Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery (23 page)

Unfortunately, circumstances conspired against him. When he
arrived at home later that evening, the house was abuzz with the
latest news.

Mrs
Humble had been found.

Dead.

Even
more strangely – she had been found at home.

Standing
in the doorway of the sitting room, Archie froze and frowned at his
feet. Slowly shrugging out of his jacket, he hung it on the peg by
the back door, and turned toward Edward. His eyes met those of his
friend’s for several moments and he sensed rather than saw Edward’s
shrug.

“
When was she found?” Archie asked quietly, taking a seat
beside Ben at the table. Everyone else had already eaten. Even
Betsy and Emilie were already at home, and were busy mending the
basket of sewing sent from the main house while Archie’s mum
bustled about in the kitchen.

Slowly
munching the pie, pickle, cheese and apple on his plate, Archie
turned to his mum.

“
What did she die of?” His eyes met those of his dad’s for
several moments.

“
We don’t know,” Jack sighed, picking up his boot and buffing
it rapidly.

Archie
knew there was something his dad wasn’t telling him. He glanced at
Edward, who merely shook his head.

“
She was at home?” Archie frowned, thinking of his own visit
to the house the other day. “How? When I went, there was nobody
there. She hasn’t been seen since.”

Jack
sighed, and put his boot down on the floor. “When you went to the
house, did you check everywhere, Archie?”

Archie
frowned and stared at his father. “No, I went into the front room.
There was definitely nobody in the room. When I called, there was
no answer, so I dropped the flour on the floor where it wouldn’t
get wet, then I left.” Archie frowned, thinking of the black cloak
sticking out of the cupboard. “Why?”

“
Because she was found sitting in the chair in front of the
hearth.”

Archie
began to shake his head. “She wasn’t there when I went to deliver
the flour, Dad, I’d have seen her.”

“
We think she took ill when she was out and about and, when
she returned home, sat down where she died,” Marjorie reported
softly, placing a piece of apple pie in front of Archie.

“
What makes you think that?” Archie wished they would just get
to the point. Clearly they were reluctant to tell him, but had been
discussing it anyway. Why?

“
Because she was found covered in leaves and twigs,” Edward
said quietly, joining the conversation for the first time. “They
think she may have fallen or something while she was outside,
managed to get home where she took ill and died.”

“
Aahh! That makes sense. But there was nobody outside when I
was there,” Archie added thoughtfully, his thoughts once again
turning to that black piece of cloth sticking out of the
cupboard.

“
Well, the flour was there where you left it, so we think it
must have been sometime between your visit and today.”

“
Another funeral,” Archie sighed, shaking his head dolefully.
At least he was now off the hook and didn’t have to tell his dad
that he had been out at Mr Harriman’s house at night. He wasn’t
sure whether to be relieved or not.

“
What does Lord Brentwood think? Has he been told
yet?”

“
Apparently he isn’t here at the moment. He has gone to London
on business, but I’ve left a message for him when he
returns.”

“
So Mrs Humble can’t be buried until he gets back?”

“
Not really, not until the Justice says it is alright to bury
her. There are a lot of upset people in the village right now,
boys, so be careful what you say.”

“
Yes, sir,” Archie replied dutifully, glancing at Edward, who
mumbled the same response. In reality, neither boy had any
intention of discussing Mrs Humble with anyone other than each
other. There were far too many questions that remained unanswered
for either boy to accept the villagers’ ideas on how Mrs Humble had
died. Far too many disturbing, unanswered questions.

Like, why return Mrs Humble to her house? If the murderer was
going to do that, why move her to the woods in the first place? Had
she been murdered in the woods earlier that day? If so, why not
just leave her body there to rot? After all, people rarely ventured
into the woods, and had even less cause to head in that direction
now that Mr Harriman was dead. If Mrs Humble had been in the woods
when she had been murdered, what had she been doing there? What had
she seen that had meant she had to die?
Who
had she seen who had wanted her
dead?

Having
finished a meal, Archie moved away from the table and stared
meaningfully at Edward, who followed him outside to ‘help’ with
Archie’s chores.

Edward
was positively bursting with questions, hopping from foot to foot
with impatience as he followed Archie away from the house. Neither
boy was aware of the darkness that surrounded them as they slowly
walked down toward the pigsty.

Collecting a bucket, Archie dropped the plate of scraps into
the bucket and disappeared into the sty, returning moments later
with the packet tucked under his shirt.

“
Do you think the murderer moved Mrs Humble?” Edward couldn’t
remain silent any longer.

Archie
shook his head. “I am not sure. It just doesn’t make sense. There
is something really odd going on here, but I do know one thing.” He
glanced meaningfully at Edward, who looked confused.

“
What?”

“
It is odd that suddenly Mrs Humble’s body arrives back at her
house, the same day that Lord Brentwood suddenly has to
go away for a while.”

“
Lord, do you think he has been murdered too?” Edward’s voice
rose to a squeak.

Archie
glanced at his friend starkly. “I think he is the
murderer.”

“
Brentwood?”

Archie
fought a smile at the surprise on Edward’s face. “Sshhh, keep your
voice down,” he whispered, glancing around them furtively. He could
feel someone watching; could practically feel their eyes on him.
With a shiver, he moved over to the well, filled with urgency to
get back inside.

“
Hello, boys.”

Archie
closed his eyes briefly, as Edward’s soft gasp of alarm filled his
ears. He knew without seeing his face that this was the man who he
had seen in the middle of the cart track the night
before.

“
What do you want?”Archie asked defiantly, his chin raised
with pugnacious determination so that the man would not be able to
see how scared he was.

“
I want to talk to you, that’s all. You are perfectly safe for
tonight, I promise, but just don’t venture off
anywhere.”

