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“We need it for evidence at the moment. As soon as this investigation is concluded, we will hand it back to you. Until then, we will keep it safe, I promise.”
Harriett nodded. Leaving it with the police was about the safest place in the county. She wondered if she could move into the station too because despite the fact that she was still hale and hearty, she was deeply shaken at the thought that the murderer may intend to target everyone at the séance with an ‘H’ in their name. She knew that Mark hadn’t mentioned it to spare her worries, but the hard glare he had given her when he had instructed her to be extra careful spoke volumes. She had no intention of taking ridiculous risks with her life, but she was adamant that she would not sit at home like some frightened rabbit and wait for the murderer to appear at her door one day. Life had to continue. After all, who was to say that Hugo hadn’t been the intended victim and, now that he had died, there would be no further deaths other than those of natural causes?
Mark rubbed a weary hand down his face. He still needed to explain to Harriett about Alice and the tea shop at Great Tipton. Now though, it looked like he not only had to find the right time to discuss the matter with Harriett, but had to contend with his mother’s curiosity about séances at the same time. The last thing he wanted was for his mother to be embroiled in the sinister goings on at the Tipton Hollow Psychic Circle, but he knew that if he stomped over to her house and demanded that she not get involved in his investigation, he would be blatantly ignored.
He could only hope that she wouldn’t get wind of his rather personal interest in Harriett.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The second meeting of the Tipton Hollow Psychic Circle was held that same evening. Harriett sat in Beatrice’s sitting room and listened to the new arrivals in the hallway. Her heart lurched at the sound of Mark’s husky rumble along with the unfamiliar voice of someone new. It appeared that Mark’s mother had arrived.
“Good Lord, it is like a wake in here,” Miss Haversham muttered as she stalked into the room.
Mr Bentwhistle, Harriett, Babette, Tuppence, Constance and Mrs Dalrymple were already in attendance, along with Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite, who were already seated at the table, ostensibly to prepare for their communication.
“Good evening, Miss Haversham, I take it that you are well?”
“Very well, Harriett, thank you for asking,” Miss Haversham replied as she perched on the edge of a dining chair and placed her bag primly in her lap.
“Good evening, everyone,” a rather splendidly dressed lady called as she appeared in the doorway in a flurry of frills and ruffles. “I am Henrietta Bosville,” she smiled widely at nobody in particular and waited for Mark to join her.
“Glad you can join us,” Mr Bentwhistle murmured quietly as he rose and waved to a seat beside Babette. Harriett wasn’t aware of Henrietta taking the pro-offered seat. Her entire being was locked on the latest arrival: Mark. Just the sight of him in the doorway had a visible effect on the people within the room, and the previously tense and nervous atmosphere eased as soon as he crossed the threshold.
“Please take a seat, Inspector, it is a pleasure to have you here,” Madame called from the head of the table. “I am just preparing and shall be ready by the time everyone gets here.”
Mark nodded to her and quickly took a seat beside Harriett. It was somewhat of a relief to sit down. The sitting room was rather on the small side. Everyone was crammed into the chairs that were shoved into every nook and cranny to such an extent that when he sat, he felt as though he was on Harriett’s knee. He was acutely aware of the soft material of her skirts against his thigh and shifted uncomfortably at the surge of awareness that swept through him.
“How are you tonight, Harriett?” Mark murmured as he eyed the dark shadows beneath her eyes. There were
so many things he wanted to discuss with her, to say to her, and explain to her, that he suddenly didn’t know where to begin, other than to wish that they were somewhere else, far away from Tipton Hollow, and especially the ridiculous Psychic Circle.
“I am fine, thank you,” Harriett breathed. She was strangely stunned that he had only sat beside her yet she had already started to tremble. A warm flutter deep inside began to build and warmed her entire being with molten awareness. She hated it. The mental image of him in the coffee shop, holding the hand of the beautiful woman swam into her vision and it was enough for her to slam the lid back down on the feelings that started to grow within her. It was foolish to think that someone like Mark would be interested in her; a tea shop worker, when he had such a beautiful woman whom he clearly adored.
“No ill effects?”
Harriett shook her head but couldn’t bring herself to think too closely about what had happened that very same afternoon. “I am fine,” she replied softly, acutely aware of just how closely he studied her, and just how unnerved he made her feel.
Mark studied her with a frown. She was so very pale and didn’t look as though she had rested at all since he had last seen her. He cast a questioning glance at Babette, only for her to offer him nothing more than a small smile. He inwardly groaned at the keen interest in his mother’s gaze as it flew from him to Harriett, then back to him again. It made him wish he had remained at home. Still, he was here for the sake of the investigation. He wanted to see if the presence of the police at the séance would put a stop to any further threats. He smiled his thanks at Beatrice and took the pro-offered drink off her. After he had studied the glass carefully, he took a tentative sip, relieved when nothing more salubrious than brandy settled warmly in his stomach.
Eloisa and Miss Smethwick arrived minutes later and completed the circle. They had no sooner taken a seat than silence settled over the group. Mark could only call it an expectant silence. There was a strange undercurrent of tension which, if he was honest, was unsurprising given that there had been a murder at the last meeting and one of the members of the circle had been murdered since.
He sighed and knew from the furtive looks that were being exchanged that word had gotten out about Mr Montague’s murder, in spite of his best efforts. Although he had been busy with David Woods and both murder cases, he was acutely aware of just how quickly gossip spread and inwardly groaned at the thought of the questions that would be raised.
Mark coughed loudly and flicked his glass several times. Everyone turned to stare at him.
“Madame Humphries? Miss Hepplethwaite? If you would care to join us?” He watched the ladies look at each other before they nervously moved to stand behind Mr Bentwhistle’s chair.
“I am afraid that I have some rather sad news. I don’t know how many of you may have already heard the gossip, but I think you should know that earlier today Hugo Montague passed away unexpectedly in his store.”
Various gasps and cries of protest broke the silence.
“Was it murder?” Miss Smethwick demanded. Her small eyes were locked on Mark.
Mark couldn’t lie. “The death is being treated as suspicious, yes.” He lifted his hands to quieten the group when they began to fire a rapid succession of questions at him.
“I think you need to decide if the séance should continue. Because of the warnings that were given at the last meeting, you should all consider the wisdom of conducting the séances on today, the saddest of all days.” He glanced around the room and met a sea of shocked and horrified faces.
“Well, I think that we should carry on and see what we get,” Miss Haversham suggested. “I mean, I knew Hugo well. He would want us to carry on regardless. If it was any of us who had passed away, he would have been the first one to suggest the meeting go ahead as planned.”
