Archie's Battleflat Adventures: The Harriman Mystery (7 page)

“
That’s the hat. Where was it?”

“
Just outside of the spinney,” Lord Brentwood replied briskly,
shoving the hat back into the bag. “Sitting in the middle of the
road.”

“
He chased me,” Archie said, glancing first at his dad then,
reluctantly, at the Justice. He watched a dark scowl settle over
the Justice’s face, and inched ever so closer to the solid
reassurance of his dad.

“
Back here?” Lord Brentwood’s voice was sharp.

Archie
nodded.

“
Did you see him?”

“
No, but I was sitting there, when the latch lifted silently
and someone pushed on the door.” He lapsed into silence, and
watched as the Justice and his dad shared one of ‘those’ looks
grownups usually shared when they didn’t want to say anything in
front of children.

“
Did you see the murderer’s face at all, Archie?” The
Justice’s face was intense, and very watchful.

Archie
shook his head slowly. “No.” The image of the haunting, almost
cadaverous face of the man who had briefly captured him, rose
alarmingly between them. There was something so familiar that
Archie felt as though if he reached his hand out, he could almost
touch the truth. Confusion muddled his thoughts, and he turned his
gaze to the floor, trying to ignore what his instincts were telling
him. It didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be possible. But he couldn’t
ignore the probability that the man opposite could very well be the
murderer. Was it possible? Or was it his distrust of the man that
was making him think things that would get him, and his dad, into
serious trouble?

“
Well, I think that is all for now, Archie,” the Justice
announced, breaking into Archie’s thoughts. “If there is anything –
anything at all, mind, you must tell your dad here.” Lord Brentwood
turned to Jack. “Call upon me at any time, day or night, if you
learn of anything.”

“
Aye, will do, my lord, and that’s a fact,” Jack
replied.

An
awkward silence settled around the room when the Justice made no
attempt to move toward the door, and instead stood staring intently
down at Archie, clearly waiting for Archie to meet his gaze. Archie
fought the urge to squirm under the Justice’s close scrutiny and
felt that there was something more the Justice wanted to say. Even
his father shuffled uncomfortably as the silence stretched out
between them.

“
Well then, if that’s everything,” Lord Brentwood sighed,
staring hard at Archie who refused to meet his gaze.

Jack
frowned at the man’s careful study of Archie. It was almost too
probing; too intense, and it made his hackles rise. Placing a large
palm protectively on his son’s bony shoulder, it had the desired
effect on the Justice. With a physical jerk, Lord Brentwood turned
his gaze toward Jack and offered him a brief – barely there – smile
as he made his way toward the door.

Archie
jumped when Lord Brentwood suddenly spun toward him, bending down
until his face was directly in Archie’s line of vision. Archie felt
his dad stiffen in protest at the quick, almost menacing
action.

“
I want you to promise me, Archie, that if you remember
anything else, anything at all, then you tell your dad. Anything,
Archie.”

Archie
lifted his gaze to the piercing eyes of Lord Brentwood, and
shuddered at the almost sinister intent hidden in the swirling
depths. He flicked a glance at his dad, suddenly very grateful for
his reassuring presence.

“
Please be very careful. The man is a murderer.” As though
realising his behaviour was causing alarm, Lord Brentwood’s voice
turned almost apologetic in an attempt to try to ease the hostile
atmosphere. “Until we find out who it is, please be on guard. Don’t
go near the spinney, and don’t go out at night again.”

Archie
frowned at the hint of threat in the man’s voice and knew his dad
had heard it too. They both watched in consternation as the Justice
seemed to give himself a physical shake, flicked them both a brief
smile and tapped his forehead in mock salute, yanking the door open
with too much brisk efficiency.

Standing
in the doorway, he paused briefly to glance back at
them.

“
Stay safe.” He nodded once to Jack and disappeared, closing
the door behind him with a firm click.

As soon
as the door was closed, Jack slid the bolt across and turned to his
son.

“
What do you think to that?”

“
I think he knows something he hasn’t told you,” Archie
replied, moving to stand before the window. He was busy watching
Lord Brentwood mount his horse and amble away, and missed the
thoughtful look that swept over his dad’s face.

Jack
moved to stand beside his son, proud of the way he had handled
himself, given the Justice’s strange behaviour. Placing one hand on
Archie’s shoulder, he too watched the Justice ride away.

“
Did you see the tricorn in the road yesterday when you were
looking for Mr Harriman’s body?”

Jack
glanced down at his son with a frown and slowly shook his head. “We
searched up and down that road, we did. More than one of us. Went
over it with a fine-tooth comb. Nothing.”

“
So how did he get it?” Archie frowned as he recalled the mad
dash away from the spinney. The hat had been on the man’s head
then, he was sure of it. Maybe it fell off when the murderer had
fallen. But why hadn’t he gone back to fetch it? Even more
important, how had Lord Brentwood gotten to it before the search
party?

His dad
wisely remained quiet. Archie had already been through enough of an
ordeal as it was, without scaring his son further with his own
suspicions. He made a mental note to ask in the tavern later who,
if anyone, had found the murderer’s hat.

“
I am not sure, Archie, maybe we will find out soon. Right
now, I think we need to light that fire, it’s getting chilly
tonight. Harvest starts tomorrow, you know, and it will be all
hands to the carts then.”

Archie
sighed deeply, and with one last look out of the front window,
paused long enough to draw the curtains closed before following his
father into the comforting warmth, and reassuring bustle of the
front room.

Something the Justice said kept swirling around and around,
as though demanding an answer. The Justice had said he shouldn’t go
out ‘again’. As though he knew that Archie had ventured back
outside to feed the pigs. Was that because it was Lord Brentwood
who was the murderer, and had been watching the house? Or was it
just a casual statement, not meant to have any meaning or relevance
to actual events?

