Herald Of Death

by Kate Kingsbury

  “I don’t blame you.” Cecily accepted the sherry with a smile. “A serial killer is not to be taken lightly. This man is extremely dangerous and unpredictable.”

  Collins raised his eyebrows at Samuel, who promptly ordered a mild and bitter. The publican stuck a pint mug under the spout of the beer barrel and pulled the brass-tipped handle. Watching the white foam rise halfway up the glass, he asked, “Do you have any ideas who might be behind all this?”

  “Not as yet.” Cecily sipped the sherry, closing her eyes as the dark liquid slid down her throat to warm her stomach. “I don’t suppose you’ve heard anything that might help?”

  “Sorry, Mrs. B. From what I’ve heard, and it isn’t much, there seems no reason for it all.” The publican switched the glass to another barrel and topped it up, allowing some of the foam to pour over the edges of the glass.

  Samuel got up to fetch it, nodding his thanks before taking his seat again.

  Collins poured a small glass of light ale and brought it over to the table. “All right if I join you?”

  “Oh, please do!” Cecily waved a hand at the empty chair.

  Sitting down, Collins murmured, “I might as well, seeing as the place is empty.” He glanced at Samuel. “How’s it looking out there?”

  “Slushy,” Samuel said, picking up his glass. “The carriage was all over the road.”

  “Well, at least it looks like it’s thawing fast.” He looked back at Cecily. “Good job, too, I reckon, seeing as how you have a hotel full of guests for Christmas.”

  “Indeed.” Cecily took another sip of the sherry. “I must say I’m most relieved to see the weather warming up. Now, if only I could find the Christmas Angel, my troubles would be over.”

  Collins nodded. “Bad business, that’s for sure. I heard that Harry Farnsworth bought it this morning. Nice chap, he was. I can’t imagine why anyone would want to do him in.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid that’s the whole point.” Cecily sighed. “It’s all very puzzling. I just can’t seem to pinpoint a motive for all this. It all seems so senseless. None of the victims have anything in common. They are young and old, married and unmarried. Two were known for their bad temper, the other two were gentle as lambs according to the people I spoke to, and they came from all walks of life. It’s quite the most challenging crime I’ve ever come across.”

  “Ah, but you have a great reputation for catching criminals, Mrs. B.” Collins raised his glass. “I have great faith in you. You’ll find him. I’m sure of it.”

  “Hear, hear!” Samuel said, raising his glass.

  Cecily stared at her sherry. “I’m not so sure. I have a horrible, hopeless feeling that this time a madman will go on killing innocent victims and there’s nothing anyone can do to stop him.” She looked up into Barry Collins’s worried face. “If that’s so, God help us all.”

  CHAPTER 12

  Panting and gasping for breath, Gertie stumbled up to the sleigh. Clive waited for her, clutching Lillian in his arms with James tugging at his coat.

  “Get in,” he said, as she reached him. It was an order, not a request. Normally Gertie would have told him what to do with his orders, but something in his voice scared her so much she scrambled up onto the seat without a word.

  Clive thrust Lillian onto her lap and picked up James, tossing him onto the other seat like a sack of grain. Before she could draw breath to protest, the janitor leapt up onto his seat and flicked the reins.

  Stamping its feet, the chestnut snorted, then took off, sending Gertie back against the cold leather seat. The jolt snapped her teeth on the tip of her tongue.

  Eyes watering, she yelled, “What the bloody hell is the matter with you? Why are you in so much of a blinking hurry?”

  Clive said something over his shoulder, but she couldn’t hear what he’d said. Lillian had started crying, and James was hanging over the edge of the sleigh, shouting at Clive to go faster.

  Gertie hugged Lillian closer and yelled at her son. “Sit back! You’ll fall out and break your bloody neck!”

  “No, I won’t!” Still hanging over the side, James turned his head to grin at her. Just then the sleigh hit a bump.

  Gertie cried out and clutched Lillian tighter as she felt her seat rise up in the air. Clive called out something, but at that moment the sleigh thumped down hard on the ground.

