As the taxi drove through the suburbs of Oxford, Maura fought hard to keep her thoughts to herself. Harriet, she could see, was struggling with everything happening around her. She was in desperate need of Maura's companionship; it needed to be her priority.
The car turned onto a long, winding street of Victorian terraced houses. "Just here on the left please, mate." Maura shook her head with a smile as Harriet winked at her. "See? Thirteen years in Oxford and I'm practically English."
Handing the driver another crisp note, the pair exited the vehicle and dragged Maura's hideous suitcase up the stone steps to the front door.
As Rachel opened the door, Maura was hit with the scent of something she had been missing over the last month and a half: home. Wheeling her case into a corner, Maura pulled off her shoes and followed her friend into the body of the house.
"You know; I don't think I've ever seen you wear flat shoes before. Well, aside from when we used to run." Harriet commented as she busied herself collecting mugs and spoons from the draining board in the kitchen. "I thought you were a heels-only girl? Or have you changed more than I thought?"
Maura smiled affectionately. "I'm still a heels girl. Don't worry. I've just been travelling. When you're spending a month trekking the tourist trails of France, I'm afraid that Mr Louboutin doesn't quite hold up to the comfort of a decent pair of Chucks."
Expecting a laugh or a smile, Maura's eyes met Harriet's. They were brimming with fresh tears.
"Oh God. I…. I'm sorry. What did I say?" Maura asked, approaching her friend with open arms.
Harriet shook her head as she leaned into her friend's embrace. "I'm just sorry I ruined your vacation. I can't believe you came all this way."
"I wouldn't say all this way. France is a damn sight closer than Boston. I was practically here already." Maura smiled at her friend, hoping it would encourage her to do the same.
"Well, either way, thank you. I… I just knew I had to call you. I knew you'd be the perfect person to help even if we haven't quite kept in touch."
Maura shrugged. "Life gets in the way sometimes. I'm just glad I can help, even if it's just explaining procedure. I've asked for a copy of the pathologist's findings, too. I want to make sure you understand exactly what is going on."
Harriet shrugged and smiled an empty smile. Maura got the impression that the subject of pathology was, for the moment, off limits. "Thank you, Maura. Sugar?"
Maura shook her head and reached out her hands for the steaming mug of tea her friend had made. "I hope you still like tea? I'm sure it was you who taught me how to make it properly before I made the move out here."
Nodding, Maura took a sip and smiled. "Perfect."
Harriet ushered her friend through into a small sitting room. Two fabric-covered armchairs sat against the back wall, a coffee table scattered with books stood between them. Both women perched their mugs on the table as they relaxed into the deep, soft chairs.
Looking around, Maura noted a few recognisable faces in the photographs on Harriet's wall. "Oh, look at your brother! He hadn't even finished high school when you graduated! And your mother. Oh, she was a wonderful woman."
Harriet smiled warmly. "She still is. Retired now, obviously, but she's still the same old Barbara. She often asks after you, you know."
"Oh, well next time you speak to her do wish her well. I remember her coming into town one Christmas; we all went for dinner at McKay's and she was just delightful."
"The Christmas we decided it would be a good idea to get the BCU women's running club to do the park circuit in the snow?"
"Oh yes!" Maura laughed. "I couldn't walk properly for days. I think I ended up wearing slippers for the Isles Foundation winter dinner that year- mother was not amused!"
"We had so much fun." Harriet smiled as she sipped her tea.
"We did. It's a shame we had to grow up and face the real world."
Harriet nodded. "I do my best to avoid it, to be honest. Aside from work, a mortgage and bills, I try to do as little adult-ing as possible."
"Adult-ing" Maura mused. "You sound like my friend Jane. Still, I do admit I long for those carefree college days every now and again."
"Me too. It was great: no commitments, no proper job, no real responsibilities to worry about. And a liver that could take a night or two of hard drinking a week without complaint! What more is there to ask for?!"
Maura smiled at her friend, pleased that she was finally relaxing. "Exactly."
"So, is there a special someone in your life?"
Maura coughed.
Harriet's question jarred her. For a moment, everything stopped working.
"No" she answered curtly. "I… I haven't had much time."
"So you didn't get swept off your feet by some Parisian beau while you were travelling?" Maura shook her head as Harriet continued. "Well, no. I suppose not. Not if you were with your friend. What was her name, again?"
"Jane. Her name is Jane." Maura took a drink of her tea, trying to swallow down everything that threatened to bubble to the surface as soon as her friend's name was mentioned. "What about you? Anyone?"
Harriet shook her head. "I am, as my brother so kindly puts it, tragically single. I've dated so many awkward professor-types and city-types and I just got bored. So, I guess I'm on dating sabbatical for now. God knows I've earned the break."
Maura opened her mouth to answer, but her words came out in a large yawn. "Excuse me" she muttered, rubbing her forehead with her hand.
"You must be exhausted; you've been travelling for hours and you haven't stopped. Why don't you go upstairs and take a nap?" Harriet stopped to collect her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice was timid and quiet.
"I'm sorry. I jumped the gun a bit there. I didn't know if you'd have had time to book a hotel or anything, so I made up my guest room for you. There's no pressure to stay. I just…"
Maura cut her friend off and pressed a soft hand to her upper arm. "Thank you. It's very thoughtful. I think I could do with the rest, if you don't mind?"
Smiling, Harriet gestured for Maura to follow her back through the kitchen and towards the front door. Picking up her suitcase, she carried it up the stairs and into a cosy bedroom, just big enough for a double bed.
"I'm sorry it's a little small. The other bedroom is my office and I don't have many guests since mom and the rest of my family usually stay in London when they visit England. There's a few adaptor plugs in the drawer by the bed, though, and the plug socket is just the other side of the wardrobe."
Maura smiled at her friend, noting that she could probably do with a rest as well. She made a mental note to monitor her sleep over the next few days.
"Okay. I'll leave you to it. I'll be downstairs or in my office if you need anything. I… I know I've already said it but I'm so grateful you're here."
"Any time" Maura answered honestly.
Once Harriet had closed the heavy bedroom door behind her, Maura pulled her phone from her pocket and found an adaptor in the drawer. As it began to recharge, it came back to life and a long list of notifications greeted her on the screen. Most of them were pointless and she quickly scrolled through them.
Opening her messaging app, she quickly typed up a text.
In Oxford. Friend's friend has been murdered. Not sure what has gone on, but v suspicious. Will keep you up to date. Hope all is going well at Quantico.
Love you.
No.
Exiting the app, Maura deleted the message. Instead, she opened the notes on her phone and began compiling a list of questions.
It was the first time she had been so involved in an investigation without the support of the Boston Homicide Unit, but she was sure she had seen enough of their work to know what to look for.
Who was Rachel?
Why was she in the hotel?
Anyone with her?
What was on the note she left?
Why poison?
Who killed her?
Of all the questions swimming in her head, the final two were bugging her the most. Why would someone want to poison a historian? And who would have the balls (as Jane would say) to do it in such a public place?
Laying back on the pillow, Maura felt the exhaustion of travel seep through her muscles. Still, the burning questions about Rachel's murder were enough to stop her mind from switching off enough to fall into the dark unconscious of sleep.
Rolling over and picking up her phone once more, Maura mentally calculated the time difference. Two o'clock in the UK would be 9am in Boston.
With one eye on the wooden door, she tapped out a text and pressed send.
Hi. Can you do me a favour? Could you do a search on Harriet Morgan? B.1977 Boston native living in Oxford. You can call, but please text first so I can make excuses if I need to. Not in any danger, don't worry. Love to you and F xxxxxx