Deadly Clementine

Confused about what to do for the best, Clementine sighed in disgust. It was only when she had exhaled noisily that she realised how loud she had just been. Her heart leapt into her throat when the faint noises emanating from the kitchen suddenly ceased and the house fell into deathly silence once more. Clementine daren’t move because of the rustling the fabric of her dress would make. Instead, she flattened herself against the wall next to the kitchen door and began to pray that the intruder wouldn’t come into the hallway to see who else was in the house.

Within seconds the quite distinctive click of the back door being closed rattled through the house. Clementine frowned when she heard it. She tried to hear the rustling of movement but all she could hear was the very faint thud of retreating footsteps. Cautiously, she lifted the latch on the door and nudged it open. A quick peek into the kitchen revealed it to be empty. Whoever had been there had gone.

“Now why did you leave in such a hurry?” she muttered.

Pushing the door open even wider, Clementine stepped into the room. She reached the window just in time to catch sight of a figure, dressed completely in black, disappear into the trees at the end of the garden.

“Who are you then?” she whispered aloud.

Strangely, the house had an empty feel about it again. It left Clementine in no doubt that she was, once again, alone. So, who had the man been? What had he been searching for? Was he a relation of Sally’s? If so, why had he not used the front door like she had? Worse, why had he left when he had realised that he was no longer alone? Why not even stop to say ‘hello’ or explain his presence?

Even more curious, and a little worried now, Clementine turned to look at the kitchen. There was no sign of any disturbance, but she still tugged gently on the back door to see if it was locked.

“Well, you either have a key or are a very careful burglar who takes the time to lock the houses you burgle,” she muttered in disgust.

Of course, it stood to reason that Sally wouldn’t leave any valuables in the kitchen. The items that were precious to her were all tucked away safely in the front parlour. So, what had the man been looking for? Clementine knew she might never find out because the kitchen was pristine. Everything had been scrubbed down and put away neatly. The chairs were seated precisely around the table. All the surfaces remained tidy, just like Sally always kept them.

“What were you doing then?” Clementine mumbled.

It seemed highly unusual for someone who decided to come and tidy up to be wearing such a heavy cloak on a chilly autumnal day. The visitor was wrapped up as if it was winter. In search of answers, Clementine did a quick search of the kitchen but didn’t find anything untoward except faint traces of someone having recently washed everything down. Even more confused now, Clementine decided it was time to leave. She was eager to get out of the icy confines of the emptiness, and the seemingly endless list of unanswered questions, and out into the morning sunshine so she could warm up a little.

Once outside, she paused long enough to lock the house back up and heaved a sigh of relief when sunlight immediately basked her in its soothing warmth. But while it chased away the chill that lingered on her flesh, it did little to help ease her troubled thoughts.

Clementine was still mulling over what had just happened when she stepped away from the house and began to walk back down the path toward the garden gate.

“Of course, I only have myself to blame. If I had just stayed out of there in the first place, none of this would have happened. Now, I have more questions than answers,” she hissed beneath her breath. She was so lost in her thoughts that she reached the gate before she remembered she had to go and see Mrs Saunders to find out what Sally had been wearing when she had been found.

“Good morning, Miss Marlborough.”

Clementine jerked and had a guilty expression on her face that she struggled to hide when she looked up. Her eyes widened when she saw not only the man who had just called out to her, but also the tall, dapperly dressed gentleman who stood beside him.

“Good morning, Captain. Mr Banfield-Moss.” Clementine nodded her head and tried to adopt a cool, aloof expression while she inwardly attempted to quell her guilt, but it was difficult to ignore when pinned beneath Mr Banfield-Moss’s piercing stare.

Clementine suspected that those wonderful eyes of his never missed any flaw in a person’s character. During the handful of occasions when they had met in the past, Mr Banfield-Moss had tended to study her in a way that left Clementine feeling gauche and awkward. He was studying her like it now, as if he was reading all her secrets. As if to confirm her suspicions were right, Clementine watched his gaze slide to the house behind her before meeting hers. She saw the flash of challenge in his eye, and mentally groaned.

Damn, I think he knows what I have been doing, she thought in dismay when their eyes met, and his lips ever so slowly curved upward, as if he had just witnessed her guilt, was pleased by it, and relished being able to pounce on her with the facts should she show him any weakness.

Maybe he finds my discomfort amusing?

It was annoying that Moses Banfield-Moss, Leicestershire’s finest private investigator, was so darned handsome. He was tall, with broad, powerful shoulders, and a thick mane of dark brown hair that had been cut short by most men’s fashionable standards. On Moss it added to his roguish charm. On a personal note, it was disturbing, and highly distracting to Clementine, to find herself not only facing this handsome man but being the sole focus of those wonderful azure eyes of his. Unfortunately, while on a feminine level she was pleasantly delighted to be noticed by him, she felt uncouth and awkward. Moses oozed masculine sophistication whereas she felt like an untutored, addle-brained chit who had nothing intelligent to say. To add to her consternation, it was galling that he always seemed a little bemused by her. It was as if he found her funny but was too polite to say so to her face, and that only added to her discomfort around him. Consequently, after that brief clash of gazes, Clementine did her best to dismiss him and turn her attention to the Captain instead.

“It is sad news about Sally, I must say,” the Captain began. He waved an airy hand at Moss. “I take it you have already met Moss?”

“Moss?” Clementine’s gaze flew from the Captain to the man standing beside him.

“He doesn’t like to be called Moses on account of him not being religious.” The Captain threw his friend a teasing look. “Everybody who knows him calls him Moss.”

Clementine nodded and waited for Moss to tell her that she could also call him by his nickname, but he didn’t.

Oh, well, it is probably better that I keep my distance from him anyway.

“Are you out for a morning stroll?” she asked of the Captain.

“We are just about to visit an old friend of mine.” The Captain tapped the side of his nose in a secretive gesture and winked broadly at her, leaving Clementine in no doubt they were up to mischief as well. Still, she didn’t want to wait about to find out what it was. She had enough trouble on her hands and had been up to enough of her own.

“Is that Mrs Walcott’s house?” Moss asked of them both.

Moss secretly hoped that Clementine would answer and not the Captain, not least because he wanted to try to engage her in conversation. Clementine Marlborough was stunningly beautiful but always so reticent around him that he had to wonder if she didn’t like him. Right now, she appeared wary, if a little guilty, and that intrigued him not least because he had to wonder what she had been doing inside a dead woman’s house. When she had left the property, she had been so lost in thought that she hadn’t even realised they were there. Further, she had been muttering fiercely to herself, as if trying to overcome some insurmountable problem. Now, she just looked incredibly worried.