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“Why did you feel compelled to go and find out what Mrs Saunders saw?”
“I just needed to see if she knew how long Sally was ill for after I left last night.”
“Oh? Why would you want to know that then?”
“Because it is highly unlikely that Sally would have suffered in silence. If there was one thing Sally was good at it was getting things done. It was part of the reason why she always oversaw the arrangements for the Autumn Fair. Sally was someone who always bustled and kept busy. If she felt ill, it is likely that she would have found Mrs Saunders and asked her to send for the doctor. It is odd that Sally didn’t yet managed to get upstairs.”
“Upstairs?”
Clementine nodded. “And back down again, while apparently too ill to send for a doctor. It just doesn’t make sense.”
No. It didn’t, especially to Moss, who hadn’t got a clue what she was muttering about. Yes, it did seem odd, but that was no reason why Clementine should risk drawing the attention of scurrilous gossips who would be talking about Sally’s untimely death.
“Now she is dead. I just don’t understand.” Clementine glared at him and sighed heavily when she saw the closed expression on Moss’s face. She knew that he thought she was going off on a wild tangent that was driven by her wayward feminine imagination. “Before you say it, I know that people die unexpectedly. We are all God’s children and can be taken from this mortal coil at any moment.”
Moss grinned. “The vicar has been to see you.” It wasn’t a question.
Clementine rolled her eyes. It was a little disconcerting just how seemingly at ease he had put her in such a short space of time. She was talking to Moss as she would her own father, and it was almost unheard of because men were often avoided if Clementine could manage it. The only other person she had ever felt herself able to be herself with had been Sally.
“I am sorry,” Moss murmured when he saw Clementine’s sad look. He suspected she was thinking about her friend in her final hours. “I doubt anybody will know what Sally did in her final moments because nobody was there.”
“But she got into her night-gown,” Clementine announced in frustration.
Moss grinned. “So?”
“At six o’clock in the evening?”
“How do you know it was six o’clock in the evening? She could have gotten into her night-gown at, say, nine?”
Clementine glared at him but mentally winced because she knew he was right. “I know you think I am a fool, but I know my friend’s normal routine. Sally always usually went to bed around ten o’clock. She made a point of always being home at nine, or eight in the winter, although what that extra hour was supposed to help was always beyond me. Anyway, Sally locked up the house, got into her night-gown and then made herself a night-time drink before she went to bed. She was always up with the cockerel because she liked to get her jobs done before most of the gossips were up and about. I think she wanted to avoid the gossips as much as she could. It is unlike Sally to get changed into her night-gown so early. Besides, there is another odd thing that I don’t understand.”
“Oh?” Moss prompted when Clementine fell quiet and seemed to have forgotten he was there.
Clementine looked up at him. “The clothing she wore yesterday is missing.”
“Missing?”
“They are nowhere to be found. I have checked. Mrs Saunders has confirmed Sally was in her night-gown and she didn’t see the clothing Sally wore yesterday either. It’s not in the house, Moss. What on earth could it mean? Who would take it and why? And before you ask, Mrs Saunders says that the undertaker didn’t take any of Sally’s clothing with him when he left.”
“Why on earth would he do that?” Moss demanded around a huffed laugh he tried, and failed, to smother.
Clementine glared at him. “To dress the body of course,” she snapped as if he was slow.
Moss, duly chastised, coughed and squinted suspiciously at the house. Before he could speak, Clementine continued relaying the facts she had gathered.
“There is no reason why Sally would throw her own clothing out, but it isn’t in that house where it should be.”
Moss stopped walking and stared hard at
her. “Are you sure her clothing has vanished?”
“It’s not the only thing. Come and see for yourself,” Clementine urged.
Moss sighed, but Clementine was already marching back to Sally’s house. He caught up with her and shook his head in disbelief but didn’t stop her from leading him into the house and up the stairs to Sally’s bed chamber.
“Yesterday, and last night, Sally was wearing a dark brown calico dress. Usually, and I know this because I used to come and check on the house when Sally went to visit her sister, Dotty, Sally kept her clothing that needed washing draped over the back of the chair in that corner, but there is nothing there.” Clementine pointed to the boots in the closet. “These are highly polished, agreed?”
Moss struggling to hide his smile, duly nodded. He was, although would never admit it to Clementine, impressed with her deductive reasoning. He just didn’t think it stood a chance in Hell of proving anything untoward had happened to the unfortunate Sally Walcott. However, he patiently listened while Clementine poked around in Sally’s closet.
