Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery (14 page)

Both
boys immediately nodded. Archie flicked a glance toward the
kitchen, pleased when his dad picked up on the silent
question.

“
I haven’t said anything yet, and don’t see the point of
frightening her for the moment. Until I find out a bit more, I
don’t want you to either – understand?”

“
Did he come back last night?” Archie whispered, casting a
furtive glance toward the kitchen door.

Jack
shook his head. “No, thankfully. But I think I will sleep down here
for the next few nights, and I need to speak to the other men in
the village and make plans for that trap,” he sighed, thankful that
harvest hadn’t begun yet.

Archie
nodded cautiously, fighting hard not to let the consternation show
on his face. The last thing he – they – needed was for his dad to
sleep downstairs too, or the house to be watched by half of the
villagers. They had managed to get away with sneaking out of the
house one night, but two?

“
Be careful today, boys,” Jack urged, tugging his jacket
on.

Edward’s
head dutifully bobbed up and down so quickly Archie wondered if it
would fall off. Archie merely smiled weakly at his dad, feeling the
guilt increase at keeping important secrets from his
father.

“
I’d better be off,” Jack announced loudly when Marjorie
reappeared in the room. “Keep the door locked today, Marjorie.
Until the murderer is caught, don’t take any chances, you
hear?”

He
stalked toward the hallway. “Girls! If you don’t come down now, you
can walk yourselves,” he shouted, shouldering into his jacket.
Although it was raining outside, there were still chores to do and
a job to go to.

The
heavy thumping of his sisters racing down the stairs invaded the
air. In a flurry of activity, Betsy, Emilie, and Jack left the
house, preceded by Ben and Sammy, who were already playing chase
around the garden while they were waiting for their dad to come out
and take them to work.

Snatching the bread and butter off their plates, Archie and
Edward hurried into their jackets, called a quick ‘goodbye’ to
Marjorie, and raced out of the door. Deliberately hanging back,
they followed Jack, his daughters and the twins down the
lane.

“
Do you have it?” Edward whispered, one eye on Archie’s
father.

Archie
nodded, fingering the rough surface of the coin, hidden in his
jacket. The walk to work only took a couple of minutes, leaving
neither of them any time to discuss what to do about it. Far too
quickly they arrived at the corn mill. At the door to the mill,
Archie lifted a hand of farewell to his father, waiting as his dad
watched Emilie disappear into the buttery before motioning Betsy to
head to the woods, and Brentwood Manor.

Sensing
time was running out in more ways than one, Archie glanced at
Edward, who was shuffling impatiently from one foot to the other
while chewing the last of his breakfast.

“
I know there is something strange about this coin,” Archie
whispered, casting Edward a cautious glance. “It is only stamped on
one side.” His voice was almost grave as he glanced at his friend,
who frowned in confusion.

“
What? What do you mean?”

“
I mean, one side has markings on, and the other is perfectly
smooth,” Archie explained.

“
Are you sure?”

Archie
rolled his eyes and sighed, “I’m sure. I’ll show you
tonight.”

“
While it’s daylight, see if you can see what the markings
are.” Edward’s voice was laced with excitement.

“
Are you two going to work today, or not?”

“
Sorry, Mr Tompkins,” Archie said, glancing at his friend.
“I’ll see you later.”

“
Morning, Edward,” Mr Tompkins nodded, watching Edward
disappear into the bakery further down the road.

“
Is everyone watching us?” Archie asked, when the road around
them was completely empty.

“
There has been a murder, boy,” Mr Tompkins declared, his
voice tinged with sadness. “Nobody wants you to be the next one.”
The older man uncharacteristically clapped Archie on the shoulder
in an almost fatherly gesture.

For a
businessman, Mr Tompkins had always been firm but fair with his
workers, but had always maintained an air of efficient briskness
that had made him almost inapproachable. Now, it was almost as
though he was offering Archie the hand of friendship, and it left
Archie feeling somewhat confused and on edge. It was so unlike the
man he worked for, Archie didn’t quite know what to make of this
new side to his boss.

