know about the Christmas Angel. I’ve done my best to reassure them but, as you say, it’s only a matter of time.”
“Then we must find this killer, and soon.”
“I agree.” He stood aside to allow Madeline to exit.
“I’ll see you in the morning, Cecily!” With a wave of her hand, Madeline stepped out into the cold night followed by her husband.
Cecily watched them go, Madeline’s words ringing in her ears
CHAPTER 10
Baxter left for London early the next day, leaving Cecily alone with her thoughts. She had lain awake for at least an hour that morning, going over in her mind everything she had learned so far.
The only link to the murders was Basil Baker. He knew all three of the victims and had good reason to resent two of them. There was, however, one way to possibly rule him out.
It was almost noon before she finally sat down in her office. She wasted no time in picking up the telephone and asking the operator to put her through to the paper factory in Wellercombe.
It took a while before the operator finally reached someone, and the gentleman who spoke to her seemed irritated to be disturbed. He spoke very fast and very abruptly, as if he wanted to put an end to the conversation as soon as possible.
“Yes,” he said, in answer to Cecily’s question, “Basil Baker works here, and yes, he’s been here all week. His day off is Sunday, that’s all.”
Cecily frowned. “
The man sounded even more annoyed. “Yes, madam. Every Sunday. Now if you will excuse me, I have work to do.”
The loud click in her ear told her the conversation was at an end. Cecily replaced the receiver, her brows knitted together. Basil could not have killed Colin, since he was in Wellercombe all day. Unless he’d found a way to sneak out and return without anyone seeing him.
On the other hand, Jimmy had died on a Sunday. Basil’s day off. Yet when she’d asked Basil, he’d told her he was working the day Jimmy died. It would seem that Basil had not told the truth. The question now was why he’d found it necessary to lie.
Could it be that her theory was correct-that Basil had thrown the rock at Jimmy after all? And that someone had seen the incident and taken advantage of the situation?
She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes. Maybe she was wrong about there being a connection. Maybe they were all wrong. The memory of her last skirmish with a killer remained clear in her mind.
They had all been so certain it was a serial killer, never dreaming that the murderer was killing random victims to place the blame on a notorious London mass murderer.
Maybe these present victims, as Baxter had suggested, were all random, with nothing in common. After all, Badgers End was only a small village. It wasn’t that surprising that Basil knew them all.
If so, her chances of catching the killer would have to rely on luck. And that, as Cecily knew well, was a very long shot.
She was about to get up from her desk when the telephone rang. After the second ring it was silent, meaning that Philip had picked it up at the reception desk.
Hoping that it wasn’t another cancellation, Cecily left the office and went in search of Samuel. It seemed that another visit to Basil Baker was in order, and although she didn’t expect to gain much more insight into the case, she dearly wanted to know why Basil had lied about being at work the day Jimmy Taylor died.
She encountered Pansy in the hallway and sent her to order the carriage, then continued on to the foyer, to find out if the telephone message was bad news.
Philip assured her that it was simply a guest inquiring about the weather. “I told the gentleman that it has stopped snowing and that a thaw is on the way.” He smirked. “He seemed quite pleased about that.”
Cecily looked at him in surprise. “Where did you get the news about a thaw?”
Philip shrugged. “I didn’t. But sooner or later it’s going to thaw, isn’t it? I just didn’t say when.”
Cecily pinched her lips. She was about to chide her desk clerk when a blast of cold air announced the opening of the front door.
Sam Northcott’s bellow echoed all the way across the foyer. “Mrs. Baxter! I want a word with you!”
“Blimey,” Philip muttered. “Can’t he wait until he’s a bit closer?”
Cecily was inclined to agree, though she could see that the constable appeared to be highly agitated. He had forgotten to remove his helmet, and his hand fluttered up and down as though he were trying to shake something nasty from it.
Watching him rush toward her, Cecily felt a stab of anxiety. “Philip,” she said, “have a bottle of brandy sent to my office. Right away.”
She didn’t wait for him to reply. Sam Northcott reached her while she was still talking, his eyes brightening when she mentioned the brandy. “My office, Sam,” she said, and led the way down the hallway.
Northcott barely waited for her to take her seat behind her desk before he plopped down on a chair. Suddenly remembering his helmet, he snatched it off and dropped it on the floor. “This is terrible,” he muttered. “This is really, really terrible.”
Her own heart beating twice as fast as it should be, Cecily clutched the edge of her desk. “Tell me, Sam. What’s happened now?”
He looked at her, perspiration gleaming on his forehead. “There’s been another one.” His voice rose, becoming almost unrecognizable. “They’re coming thick and fast, Mrs. B.’Orrible, it is. When’s it going to stop, I ask you? Who’s going to be next?”
Cecily’s stomach churned and she placed a hand over her midriff. “Oh, my. Who is it this time?”
“It’s Henry Farnsworth. He’s the gamekeeper up at the Bellevue estate. Or he was, more like it. Lord Bellevue sent us the message. Luckily I got my bicycle mended so I can get around again. I got right on it and went up there.”
“Did he tell you what happened?”
“No, m’m. The butler did. Seems Henry was out there early this morning shooting pheasants for a dinner party tonight. One of the gardeners found him. He’d been shot with his own gun.”
Cecily felt a chill course over her entire body. “I suppose there was a gold angel on his forehead?”
Sam nodded.
“And a missing lock of hair?”
“Yes, m’m. Not that Henry had much hair to begin with. Just about took it all, that maniac did.” Northcott ran a hand over his own bald head. “He wouldn’t have much luck with me, would he, m’m.”
His laugh held no humor, and Cecily couldn’t even raise a smile. “Did you speak with the gardeners? Did they see anything?”
“Not a thing. They heard the shots, but since they knew Henry was shooting at pheasants, they took no notice. It wasn’t until one of them went to cut some holly for the mansion that he found Henry.”
“What about Lord Bellevue and his wife? Did they see anything?”
“I couldn’t talk to them, m’m. The butler said they were too upset to speak with me. Which is why I came up here.”
Cecily thought she understood. “Would you like me to speak to them?”
Northcott looked relieved. “Yes, m’m. They won’t turn you away, being as you’re a lady. I’d be most grateful if you could see what you can find out.”
“I’ll do my best, Sam. I suppose you searched the area thoroughly?”
“I put my best men on it. They didn’t find nothing, though.” He shook his head. “They didn’t find nothing at all at the other murders, neither. Whoever did this is really good at picking up after himself.”
“So it would seem,” Cecily murmured. “It seems we are dealing with an exceptionally clever killer.”
