“At first glance, does anything look disturbed to you?” He nodded toward the drawer with a frown. He wasn’t lost to the softness
of her fingers beneath his and made no attempt to release his hold. It bothered him a little that there were so very few personal items there. One brooch, a beautiful hair comb, a decorative brush and ladies’ mirror, along with several hand stitched handkerchiefs and a small, well thumbed bible nestled on what looked to be another shawl.
“I had another decorative brooch. It had some beautiful enamel work on it and was given to me by my mother.” Harriett whispered and pulled her hand away from Mark’s to slide the drawer out further. “It’s gone,” she whispered when she had finished a thorough search of the contents. “It was my mother’s, and it has gone.”
“There, there, dear, I am sure that Mark will help us find it.”
“Of course I will, Harriett,” Mark hastened to assure her. He felt his temper surge at the thought that someone would have the audacity to rifle through her things and help themselves. A thief had definitely been in their midst at the séance, he just had to find out who.
“I can promise you, Harriett, that I will find out who took it,” he declared softly. “Firstly, I need you to tell me if you have worn it recently and, if so, if anyone mentioned it being particularly nice?”
Harriett frowned at that. “I don’t wear it very often. It is not all that expensive but more of a keep-sake than anything. I think I may have worn it at a church service a couple of weeks back, but I can’t be sure. Certainly nobody commented on it that I can recall.”
He glanced down at the stool seated beside the dressing table. “Is this where the stool usually sits?”
“Yes, and it was like this when I found it with Mr Bentwhistle.” Babette turned the four legged, sturdy looking stool onto its side to demonstrate that it would be virtually impossible for the thing to fall over by itself. Someone had knocked it over in their haste to get out of the room.
Mark pushed the drawer closed and looked at Babette. “Do you have anything missing?”
Mark made no comment on the fact that Babette didn’t appear to share a bedroom with her husband. They had passed a second bedroom on the way to the small back bedroom. The door had been open and revealed it to be a man’s room with a waistcoat hanging off a hook on the wall, and a worn pair of boots under the high, cast-iron bed. He made a mental note and stood back to watch Babette search her personal belongings for any sign of theft.
“Nothing’s gone as far as I can tell.”
One look at the distress evident on Harriett’s face was enough to send Mark’s blood boiling again. Had Mrs Bobbington seen something, and that was why she had been murdered? Or had there been more than one criminal at the séance? Mark mentally groaned at the possibility that they might not be looking for one person, but several.
“I need you to draw me a picture of the item that is missing,” Mark sighed and took a sip of his water once they were back downstairs. It was clean and crisp but did little to ease the gurgling in his stomach.
Harriett nodded jerkily and rose to find a paper and pencil. She quickly sketched the broach she had long since committed to memory and handed him the paper with a hand that trembled slightly with fury and distress.
“I will get to the bottom of this, Harriet,” he promised her when her eyes eventually met his. “I promise you. It just takes time, unfortunately.”
“I know, it is just a little unnerving to think that someone has been in my bedroom and through my personal belongings, that’s all.”
“Was anything else disturbed in the house?”
Babette and Harriett slowly shook their heads. “It would have been better if it hadn’t been so dark in here, but Madame Humphries insisted that the lights had to be out in order for the spirits to come forward. Nobody could see much at all. I suppose it is a perfect cover for someone who wants to burgle, or commit murder.”
“Right now, we cannot point fingers at anyone. There were fourteen people at that séance, and nobody can be discounted as innocent.” He mentally winced and immediately wanted to snatch his words back. Luckily, neither Harriett nor Babette seemed to have taken offense at his implication that they were suspects too.
“If there is anything that you find is unusual, or you discover something else that has vanished, let me know as soon as possible. I also meant to ask you if you had any further séances, or meetings of the Psychic Circle planned in the near future?”
Harriett shared a look with Babette. They had discussed this earlier and agreed that the second meeting scheduled for Friday should be postponed. Unfortunately, they also felt fairly certain that one or two members of the circle, not least Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite, would object to any postponement or cancellation.
“On Friday, at Beatrice’s house,” Babette sighed reluctantly after several moments of awkward silence. “Now, I know what you are going to say; there has been a murder and it is too dangerous, but I am just telling you that we had a meeting planned for Friday. Harriett and I discussed this and would prefer to cancel it, but believe that we are going to have to argue the case. Nobody could foresee the events of last night. Unfortunately though, it may only have encouraged some of the circle, rather than put them off?”
“You mean that some devout believers may want to conduct another séance so that they can contact the dead and see if they can find out what really happened?” Mark sighed. “Who do you think are believers, besides Madame Humphries and Miss Hepplethwaite?”
Harriett looked at Babette. “Well, now that I come to think about it, not many of us to be honest with you. Most of us only agreed to the circle in the first place out of curiosity but we are more sceptics than firm believers. I do think that some may want to get hold of Minerva though.”
“Why? To try to prove that spirits do exist?” Mark hoped that he wouldn’t have a group of amateur detectives on his hands. “Or to get to the bottom of what happened to her?”
“Both,” Babette and Harriett replied in unison.
Mark mentally winced but couldn’t argue with their logic. Mr Montague would undoubtedly want to do another séance out of curiosity, if nothing else. Mr Bentwhistle? Mark couldn’t even be sure that the man knew what was going on with the living let alone with the dead. Miss Smethwick was by all accounts a firm non-believer, and would probably attend just to be able to tell everyone to shut up. The ladies? Definitely arm chair detectives and that, unfortunately, made the circle a very dangerous group to be in, especially if one of them was a murderer.
“I am not one to question anyone’s religious beliefs, please don’t get me wrong,” Mark sighed. “I do have to point out, however, that if you had been in contact with spirits, surely you would have been forewarned of the imminent death of one of you?”
“I completely agree with you. We came away from the séance with more questions than answers,” Harriett replied with a wry smile. “Unfortunately, some of the group won’t be happy until they have those questions answered.”