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At the front door, Mark turned back to study the woman. “Tell me Miss Smethwick, how long have you lived in the village?” Mark heard her sudden intake of breath. If he hadn’t been so close, he would have missed the panicked look that lit her eyes before she straightened her shoulders and glared almost defiantly at him.
“Most of my adult life, but I don’t see what that has got to do with your investigation,” she reported crisply.
“So, you consider yourself familiar with most, of not everyone, in the village?”
“As well as can be expected, yes.”
“Have you heard any gossip of any fallings out?”
“None that I am aware of, no.” She heaved an impatient sigh to which Mark scowled and shared a knowing look with Isaac.
“If there is anything you remember then please let us know.” He didn’t wait for her confirmation. He was fairly certain that she wouldn’t come to him with any information, even if she did remember something that could help the investigation. His opinion was confirmed as soon as they had stepped outside and the door slammed behind them with sufficient force that the knocker rattled against the wooden surface.
“Whew. Nervous or defensive?” Isaac puffed out his cheeks and studied the door for a moment.
“Defensive, definitely.”
“She was determined not to answer any questions, wasn’t she?”
“I think there is more to our Miss Smethwick than meets the eye,” Mark replied with a frown. He wanted to go back inside and make the woman answer his questions but knew it was futile against someone so recalcitrant. She would object, argue and be rudely offensive and, even if they could get information out of her, it would undoubtedly have more to do with Hepplethwaite and Humphries than anyone else at the table.
Isaac lifted his brows at him and led the way back down the path toward the main street.
“Humphries or Hepplethwaite next?”
Mark removed his pocket watch and studied the time. “Humphries next, I think. We will leave Hepplethwaite until last.”
The slightly vacant expression on Madame Humphries’ face when she opened the door was enough to warn Mark that they would not get anything useful out of this woman either. Whether she had seen them approach, or just had a blank look on her face whenever she answered her front door was anyone’s guess. There was something slightly astute about her eyes thought that was at odds with the fact that she had been ‘meditating’ as she called it.
“Please come on through and take a seat, although how you feel I can help you is anyone’s guess, I am sure of it,” Madame Humphries sighed as she heaved her ample girth into a chair with a grunt.
“I want you to recount everything you can remember about the night of the séance,” Mark replied and nodded to Isaac, who began to make notes in his little black book.
“I don’t remember much, you know. I was in trance most of the time. The outside world just seems to fizzle out and, well, I am busy with my spirit friends.”
“But you were having a conversation with those around the table, so you must have been aware that something unusual was happening.” Mark left enough scepticism on his face to make it clear to the woman that he didn’t believe her evasive tactics at all and would not be fobbed off. “This is a murder investigation and I would warn you that failing to co-operate with the police will put you before a magistrate.” He felt a surge of satisfaction as the initial flash of annoyance in her eyes was quickly replaced with a cautious look.
“I am not being evasive but what I do, by nature, takes me out of the earthly realm. Although I am sort of aware of what is being said around the table, the focus of my entire being is on the spirits that gather around us. Contrary to popular belief, they are not all that much different to us here on the earth plain. They turn up in droves, most of the time desperate to get messages across, and can come across as quite unruly you know. They call out this and that and, unless they are put into some semblance of order, can cause chaos and confusion. That is why I have my dear Miss Hepplethwaite with me. She helps with things around the table while my attention is focused on spirit.”
Mark sighed. The fervency in her voice told him that she truly believed what she was telling him. He had no reason to argue with her reasoning because he had no idea whether she was telling the truth or not. She believed what she was saying, but did that mean that it was the truth, or a figment of her imagination? He decided to stick to the facts, on the earth plain, rather than even start to touch on the spiritual realm, and dug deep for his patience as he settled back in the rather hard arm-chair.
“I want you to tell me exactly what happened, as far as you can remember, over that evening. Start at the very beginning and don’t stop until you get to the moment you leave. Don’t go into what you did with your spirit friends,” he added wryly. “We just need to know about what the living were doing in the room that night.”
As Madame began to report what she considered important, Mark took the opportunity to study the room. It was furnished in a rather nondescript, mediocre fashion. The drapes were of a heavy material and, from the thick layer of dust at the top, either hadn’t been closed in some considerable time or the woman was never at home at night and had a need to use them. The room was rather sparsely furnished but, as a working clairvoyant, that was nothing untoward. It just felt strangely odd, but he couldn’t quite figure out why. The walls were whitewashed. The pictures on the wall were of nondescript flowers and fruit baskets; the
re was even a countryside scene or two. A jug of largely wilting flowers sat in the window next to a scarred dining table and two chairs. There was nothing unusual about the room in any way, but something gnawed at him until he began to frown at the rag rug on the floor beneath his feet. It just didn’t feel as though anybody lived there.
“Tell me, do you do any other work besides spiritual?” Mark studied her carefully.
“No, I have worked as a clairvoyant all of my life. There have been times when it has been very quiet and finances have been a bit of a struggle, but my friends in the spirit world step in and help me out.”
“Have you ever worked in a cinema?”
“A cinema?” Madame Humphries glanced hesitantly at Isaac, and then turned a frown on Mark. “Why, no, I haven’t.”
Silence settled over the room for several long moments while Mark stared at her. Just when it began to grow uncomfortable, he sighed. “How often do you work? I take it that the current trend in visiting clairvoyants has helped bolster your coffers somewhat?” Mark watched the woman shift uncomfortably and wondered whether he had hit on a nerve.
“I have a steady stream of people I work with in the area and am out most nights, so I suppose that matters are a bit more comfortable for now, yes.”
