“Well, Madeline told me that there’s a ritual involving the locks of hair belonging to the dead. It’s supposed to send their souls to the devil.”
“Blimey.” Samuel rubbed his arms as if he were cold. “But what makes you think it’s Lester Salt?”
“I noticed a book by the fireside when we were there. It was called
Samuel frowned. “But why? Why would he want to kill all those people?”
Cecily leaned back. “Well, I have to admit, I don’t think he killed Jimmy Taylor. I do believe, however, that he killed Thomas Willow. Lester was deeply in debt and being threatened. I think he had been trying to think of a way to get his hands on the shop for some time.”
“So he killed Thomas to get the shop?”
“Yes, so he’d have the money to pay back Sid Tippens. I think he saw who killed Jimmy Taylor, and saw a chance to kill Thomas and put the blame on Jimmy’s killer.”
Samuel’s frown deepened. “But if he saw who killed Jimmy, wouldn’t he have told the bobbies?”
“Not if he thought that Jimmy’s killer could prove he didn’t kill Thomas, then the constables would be looking for who did kill him.”
Samuel shook his head. “I don’t know how you worked all that out, m’m, but it’s clever. But what about all the other murders? Why did he do that?”
“I’m coming to that.” Cecily tightened her scarf about her neck. “Lady Marion mentioned that Thomas Willow was also deeply in debt. Apparently the shoe shop wasn’t making any money. When Lester found out, he was desperate. Perhaps the bookmaker threatened him again.”
“So he had to find the money from somewhere else to pay Sid back.”
“Mrs. Mackerbee told me that the farm had done very well, and they’d had the best year they’d ever had. She also said that her husband had visited the shoe shop. No doubt he told Lester Salt what a great year he’d had.”
“So good old Lester decides to take some of it for himself.”
Cecily nodded. “That’s what I think. I think Lester went to the farm to rob the Mackerbees, Colin Mackerbee caught him, and there was a fight.”
Samuel rubbed his chin. “He must not have got any of the money, though.”
“Very good, Samuel.” Pleased with her stable manager, Cecily beamed at him. “Lester must have come away empty-handed and decided to rob the Bellevue mansion instead. According to Lady Marion, he was well acquainted with both the gamekeeper and Lord Bellevue.”
“So you think Henry Farnsworth caught him trying to break into the mansion, and Lester shot him?”
“Precisely.”
Samuel stared at her. “But what about the Fox Hunters Club? What happened there?”
Cecily shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe Lester broke in to rob the place and accidentally set it on fire.” She turned her gaze to the street outside. “I have to admit, Samuel, this is all guesswork and theory. That’s why I have to visit Lester Salt today. I have to somehow make sure I’m right before I set off my plan.”
Samuel sat up. “What plan?”
Quickly, Cecily outlined it for him.
Samuel immediately shook his head. “No, it’s too dangerous. I can’t believe Mrs. Prestwick agreed to help you with this.”
“Actually,” Cecily said, feeling guilty, “Mrs. Prestwick hasn’t agreed. I haven’t discussed it with her yet. But once I do, I’m certain she will want to help me stop this madman before he kills anyone else.”
“Well, I hope she refuses to help you. If anything happened to you, m’m, I’d never forgive myself. I just can’t let you do this.”
“You really don’t have any choice, Samuel. With or without you, with Madeline’s help I intend to trap our killer.”
She could see the struggle going on in his head. Finally, he let out his breath on a puff of frustration. “All right. If I can’t stop you, then I’m coming with you.”
She smiled. “I thought you would, Samuel. Now, let’s be on our way. We have a long day ahead of us.”
“Yes, m’m.” His face creased in worry, he climbed out, closed the door, and jumped up to his seat. With a flick of the reins they were off, and Cecily sat back with a sigh of relief.
She had expected Samuel to put up a fight, but she knew her stable manager. He’d die first before allowing her to face danger without him. She could only hope and pray it wouldn’t come to that.
Gertie had spent a fitful night, waking up at intervals with an ache that had nothing to do with the bread and cheese she’d consumed just before retiring.
She kept hearing her own words over and over in her head.
All through the breakfast rush she kept thinking about it, until Pansy declared with more than a hint of impatience, “What is the matter with you this morning? Get out of the wrong side of the bed?”
Gertie scowled at her. “Very funny.” She hesitated, her tray of dirty dishes balanced on her hip. Maybe if she talked about it she wouldn’t feel so guilty. After all, it wasn’t as if she’d said anything nasty.
Pansy was about to turn away when Gertie added, “If you must bloody know, I said something I shouldn’t have yesterday and I’m wondering if I should apologize.”
Pansy looked over her shoulder at her. “That’s nothing new. Who did you say it to?”
Gertie paused again, then said sheepishly, “Clive.”
Pansy’s cry of dismay took her by surprise. “What? You didn’t! What did you say to him?”
Thankful they were alone in the dining room, Gertie wished she’d never said anything. “Oh, it was nothing.”
Pansy dug her hands into her hips. “If it was nothing, why are you worrying about apologizing?”
“No, twerp. I mean, that’s what I said.” Gertie sighed. “I was in the ballroom with Clive and-”
Pansy’s gasp interrupted her. “What were you doing in the ballroom with him?”
Gertie could feel her cheeks growing warm. “Nothing we shouldn’t be doing. I heard a noise, and thought it was someone breaking in and Clive went to see and I went with him and yelled at the burglar only it wasn’t a burglar and Clive thanked me anyway and I said it was nothing.”
Pansy’s face had expressed a number of emotions, from shock and concern to puzzlement. “Is that all?”
Gertie had to agree that, told like that without any of the charged emotions she’d felt when it happened, it did seem a bit tame. “Yeah, that’s all. Never mind. I’m just tired. I didn’t get much flipping sleep last night.”
“Well, you’d better get some sleep tonight. The Christmas guests will be here tomorrow.” Pansy dragged a white lace-edged cloth from a table and dropped it in the laundry basket. “I can’t wait to see who our special guests are, can you?”
Gertie shrugged. “Unless it’s the flipping king, I don’t suppose we’ll even know who they are.”
Pansy breathed a sigh. “Oh, wouldn’t that be something! To wait on the king!”
“Yeah, well, I did it once and it’s not all that much fun. His valet wouldn’t let me get near him. Took everything out of my hands before I even got to the door.”
Pansy turned away with a grunt of disappointment. “Oh, well, it’s probably not him anyway.”
Gertie had stopped paying attention. She had just seen Clive pass by the dining room doors. “I’ve got to go,” she said abruptly, causing Pansy to spin back again. “There’s something I’ve got to do.” Leaving the tray of dishes on the table, she dashed out of the room and into the corridor.
Clive had disappeared, and she raced for the stairs. She reached the top just in time to see the front door close behind him.
Heedless of the cold wind, she dived through the door and down the steps, calling out, “Clive! Wait!”
Clive had reached the corner of the building. He stopped and looked back, the wind whipping his dark hair back from his face.
He seemed uneasy as she drew nearer, looking around as if worried somebody might see them together. “Is something wrong?”
She almost laughed. Everything was wrong. If she said the wrong words now, she could break up a friendship