“
Come on, although there isn’t any corn coming in today, there
is a new delivery of bags, and the top floor needs cleaning. Then
we have to start on the huge mound we do have.”

Archie
sighed, and headed inside. Once in the doorway, he glanced over his
shoulder, driven by the strong feeling that he was being watched
again.

Glancing carefully around the empty roads behind him, he
couldn’t see anything untoward, but could
feel
the presence of someone. With a
shudder, he slammed the mill door shut and scurried to the top
floor. Once there, he picked up a broom and moved to the single
window along the wall, studying the road as far as he could
see.

Several
minutes later, assured that there was nothing appearing out of the
ordinary, he slowly began to sweep. People had begun to mill
around, popping into the shop opposite further down the road,
others were going into the bakery to bake their bread, someone else
was hanging out their washing. It was an ordinary day for most
people.

Casting
a furtive glance around the empty room, Archie eased away from the
window but stayed within the gentle ray of sunshine. Taking the
coin out of his pocket, he took the opportunity to study it
closely.

His
heart hammered in his throat at the strange looking object. It
looked like a shilling. His thin, grubby fingers turned the coin
over, and he stared at the smooth side thoughtfully. It was as
though it had been only half made.

The
sudden sound of boots on the stairs made him jump. Quickly stuffing
the coin into his trousers, he began to sweep the floor and
pretended to be engrossed in his allotted task by the time Mr
Tompkins popped his head over the top of the wooden steps to check
on him. Archie ignored him and continued to sweep, hoping Mr
Tompkins wouldn’t notice how little of the floor he had actually
swept while being up there! Within a couple of minutes, Mr Tompkins
disappeared again, but this time Archie continued to sweep. The
rhythmic brush of bristles against the rough wooden planks gave him
time to think. The small, round object hidden in his trousers
almost burned through the pocket, teasing him with the mystery it
contained. If he was to believe what he was carrying, the coin was
a fake; a forgery.

He had
heard someone in the tavern tell a story once about someone who had
made fake coins down in London. He couldn’t remember what had
happened to them, but he could remember that they had cast a lot of
coins before they were caught. It was someone in the East End
docks, he thought. Was this one of the coins that had been in the
process of being cast? If so, what was Mr Harriman doing with
it?

Archie swept around the chimney stack. Was
that
why Mr Harriman was
murdered? Was he taking it to the Justice and had been stopped in
the most brutal way possible? Or, was he involved in forging the
coin? If so, why would Lord Brentwood kill him? Assuming, that is,
that Lord Brentwood
was
the murderer.

Again,
Archie’s thoughts turned toward Mr Harriman’s house. Although Mr
Harriman always spoke to people he passed in the street, he never
bothered to stop and talk. As a result, nobody knew much of what he
did for a living. He had always kept himself to himself and, apart
from his weekly visits to his sister, nobody knew much about his
relatives because nobody ever visited him.

Archie stopped sweeping. Now that he came to think about it,
nobody had ever
seen
his sister. Did she exist? Had a sister been made up to keep
the gossips from asking too many probing questions about his coming
and going? After all, nothing much happened in the village of
Battleflat. The gossips would have undoubtedly made a point of
finding out where Mr Harriman was disappearing to every week.
Visiting a relation gave Mr Harriman a perfect excuse to disappear
for a few hours on a regular basis without anyone thinking anything
about it.

Archie
brushed the small pile of dust and debris nearer to the steps. He
could hear the familiar hustle and bustle of the busy corn mill.
The low rumble of the millstones was interspersed by the noise of
the workmen filling the hoppers and dragging the full bags of flour
and grain. It was loud. It was dusty. The regular noise was enough
to assure him that everyone was busy elsewhere.

Digging
deep into his pocket, he unfolded the small piece of parchment and
studied it for several moments, gasping in shock at what he
saw.

