Harriett (22 page)

“
You had tea with him most afternoons, didn’t you?” Fred’s
round usually took him past the tea shop. Although he never
stopped, he always popped his head through the door to hail a
greeting as he went on his duties. Today he had been held up by a
strange message that had turned out to be nothing but a merry chase
and hadn’t taken his usual afternoon stroll through the
neighbourhood.

“
I hadn’t planned to, but it is my day off and I wanted to
drop by to see how he was. I haven’t seen him for the past few
days, and I missed our usual chats. When I got here though, I found
him like -” she waved blankly behind the counter and lapsed into
silence.

Mark
appeared in the doorway that led to the small yard at the back of
the shop. He had studied the gate and the back door but there was
no sign of forced entry. It pointed to the fact that whoever had
added the poison to Hugo’s tea and entered through the shop’s front
door, or had been allowed entrance to the yard by Hugo, who had
closed and locked the gate.

“
What did it?” Fred asked as he squatted down to lift the
cover off Hugo’s face. He frowned at the strange odour around the
man’s mouth and glanced at Mark.

“
Poison,” Mark sighed and moved to the dresser in the back
room to study the contents. He lifted the lid of the small metal
box of tea, and sniffed the contents, and repeated the procedure
with the sugar, milk and several other items. A rummage around in
the cupboards revealed nothing untoward. There was no sign of any
household poisons for pests; there wasn’t even a demon trap in the
shop. There was nothing to indicate that the tea may have been
poisoned by mistake by Hugo himself, who had inadvertently done
something silly like stirred his tea with a spoon he had used to
lay poison out for rodents. Instead, everything was as clean as a
whistle and in keeping with someone who ran a neat and tidy
store.

“
Did Hugo have someone helping him?” Mark called as he studied
the numerous cups and saucers stacked neatly on the
dresser.

“
No, he worked alone,” Harriett replied. She carefully skirted
around Hugo’s feet to stand in the doorway and watch Mark’s search
of the back room. “He was a little pernickety with his things.
Everything had a place and he would get quite grumpy if anyone
messed with his piles. Lots of people called in to chat with him
though. There was always someone here, sitting on the stool out
front, sharing a cup of tea and chat.” Her voice quivered at the
thought of that easy generosity so cruelly, and so unnecessarily,
erased. “Hugo was a nice, kindly man who was no threat to anyone.
He liked a bit of gossip, obviously, everyone does. Even those who
say that they don’t indulge in gossip lie. It’s the mainstay of
village life, especially in somewhere like Tipton Hollow. Why would
someone do this to such a helpless old man? What purpose would it
have?”

“
To stop gossip,” Mark replied starkly. He could see no reason
to favour her delicate sensibilities. This was the second death in
less than a week. He couldn’t discount the message that had been
issued at the séance that ‘H is in danger’. So far, although
Minerva Bobbington didn’t have H in her name, Hugo Montague did.
Had Hugo been the person the threat had been issued to? It looked
entirely possible now, however Mark had to question whether Hugo
was the only intended victim. He closed his eyes as he realised
that Harriett had intended to have tea with Hugo on that very same
afternoon. If she had not had been in Great Tipton, she would have
been in the haberdashery with Hugo and would have drunk the
poisoned tea that killed her friend.

That led
him onto another thought that made him sick to his stomach. Was
Harriett the intended victim? He sucked in a deep breath in an
attempt to quell the worry that swept through him at the thought
that it could have been her behind that counter, on the floor,
dead.

Mark
disappeared outside and combed the nearly empty back yard as he
tried to blank that particular image out of his mind. The outhouse
revealed nothing except for a few squares of neatly cut newspaper
next to the privy, and a solitary demon trap stationed beside the
door. The coal house beside that held nothing but coal and a
battered dustpan and brush. Aside from that, there was nothing in
the yard.

He had
yet to do a more intensive search of the back room of the
haberdashery, but suspected that whoever had poisoned Hugo’s tea
hadn’t been careless enough to leave a packet of poison around, or
left any indication as to how they had managed to get the poison
into Hugo’s tea. That left Mark to consider the very distinct
possibility that whoever had poisoned Hugo, was someone with whom
he regularly shared tea and gossip. His thoughts turned toward
Harriett, but he immediately discounted that notion. It was simply
inconceivable to him that someone so pretty, so intelligent and
seemingly honest would stoop so low. She simply wasn’t the
murdering kind; if there was a murdering kind of person.

Minutes
later Doctor Woods arrived. He took one look at Mark’s face and
paused just inside the doorway. “Too late, I take it?”

Mark
nodded and waved to the body behind the counter. “Far too late, I
am afraid. I need you to provide me with a cause of death, although
I think I may know what it is.” He didn’t expand further and merely
stood back to allow the man to inspect the body.

“
He has been dead about an hour or so,” David sighed. “He is
still slightly warm, and has no sign of rigor mortis.”

Harriett
shuddered at the dispassion in the David’s voice. She hated the
controlled manner in which he spoke about the death of her friend,
but knew that it was his job. He couldn’t become emotionally
involved in his patient’s lives. Still, the way in which he
discussed the morbid details of Hugo’s body made her feel slightly
sick.

“
Come on, lass, let me get you home. I am sure the Detective
Inspector can find you there when he needs to ask you some more
questions,” Fred muttered.

She made
no protest when he took hold of her elbow and escorted her firmly
toward the door. She was glad to be out of the haberdashery and
didn’t think about how the villagers would perceive her being
escorted from the property by the local bobby.

The
journey home was something she struggled to remember. Even when
Fred had left her inside the house with instructions to lock the
door, she sat at the table in the back room and merely stared at
the wall as she tried to absorb the events of the last few hours.
She had no idea how long she sat motionless before Babette arrived
in a flurry.

“
What happened? Harriett, are you alright?”

“
I am fine, Babette, honestly.” Harriett offered her a smile
that wavered before it broke under the weight of the uncontrollable
sobs that swept through her. Strangely, while she cried, her
thoughts weren’t only on the demise of her erstwhile friend, Hugo,
but turned again and again to the image of Mark, seated in the tea
shop window, holding the hand of the beautiful mystery woman.
Harriett was fairly certain that her tears were for Hugo, even
though a small voice of doubt warned her that she wasn’t looking
deep enough into her emotions to be honest with herself.

“
Now, there then. Tell me what happened,” Babette sighed once
a fortifying cup of tea had been placed on the table.

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.

“
It was in a pawn brokers shop in Brampton.”

“
A pawn broker?” Babette gasped and stared aghast at
Harriett.

“
I didn’t take it there,” she protested at the accusation in
Babette’s face. “It was given to me by my mother. I wouldn’t pawn
something so valuable.”