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“Why would she avoid us if she didn’t have anything to hide?” Isaac muttered as he accepted his ale off the barman and dropped two coins on the bar.
“It might not be her in the house,” Mark sighed, and dug in his pockets. He withdrew the two packages of cake and dropped them onto the table in disgust.
“You have to hand the cloths back so you can’t leave them there,” Isaac warned.
“Do you think that they have some sort of conspiracy going on?”
“I don’t know, but there is something deuced odd about this place. They all seem to know when to put the kettle on, and all have cake at the ready. With masked coachmen atop black carriages, missing spinsters and dead people, it is really hard to get to grips with what is really going on.” Isaac leaned back in his seat and felt a slight squishing in his pocket. He knew he had just sat on his Victoria cake, but refused to take the blasted thing out of his pocket. If he never saw cake again he would be a happy man.
“We don’t know yet if Miss Smethwick lives alone. Just because she is a spinster, it doesn’t mean that there isn’t a relation tucked away in there. Harriett will know. I need to call back to her house and see how she has got on. I need her to check to see if she has anything missing in her bedroom.”
“Do you think that Madame Humphries could be a thief?”
Mark sighed and took a sip of his ale. “Can you remember that spate of burglaries in London? The medium vanished before the police arrived to arrest her but, before she left, she managed to steal hundreds of pounds worth of goods from her client?”
Isaac nodded. He had read the newspaper accounts of several psychic mediums who had been caught fraudulently claiming to have been speaking to dead people while encouraging their unsuspecting customers to hand over hundreds of pounds in ‘donations’.
“See if you can get a description of the clairvoyant and her assistant from Scotland Yard. While you are at it, find out what Madame Humphries’ real name is, preferably before we go and see her tomorrow. I am going to take a look at the reports David has left for us, and see if he has managed to identify if there the muslin contained any pills or medication.”
“What if it does?”
Mark glanced at him. “Then we need to find out what it was, and where she got it from. David is adamant that she hasn’t had any medication from him, but it would have to have come from somewhere. If it was responsible for killing her, and was simple over the counter medication from a pharmacy, there is no case to investigate and we have just wasted a day. If there any trace of powders or pills, just the muslin cloth, then she was almost certainly murdered by someone in that house last night. All we have to do is uncover who.”
“Sounds easy.”
Mark snorted and looked down at his booted feet. He had learned from all of his years in the force that nothing was ever easy. Just when you thought you had something licked, a quirk of fate or a new question arose and threw everything up into the air again. His best option was to look at each angle individually, and hopefully find answers to each question until he got a clear picture of what the hell had been going on in Harriett’s house. They just had to do it before the murderer carried out on their threat to the unknown ‘H’.
The mental image of Harriett’s pretty features fluttered before him and he had the sudden urge to see her. It took all of his self control to remain on his stool and continue to steadily drink his beer. As far as he was concerned it took far too long for them to finish their drinks and head toward Harriett’s house.
“Do you need me to come with you?” Isaac asked. His thoughts turned to the pile of paperwork that awaited him in the office. He strongly suspected that Mark’s return visit to Harriett’s house had nothing to do with the investigation, but more to do with a need of a more personal nature.
“No, I will be fine. I will see Harriett, and then check in at the station before I head home. I will take the files from David with me and study them later. Meantime, have a good evening and I will see you in the morning, eight o’clock sharp at Miss Smethwick’s house.”
“Don’t you think that is a little early to be visiting?”
“I think that if our Miss Smethwick is being a little evasive, she will be out of the house at the first available opportunity. If we arrive early, we may shun convention but we will at least be successful in our attempt to question her.”
Isaac nodded. He could see the logic, but was certain that the old woman wouldn’t be impressed. That was just the way that police investigations went. There was no room for sentiment or respect for a person’s delicate sensibilities. Someone had lost their life. If Miss Smethwick went an hour without sleep because of the police’s need to question her, well that was just the way that things went. At least she was alive and well, which was more than could be said for Minerva Bobbington.
By the time he reached Harriett’s front door, Mark felt as though he had traipsed around the entire county, while his stomach felt as though he had eaten his way around the village. He felt slightly sick and hated the heavy weight of the cake wedges he had nestled in his pockets. He wondered if he could call upon Harriett’s good nature to help him dispose of them.
“What the devil is the matter?” Harriett gasped as she drew him inside and closed the door. He looked pale and seemed to be sweating. The silent plea in his eyes made her want to sweep him into a hug and sit him beside the fire so she could look after him. “Are you alright? Do you want me to fetch Doctor Woods?”
“No, I will be fine in a minute. Can I have a glass of water though please?” He was fairly certain that the God awful fruit cake he had been subjected to earlier, courtesy of the ladies Dalrymple, had landed in his stomach with the determination of a terrier, and refused to relinquish its hold.
Harriett led him to the sitting room and waved him to one of the chairs before the fire. Mark almost groaned at the scent of meat pie that wafted in the air and felt his stomach lurch in alarm.
“Have you eaten yet?” Harriett handed him a cup of water and stood back to watch him take a tentative sip.
“I am fine, thank you. Really,” Mark protested and cast her rueful glance. “Maybe you could tell me something, Harriett?” He nodded at Babette, who appeared in the doorway to the kitchen. “Is there some sort of cake competition going on in the village?”
Harriett frowned and shared a look with her aunt. “Not as far as I am aware, why?”
“Because at each house that Isaac and I have been to today, everyone has given us cake; piece after piece of cake.” He sighed and dug the offending weights out of his pocket. He placed them on the table beside him and gave Harriett a rueful smile. “It is al
l very nice, but impossible to refuse without running the risk of causing someone offense. Mrs Dalrymple was quite put out when I didn’t eat all of my cake and insisted on sending me home with a second piece.” He ignored Babette’s snigger. “On occasions, people have even had the kettle boiling in readiness to make tea before we have even knocked on the door.”
Harriett tried to look sympathetic but failed miserably, and made no attempt to hide her grin. “Oh dear, too much cake I take it?”
