’t there everywhere? Some people don’t really have anything else to do.”
“As far as you are aware has anyone who attended the meeting last night fallen out?”
“Do you mean was anyone at loggerheads so much that they might want to do the other in at the circle? No, I don’t think that for one second. After all, if I was to murder someone, I would hardly do it with a dozen or more people there. It’s an absolutely ridiculous notion, no.”
Duly put in his place, Mark ignored Isaac’s snort of humour and dug around for anything else.
“Have you heard any gossip about a fob watch being missing from Mr Bentwhistle’s funeral parlour?”
Miss Haversham looked him str
aight in the eye. “I have spent the last twelve months living in wretched black clothes to avoid the gossips. Do you really think that I would spend my days exchanging news with any of them? I don’t gossip,” she declared firmly but without rancour. “I now live alone and have more than enough to do to fill my time, I can assure you. If I do get lonely or bored, I go to Mabel next door and we go out somewhere together. I enjoy my life and don’t get any satisfaction from dragging anyone’s name through the mud.”
“Did Minerva mention to you that she felt ill at all?”
“I haven’t seen Minerva before last night for at least several weeks now but no, she didn’t mention anything last night to me. But then, why would she? We aren’t friends. She kept fretting about whether they would get messages and, if so, what they would be. Other than that, she seemed perfectly fine if you ask me.” Miss Haversham was so forthright and calm in her manner that Mark was relieved his job had been made considerably easier. He knew that there was one person he could cross of the list of suspects, although what was going on with this cake he couldn’t quite decide. He glanced at his empty tea cup but felt it would be rude to ask for a top-up. With a sigh, he picked up a piece of the remaining cake and took a bite.
“I think it would be wise for you not to discuss this with anyone, not even Mabel. We have more investigating to do to get to the bottom of what happened to Minerva Bobbington last night. Until we know for definite, I need you to think carefully if there is anything you have forgotten; anything someone said to you or something strange and mysterious that you had forgotten about. If you do remember something then please don’t hesitate to get in touch with either Detective Isaac, or myself.”
Upon receiving Miss Haversham’s assurance that she would give the matter some careful thought, Mark and Isaac took their leave with their stomachs blessedly full, if a little heavy from the cake.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Who is next?”
“I think we need to go and see Constance Dalrymple and Mrs Dalrymple. At least we can then cross two more names off our list in one go.”
Mark wondered if he would get back to Harriett’s at all today. He had hoped to pay another visit, ostensibly to see if she was alright after last night’s trauma, but it now looked less and less likely that he would manage to get back to his own home any time before midnight.
“Come on in, gentlemen, take a seat.” Mrs Dalrymple waved toward the chairs before the fireplace and smiled her thanks at Constance, who immediately brought in a tray of tea things.
Once again, the ladies seemed to know that Mark and Isaac were about to arrive, or else they had kept the kettle on the fire, and the tea things prepared all day, in preparation for their arrival. Mark silently groaned at the plate of cake that was placed on the table and waved away the huge piece that Constance held out for him with a rueful smile. “I won’t if you don’t mind. Got to watch the waist,” he patted his already full stomach only to instantly feel like an eel at the crestfallen look on Mrs Dalrymple’s face
“Thank you,” Isaac mumbled awkwardly. He studied the cake and carefully placed it down on the small table before him. He wondered if Mark would get any information out of the ladies now that he had just turned down their home-baked cake. One thing he had learned from his Ma was that if a lady spent any time in the kitchen baking, it was the height of good manners to at least taste what she offered.
“Won’t you at least try a small piece?” Mrs Dalrymple cajoled and held out a large slice of cake with a look of hope in her eye. “You must be hungry after all that traipsing about.”
