“I agree,” Mrs Dalrymple sighed. “It just feels more than a little disrespectful to have another meeting so soon.”
“What does everybody want to do?” Beatrice queried in a voice that was as solemn as the look on her face.
“I think that we need to have a show of hands to vote on whether to carry on or not,” Constance sighed. She glanced at Mark. “Why did you want everyone to gather here before you told us? I mean, why not leave us at home and tell us there?”
“I don’t want any of you to talk about this to all and sundry in the village. This is a police investigation and, although I accept that the news will break at some point, especially when Hugo’s shop doesn’t open in the morning, I would prefer to get a bit of a head start on the gossips. Out of respect for Hugo, I think that you all needed to decide together whether it is wise, or appropriate, to continue with the Psychic Circle at all. I mean, there have been two deaths, both under suspicious circumstances. There has been a threat to a person, or persons, with the letter ‘H’ in their first or surname. Any one of you could still be under threat. I would ask you all to consider the additional steps you could put into place to keep yourselves safe until we catch the person, or persons, responsible.”
“You mean that there may be more than one person who is the killer?”
Mark nodded. “The killer could be anyone.” He glanced at each person in turn. “I cannot remove anyone from the list of suspects.” His gaze landed pointedly on the clairvoyant and her assistant. “I am sure that Madame Humphries, and her spirit friends, will understand if you decide to call the evening off.”
“Of course, Detective. Under the circumstances, the spirits would more than understand,” the woman soothed.
“Alright, I think those who want to carry on with tonight’s meeting should put their hands up,” Babette suggested and lifted her hand.
Silence reigned for a moment before Harriett, Henrietta and Mark all put their hands up. These were joined by Tuppence, Constance, Beatrice and Eloisa. She watched Miss Smethwick study everyone for a moment before she crossed her arms in a defiant pose. Miss Haversham merely sniffed at her and put her hand up to join the others. Mrs Dalrymple sighed and lifted her hand hesitantly into the air.
“That takes it then.” She glanced at Mr Bentwhistle, who merely stared down into the carpet. “Those who don’t wish to stay are welcome to remain and can watch if they don’t feel comfortable taking part, or they can, of course, go home. Either way, I am sure that I speak for everyone when I say that I understand their sentiments exactly and harbour no ill feeling toward them for their reluctance.”
“I think that we owe it to Hugo to see if we get anything else. Whoever those messages came from may want to give us something else.”
“Before we begin, I propose a toast to our good friends Hugo and Minerva,” Mr Bentwhistle offered quietly. He lifted his gaze to the ceiling and raised his glass in a silent toast. The soft murmur of ‘Minerva and Hugo’ was echoed around the room as the group sat for a few moments in quiet contemplation.
“Right, I think that we should carry on with the evening then,” Mark suggested. He glanced at Harriett and offered her a smile. The low murmur of voices grew steadily louder as people struck up conversations with those around them.
“Do you know what killed him yet?” Harriett whispered. Mark could smell the faint scent of lavender that teased his nose as he dipped his head closer to whisper in her ear.
“It was definitely cyanide. Someone put it into his tea. We don’t know how yet. A further search of the store has revealed nothing, so we can only assume that someone slipped it into his tea when it was in his cup and he wasn’t looking.” Mark gave her a warning look. “You will be fine tonight but, from now on, sniff your drinks. If it smells like almonds, don’t touch it. Don’t throw it away, give it to me.”
“Almonds?” Harriett frowned at him and studied her drink dubiously. She had already taken a sip and not fallen into a heap on the floor so she was fairly certain she was safe for now, especially given that they were in Beatrice’s house and she was by far the most pernickety housekeeper in Tipton Hollow.
“The distinctive scent of cyanide,” Mark whispered. He wasn’t comfortable discussing the case in the presence of so many people. Although others were chatting, which added to the noise of the room, Hugo’s death was still a murder investigation and it was never wise for those who were involved to know too much. Still, this was Harriett. She was in as much danger as everyone else. If she was forewarned what had happened to the others, she may be a little bit more vigilant in keeping herself out of harm’s way.
Harriett felt faintly sick as she glanced around at the sea of familiar faces. Just the thought that someone here could be so heartlessly cold blooded gave her the chills. She considered each and every person a friend to varying degrees. Well, not everyone, but all of those in the Psychic Circle were of an acquaintance; people whom she shared a village with, whom she spoke to on a daily basis, and had often served in her tea shop.
“What are you two whispering about?” Henrietta demanded with a smile. The room drew quiet and Harriett felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment as she realised that she was almost cheek to cheek with the only eligible bachelor present.
“Work,” Mark sighed. “I was updating Harriett on something, that’s all.” He gave his mother a stern look that warned her that she wasn’t to push for more information.
Although Henrietta didn’t know the finer details of the work Mark did, she knew enough about the murders in Tipton Hollow to attribute the pale cheeks and dark shadows beneath the eyes of the beautiful young lady seated beside her son to know that they were indeed talking about work, not pleasure. Henrietta heaved a despondent sigh and studied the couple as they sat together. They made the most handsome pairing, it was a shame that he was still sniffing around that awful Alice Mainwaring.
“Right, I am ready now if everyone would like to move to the table?” Madame Humphries called.
Mark dutifully pushed to his feet and escorted Harriett to a chair at the table. Most of the other occupants of the room had to bring their chairs with them. It was a squeeze to fit thirteen people around the small rectangle meant for no more than six diners but, with a little bit of shuffling, everyone was soon able to sit
reasonably comfortably and rest their fingers on the glass that sat in the middle of the circle of squares that had letters of the alphabet written on them.
While everyone got themselves comfortable, Mark studied the table. Madame Humphries was seated at the head, while Miss Hepplethwaite remained on her feet behind her. Next to her was Mr Bentwhistle, who was seated next to Mark. Determined to sit and guard Harriett throughout the entire evening, Mark had manoeuvred himself into the chair directly beside her, with Henrietta, his mother, on her other side. Babette sat between Henrietta and Tuppence. Constance, Beatrice, Eloisa, Miss Haversham, Miss Smethwick and Mrs Dalrymple made up the rest of the table.
His eyes flew to Harriett when he felt her shiver and he watched her pull her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Her eyes were locked on the glass and she had a look of fear in her eyes that made him very angry.
“You will be alright, you know,” Mark murmured gently. He tucked her shawl higher on her shoulder and tipped his head down until her eyes met and held his. He offered her a smile of reassurance. “It’s not going to be like last time.”
“I know. It is silly of me really.”
“Perfectly understandable after the last farce we attended,” Miss Smethwick retorted darkly and threw a dirty look at Madame Humphries that completely sailed past her. In stark contrast to the glower she threw at the clairvoyant, she smiled kindly at Harriett.
Harriett smiled back, strangely emboldened by the moral support of everyone around the table.