  Gertie looked around just in time to see James disappear over the side. She screamed, making Lillian yell louder.

  Clive shot a startled look over his shoulder and reined in the horse. The sleigh came to a sliding halt, and before it had stopped, Gertie was scrambling off it.

  She landed on her knees in the snow and struggled to her feet. Clive jumped down and came slipping and sliding toward her. Together they ran back to where a huddled heap lay on the side of the road.

  “James!” Gertie’s desperate cry scared the seagulls. They fluttered up from the beach, screeching their indignation as Gertie dropped to her son’s side.

  To her soaring relief he had his eyes open, and the moment he saw her he started crying-quiet sobs that tore at her heart. “Are you hurt, luvvy? Tell Mama where you hurt.”

  “My-my arm hurts!” His sobs grew louder.

  Clive bent down by her side and ran his hands over the boy. When he touched James’s right arm, the boy let out a scream. “It looks like it’s broken.” He looked at Gertie and she was shocked to see tears in his eyes. “I’m so very sorry.”

  Struggling against tears herself, she said roughly, “It’s not your fault. I told him not to hang over the side.” She shuddered as the wind whipped her scarf against her cheek. “What do we do now?”

  “Give me your scarf.” He unwound his own scarf and held out his hand for hers.

  She gave it to him, aware of her heart pounding in her chest. She couldn’t bear to see her little boy in so much pain. She would give anything to take his place. It was her fault. She should have been more strict with him. She was a rotten mother. Daisy would never have let this happen.

  Somehow Clive must have sensed what was going on in her tortured mind. He put an arm about her shoulders and hugged her against his big body. “Cheer up, luv. We’ll get him to the doctor and he’ll take care of him.”

  He let her go and turned to the boy. “Now, James, this is going to hurt a little, so I want you to be really, really brave, all right? Let’s show your mama what a brave boy you are.”

  James gave him a scared nod, tears still running down his cheeks.

  Gertie watched in awe as Clive eased the broken arm against her son’s chest and tied the two scarves tightly around him to hold it in place.

  Apart from a whimper or two, James hardly made a sound, though he couldn’t stop the tears from soaking the collar of his coat.

  Gertie ached to hold him, but she was afraid of hurting him more. Instead, she stood back and let Clive pick him up. Stepping carefully through the slushy snow, he carried the boy to the sleigh and sat him down next to his sister.

  Lillian was shivering and crying, and Gertie quickly scrambled onto the seat and put her arm around the little girl. Being careful not to touch her son’s injured arm, she hugged him close, and held on to them both as Clive drove the sleigh carefully down the path to the town below.

  Luckily, Dr. Prestwick was in his surgery when they arrived. He gave James some medicine to dull the pain and set the arm in a plaster cast-a procedure that seemed to take forever and made poor James cry out in pain. Gertie felt sick by the time it was all over.

  Dr. Prestwick assured her that the fracture was a simple one and that James would heal in time. “Thanks to Mr. Russell,” he added, as Gertie thanked him. “If he hadn’t bound the arm just the way he did, it might have been a different story.”

  Still drowsy from the medicine, James fell asleep on the ride back to the Pennyfoot. Anxious to get the children back to the comfort of their room, Gertie had little time to express her thanks.

  “I don’t know what I would have done if you
hadn’t been there,” she said, as Clive carried James down the kitchen steps. “You saved his life.”

  Clive shook his head. “It wasn’t that bad, though I know you must have been terrified. I feel responsible for what happened.”

  “Please, don’t.” She took James from him at the door. “It wasn’t your fault. James was being a bloody twerp and I wasn’t firm enough with him.”

  “Well, I hope his arm doesn’t give him too much pain.” He started to move away, then added, “I’m so sorry the afternoon turned out so badly. I know how much the twins were looking forward to the sleigh ride.”

  Gertie smiled. “It was a lovely sleigh ride. And your sleigh is beautiful. Thank you, Clive.”

  He looked at her for a long moment, making her feel self-conscious. “It was my pleasure, Gertie.” With a swift wave of his hand, he walked briskly away from her and up the stairs.

