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Isaac chuckled and glanced back at the village. For all intents and purposes it was a quaint country village. There was nothing in the picturesque cottages and scenic moors that would suggest anything sinister was possible in such a beautiful location. He only hoped that the murderer was Madame Humphries, because she lived five miles away in Great Tipton, and it would mean that Tipton Hollow would remain untainted by the tawdry business of harbouring a murderer in its midst.
“Going back for more cake?” Mark asked wryly when Isaac continued to look back at the village.
“There is a black carriage outside Beatrice’s house,” Isaac reported. “Nobody has got out yet though, or in for that matter.”
Mark glanced at him and turned to stare back down the lane. It was difficult to see the coachman because he was dressed from head to foot in a large black cloak. Even the horse was black from head to hoof. There was something slightly disturbing and unnatural about the sight given that dusk was falling and it certainly wasn’t cold enough to warrant the coachman being wrapped up in winter woollens.
“Want to go back to take a look?” Isaac offered, not liking the fact that the black coach was so close to Beatrice’s house.
“I think we had better,” Mark muttered.
Together they began to slowly walk back down the lane. They had no sooner gone a few feet than the coach began to move in the opposite direction. Without further ado, the carriage turned down a narrow country lane on the left and disappeared from view. By the time the men reached the end of the lane, there was no sign of the carriage. They couldn’t even hear the clip clop of hooves, which indicated that either the carriage had stopped as soon as it was out of sight, or had left the area entirely.
Isaac didn’t wait to see what Mark was going to do. He stalked back down Beatrice’s front path and knocked briskly on the door.
“Were you expecting any visitors this afternoon?” He demanded when Beatrice opened the door. He ignored her startled look and studied her and Constance closely.
“No, I don’t think so, why?”
Isaac felt somewhat mollified by her calmness but couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong. “Don’t open the door once it gets dark. Make sure that everything is locked tight but, whatever you do, don’t go out unescorted.”
“For heaven’s sake, Isaac, you will scare the women to death,” Mark chastised. “There was a strange black coach parked outside here. Nobody got in or out. It just stood right outside. Just keep an eye out if you would, and don’t approach it if you find it there.” He glanced at Constance. “Were you going home, or are you able to stay here for another night?”
Constance looked a little confused but, after a brief hesitation, confirmed that she could stay, although would need to fetch some things from home.
“I will escort you home to collect whatever you need. I think that for the time being at least, it might be better if neither of you were by yourselves,” Isaac sighed. He hated the frustration of being unable to protect them himself. A small voice warned him that he was being more than a little over protective but his instincts warned him that it was necessary. He wasn’t sure whether it was Mr Bentwhistle’s odd behaviour, or the fact that there had been a murder in the usually sleepy village of Tipton Hollow, or the sight of the sinister looking black carriage, but he felt certain that being extremely cautious was the right action to take.
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“I will stay here with you, Beatrice, until Constance gets back.” Mark sighed. “If it is acceptable to you, I will just catch up on my notes until they return.”
“Of course it is, come on in.” Beatrice wouldn’t admit it but she was relieved that Constance was going to stay for a little while. After last night she still felt a little spooked by the dark and didn’t relish being alone at all, even in the relative comfort and safety of her own home.
CHAPTER EIGHT
It was dark by the time Mark and Isaac finally did leave Beatrice’s house.
“So, how many more do we have left?” Mark sighed with a yawn. He felt like he had been in Tipton Hollow for at least a year.
“That leaves Tuppence Smethurst, Miss Smethwick, Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite.”
Mark sighed and stared down at his bulging pockets. “I know we should keep going but I think I would prefer a pint at the pub.”
“It’s been a long day,” Isaac replied fervently.
“Miss Smethwick’s house is on the way to the pub. Let’s call in at hers and then do Tuppence, Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite in the morning,” Mark sighed. He wondered what to do about the cake. Although he was usually a great fan of Battenberg, he couldn’t eat another morsel. He was stuffed to the gills and wondered if there was some sort of competition going on: who could make the detectives throw up first.
Minutes later, they knocked on Miss Smethwick’s door and waited. Isaac disappeared around the back of the house while Mark studied the windows for any sign of forced entry. The old workman’s cottage was dark and uninviting in the fog, and Mark didn’t relish staying there any longer than was necessary. The rustle of leaves to his left heralded the return of Isaac, who was busily brushed twigs off his coat.
“The place is locked up tight. It’s too dark inside to see if anyone is at home. Do you want me to find a way in?”
Mark scowled at the thought that the woman hadn’t seen fit to follow his orders and remain at home until he had questioned her. He took out his pocket watch and peered at the handles on the dial. Although it was gone six o’clock in the evening, it didn’t render the day over just yet, not in police terms in any case.
He glowered at the door and thought of the black carriage that had appeared outside of Beatrice’s house, and wondered if that had been Miss Smethwick. If it had been, why hadn’t she waited for them to question her? What had she been doing at Beatrice’s house? Had it been Miss Smethwick at all? He began to wonder if he was clutching at straws and knew that they wouldn’t get any answers to anything while they were standing in the dark, outside of her house.
“No, let’s leave it for today. I think we will call by first thing in the morning, bright and early. If she isn’t at home then, we will break in. If she is at home in the morning, she has a few questions to answer.”
They walked back down the path toward the road that led further into the village. Isaac closed the squeaky gate behind him and glanced up at the house. Although he kept his movements calm and unhurried, everything within him was locked on the furtive movement of the curtain in the upstairs window. He turned and hurriedly caught up with Mark. They continued to walk while Isaac told Mark what he had seen.
