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Harriett took a breath to reply when there was a knock on the door. Babette moved to answer it only to be stopped by Harriett who clutched at her arm. “If it is someone we know, tell them that we are not receiving visitors right now. I really don’t want to face gossips. Not after that.”
“What?”
“Mr Montague –” Harriett lifted fear-filled eyes to Babette. “He was murdered this afternoon.”
Babette gasped and slumped down into the chair beside Harriett’s with a heavy thump. They both ignored the heavy knocks on the front door and stared blankly at each other. “Are you sure?”
Harriett snorted and explained quickly what she had found at the shop.
“Heavens above. He has an ‘H’ in his name.”
“We had better answer that,” Harriett grumbled as she shoved away from the table. The persistent bangs on the door were getting louder and louder until it sounded as though the door was about to break under the determination of their visitor. She spied the silhouette through the twin rectangles on the door and knew instinctively who it was.
“What the hell took so long?” Mark thundered as he gave her a hard stare. “I was about to kick the blasted door down.”
Harriett sighed and stood back to wave him in. “I was just telling Babette what has happened.” Before she closed the door behind Isaac, she caught sight of two of the village’s most notorious gossips beside the wall next door. She wondered how long it would be before word got out that Hugo was dead, and knew that it wouldn’t be long before everywhere she went, people would be talking about the latest death in the village. By the time she reached the sitting room, the men were seated at the table watching Babette pour their tea.
“How has the investigation been going? Have you got any further yet?” It could be just an ordinary afternoon chat for all the normality of the situation. Babette plonked the tea pot down on the table and looked expectantly at the men.
“Do you know how he died?” She locked eyes with Mark and she silently pleaded with him to be honest with her.
“We think he was poisoned. There was something in his tea. Doctor Woods is going to examine him and then get back to me with an exact cause and an exact poison, but I think it looks like cyanide.” Mark leaned forward in his chair and studied her closely. “Now tell me, Harriett, do you go and have tea at the same time each day?” He hated to scare her but desperately needed to know if she was the intended recipient of the poison.
“I go most afternoons but certainly not every day. Time doesn’t permit it some days, especially if it is busy at the tea shop. I just pop in as and when I get the time to. There is always someone there. Hugo, bless him, loved to chat about everything and anything.”
“He loved to gossip,” Mark replied with no hint of censure in his voice. The man was elderly and lived alone with only his cats for company. It was only expected that he should use the shop as a way to socialise with those who ordinarily wouldn’t give him the time of day.
“Tell me, Harriett, did he tell you of any new gossip?”
Harriett shook her head solemnly. “I haven’t seen him much at all since the séance. A couple of days ago, I passed him in the street and asked him if he was going to the séance tonight. He looked a little frightened to be honest with you.” She paused and thought about that strange meeting when Hugo had looked more than a little unsettled. “He said that he wasn’t going to go. He had remembered something about the séance that he needed to talk to me about. He kept glancing around us as though he expected someone to pop up and scare him away, and seemed really uneasy. I asked him if he was alright, but he just mumbled something I couldn’t catch and walked off. I haven’t seen him since, well, not until this afternoon.” Her voice trailed off to a whisper and she lapsed into silence.
“When did you meet him in the street?”
“About two or three days after the séance.”
Mark looked at Babette.
“I haven’t seen him. I have been out and about on my travels and am not one of Hugo’s clientele.” She didn’t expand on her explanation as to where she had actually been. Mark studied her and knew from the guarded look in her eye that she didn’t want to tell him where she had been.
Mark looked at Isaac. “Has he been to the station to report anything?”
Isaac shook his head. “Not as far as I am aware. He certainly hasn’t seen me if he has and I haven’t had any messages.”
“You don’t go to Hugo’s shop?” Mark turned toward Babette with a frown.
Babette shook her head. “I prefer the haberdashery in Great Tipton. There is a much wider range of materials there and it is a bit cheaper.”
“Have you seen him out and about – on your travels?”
“No, sorry. I haven’t seen Hugo since the séance.”
Isaac coughed and leaned forward in his chair. “That broach you had stolen on the night of the séance, Harriett.”
“Yes, what about it?”
Isaac opened the picture Harriett had drawn. “Is this it?”
Harriett nodded at the roughly drawn sketch she had made of her treasured possession. She gasped as the real item was placed on top of the drawing. “Where did you find it?” She gasped and reached out to touch it only for Mark to grab a hold of her hand before she could pick it up.