  It wasn’t until he disappeared that she realized she’d forgotten to ask him two things. One was about his past. The other was why he’d acted as if the devil was after him in the woods.

  Pansy dumped a pile of serviettes onto the nearest dining room table and grabbed up a silver serviette ring. Here was her one chance for doing something really exciting and old Chubby had to go and spoil it all. It wasn’t fair.

  She snatched up one of the white linen squares and rolled it into a thin sausage before shoving it through the ring. Throwing it down on the table, she was about to reach for another ring when Gertie’s voice spun her around.

  “Whatcha doing?”

  “What does it look like I’m doing?” Pansy waved the ring at her. “I’m playing Ring a Ring o’ Roses with the serviettes.”

  “All right, you don’t have to be cheeky. I was just asking.” Gertie walked over to the next table. “Here, give me some. I’ll help you.”

  Feeling sorry for snapping at her friend, Pansy handed over a pile of serviettes. “Did you have a nice sleigh ride?”

  “Yeah, we did.” Gertie gave her a sharp look. “You’re not cross with me because I took the time off, are you?”

  Pansy shook her head. “Sorry. I’m upset at Mrs. Chubb. She won’t let me help Doris with her costumes in the pantomime.”

  Gertie gasped. “Phoebe Fortescue asked you to help her?”

  Pansy turned to her, all her resentment flooding to the surface. “No, it was Doris what asked me! She said she needed help with her costumes and didn’t trust nobody else. She trusted me to help her, and now Mrs. Chubb says we’re too busy and she’d have to think about it. You know what that means. It means she’s not going to let me do it.” Pansy blinked back a tear. “And I want to do it! I really do!”

  “All right, all right, don’t get your flipping knickers in a twist.” Gertie started threading the rolled-up serviettes through the rings. “I’ll have a word with Chubby. We’ll find a way for you to do it.”

  “It’ll mean going to rehearsals. At least the dress rehearsals, as well as the pantomime.”

  “Leave it to me.” Gertie smiled at her. “Don’t worry. You know I can get around old Chubby.”

  Pansy sniffed. “Thank you, Gertie-you’re a real friend.” Feeling much better, she moved on to the next table. “So tell me what happened on the sleigh ride.”

  Gertie shrugged. “Not a lot. We went up to the woods to get some mistletoe, and James fell out of the sleigh and broke his arm.”

  Pansy paused, a serviette dangling from her fingers. “You’re joking.”

  “No, I’m not.” Gertie sighed. “It was awful, seeing him disappear over the side like that. I thought he was dead. Scared me to bloody death, I can tell you.”

  “Is he all right?”

  Gertie rolled up another serviette. “Well, he’s got a plaster cast on his arm. Solid as a rock, it is. He has to keep it on for weeks. That’ll bloody slow him down a bit. It will probably mean he won’t be in the pantomime.”

  “Oh, Gertie, I’m so sorry.” Pansy rushed over to give her friend a hug. “Poor James. I hope this doesn’t spoil Christmas for him.”

  Gertie snorted. “Once he sets eyes on what Clive is making for him he’ll forget all about his blinking arm.” She shook her head. “That man is so clever with his hands. Too bloody good he is to be working here.”

  Pansy gave her a sly smile. “You really like him, don’t you?”

  Gertie turned away with a careless shrug. “He’s all right. I don’t really know him, do I. I mean, just when I think I know him well, he goes and does something really strange. Like in the woods this afternoon. He acted as if he was really scared of something. Took off in the sleigh like a bleeding bat out of hell. We were going so fast we hit a bump and that’s when James went flying. Mind you, he was hanging out of the sleigh, so it wasn’t really Clive’s fault, but I never did find out why Clive had acted so strange.”

  Pansy put the serviette down on the right side of the place setting. “P’raps he was scared of the Christmas Angel.” She caught her breath, silently cursing the slip of her tongue.

  Gertie raised her head. “The who?”

  “Never mind. Forget I said anything.” Pansy hurriedly moved to the next table.

  Gertie walked over to her, her hands on her hips. “Tell me what you’re talking about.”

