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Authors: Kate Kingsbury

BOOK: Herald of Death
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“Ah,” Baxter said, when he spotted Cecily. “I do believe this is my wife, though I see her so rarely these days I’m not sure I recognize her.”
“Piffle.” Cecily smiled at the doctor. “Take no notice of him, Kevin. He’s still having trouble finding the Christmas spirit.”
Kevin reached for her hand and pressed it to his lips. “It is indeed a great pleasure to see you again, Cecily.”
Baxter muttered something under his breath, and she warned him with a quick frown.
“Likewise.” She pulled her hand from Kevin’s fingers. “I was wondering if you have time for a quick word or two?”
Kevin glanced around the empty foyer and lowered his voice. “About the recent murders, I presume?”
Cecily also looked over her shoulder. Satisfied they were alone, she asked, “What can you tell me about them?”
“Not much.” Kevin hunched his shoulders. “They were brutal. The victims were obviously attacked by someone in a great rage. All three had a chunk of hair missing and a stamp stuck on their forehead.”
“All three?” Baxter’s sharp voice interrupted. “There’s another one?”
Cecily cursed herself for forgetting she hadn’t told him. “Yes, dear.” She laid a hand on his arm. “I’m sorry, I should have mentioned it. Mr. Mackerbee from Mackerbee’s pig farm. His wife found him stabbed to death.”
Baxter eyed her with suspicion. “When did you come by this information?”
“Last night, dear. I didn’t want to spoil the evening by bringing up such a morbid subject, and I quite forgot to mention it this morning.” She sent Madeline a meaningful glance, hoping that her friend would interpret it. It would save a lot of awkwardness if Baxter wasn’t informed of her visit to the Mackerbee farm.
True, he had grudgingly given his blessing for her investigation, but the less he knew, the less he worried, and the more freedom she’d have to continue.
Even so, he eyed her now with alarm. “This is beginning to sound as though we have an exceptionally dangerous criminal lurking out there.”
Cecily patted his arm. “They are all dangerous, my love. Until they are caught, which they usually are in the end.”
Baxter’s mouth had pulled into a thin line. “Yes, but this is different. From what I hear, the victims are random, with no obvious reason for their murders and no connection to each other. Which means anyone could be the killer’s next target. Including you.”
Cecily shook her head. “I disagree. The fact that all three victims had locks of hair missing and gold angels stuck to their heads is symbolic of something. There’s a connection there somewhere, and once we find that, we’ll find the killer.”
Baxter looked to Kevin for help. “What do
you
think? Just how dangerous is this killer?”
Kevin shrugged. “This person is obviously greatly disturbed and therefore highly unpredictable. I tend to agree with Cecily, however, that there is a link between the victims. All we have to do is find it.”
Baxter nodded. “That’s
all
you have to do. Never mind the danger.”
Afraid she was losing this argument, Cecily tugged on his arm. “Darling, you know I promised you to take the utmost care. The people I question have nothing to do with the murders. They are the victims. They have all lost loved ones. I’m here to help them and try to prevent someone else losing someone they love. They will not hurt me.”
Madeline finally spoke up. “Don’t worry, Baxter. Your wife is an intrepid and clever sleuth. No one will get the better of her, I promise you.”
Cecily smiled her thanks, while Baxter looked unconvinced.
“Well, my dear, we should be getting home,” Kevin announced, taking his wife’s arm. “We must spend a little time with our daughter before she lies down to sleep.”
Cecily walked with them to the door. “I know I don’t have to remind you,” she said, “that it’s imperative we keep quiet about all this murder business. We don’t want to start a panic in the village, though I suppose it will only be a matter of time before word gets out.”
Kevin looked grave. “I’m afraid the rumors have already started. Two of my patients have asked me what I 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
. No one will get the better of her, I promise you
. She could only hope that would prove to be true.
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. “
Every
Sunday?”
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.”
Northcott drew a handkerchief from his pocket and mopped his brow. “I’m never going to get away for Christmas at this rate. I might as well tell the missus to go without me.”
Personally, Cecily thought, the constable was entirely too concerned with his holiday, but she refrained from saying so. “Don’t give up just yet, Sam.” She stood, forcing the constable to leap to his feet. “Our killer has committed four murders now without being detected, or thinks he has, and sooner or later he will make a mistake and give himself away.”
“I hope you’re right, m’m.” Northcott bent down to retrieve his helmet. “And I certainly hope it’s sooner rather than later. The inspector is going to find out about all this any minute now, and he’ll be breathing fire down my neck, make no mistake about that.” A light tap on the door turned his head. “Would that be the brandy, by any chance?”
“No doubt.” Cecily crossed the room and opened the door. Pansy held a tray containing a brandy bottle and two glasses. “Your carriage is on the way, m’m,” she announced, bending her knees in a curtsey.
“Thank you, Pansy.” Cecily reached for the tray. “I’ll take this. Go back to the foyer and watch for the carriage. Let me know the minute it arrives.”
“Yes, m’m.” Pansy disappeared, and Cecily carried the tray to her desk and set it down. “Help yourself, Sam. I must go up to my suite and get ready for my visit to the Bellevue mansion.”
“You don’t have time to join me, m’m?”
He didn’t look too disappointed when she shook her head. “Not this time. I think perhaps Mrs. Chubb might have some mince pies in the kitchen, if you’d like to call in there on your way out.”
“Yes, m’m. Much obliged, I’m sure.”
She was about to leave when he added, “Thank you, Mrs. B. I’m really glad of your help. This is a nasty one, to be sure. Just be careful, all right?”
“I will, Sam. You must be careful, too.” She closed the door and walked slowly down the hallway, deep in thought. This latest murder would seem to exonerate Basil. He could hardly have committed the crime while he was working at the factory.
Whether or not he was responsible for Jimmy Taylor’s death remained to be seen, but that was not her concern right now. The murders were piling up at an alarming rate. Her immediate objective was to find this diabolical monster and halt his terrible rampage.

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