AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“How so?”
“Well, she turns up out of nowhere. Always seems to nose around the yard and then disappears again just as quickly. There is something damned odd about her but I can’t quite figure out what it is.”
Mark nodded. “Look, this is part of a murder investigation so I am going to ask you not to repeat what we have discussed tonight with anyone. I have to tell you that I think the carriage may be linked to the murders of Minerva Bobbington and Hugo Montague.” He saw Brewster’s face drop for a moment before outrage filled his face. “We are investigating, but I need you to play your part. When is the rent on the barn due again?”
“End of next week. What do you want me to do?”
“You will help?”
“Of course I will. I am not having anyone come into this village, start to kill off our friends and just sit back and let it happen, especially out of my own blasted yard. It would kill my business if I was linked to the murders in any way. Tell me what you want me to do,” the man demanded in a voice that was as fierce as the look in his eye.
“Keep an eye on the carriage and make note of when it goes out. The next time the woman turns up to pay you, look at her closely. I need her eye colour, details of any facial features like moles, scars, that kind of thing. See if you can get a name out of her as well. I want to put a man in your yard to watch the carriage, but I need your help to hide him.”
Brewster nodded enthusiastically. “I have the perfect place for him. It is out of sight, but he will have a clear view of the main gates and the carriage. Do you need me to tell you if it is going out?”
Mark nodded. “Send a lad to Fred, and he will alert us. For the time being, I am going to spend a lot of time in the village. Someone has been threatened, and I plan to ensure that every step is taken to stop them becoming the third victim. I need your help in this, Mr Brewster, and then maybe we can protect your business rather than damage it.”
“Count me in, sir, and if there is anything else you need from me, just tell me what to do.”
“Fred is going to bring a constable to you who will watch the carriage. Hide him. He will be swapped for someone else when his shift changes, but there will always be someone in the hiding place, keeping watch. Right now, don’t challenge anyone who turns up for the carriage. Let it go because we will follow it. If you detect anything untoward, or get any further information on the owner, let me know. If I am not in the tea shop, I will either be at the Marchington residence, or Great Tipton station. Fred will know where to find me.”
“Quite.” Brewster held his grubby hand out to Mark and nodded his thanks. “I will get word out to the men to watch out for the blasted thing moving about the village. Between us, we can keep tabs on it.”
“It is essential that we don’t alert the woman that we are suspicious, so please don’t tell anyone who is likely to gossip about it.”
Brewster gave him a knowing look. “Don’t you worry about it, the lads and I can deal with this and the gossips won’t be any the wiser for it. You mark my words.”
Mark had no choice really, what was done now, was done. There was no going back and, if he was honest, he was grateful for the help. It was damned difficult to monitor the carriage given its position not only in the village, but in the coal merchant’s yard. The yard itself was surrounded with a fifteen feet high brick wall. There was no back entrance and it was damned near impossible to watch from the outside. There wasn’t even a house opposite that afforded a clear view down into the yard. Having someone inside was the best option available. Unfortunately, that also meant that they wouldn’t be able to get out of the yard to alert anyone if the carriage started to head out.
Mark quickly finished his drink and took his leave of the merchant. With a sigh, he left the pub. He glanced at the closed doors of the coal merchants. It was early evening but the cold bite of night air nipped at his cheeks as he headed down the now deserted main street. A flurry of movement to his left drew his attention and he watched Babette, huddled in her cloak, scurry down the street. She was clearly off to church to arrange the flowers.
He was about to turn away when he realised that she was heading in the opposite direction to the church and had no flowers with her.
Curious, Mark followed.
At the end of the next street, Berrisford Road, Mark waited and watched Babette disappear into a house, half way down the street. The person she intended to see had clearly been waiting for her because she hadn’t even knocked on the door before a masculine pair of arms swept her into the house seconds before the door closed.
He waited for several moments but Babette didn’t re-appear. He wondered if Harriett knew what was going on. Although he was fairly certain that Babette’s clandestine activities had nothing to do with the murders and attempt on Harriett’s life, he suspected that the latest mystery didn’t bode well for anyone. After all, unless Babette was having an affair, what likely reason could she possibly have to visit a solicitor at his home, in the middle of the evening, and be so secretive about it?
Moreover, the last time he had been to see his solicitor, he hadn’t been swept into a loving hug on arrival.
Mark sighed and began to walk home. He had no sooner reached the outskirts of town than he met with Fred, the village bobby.
“Evening.”
“Evening, sir. I’m just heading off on my nightly rounds,” Fred replied with a sigh.
“Is everything alright?” Mark frowned at the despondency in the man’s voice.
Fred shook his head. “I don’t know, sir. It is a rum old business and that’s a fact. I have been living in this village all of my life and I can tell you, it is about the quietest place on God’s earth. Nothing much ever happens in Tipton Hollow. Most of my work is nearer toward Great Tipton. Of late though, with the murders and the recent spate of thefts, it makes me wonder what the world is coming to.”
Mark frowned and studied the village constable cautiously. “Spate of thefts?” He lifted his brows and waited.
“I have just come back from Helena Cridlingham’s house on the outskirts of the village. A couple of weeks ago, she reported that a fob watch that belonged to her grandfather, and was with his body at the time of his death, had been stolen.”
“Stolen? How? When?”
“Well, from what I can gather, sometime between when his body was taken from the house by the funeral directors and when it was returned for laying out prior to the funeral.”
