Free After the Exhibition: A Jack Haldean 1920s Mystery (A Jack Haldean Mystery) by Dolores Gordon-Smith Page A

there was anything missing and I told him no, there wasn’t.’
    ‘Did you hear what happened the evening Miss Wingate left her bag here?’ asked Jack. ‘About what Miss Wingate saw, perhaps?’
    Mrs Hatton glanced at Betty, cleared her throat in embarrassment, and looked away. ‘Well, I did hear something. It’s not that I listen to gossip, Miss,’ she added defensively to Betty, ‘but it’s been the talk of the village. You must’ve been dreaming, I daresay. You most probably had something that disagreed with you for supper. My mother, she could never tolerate trotters. Used to carry on awful after she had trotters, she did, and I expect you had something similar.’
    Betty turned to Bill and Jack. ‘You see? Everyone thinks I’m making it up, but I’m not.’
    ‘I didn’t say you did it
deliberate
, Miss,’ said Mrs Hatton in a wounded sort of way.
    ‘That’s just it, though,’ said Jack. ‘Some people are saying Miss Wingate’s making up a story deliberately, and so she’s asked me and Mr Rackham here to see if we can get to the bottom of it. So, although I don’t want to put you out, I was wondering if we could come and have a look inside and see if there’s anything we can discover.’
    Mrs Hatton looked very doubtful. ‘I’m not sure. It’s not really my place to be letting folks in to the house, what with the mistress being away.’
    ‘It’s all right, Mrs Hatton,’ broke in Betty. ‘You know who I am, and these gentlemen are my friends and friends of Mr Askern’s, too. You served with Mr Askern during the war, didn’t you, Mr Rackham?’ she added, turning to Bill.
    ‘Yes, that’s right.’
    Mrs Hatton wavered. ‘Well, I’m sure as it’ll be all right, being as how it’s you, Miss. You’d better step inside. You’ll excuse me getting on with my work, though, won’t you? I’ve got the upstairs windows to do yet.’
    ‘That’ll be fine, Mrs Hatton,’ Jack said with a smile. ‘The last thing we want to do is hold you up.’
    Mrs Hatton ushered them into the minute hall, hesitated by the stairs for a few moments then, as if reassured they weren’t about to immediately start looting the place, went back upstairs.
    ‘It’s lucky she was in,’ murmured Bill as her footsteps sounded overhead.
    ‘It is,’ said Jack. ‘Although there’s usually a key around somewhere.’
    ‘As a guardian of the law, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that remark. What are you hoping to find, Jack? After all, if anything happened …’ He broke off as he saw Betty’s expression. ‘
Whatever
happened, I mean to say, it all happened days ago now.’
    ‘Yes, it did,’ agreed Jack. ‘I wish we could have been here sooner, but we have to take our crimes as we find them. I must say, I don’t really know what we’re looking for, but let’s start in the parlour. That’s where Miss Wingate saw the body.’
    Betty shivered as they went into the room. ‘I wish it had been a dream,’ she said. ‘I’ll never forget striking a match and seeing that woman’s face. It was horrible.’
    The parlour was a small, low-ceilinged room with dark sham oak panelling and well-used furniture. An attempt had been made to brighten the place up with some bright cushions, but the only items of real note were a grandfather clock and an unframed portrait photograph, propped up on the sideboard.
    ‘This is very good,’ said Jack, picking up the photograph. It showed a striking dark-haired woman, her head tilted to one side so the sunlight caught the angles of her face. She was relaxed and happy and obviously felt at ease with the photographer. ‘Is this Signora Bianchi?’
    ‘Yes,’ said Betty, grimly. ‘That’s Signora Bianchi all right.’ She picked up the photograph. ‘Colin must’ve taken it. He’s keen on photography.’ Her voice wavered. ‘He’s never taken my picture.’
    ‘I’m glad he took this one though,’ said Jack. ‘It’ll be useful if we have to find out what happened to