Herald Of Death

by Kate Kingsbury

  “Nonsense, Samuel.” Cecily gently pried his fingers from her arm. “Nothing is going to happen to me in a shop full of customers.”

  “If this bloke is as evil as you say, anything could happen to you.”

  “Piffle. I will be quite all right. Just wait here for me. I find that people are more forthcoming when alone with someone. If I’m to trick Mr. Salt into incriminating himself I need his full confidence.”

  Samuel still looked defiant. “If he’s that clever, he’s not going to say anything that will give him away.”

  Cecily smiled. “Quite the contrary, Samuel. People such as Lester Salt are full of their own importance. Sooner or later he will say something that will give me the answers I need.”

  “Well, if you say so, m’m. I don’t have to like it, though.”

  She patted his shoulder. “I shan’t be long.”

  Fighting down her own doubts, she hurried into the shop, where one of Lester’s assistants bounded forward to greet her. Before she could make her request, however, the abrasive voice of Lester Salt silenced her.

  “Mrs. Baxter! How good to see you. How can we help you today?”

  He stood in front of the curtain that led to the parlor, impeccably dressed as always, though a persistent lock of hair hung over his forehead, and his mustache looked somewhat bedraggled.

  “I’m here to purchase slippers for my husband.” Cecily looked around at the shelves. “I’d also like a pair for my stable manager.”

  Lester rubbed his hands together. He seemed in a particularly good mood as he marched forward. “Yes, yes, of course. No need to stand about here, however. Come back into my parlor and I’ll show you our incredible selection of slippers. I’m sure we can find exactly what you want.”

  Now that the moment was at hand, the last thing Cecily wanted was to be alone in the parlor with this man. There didn’t seem to be any other way, however, to have the conversation she needed to have with him.

  Swallowing her fear, she managed a smile. “Thank you. I appreciate your kindness.”

  “My pleasure, Mrs. Baxter.” He turned to the hovering assistant. “Nathan! Fetch the lady all the slippers you can find and bring them to the parlor.” With that, he grasped Cecily’s arm with firm fingers and propelled her through the curtain and down the hallway to the parlor.

  “Can I offer you some tea?” he asked, as she reluctantly seated herself by the fire.

  “Thank you, no.” She glanced at the clock over the fireplace. “I have another appointment shortly so I really can’t linger too long.”

  “Ah, I understand.” He took the chair opposite her and sat down, leaning forward to ask, “I suppose the Pennyfoot will be filled with guests for Christmas?”

  “Yes, indeed. We usually have a full house for the season.” She glanced at the table next to her. The book was still there and she picked it up. “Tales of a Mystic! I don’t think I’ve heard of this. Is it a good book?”

  Lester smiled. “An excellent book. I highly recommend it. It’s the story of a poor lad who stowed away on a ship in search of the true meaning of religion. Very enlightening and provocative.”

  Cecily stared at him. “Religion?”

  He seemed puzzled by her reaction. “Ah… yes. It’s an interest of mine.”

  She put the book down, her mind in a whirl. Of course. Mysticism. It could mean so many things. She had jumped to the wrong conclusion and her main theory had just flown out the window.

  Obviously unsettled by her silence, Lester leaned forward. “Is everything all right, Mrs. Baxter? You’re not feeling ill, I trust?”

  Shaking her head, she struggled to get her thoughts together. “I’m feeling quite well, thank you.” For want of a way to change the subject, she gestured at the empty corner of the room. “I don’t see Rex anywhere. I hope he’s in good health?”

  Lester seemed preoccupied. “Rex? Oh, he was getting to be a nuisance. He was always in the way, wanting to be stroked or to be let out on the street. I took him over to Caroline Blanchard’s house. She collects strays, you know.”

  So that was why the dog in Caroline’s home had seemed familiar. “Yes,” she murmured, “I know Caroline quite well.”

  Lester pulled a face. “Well, forgive me for saying so, but that woman is the most unsociable snob I have ever come across. She treats animals like people and people like animals.”

  If he hadn’t been so vehement in his disgust, Cecily would have smiled at the rather apt description of her seamstress.

