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Clementine was disappointed, in herself mostly, for being so wayward as to come to town to talk to Moss, despite her father’s warnings. Her father agreed with her that something odd was going on but made it clear to her that Moss was a busy man who didn’t appreciate how villages worked and wouldn’t help her.
Well, you were right father. It appears the villagers are not worthy of his time.
“Clementine, wait!” Moss called.
When she continued to open the door, Moss lengthened his stride and slammed the door closed just as it was starting to open. He felt awful for his reaction and made a determined attempt to soften his stance toward her.
“Look, I am sorry. I have just had a long and very difficult day and didn’t expect you to tell me that there have been more deaths. Why don’t you come back in? I apologise for my rudeness. It is just that I am in the middle of a complex investigation and struggle to set it to one side. Who has died, did you say?” Moss glanced over his shoulder at the study and wondered if he should invite her into his office.
If only to be able to put a more professional distance between us.
Clementine looked at him. “What name did I just give you?”
For some reason, it was important that he tell her. She suspected he hadn’t heard a word she had just said. It created a pool of hurt deep within that made her suddenly want to be somewhere else.
“I don’t know the villagers.”
“What is the name of one of the latest victims?”
“We don’t know they are victims,” Moss edged.
“You weren’t listening, were you?”
“Of course I was.”
“What is the name of one of the victims.”
Moss sighed.
“I think that concludes our business. I am sorry to waste your time.”
This time, Clementine edged the door open, just enough to ease through it, and slithered through the gap. She descended the stairs to the street so swiftly that the coachman didn’t even get the time to jump down and yank the door open for her before she reached it. She opened it herself and dropped the step, and within seconds was settling into the seat leaving the coachman to secure the door and step. It was difficult, but Clementine forced herself not to bother to look at the house again. She focused on draping the blanket over her knees while she waited for the coachman to flick the horses into motion.
All the while she waited to depart, though, she was aware of Moss standing in the doorway staring blankly after her. Thankfully, he made no attempt to come after her. This time, she had no intention of returning either.
“That’s the last time I shall ask you for assistance, Moses Banfield-Moss,” she whispered fiercely.
His rejection hurt. More than she cared to admit. Clementine wanted to scold him for dismissing her. She wanted to ask why he was so dismissive of three deaths. More importantly, she wanted to ask him what she should do now. It was evident to
her, and even her father now, that someone was killing people Clementine knew and spoke to within days of her having met them.
“If I didn’t know better, I should think that someone is trying to isolate me in the worst possible way,” she whispered. “What I don’t understand is why, and what I can do about finding whoever is responsible. Now that I know Moss isn’t prepared to help, I am well and truly stuck.”
CHAPTER SIX
“Well, damn it,” Moss growled, slamming the door closed with a resounding bang once the carriage had disappeared.
“Sir?”
Moss whirled to look at the housekeeper who stood in the hallway with a tray of tea and cakes. He huffed a breath and forced himself to relax. “Take them into the study, please.”
“Has the lady gone, sir?” Mrs Marks asked, surprised that Moss would send the stunning young woman on her way.
“Yes.” Moss followed her into the study once he had relieved her of the tray. “Tell me, Mrs Marks, did Clementine say anything to you about why she was here?”
“Clementine?”
“The young woman who was just here.”
