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“It’s dangerous though, now that one of the group has been killed.” It was the closest Mark could come to issuing them both a warning that they should not conduct any more séances. There wasn’t anything illegal about what they were doing. The meetings were held in their own homes and they weren’t profiteering from it. It just gave him the chills to think that they were sitting in the dark with someone who had sinister intentions.
“You could always come to the next meeting,” Babette suggested hopefully. She had read the look of warning Mark had given Harriett. The man had clearly wanted to issue her niece with an order not to attend another séance and Babette wanted to applaud the almost proprietary way he looked at her. Unfortunately, Harriett appeared to be completely oblivious to the police officer’s rather personal interest.
Harriett’s lips quirked at that and she pushed to her feet to follow Mark out.
“Do you know something? I might just do that,” Mark replied ruefully. He couldn’t help but wonder if that was the solution.
Harriett’s smile left her face and she studied him, but felt fairly certain that he was joking. Mark was by far the very last person she would expect to attend something as farcical as a séance. She felt strangely abandoned as she followed him through the house and wondered what kind of affect he was having on her senses. He shouldn’t have this much of an impact on her so quickly, especially under such dire circumstances, but she couldn’t ignore the familiarity she felt with him, or the strange, protected feeling she felt when he was around. He always seemed to be calm, thoughtful and in control. Without question, she knew that he would always be counted on in a crisis, and she wasn’t sure what to make of her apparent dependence on him. Was it her wayward imagination that made her see protectiveness that wasn’t there? Was she trying to make him into something she wanted him to be, rather than who he really was: a policeman conducting an investigation into murder? She wasn’t sure.
She smothered a yawn and suddenly felt so weighed down by the events of the last two days that nothing seemed to make much sense any more. She wanted to lay her head down, if only to allow her mind to rest for a while. Over the course of the day she had scoured her memory for anything untoward that had happened during the night before; well, except for the death of course. Then she had fretted and worried over when she would see Mark again. Now, her worries were heightened by the latest revelation that her prized possession had been stolen by someone she had trusted in; someone who had been in her parlour last night.
“I will be in touch tomorrow, Harriett. Meantime, make sure that the doors are kept locked and try to get a good night’s sleep.”
Mark was only vaguely aware of Babette in the kitchen out back. He dipped his head to look down into Harriett’s face and was more concerned than ever to see fear in the depths of her beautiful eyes.
“I will be glad to go to work tomorrow and at least get back to some semblance of normality,” she sighed with a frown. She wasn’t sure why she felt the need to confide in him. He was certain
ly not interested in her personal issues, but the words simply couldn’t be contained.
He couldn’t resist it, and slowly lifted a finger that tipped her chin up until her eyes lifted to meet his. Harriett froze and stared up at him. The softness of his fingertip felt like a brand on her skin and she shivered at the intimate touch. Nobody had ever touched her like that before, especially not a man. Should she move away? Should she allow more? She wasn’t sure what to do. Luckily, Mark seemed to take the decision out of her hands and merely smiled gently at her. He tried to put all of the reassurance he wanted to offer her into his eyes, but wasn’t sure if she understood.
“Try not to worry, Harriett. I will get this sorted out for you, trust me. Get some sleep. I will find you tomorrow if I have further news.” More shaken by the feel of her soft skin than he knew was wise, Mark yanked the door open and left the house.
He sucked in a huge breath of the crisp night air and caught sight of a black carriage as it disappeared around the last house at the end of the street. He recognised that coachman. He listened to the hooves clip-clop into the distance. It was only when silence settled around him that he slowly eased away from the house. It was a good five mile walk back to Great Tipton, but he didn’t mind. It gave him the chance to think about the investigation, and Harriett, while keeping an eye out for the return of mysterious carriage.
CHAPTER NINE
Having spent a dubious night running up and down stairs to the outhouse, Mark was not in the mood to chase after the evasive Miss Smethwick. He was tired, grumpy and really wanted to see Harriett instead.
“Bloody Dalrymples,” Mark muttered as he climbed into the carriage to join Isaac.
“Didn’t settle with you either, eh?” Isaac asked wryly as he handed Mark the morning newspaper.
Mark threw him a dour look. “The next time you go to the village fete and they are having a cake competition, head back to work. It isn’t worth the misery.”
Isaac looked a little green around the gills and voiced no objection as the carriage lurched into motion with a little too much enthusiasm.
“What do we do if Smethwick isn’t there?” Isaac asked as he studied the landscape that swept past the window.
“Kick the door down,” Mark grumbled. He frowned at a small article on the fifth page that referred to the mysterious disappearance of renowned Psychic medium, Olga Hegedus. Having stolen hundreds of pounds from victims in the Charing Cross area, she had mysteriously vanished several weeks ago, along with her associate, Charlotte Fotheringill. Both women were wanted for fraud, theft and were still at large. Anyone with information should inform Scotland Yard. Mark folded the newspaper and showed Isaac, who glanced at it and nodded.
“See if you can find out what these two look like. I think we need to see if we can tie in the appearance of the mysterious Madame Humphries to the disappearance of these two.” He tapped the newspaper.
“I have already requested Scotland Yard sends us descriptions and a copy of the case file. As soon as it arrives, we will see if they match.”
“Good, I have a sneaking suspicion these are one and the same.”
“More importantly though, would they murder for money?”
“You mean did Minerva see Miss Hepplethwaite disappear from the table? Would it be enough to ensure that she would be murdered to stop her talking to someone about it?” Mark sighed and tossed the newspaper onto the seat beside him. “I think it is a strong possibility. As soon as we have seen the illusive Miss Smethwick, we will head over to Madame Humphries and co, and get a good description.”
Isaac’s loud knock on Miss Smethwick’s door was enough to make the window panes rattle. Smoke billowed slowly out of the chimney pot, so they knew that someone was at home. They waited for several minutes before Mark heaved a sigh. He stood back to study the windows and was contemplating kicking the door down when the rattle of bolts inside heralded the arrival of the elusive Miss Smethwick.
Mark studied the wary eyes of the dishevelled woman who stood just inside the darkened hallway and nodded to her. She clutched her shawl tightly to her neck and looked as though she was about to turn on her heel and run. Mark studied the white knuckles on her hands and wondered what she knew that made her feel so unnerved. He was fairly certain that she as frightened about something. Was it their visit?
“Can we come in?”
Miss Smethwick stood back and waved them inside. From all accounts, the woman was parsimonious and quite vocal. The descriptions the others had given of her were in stark contrast to the rather timid woman who stood before them now. So what was it that had made her so worried? Had she got something to hide?
