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?”