Herald Of Death

by Kate Kingsbury

  “Oh, Doris, this is such a delight. It’s always so lovely to see you. Where is your husband? I’m dying to meet him. And little Essie.” Cecily waved a hand at the stairs. “I was just up at your room and I heard her when your nanny answered the door, but I didn’t like to disturb them without seeing you first.”

  Doris looked anxious. “Was she crying? She cries a lot when I’m not there.”

  Avoiding a direct answer, Cecily murmured, “Your nanny seems very capable. It’s probably just a phase the child is going through.”

  Doris sighed. “She seems to have a lot of phases. Daisy offered to take care of her, but she has her hands full with the twins, and Essie isn’t used to her. Besides, what would Adelaide do all day without Essie to look after?”

  “What, indeed.” Cecily glanced at the grandfather clock. “In fact, you should be spending this time with your family instead of performing just to please Phoebe. I’m most annoyed with her for demanding such an obligation from you. Shame on her.”

  Doris laughed. “It’s quite all right, m’m, honestly. I’m really enjoying being onstage again. I haven’t done any singing since I got married and I do miss it.”

  “But what about your husband? How does he feel about it?”

  Doris shrugged. “Well, to tell the truth, he wasn’t all that happy about it at first. I think he was afraid that I’d have such a good time I’d want to go back to it. I couldn’t do that, of course. Not now. Once I told him that, he was all right with it.”

  “Well, as long as you don’t mind. As for Daisy, I think she’d enjoy taking care of Essie now and then, if you wanted to give your nanny a little time to herself. Daisy is wonderful with the twins. I’m sure she could handle Essie beautifully.”

  Doris nodded. “Maybe I will. You’re right, m’m. Daisy is good with children. I told her she should have some of her own instead of taking care of other people’s children.”

  Cecily smiled. “Don’t let Gertie hear you say that. I don’t know what she’d do without Daisy.”

  “Oh, Daisy would never leave the twins, m’m. I really think that if she were to get married, she’d want to take them with her.”

  Cecily was still smiling about that as she made her way to the ballroom.

  There was no sign of Phoebe when she entered, but Madeline was over by the windows, perched on a ladder high enough to make Cecily’s blood run cold.

  “What are you doing?” She sped over to the ladder, hands outstretched. “Why aren’t the footmen doing that for you?”

  Madeline turned her head to look down at her, her arms full of red velvet ribbons. “The footmen don’t know the difference between a bow and a loop, that’s why.” She tilted her head to one side. “You seem tense, my friend.”

  “Tense? I’m practically rigid. Do come down from there before you hurt yourself.”

  Madeline’s melodious laugh echoed up to the ceiling. “You know me better than that, Cecily dear. I can take good care of myself. Nevertheless, since it disturbs you so much, I’ll come down. I’m just about finished here, anyway.”

  She leaned back to survey the gold and silver garlands she’d strung above the tall windows and looped all the way across the balconies.

  “It looks marvelous,” Cecily declared. “Absolutely perfect. Now come down and I’ll have the footmen put up the bows tomorrow.”

  Madeline descended the ladder far too swiftly in Cecily’s opinion and landed lightly on her feet at the bottom. “I have to gather holly and mistletoe from the woods in the next day or two. Kevin can bring them here in the carriage before he goes on his rounds.”

  “I could have Samuel take you, if you’d prefer.” Cecily took the ribbons from her and laid them on a nearby table. “Just tell me when you want to go.”

  “That would be wonderful, thank you. I hate asking Kevin when he’s so busy. This cold weather has filled his surgery with patients.” Madeline gave her a sharp, intense scrutiny. “Something else has happened, hasn’t it. Another victim of the Christmas Angel.”

  Her friend’s remarkable ability to read her mind never failed to impress Cecily. “Yes, I’m afraid you’re right.” She went on to recount her visit to the Mackerbee farm.

  “Everything seems to come back to Basil Baker,” Cecily added, as Madeline wound the ribbons up into balls and fitted them into a basket. “Yet everyone I talk to insists that he simply isn’t capable of murder.”

  “And what do you think?”

  Cecily picked up a ribbon and began winding it. “I don’t know what to think. I do know that given enough incentive, we are all capable of taking another’s life. But these seem such senseless, cold-blooded killings. I just can’t imagine the young man I spoke with being responsible for such evil.”

  “What I find most disturbing is the locks of hair being taken from the victims.” Madeline took the ribbon ball from her and placed it in the basket. “It suggests that our killer is dabbling in the occult. There are certain… rituals that can be performed with locks of hair belonging to the deceased.”

  Cecily felt a chill. “Such as?”

  “Well, there are fortunate ones, such as passing on inherited talents to the descendants, and there are evil ones, such as sending souls to the devil.”

  “You think our killer is performing one of these rituals?”

  Madeline shrugged. “I can’t think of any other reason why he would take a lock of hair from all of his victims.”

  “He could simply be trying to confuse everyone into thinking the murders were committed by an evil spirit or something.”

  “He could. On the other hand, the murders could have really been committed by someone in league with an evil spirit.”

  Cecily shivered. “If that’s so, I am at a distinct disadvantage.”

  Madeline paused, one long ribbon dangling from her hand. “Whoever your killer is, Cecily, be warned. There is a diabolical mind behind these acts of violence, and such hatred has destroyed all reason. I beg you, be careful.”

  “I shall, never fear.” Shaking off a surge of apprehension, Cecily smiled. “Now come, share a glass of sherry with me before you go out in the cold. I’ll have one of the footmen take you home.”

  “No need.” Madeline packed the last ribbon away and shut the lid on the basket. “Kevin is stopping by to fetch me. He should be here any minute.”

  “Oh, good.” Cecily led the way to the door, pausing to admire the golden garlands and silver bells hanging above the stage. “I would like a word with him, if he has time.”

  “He always has time for you, my dear.”

  Something in the way she said it made Cecily wonder if her friend knew that at one time, Dr. Kevin Prestwick had paid a great deal of attention to Cecily.

  That was long before he’d married Madeline, of course, and even he must have forgotten about it by now. The one person who hadn’t forgotten was Baxter. He always acted somewhat antagonistic when in the presence of the good doctor, yet whenever Kevin needed help, Baxter was always the first one there to offer it to him.

  As it was, Kevin was talking to Baxter in the foyer when she and Madeline arrived there.

  “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?”
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  “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.”