Murder at Locke Abbey by Catherine Winchester Page B

anyone said when the mystic is arriving?”
    He checked his pocket watch. “Should be another hour or two, before afternoon tea.”
    “And you said there was to be a séance this evening?”
    “Yes, after dinner.”
    “I believe I shall enjoy that.”
    “You’re smiling,” he noted. “I rather thought her presence would anger you, I know you think them all thieves and charlatans.”
    “Indeed they are, but you know that I enjoy a good illusion.”
    “You enjoy figuring out how they are done.”
    “Yes, so this evening should be very entertaining.”
    They shared a smile.
    “So, what are your plans now?” he asked.
    I intend to measure Mrs Garwood’s room, and her neighbour’s, just to make sure that there are no secret chambers. Evans has a tape measure we can use.”
    “Well, I hope you find something. Even after twenty five years working alongside your mother, I cannot figure this puzzle out at all.”
    “Nor me,” Thea grinned. “But I am enjoying the challenge.”
    “I’ll stay here, see if I can ingratiate myself with the ladies a little more.”
    “Do you really think they can help?”
    “I think it unlikely they did this, few women murder, even fewer violently, but women are more observant than they are often credited for, and they do love to gossip.”
    “And in this situation, I will agree, that might be a good thing.” She knew she didn’t have to ask him to be cautious about what they told him; h e was very well aware that in the absence of facts, people often filled in the blanks, usually incorrectly.
    ***
    Madame Davina certainly played her part well. She alighted from her coach wrapped in a red velvet cloak, trimmed with fur, her hair pinned up from her face yet still seeming wild and unkempt, and her left wrist jangled with charm bracelets.
    Before any introductions had been made, she clutched her breast and looked fearful.
    “There has been great tragedy here,” she wailed, in a thickly accented voice. Thea couldn’t be sure but it sounded like at attempt at a Russian or Slovakian accent, certainly an attempt at something Eastern European.
    A gentleman, her companion, quickly made his way to her side.
    “Are you all right, Madam?”
    She appeared to swoon slightly but her companion kept her on her feet, as she raised a hand to her forehead.
    “I will be fine,” she told him, then turned to the assembled crowd that had come out to meet her.
    Everyone seemed to be here, all eager to catch a glimpse of the mystic. Only ‘Beau’ and Mrs Lanning were absent.
    “I apologise. When entering old houses or places of very recent suffering, sometimes I am overwhelmed by the spirits. It will pass as I become used to their presence.”
    Thea looked around those gathered, and noticed that around two thirds appeared delighted with Madame Davina’s display. The remaining third were sceptical, like her, and a few even appeared angry.
    “I’m so sorry, Madam, can I help in any way?” Selena descended the six steps to greet the mystic.
    “Perhaps a thimble of brandy?”
    “Oh, yes, certainly. Follow me.” Selena took Madam Davina’s arm and guided her inside, her companion following behind as the carriage driver unloaded some rather colourful trunks. “We’re so pleased you could come, Madam, things here are getting quite out of hand and we are grateful for any assistance you can offer.”
    “I will do what I can,” she replied, but it sounded more like, ‘I vil do vot I ken.’
    The crowd parted for them, most people practically gaping as they passed, then Madam Davina stopped abruptly by the door.
    “There is ee-vil here,” she said with feeling, and even managed to send a shiver up Thea’s spine. “So much pain! So much death! Oh!”
    “She needs to sit down,” madam’s companion said.
    “Yes, of course, of course, come, Madam.”
    As they headed inside, almost everyone followed them, except for Thea and Cole.
    “I’ll say this for her, she’s a damn good actress,”