  “I shouldn’t have said nothing. Samuel told me not to say nothing to nobody.”

  “I’m not nobody.” Gertie leaned forward. “So bloody well tell me.”

  Pansy held out a moment or so longer, then gave in. It was only a matter of time before everyone knew, anyway. Samuel had said that himself. “The Christmas Angel. He’s going around Badgers End killing all sorts of people. He leaves golden angels on their foreheads and chops off lumps of their hair.”

  A loud gasp echoed across the room. Pansy swung around, just in time to get a glimpse of Lizzie’s terrified face before the maid rushed from the room.

  “Now you’ve gone and done it,” Gertie said, looking a little frightened herself. “It’ll be all over the Pennyfoot. You’d better tell me the rest of it.”

  Pansy shivered. “I don’t know any more than that. Madam and Samuel have been going around asking questions, but Samuel says nobody knows why he’s killing people. They think he’s loony and just does it because he feels like it.”

  Gertie’s face had turned pale. “Where is he killing people? Not here in the hotel?”

  Pansy felt sick. “No, no, not here. All over Badgers End. Remember Jimmy, the dairy farm boy?”

  Gertie nodded.

  “Well, it were the Christmas Angel what killed him. He killed a shoemaker and a farmer as well.”

  Gertie looked as if she was about to cry. “I don’t believe it.”

  “Well, it’s true. Samuel wouldn’t joke about a thing like that. Ask him yourself.”

  “Does Chubby know?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Well, we’d better tell her, before Lizzie spreads it all over the Pennyfoot. Maybe we can stop her. Come on!”

  Gertie sped across the room to the door, and Pansy followed, certain now that she’d never get the chance to help Doris in the pantomime. Mrs. Chubb was never going to forgive her for spreading the word about the Christmas Angel.

  Worse, Samuel was going to be really cross with her, too. This was turning out to be a horrible Christmas season.

  Cecily arrived back at the Pennyfoot to find the entire place in an uproar. The lobby was full of young women and a half dozen children all milling about, some crying, some shouting, and all of them acting as if the world were about to come to an end.

  Spying one woman huddled on the staircase, clinging to a banister, Cecily hurried over to her. “Mabel! Whatever has happened? Has someone been hurt?” Don’t let it be Phoebe, she prayed silently, as the frightened woman stared up at her.

  Mabel let go of the banister and clutched Cecily’s skirt. Loud enough for the entire population of Badgers End to hear, she yelled, “There’s a madman loose in the village! He’s going around ch
opping off people’s heads!”

  Loud screams greeted her words, adding to the chaos in the lobby. Cecily rolled her eyes at the ceiling, then waded into the hysterical crowd, searching for someone, anyone, who could help her restore order.

  As if in answer to her thoughts, a bellow erupted from the stairs, quieting the frightened women. “What the blue blazes is going on here?”

  A few whimpers answered, but Baxter put an end to that with a raised hand. “Silence! This is a respectful country club. I will not tolerate such raucous behavior. You will leave the premises immediately. All of you.”

  Cries of fear greeted his command and Cecily sped back to the stairs. Bounding up them to stand by his side, she called out, “Quiet, everyone. I have something important to say.”

  It took a few moments of grumblings and whimpering before the group fell silent. Cecily made an effort to sound calm and confident. “Please, listen to me. The person they are calling the Christmas Angel is not chopping off people’s heads, I can assure you. Neither is he running around killing off everyone he sees. It is true one or two men have died recently, but at the moment we have no way of knowing who killed them or why. In any case, no women have been killed, so none of you has cause to worry. You can go home now. You will all be perfectly safe, I promise you.”

  Praying that was true, she watched the women file fearfully out of the door.

  Baxter said nothing until the door had closed behind the last performer. “You managed to calm them down. Well-done,” he said, rubbing his fingers across is brow. “That caterwauling was giving me a blasted headache.”

  Cecily followed him up the stairs. “How did they find out about the murders?”

  “I don’t know. I had just arrived home and was reading when I heard the racket below and came down to see what was going on. I was surprised to see you in their midst.”