  “Still, she’s very good at handling the dogs. Caroline is quite the fanatic when it comes to her animals. She can’t bear to see them in pain. It’s almost as if she feels their agony herself.”

  He gazed at the corner with a soulful expression, as if he missed the dog. “Yes, indeed. Rex will be well taken care of there. Funny thing about dogs. Old Thomas was cruel in his treatment of Rex, but Caroline told me the dog refused to leave the old man’s side when he died. Just sat there and howled. Sad, really.”

  Cecily’s throat closed up, forcing her to cough. For a moment she fought to get her breath while Lester Salt watched her in concern.

  “Would you like a cup of tea?” he asked, dragging a handkerchief out of his pocket to offer her.

  She shook her head. “Thank you,” she said hoarsely. “It’s just a tickle in my throat.” She glanced at the door, wishing Nathan would get there with the slippers.

  “Well, if you’re sure.” Lester leaned back. “I don’t suppose you have any news of the Christmas Angel? I would dearly love to see the brute who killed dear Thomas brought to justice and punished.”

  Cecily swallowed hard. “No news yet, but we are getting close.”

  “Oh? You have a suspect?”

  “Perhaps.” She shifted on her chair, uncomfortable with the intense look on his face.

  “Is it someone in the village?”

  “I can’t be sure at this point, but I hope to bring the case to a close very soon.” To her relief, Nathan appeared just then, his arms clutching what looked like dozens of slippers.

  Cecily pretended to study the styles, then hurriedly picked out the pairs she thought would fit and gave them to Nathan to wrap. After paying for her purchases, she bid a hasty farewell to a confused Lester Salt and walked briskly over to the carriage.

  Samuel just about leapt on her as she approached. “I was worried,” he said, as he helped her into the carriage. “You were gone so long.”

  She dumped her packages onto the seat. “We have a change of plan, Samuel. Take me to Mrs. Prestwick’s house and please hurry.”

  Samuel’s face creased in worry. “You found out Lester Salt is the Christmas Angel.”

  “Not exactly. I will explain once we get to Mrs. Prestwick’s house. Hurry, Samuel. We don’t have much time.”

  “Yes, m’m.”

  Samuel hurriedly slammed the door shut before she was properly settled. Her thoughts in a turmoil, she leaned back, her mind working feverishly. How could she have missed it? It was right there in front of her all the time.

  There was only one way to resolve this. It would mean putting them all in danger, but if her plan worked out, it should all be well in the end.

  Now all she needed was for Madeline to help her. It would be asking a lot of her friend, but with everything that was at stake, she was sure Madeline would agree.

  “Where did you go?” Pansy demanded when Gertie dashed into the dining room. “Mrs. Chubb will have a fit if we don’t get all these dishes down to the kitchen. We won’t have time to get them washed and dried in time for the next meal at this rate.”

  “Sorry. I had to talk to Clive for a moment.”

  Pansy immediately brightened. “What for?”

  “Never you mind.”

  “Did you give him the wicks last night?”

  “Yes,” Gertie said, as she hauled the pile of tablecloths into a basket. “I gave them to him.”

  Pansy waited in vain for the rest of the story.
When Gertie didn’t elaborate, she prompted her with an impatient, “Well?”

  “Well, what?”

  “And?”

  “And, what?” Gertie nodded at the cupboard. “We need those serviettes, too.”

  Frustrated, Pansy pulled the serviettes down from the shelf. “Didn’t he say anything?”

  “Who?”

  Now she was getting annoyed. “You know who. Clive.”

  “Oh, him. Yeah. He said thank you.”

  Pansy uttered a sigh of exasperation. “Is that all?”

  Gertie frowned. “What was he supposed to say?”

  Throwing caution to the wind, Pansy flung the serviettes in the basket. “Don’t you even know he likes you?”

  Gertie picked up the basket and settled it on her hip. “Yeah, I know. I like him, too. So bloody what?”

  “No, I mean like you. Like he’s in love with you.”