“
Who are you?”

“
A friend.”

“
Of Brentwood’s?” Archie knew he was pushing the boundaries by
not addressing the Justice as a Lord, but really didn’t care. He
didn’t like the man anyway.

“
No, definitely not Brentwood’s. I know you are a man of
intelligence, Archie, so I am sure I don’t need to tell you not to
trust Brentwood.” Archie frowned at the stark warning on the man’s
face. He felt rather than saw Edward cautiously sidle up to stand
beside him.

“
Who are you?”

“
I am after the man who murdered Roger Harriman and Mrs
Humble, and mean to make sure he is brought to justice.”

Archie’s
eyes met and held the man’s in the darkness. He could see little
other than honesty staring back at him. There was nothing dark or
sinister about the man who was leaning casually against the corner
of the pigsty. Although he was dressed entirely in black, he seemed
almost calm, and vaguely reassuring. Which was strange given that
if he hadn’t have spoken, neither boy would have even known he was
there.

“
Who are you after?” Archie wanted to hear from the man who
the murderer was. Although he firmly believed it was Lord
Brentwood, he needed to hear someone else confirm his suspicions,
especially given that he had nothing to base those suspicions on
other than odd behaviour.

“
You know who it is, Archie – we both do. Just don’t be
pressured into doing anything rash. Stay firm, and stay close to
your friend, Edward, here.” Archie felt Edward stiffen beside him
at the mention of his name.

“
But who are you, and why should we trust you?” Archie asked,
frowning darkly at the man’s own clandestine behaviour. He realised
then that the man hadn’t answered any of Archie’s questions – why?
What had he got to hide?

“
I can’t tell you right now, boys. You just have to trust me.
I know you want justice for Mr Harriman and now Mrs Humble, but you
have to leave it to me to make to make sure that enough evidence is
collected to ensure – the murderer, is made to pay for his
crimes.”

Archie
know they didn’t really have much choice. “My father is the village
constable though, he should be involved.”

“
I’m sure you understand that on this occasion, it is best if
your father doesn’t know.” The words hinted that the man was
referring to Archie and Edward’s night-time forays.

“
Have you been following us?”

“
Aye,” the man nodded once. “Someone has to watch your
backs.”

Archie
sensed Edward’s round eyes on his face but refused to turn away
from the man before him. He wasn’t sure if he looked away, the man
would vanish entirely.

“
What do you want us to do?” It was the first time Edward had
spoken, and the words came out in a rush, pushed along by
nervousness.

“
I want you to keep your eyes and ears open, and stay away
from Lord Brentwood.”

The
small hairs came up on the back of Archie’s neck. Was that because
Lord Brentwood is the murderer? He was about to ask when the sound
of the back door of the house opening broke the silence that
hovered over them. Both boys glanced toward the shaft of light that
spilled out, piercing the darkness.

“
Are you alright, boys?” Marjorie called, pulling her shawl
tighter around her shoulders.

“
Yes, fine,” Archie replied, turning back to where the man
had, moments earlier, been standing. Unsurprisingly, the space was
now empty.

“
Oh lordy, how did he do that?” Edward whispered, his tone
awestruck.

Archie
tried hard to see through the gloom where the man had been. After
several moments he shook his head, knowing somehow that although he
couldn’t see the man, he was still there. Watching. Waiting. Was he
the same man who had been watching the house? Somehow, Archie
didn’t think so. There was no reason for the man to try to break
in, after all, unless he was in fact the murderer and was trying to
warn the boys away from getting at the truth. But he had had
perfect opportunity to murder Archie the night before. He was
relatively young, about five and thirty probably, and was fit
enough to run down a young boy, so why hadn’t he taken the perfect
opportunity to kill Archie while he had the chance in the middle of
the night?

“
Come on, let’s get back inside.” Archie’s words met thin air,
as Edward had already started to walk down the path. Clearly he was
eager to get back into the warmth of the house and away from the
looming threat.

Archie
though, didn’t feel threatened. Maybe because he had met the man
once before – he wasn’t sure, but he knew that he wasn’t going to
turn and run. He had too many questions the man had clearly no
intention of answering – yet.

A gentle
gust of wind nudged him meaningfully toward the house and, with a
shiver, Archie quickened his step.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The
following day, Archie had just arrived at work and was putting his
pouch of lunch down on the table beside the door, when he had the
now familiar sensation of being watched. Hackles raised, he glanced
up and froze when his eyes met those of the man from the night
before. Although this was the first time Archie had seen him in
broad daylight, he knew instinctively this was the same man. The
man’s brown eyes met and held Archie’s meaningfully as he slowly
wandered past. At first appearance, there was nothing unusual about
him. He was walking amiably with the other labourers as they ambled
toward the fields. Dressed just like everyone else in labourer’s
clothing, he had his pouch slung over his shoulder and a keg of
beer under his arm. Although Archie knew that he wasn’t one of the
villagers.

Archie
fought a smile as the man winked knowingly at him before turning
the corner and heading down the main street. Archie’s gaze followed
the stranger only to fall upon the tall, domineering figure of Lord
Brentwood, seated atop a huge, chestnut horse. His dark, almost
feral eyes stared hard at Archie for several moments before he
turned in his saddle and watched the man disappear down the road.
Archie took the opportunity to disappear back inside the mill,
fervently hoping that Brentwood wouldn’t pester him with more
questions.

Picking
up a bucket, Archie disappeared out of the back door and went to
give Grumpy and Bobbin their breakfast. Unfortunately, by the time
he returned to the mill, he knew his prayers would remain
unanswered. Even over the low rumbling of the millstones, he could
hear Lord Brentwood deep in conversation with Mr
Tompkins.