“
Archie!”

He
jumped, stuffing the parchment back into his pocket and snatching
his broom off the floor.

“
Coming,” Archie called, aware of the sound of boots on the
stairs growing louder again. A quick glance behind him confirmed
the floor was now neatly swept as instructed. Within minutes he had
dispatched the small pile of debris and went to Mr Tompkins for his
next instruction.

“
I want you to go to take this sack to Mrs Humble.” Mr
Tompkins dropped a small sack of flour at Archie’s feet.

Archie
nodded, pleased to be given something to do outside. Even if it was
carrying the heavy sack to the small cottage at the edge of the
village. Unfortunately it didn’t help in his quest to get to Mr
Harriman’s house, because Mrs Humble’s small cottage was on the
opposite side of the village, closer to the main street.

Despite
his relief, he felt his stomach dip at the thought of walking down
the road unaccompanied. The memory of the strange man’s appearance
day before made him shiver but, there was no way to get out of his
allotted task. With a sigh, he hefted the heavy sack onto his
shoulder and left the mill. At least this time he had something he
could hurl at anyone who appeared before him, Archie reasoned to
himself. This time, he would be ready. If Mr Tompkins docked him a
sack of flour out of his wages so be it, but at least he would be
alive to tell his mum and dad why he had lost even more of his
weekly pay.

Puffing
out his cheeks, all of Archie’s senses were on alert as he walked
slowly down the middle of the road. The air hung heavily with a
fine drizzle that immediately soaked his shirt, chilling his skin.
With the heavy weight tentatively balanced on his shoulder, it
seemed to take forever to get to Mrs Humble’s small cottage on the
edge of the village.

He was
relieved when he got there without issue, but he couldn’t shake off
the feeling that he was being watched again. Luckily, Mrs Humble’s
house sat in solitary splendour at the side of a dead end track
that was uninterrupted by hedgerow and trees. Archie knocked
briskly on the front door and stood back to wait. He knocked again,
and waited.

With
nothing else to do, Archie turned around and casually studied the
area around them. Further across the village, he could see the
thatched roof of his own house and, of course, the mill, but there
were very few people about. Most of the villagers had opted to stay
out of the rain, leaving the village with a strangely deserted feel
that was as oppressive as the steady downpour. He glanced up and
down the track thoughtfully. Should he just return to the mill and
leave the sack where it was? The dark clouds gave no sign of
letting up any time soon. If it did continue to rain, the sack of
flour would be ruined if it was left outside. Turning back toward
the door, Archie knocked louder this time, only to hesitate when
the door rattled beneath his fist.

He
slowly lifted the latch. His heart pounded; something was
definitely wrong. He wasn’t certain if he was surprised or not when
the door immediately swung inward. The gloom within the small
cottage was far from welcoming, and he peered into the house
cautiously. He didn’t know what he was expecting, but shivered at
the sight of the cold and unwelcome sitting room.

“
Mrs Humble? Are you there?” Silence answered. “Mrs Humble, Mr
Tompkins sent a sack of flour from the mill. I’ll just leave it
inside the door,” Archie gasped, hoisting the sack through the
door. Unfortunately this meant that he had to go inside with
it.

He tried
not to look around, he really did. But curiosity drove him to cast
one quick glance into the small living room before he left. There
was little about it that was worthy of note. It was clean and tidy,
if a little shabby. The solitary chair beside the fireplace had
once been plush, but was now threadbare; the covers dimmed through
age. A few ornaments were dotted here and there. An old chipped pot
pig sat on the hearth, next to a half burnt candle. The only other
furnishings within the room were a decrepit dresser sitting along
the far wall with the doors half hanging off, and a sideboard that
had been polished so much over the years, the wood beneath the wax
had begun to wear through. Built-in cupboards on either side of the
fireplace had been repainted so many times that the chips in the
woodwork were a variety of intriguing colours.