  Gertie uttered a scornful laugh. “You’ve got your head too bloody full of Samuel, that’s what. Clive and I are just friends, that’s all. That’s all we want to be, so don’t go thinking there’s anything else to it, all right?”

  She barged out of the room, shoving the door open with her elbow. Pansy followed, shaking her head. She knew Gertie. She knew all that blustering was to cover up what she was truly feeling and thinking.

  It was going to take a lot longer than she’d thought to get those two together, but if Gertie thought she was going to give up this easily, then her friend was mistaken. Clive and Gertie were perfect for each other, and if it took Pansy Watson to prove it to them, then so be it.

  Someday she would think of the right plan. A foolproof plan. Maybe she’d ask Samuel to help her. The thought brightened her considerably, and her step was light as she made her way back to the kitchen.

  Cecily was relieved to find Madeline alone with her baby when she and Samuel arrived there. The doctor, it seemed, was on his rounds.

  “He won’t be home until suppertime,” Madeline said, laying Angelina down in her cot. “I’m putting a joint of roast beef in the oven. That man has a voracious appetite for someone so slender.”

  Cecily offered the baby her thumb, and smiled when Angelina grasped it with tiny fingers. “Kevin works a long day.”

  “Yes, he does.” Madeline walked over to the settee and sat down.

  Cecily sat down next to her, and beckoned Samuel to take one of the armchairs. “I’m glad he’s not here. There’s something I need to talk to you about and…”

  “It’s something he shouldn’t hear.”

  Cecily sighed. “I know he doesn’t believe in your powers, or agree with your methods of healing. It must be so hard to keep such an important part of your life separate from him.”

  Madeline tilted her head on one side. “You came here to talk about my husband?”

  “No, of course not.” Cecily hesitated, then added, “It was the way he looked at you when you left the other night. After you told us that Colonel Fortescue was in the woods. I worried there might be repercussions from that.”

  Madeline smiled. “No, Kevin didn’t say a word. Would it have made a difference if he had?”

  “Perhaps. I sometimes feel that I cause contention between the two of you by relying on your powers so much.”

  “Oh, bosh!” Madeline flapped a hand at her. “Kevin knew about my interest in healing herbs and potions long before he asked me to marry him. We may not always see eye to eye on matters of medicine, but it’s not a huge conflict between us.”

  “But what about… you know… the trances and other things like that?”

  Madeline pursed her lips. “Ah well, the less he knows about that, the better. So far he has seen only glimpses of what I can do, and that’s the way I hope to keep it.”

  “Well, I certainly shan’t enlighten him.” Cecily stretched out her feet and studied her boots.

  “Is that what you want from me now? I told you I can’t see much beyond the darkness when I try to see the Christmas Angel.”

  “No, it’s not that.” Cecily looked up. “I think I have found the link between the murders.” She paused, then added, “Madeline, you mentioned the other day that there are certain spells associated with locks of hair from the deceased.”

  Madeline sent a swift look at Samuel before answering. “I did.”

  “It’s all right,” Cecily said. “Samuel knows all about this. He’s here to help.”

  “I don’t know everything,” Samuel said, looking worried.

  “I’m coming to that.” Cecily turned back to her friend. “Is there, by any chance, a ritual that involves burning the hair?”

  The loud tick of a clock was the only sound in the room for several moments. Then Angelina stirred and whimpered, and Madeline got up. She bent over the cot, settling her daughter again before returning to the couch.

  “Yes, there is. The hair is burned to ensure that the soul goes to hell.”

  Cecily drew in a sharp breath. “Ah, I thought it might be something like that. One more thing. I saw a strange carving the other day. It looked like a wagon wheel, with gems at the end of each spoke. The jewels were in the shape of cats. Does that sound significant to you?”

  Madeline raised her eyebrows. “Where did you see this?”

  “In my suspect’s house.”

  “Then I’d say your suspect is engaged in some kind of occult activity. The wheel, or ring, is the major symbol. It protects everything inside it and can represent many things-woman, the circle of life, the wheel of fortune among others. The cat jewels are also protection, and can also represent prophecy, and the granting of wishes.”

