Chapter 3 #2
However, as he reached the next floor, the boy stopped dead, terror consuming him.
Truly, he’d never seen anything so scary in his entire life.
He took a step backwards, intending to flee back the way he’d come, but just as he turned, he glimpsed the head of the security guard, just about to step out of the stairwell onto the floor he’d just left. Billy gave an almost inaudible moan.
He was trapped on the floor filled with ladies' unmentionables…
With a glare towards her younger sister, promising dire retribution, Alexandra jumped to her feet and hurried over to mop up the spilled tea, while Arabella sought to sooth scandalised feathers at the use of such vulgar language. Beatrix wisely remained silent.
‘I can only imagine the distress this robbery had caused you, Mrs Pettigrew, and it is to your credit that you are taking such bold steps to expose the culprit. Truly, most ladies in your shoes would have taken to their beds.’ Bella’s voice exuded equal parts admiration and sympathy.
The matron’s face unstiffened in response, and rummaging around in her reticule, she pulled out a handkerchief, delicately dabbing under her eyes.
‘Only God can attest to the sleepless nights I have endured,’ she murmured brokenly.
‘Indeed, it is a wonder my knees are not black and blue considering the hours I have spent in supplication.’ Fortunately, she was looking up – presumably towards heaven - so missed the warning kick Bella gave to Bea as the younger woman looked as though she might be about to speak.
‘Naturally, I would not wish to cause you any more distress,’ Alex interrupted soothingly, ‘but if you can bring yourself to speak of that fateful evening, it would be very helpful indeed.’
‘I do believe Mrs Pettigrew has already given her statement to the police.’ The clipped, forceful tones came abruptly from the doorway leading out into the large entrance hall, taking all three sisters entirely by surprise.
‘Ah, Chief Inspector Hartley, I was just about to request your presence.’ Mrs Pettigrew gave a girlish titter, and after a startled glance towards the matron, both Alex and Bella’s eyes flew towards the masculine figure in the doorway as they hastily stood up.
Meanwhile, Beatrix seized the opportunity to help herself to another biscuit.
‘I am mindful that Mrs Pettigrew has already provided a statement to the police,’ Alexandra declared coolly after a moment, ‘but as you will no doubt appreciate Chief Inspector, two heads, or in this case, four, are very often better than one.’
Instead of answering her, Benedict Hartley turned towards Mrs Pettigrew. ‘Madam, I really must protest. This is a police investigation, and allowing civilians access to a crime scene…’
‘…Is entirely Mrs Pettigrew’s prerogative, as this is her home.’
Arabella winced at the directness in her twin’s voice and hastened to add, ‘Chief Inspector, we’re not here to interfere with your investigation, we’re simply here at Mrs Pettigrew’s request.’ She crossed her fingers behind her back that their would-be client did not announce her intention to discontinue their association as she’d intimated earlier – especially after Bea’s ill-mannered comment.
‘I prefer to work alone, Miss…’ Benedict Hartley paused, and Bella felt her heart give a dull thud. Would he be aware of their father’s dismissal?
Glancing over at Alexandra, she took a deep breath. ‘Shackleford, Arabella Shackleford. And these are my sisters, Alexandra and Beatrix.’ She did not mention her sister’s title.
The policeman’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’re Henry Shackleford’s daughters?’ His voice was both simultaneously incredulous and awkward, acknowledging his awareness of the circumstances surrounding their father’s dismissal.
Arabella felt her cheeks redden, suddenly, unaccountably angry. She drew herself up. ‘No doubt you are thinking of our recent success in the Winner Street case, Chief Inspector Hartley,’ she observed tersely.
Unexpectedly, his eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘The Winner Street orphanage – that was you?’
‘Together with our father, yes,’ Alexandra interjected, her own tone equally brusque.
‘As you’re no doubt aware, Chief Inspector, Henry Shackleford was your predecessor and has decades of experience solving crimes.
He has since founded Shackleford and Daughters – a private detective agency.
It is in that capacity that we are here. ’
For once, Arabella didn’t attempt to smooth over her sister’s sharpness since she felt entirely the same way.
So much so that she couldn’t help wondering why.
It wasn’t as if Chief Inspector Hartley’s reaction had been in any way unusual, and ordinarily, Arabella prided herself on her unique ability to diffuse such prejudice.
However, on this occasion, she hadn’t even tried to use her charm.
Her tone had been bordering on rude, and in truth, she’d been tempted to plant him a prime facer.
That she should feel so troubled her deeply.
It certainly wasn’t like her to take umbrage quite so easily.
Benedict, on the other hand, regarded the two defiant women standing in front of him and felt a sudden urge to chuckle.
He didn’t – for three reasons. One, rudeness was not in his nature – especially to a member of the opposite sex, and he was well aware that his tone so far had been teetering on boorishness.
Two, he had studied the Winner Street case, and if these ladies had indeed been involved, then their track record was already more impressive than many uniforms he’d worked with.
Lastly, he knew of Henry Shackleford’s reputation, and contrary to the smear campaign conducted by Sir Drayton, understood the man to be an outstanding detective with an impressive number of solved cases behind him.
‘I read the reports,’ he offered finally, taking care to keep his tone unpatronizing. ‘It was very impressive work.’
There was a short silence, then, after clearing her throat, Arabella stepped forward and extended her hand. ‘Then you will understand why Mrs Pettigrew hired us. We get results, Chief Inspector.’ Her voice was firm but had lost the slight shrewishness of earlier.
Benedict Hartley gave a small, rueful smile before holding out his own hand. ‘So, I’ve heard,’ he responded evenly. As their fingers met, he felt a sudden jolt and couldn’t keep the shock off his face. Her features looked equally bewildered, and he realised she’d felt the same spark.
Hurriedly, Benedict stepped back, before taking a deep breath and declaring carefully, ‘While I can’t deny that collaboration with a private agency is highly irregular, I will, on this occasion be interested in hearing your analysis once you’ve examined the scene of the crime.
’ He turned towards Mrs Pettigrew. ‘That’s if you have no objection, Madam. ’
Thrilled to be at the centre of such an unusual collaboration, given that the resulting gossip would undoubtedly secure her an invitation to the most illustrious households in the Bay - possibly forever - Mrs Pettigrew clapped her hands in delight.
‘I will ask for some fresh tea while we wait, Chief Inspector.’
Fortunately, she didn’t hear Beatrix’s muttered, ‘I doubt she’ll be quite as perky once she sees the bill…’