Archie
frowned, feeling more unsettled than ever before. The more he
thought about it, the less he was comfortable with Lord Brentwood.
Although he was the Justice, that didn’t mean that he wouldn’t, and
couldn’t, commit a crime. But murder?

“
Come on, Archie,” Jack sighed, holding the sitting room door
open for his soon. He knew Archie was still thinking over the
Justice’s visit, but for now, Jack wanted him to think about
something else. At least for a little while. “Come and supervise
Ben and Sammy while I go over to the tavern. I’ll be back in a
bit.” Ignoring the surprised look on his wife’s face, Jack stalked
through the small house, snatched up his coat and hat, and slammed
the kitchen door behind him. There were a few questions of his own
he needed to ask the men in the tavern, preferably before Brentwood
got there.

With a
deep sigh, the constable shrugged into his jacket and headed toward
the pub.

CHAPTER THREE

Archie
felt a restless despondency settle over him when he climbed the
stairs to bed later that night. Luckily, the gruesome twosome,
Sammy and Ben, had been sent to bed a couple of hours ago and were
already fast asleep, affording Archie a few moments of quiet to
gather his thoughts. Settling down beneath the warm sheets, Archie
heaved a deep sigh, savouring the familiar comfort of Sammy who,
even in sleep, snuggled up to the warmth of Archie’s
back.

The wind
had gradually increased throughout the day until it now buffered
furiously against the sides of the house. The thick branches of the
tree outside of their bedroom window scratched against the
windowpane, clawing to gain entrance. The steady rustle of the
leaves grew louder as the minutes ticked by. Desperately trying to
block the sounds out, he tugged the thin blanket over his ears and
squeezed his eyes tight, willing sleep to come.

He could
hear the soft murmuring of his mum and dad downstairs as they shut
the house down for the night. Moments later, the closing of the
sitting room door was followed by the steady thump of his parents
climbing the stairs. Within minutes the house descended into
silence.

Nobody
had seen fit to close the shutters or curtains in the boys’ bedroom
before turning in for the night, leaving the windows to rattle
against the wind. Even across the room, Archie could feel the
slight draught that stole the meagre warmth from his arms. With a
shiver, he tossed back the covers and quietly padded toward the
window.

One hand
was raised to draw the shutter closed when he glanced outside – and
froze. His stomach flipped. There. Beneath the old tree, directly
across the road, stood the silhouette of a man in the moonlight,
watching the house.

Plastering himself against the wall, Archie stood perfectly
still for several moments, staring into the darkness of the
bedroom; his mind frantically racing as he tried to decide what to
do.

Should
he crawl back across the bedroom, get back into bed, and pretend he
hadn’t seen anything? Or, should he close the shutters anyway? If
he stuck to the shadows, the man wouldn’t know who had closed them.
As long as Archie stayed out of sight, everything would be all
right, wouldn’t it? But why was the man watching the house? What
was he waiting for? Moreover, what – or rather who – did he
want?

His
limbs trembled with fear. Drawing in a deep fortifying breath,
Archie knew that he couldn’t spend the rest of his life hiding.
Slowly sliding down the wall, he drew his knees up and wrapped his
arms protectively around them while trying to decide what to do. If
he told his dad, he would be putting him at risk. Although his dad
had gone out on the night that Mr Harriman had been murdered, he
had soon rounded up Georgie next door and the rest of the
villagers. His dad most probably wouldn’t bother going next door to
summon help, especially given that it was the middle of the night,
but would instead, most probably, go across the road to see for
himself. Archie couldn’t bear the thought of his dad ending up the
same way as Mr Harriman.

But this was
his
home. He couldn’t live in fear of even closing the shutters
in his bedroom. At some point the man opposite would get fed up
with waiting – then what? Would he go in search of Archie and
murder not only Archie, but the rest of his family as well? Or
would he eventually just give up and leave?

Whatever
happened, harvesting was soon to begin and the men would be working
on the fields until dark. His dad wouldn’t be back home until well
after dusk, when the last of the corn had been taken to the mill,
and the equipment prepared for the following day. A lot of
villagers would be out on the fields. There would be loads of
people coming and going, but nobody would be around who he could
turn to for help if the murderer turned up. The fields were just
too far away to run to quickly if he needed help. Even more
worrying, Archie would have to walk home after work – alone – while
it was dark.

Archie
realised that if he had any hope of making sure justice was found
for Mr Harriman’s murder, then it was down to him to try to find
out who the killer was. After all, he had been the one – the only
one – who had seen the killer up close. Because of that, his family
was now at risk from the murderer who was apparently now standing
mere feet away, watching the house.

He also
couldn’t ignore the fact that he was the only person who knew about
the small piece of white something Mr Harriman had been holding in
the fist he had held out to Archie in his final moments.

Shaking
his head in growing confusion, Archie took a deep breath and
twisted around to kneel down in front of the window, carefully
peeking around the corner of the shutter. He studied the dark
shadows beneath the oak tree for several moments, hardly daring to
breathe in case he saw the man again.

His
patience was rewarded when, minutes later, a tall, black figure
slowly separated from the solidity of the tree trunk, paused at the
edge of the cart track, stared up at the house for several minutes
then turned around, and disappeared into the dark shadows beneath
the tree once more.

Archie’s heart hammered in his throat. As soon as the figure
disappeared again, he slumped back onto the floor, his back resting
against the reassuring solidity of the wall. Had the man seen him?
What was he waiting for? Whatever it was, Archie knew he couldn’t
simply climb back into bed and go to sleep. Not with
him
lurking outside.
Suddenly, a thought popped into Archie’s mind, and he stared at the
silhouette of his brothers sleeping peacefully in the bed in front
of him.