Cecily looked relieved as she walked into the kitchen. “Ian, I’m so glad to see you. I saw you arrive from my window. I hope you managed to satisfy the police?”
“For the time being, mum. I’ll be glad when they find the one what’s doing all this, though. Makes me nervous, police stations do. For a bit there I was afraid they was going to lock me up.”
Cecily nodded. “I’m sure it must have been upsetting. Did you see Madeline while you were there?”
“Yes, mum, I did. They let her go, too. They took her back to her cottage before they dropped me off. Said they didn’t have enough evidence to hold either of us.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Cecily said.
“So am I, mum,” Gertie said fervently. “I was really, really worried, I was.”
“Yes, well, we all were.” Cecily sighed. “But it’s not over yet, by any means, I’m afraid. Until they find the person responsible for these dreadful murders, both you and Madeline will be under suspicion.”
“I know, mum,” Ian said gloomily. “They more or less told us that. Things don’t look very good for me, I can tell you, what with that detective looking for me. Though no one seems to know why he wanted to see me.”
Cecily looked at him in surprise. “Detective? What detective?”
“Oh, you don’t know about that, do you?” Ian shoved his hands in his pockets and sent a quick glance over at Gertie. “The last bloke what died, Ted Sparks? He wasn’t a reporter at all. He was a private detective working on a case, from what the police can make out. Though they can’t figure out what. They’re working on it in London now.”
Intrigued by this news, Cecily said urgently, “Think, Ian. You are positive you can’t think of a single reason why a London detective should be looking for you?”
Ian looked down at his feet and shuffled from side to side. “No, mum. Can’t think of a single reason.”
“And you are positive there is no possible connection between you and the first two men who died? Is it possible the detective wanted to ask you about them? Something you might have known about them that could be useful to him?”
Ian frowned. “Can’t think of anything, mum. Except that me and Bickley and Donaldson all looked a bit alike. Used to call us the terrible triplets, they did. I never saw it, but some people said we looked like brothers. I think it was just because we all worked together. ’Course, we did all have dark hair and dark eyes, like, and we had the same kind of bodies, not like those big bruisers with all the muscles.”
“I like your body,” Gertie said stoutly. She then turned a bright shade of red and hastily went back to washing the dishes with a great deal of splashing.
Even Ian looked uncomfortable until Cecily smiled. “But you say you never associated with the men after work?” she asked.
“No, mum, never. Like I said, we was on different sides of the fence.”
Sending a look of apology at Gertie, Cecily said quietly, “They weren’t involved in the smuggling with you and Mr. Scroggins?”
Ian’s face registered shock. He shot a startled look at Gertie, who stared back at him in helpless abjection. “Strewth, Gertie,” he muttered.
“It wasn’t Gertie’s fault,” Cecily said. “I made her tell me. She was extremely upset and worried about you, and it was obvious she was keeping something from us. I insisted that she tell me what it was.”
“That’s the truth, Ian,” Gertie said miserably. “Honest.”
Ian shrugged. “Well, I’m not doing it anymore, am I. Haven’t been out with Dick since I got the job at the lighthouse. None of the blokes on the project know about the smuggling. I’d stake me life on it. Dick won’t have nothing to do with any of ’em.”
“And what about Louise Atkins?” Cecily asked, watching Ian’s face carefully. “Did you know her before she came to Badgers End?”
Ian’s eyes widened in astonishment. “The new woman at Dolly’s? Never saw her before in me life. What’s she got to do with all this?”
“Probably nothing,” Cecily said, satisfied with his reaction. “Except for one thing. The three men who died all came down to Badgers End recently from London. So did Louise Atkins.”
Ian shook his head. “Yeah, so they did. But what’s that got to do with me? I’ve been down here a year nearly.”
“So you have, Ian, so you have.” Cecily turned to go, then
paused at the door to look back at him. “But you were living in London before then, were you not?”
Ian nodded. “Yes, mum. All me life.”
“That’s what makes me think,” Cecily said as she stepped into the hall, “that whatever the connection is, it began in London.”
She left Ian standing still, staring after her.
