grisly scene, but now she wondered if he had a deeper reason to be so upset.
“Oh, yes, m’m. One of your other maids saw them together. She told me all about it. It was quite plain, she says, that the deceased female-”
“Her name, sir, was Ellie Tidwell,” Baxter said, rudely butting in. “Please have the decency to use her proper name. She may be dead, but she still deserves some respect.”
The constable didn’t even glance in his direction as he continued, “-was sweet on the young man. Any’ow, this is what I think happened. Your footman saw them together, and in a fit of jealous rage, strangled the maid. You’d be surprised how many young men decide that if they can’t have the object of their affection, then no one else will have ’em, either.”
“Really. How terribly selfish of them.” Cecily sent Baxter a shake of her head as he opened his mouth to interrupt again. “Do go on, Sam.”
“Yes, well, then once he realized what he’d done, he was full of remorse, weren’t he. So he rushed up to the roof and threw himself orf.”
“Threw himself off,” Cecily repeated solemnly.
“Yes, m’m. That’s what I said. He threw himself orf. Head first. Like he was diving into the sea.” He stroked his chin. “Of course, if he had dived into the sea, instead of the cement path of the rose garden, he might well have survived. Not that he wanted to survive, of course, otherwise he wouldn’t have thrown himself orf the-”
“For God’s sake, man, get to the blasted point!”
Northcott drew himself up as tall as he could manage and glared at Baxter. “I thought I had.”
“In that case, there’s just one thing I’d like to know.”
Baxter’s expression made Cecily nervous. She tried to catch his eye but he avoided looking at her. “Did he happen to throw the gargoyle down first and then deliberately fall on top of it, by any chance?”
Northcott lifted a finger in the air. “Ah, I was coming to that.”
“Oh, jolly good. I was afraid we’d be left to puzzle that one out for ourselves.”
Cecily loudly cleared her throat. “Please, Sam, go on.”
“Yes, well, it’s quite obvious to someone what is an expert at deductions, isn’t it. He changed his mind at the last minute, didn’t he. That’s what happened.” He nodded at Cecily, his bottom lip jutting out. “Not the first time I’ve seen that happen, neither.”
“He changed his mind,” Baxter said. “How utterly inconvenient.”
“Yes, well, he must have grabbed ahold of the gargoyle to stop himself from falling. Of course, it wasn’t tied down enough to hold his weight, was it, so down it came with him. Poof! He’s dead, isn’t he. Cracked his head open, poor blighter. Though I suppose some would say it’s poetic justice. Having taken the life of that young girl and all.”
Cecily sent a wary glance at her husband. His face had turned scarlet and she could see he was gathering breath to explode. “That’s extremely astute of you, Sam,” she said hurriedly. “I suppose this means you will be closing the case in your report?”
“Quite, Mrs. B. After all, we don’t want to have any unpleasantness over the Christmas season, now do we? I shall give a full report to the inspector right after the New Year, and I’m quite sure he will agree with my deductions.”
Baxter rolled his eyes but mercifully kept quiet. Cecily let out her breath. She was certain now that she did not want Sam Northcott bothering her guests with his endless questions and ridiculous assumptions. Far better that he believe the scenario he had given them and leave them in peace.
Meanwhile she had a week or so to find the killer before the inspector became involved. That was something she would try to avoid at all costs.
Inspector Cranshaw had long ago formed the opinion that the Pennyfoot was a den of iniquity and should be shut down forever. Anytime he had reason to investigate a crime on or near the premises, it raised the possibility of him getting his wish.
So far Cecily had managed to stay one step ahead of him at all times. She would be the first to admit, however, that sooner or later, he would find the excuse he was looking for to be rid of the Pennyfoot and everyone connected with it. She was equally determined to prevent that happening anytime soon.
“Well, if that be all, I’ll be orf.” P.C. Northcott reached for his helmet and shoved it on his head. “I’m sorry this here unfortunate incident has put a dampener on your festivities, Mrs. B., but in spite of everything, I do wish you a very happy Christmas.”
“Thank you, Sam. And I wish the same to you and your family.”
Northcott touched his helmet with his fingers and inclined his head. “I… ah… don’t suppose Mrs. Chubb has a mince pie or two to spare?”
“I’m sure she will be able to find something for you.” Cecily ignored her husband’s grunt of disgust. “Just stop by the kitchen and tell her I sent you.”
“Much obliged, Mrs. B., I’m sure.” Without looking at Baxter he passed him by, muttering, “Good day, sir.”
“It will be,” Baxter said, as the door closed behind the constable, “now that he’s gone.”
“Hush,” Cecily warned, raising her finger to her lips. “We can’t afford to annoy him. We don’t want him bringing Cranshaw down on our heads.”
Baxter frowned. “I should say that Inspector Cranshaw is exactly what we need. That confounded fool, Northcott, would say anything to avoid having to do his duty and investigate a murder during his Christmas holidays. He must be really irked that he had to stay in Badgers End this year. Usually when something like this happens, he’s away visiting relatives. Dashed convenient for him if you ask me.”
“Yes, dear. We don’t, however, need the inspector breathing down our necks, either. Not while we are attempting to entertain our guests.”
Baxter tilted his chin down and frowned at her. “May I remind you that two of our servants have died by someone’s hand in quick succession. Obviously some madman. There could be more deaths. We must notify the inspector as soon as possible. If he can’t come himself he can at least send someone more capable than that clown, Northcott.”
Cecily drew a deep breath. “Can we at least wait until the New Year? By then Sam will have given his report to Cranshaw and he can make his own decisions.”
“Don’t you mean that by then you might just have solved the murders and apprehended the killer?”
She gave him a small smile. “There’s always that possibility, I suppose.”
Baxter drew himself up and shook his head. “Absolutely not!”
Cecily tightened her mouth. “You are not, by any chance, forbidding me to look into this, are you?”
Some of the fire went out of his eyes. “I know how futile that is, my dear. I would, however, ask you to reconsider, knowing my feelings on the subject.”
“As you do mine. I am every bit as aware as you are that we could have a killer in our midst who just might strike again. All the more important for me to get busy and find out who is behind these murders.”
“Isn’t that why we have policemen?”
“You know very well that our only constable in Badgers End is Northcott. If we go to the constabulary in Wellercombe, Inspector Cranshaw will be only too happy to make our lives miserable. You also know how devastating that could be for our guests, not to mention the very real possibility that the inspector will finally lose patience and use the opportunity to shut us down.”
Baxter sighed. “I wonder why I inevitably end up losing this argument.”
Cecily smiled to soften her words. “I often wonder why you even give me an argument, knowing the outcome.”
“One always lives in hope that good sense will prevail.” He moved to the door. “I trust that we have the same arrangement as always? That you do not put yourself in harm’s way without telling me where you are going and with whom? Preferably me.”
“Of course.” She held up her hand to prevent him leaving. “Wait! You were about to confide in me earlier, about what has been keeping you in such a morose mood. This business of poor Ellie put it completely out of my mind until now. What was it you wished to tell me?”
He opened his mouth to answer her, then closed it again with a shake of his head.
Dismayed, she moved toward him. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”
“No.” Again he sighed. “Well, I suppose so. Not me, personally, but the business. It hasn’t been doing well. I’m