  “As I expected.” Cecily shook her head. “I don’t know how I could have been so blind.” She leaned forward. “Madeline, I have something to ask of you. I would not involve you unless it were imperative that I do so. We need your help to bring to justice a particularly dangerous adversary. This is what we have to do.” Quickly she outlined her plan.

  Madeline’s gaze probed her face. “You know who is behind the murders.”

  “I think I do. I hope to know for certain in a short while. Will you help us?”

  Madeline’s gaze strayed to her baby. “If it were anyone else asking me, I would most likely have to decline. I know, however, that you would not ask if there was any other way. Don’t worry, Cecily. Together we will defeat the Christmas Angel.”

  “It is a risky venture,” Cecily admitted, “but if we are all alert and on our toes I think we can bring this to a satisfactory conclusion.”

  “It would seem so.” Again Madeline glanced at the cot. “I will have her nanny take Angelina over to her mother’s house until it is safe to bring her home.”

  “That’s a good idea.” Cecily rose, prompting Samuel to jump to his feet. “Let us hope that this will soon be over.”

  “I certainly hope so.” Madeline led them to the door. “We must be very careful, Cecily. This is a devious killer and a desperate one. There is nothing more dangerous.”

  Cecily hugged her friend. “If all goes well, if we do this right, the villagers will sleep easier in their beds tonight.”

  “Then let’s pray all goes well.”

  That was all she was praying for, Cecily thought, as she stepped out into cold wind. For if things went badly, who knew what might happen.

  Samuel followed her to the carriage, saying nothing until he handed her up onto her seat. “You think Caroline Blanchard is the Christmas Angel?”

  Watching his face, Cecily felt sorry for him. “I’m afraid I do, Samuel. We will know for certain later this afternoon, but first we have to set the trap. Fetching my gown will give me the perfect excuse.”

  “But how… why… I don’t understand.”

  Cecily nodded. “Neither did I until this morning. Let’s hurry, Samuel. If this is going to work, we have to time it just right.”

  “Yes, m’m.” Looking shaken, Samuel slammed the door shut and climbed up onto his seat.

  Cecily leaned back, fee
ling worried. Everything depended on Samuel behaving as naturally as possible. Knowing how her manager had felt about Caroline, she hoped he was able to control his emotions.

  Caroline seemed flustered when she opened the door. “Oh, Mrs. Baxter! Your gown is not quite ready! I have been quite busy lately. I was hoping to bring it over to you tomorrow.”

  “Oh, dear.” Cecily stepped over the threshold, forcing the other woman to back away. “I was under the impression it would be ready today. Since I was passing by, I thought I would save you a journey to the Pennyfoot and pick it up myself.”

  “That’s very kind of you, I’m sure, but-”

  Cecily motioned to Samuel to follow her, though it was hardly necessary since her stable manager was practically falling over himself to get inside the door. “I’m sure there can’t be much more to do with the gown. We don’t mind waiting while you finish up on it, do we, Samuel.”

  Samuel cleared his throat and in an unnaturally loud voice, said, “No, no, not at all.”

  Caroline shot a look over her shoulder. “Well, I really wasn’t expecting company. The animals, you know. They’re all in the sitting room and I haven’t really had time to look in on them and make sure they’ve been behaving themselves, if you know what I mean.”

  Cecily did know, and didn’t relish the prospect of walking in on a room reeking of cat urine. She made an effort to sound indifferent, however, when she answered. “Please, don’t fuss. We understand and we’ll be quite comfortable.”

  Samuel’s expression contradicted her words, but she signaled him with a quick frown that she hoped he’d interpret.

  Caroline looked none too pleased, but she led them to the sitting room and opened the door. “Can I fetch you a cup of tea?”

  “Thank you, no.” Cecily smiled at her. “If you would finish the gown right away, I’ll be happy to pay you a little extra for your effort.”

  “Then I shall see to it right away.” After one more doubtful look at both of them, she sped off in the direction of her sewing room.

  “Better let me go first.” Samuel stepped into the room and looked around. He sounded relieved when he added, “Looks clean enough to me, m’m, though it smells a bit.”