A little while later, Cecily came across Baxter. He stood by the French doors in the ballroom, deep in conversation with John Thimble, the gardener. As she approached them, Baxter cleared his throat loudly, and John abruptly cut off whatever he was saying.
Cecily had the distinct feeling that they didn’t wish her to know the subject of their discussion, but she had too much on her mind to worry much about it.
The gardener touched a forelock of his white hair, then, mumbling that he had to get back to work, ambled through the glass doors and closed them behind him.
“I want to talk to you,” Cecily said, deciding the empty ballroom was as good a place as any in which to hold a conversation. “Ian has returned from the police station.”
Baxter nodded. “And Miss Pengrath?”
“Madeline is home also.”
“I’m sure that must be a great relief for you, madam.”
“It is, Baxter, indeed it is. But Ian had something very interesting to tell me. The third man who died, Ted Sparks, wasn’t a reporter at all. He was a London detective working on a case. Though Ian insists he has no idea why a detective should be looking for him. What do you think about that, Baxter?”
She looked up at him, disturbed by his grave expression. “I think, madam, that it’s likely the detective was investigating the death of the two men. Undoubtedly that was the reason he was killed.”
“Yes, I thought you might come to that conclusion.”
“If I am right, that would mean that you could be in considerable danger yourself.”
“I realize that, Bax, but I’ve come too far with this to give
it up now. I can hardly go to the inspector with everything I know.”
“As I’ve said before, madam, it would have been better if you had let things alone.”
“Piffle. The police would never have worked out the dart thing. It was only by chance that Colonel Fortescue mentioned it to me.”
“You don’t know yet if that theory is correct.”
Cecily smiled up at him. “It’s the only thing that makes sense, Baxter. Mark my words, Dr. McDuff will find a puncture wound in the body of Ted Sparks, or my name is not Cecily Sinclair.”
The following morning brought fresh rain and a capricious breeze that whipped Cecily’s skirt around her ankles as she made her way down the hotel steps to the trap. Sniffing the salty air, she waited while Samuel raised the hood, then climbed in beneath it.
“Dr. McDuff’s surgery first, please,” she told Samuel. “I shan’t be but a minute there, then I need you to take me to Dolly’s Tea Shop.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Samuel said, touching his cap. He flicked his whip, and they were off.
The windswept streets looked so forlorn in the rain, Cecily thought as they rounded the curve to the High Street. How much nicer the village looked when it basked under a warm summer sun.
The trap jogged past St. Bartholomew’s, the gray walls of the church looking somber beneath the shade of the chestnut trees. A sharp pang of nostalgia caught Cecily unawares, and she turned her thoughts quickly to the task at hand.
Everything depended on the doctor’s findings, of course, but if she was right, she wanted very much to talk to Dolly about her new assistant.
Cecily could hardly contain her excitement when she arrived at the surgery. Dr. McDuff was with a patient, and she waited in a fever of anxiety until he was free to talk to
her. She could tell by his face that he had the news she expected to hear.
“You were right, lassie. It’s no wonder I missed it before, especially since I wasn’t looking for it. But it was there, just behind his right ear. The murderer knew exactly what to do. The dart hit him from behind.”
“I knew it.” Feeling very pleased with herself, she said, “I am quite sure the other two men must have died the same way. Does that suggest the poison could be curare?”
“It certainly would appear to be, judging from what information I could find on it. There’s only one problem, as far as I can see.”
Cecily’s smile faded. “And what is that?”
“The puncture wasn’t made by a dart like the ones used with a dart board. It was something much lighter, smaller, thinner, just a splinter, I would say.”
Cecily caught her breath. “Like a piece of bamboo?”
The doctor peered at her from under his shaggy brows. “Exactly. If you remember, Donaldson died in front of several witnesses, yet no one reported seeing a dart lying on the ground. A tiny splinter of wood would blow away in the wind.”
“That’s it,” Cecily whispered. “Dr. McDuff, I know you have to pass this information on to the inspector, but I would be most grateful if you would not mention my part in it.”
“Of course, lassie. You can depend on it.”
“Thank you.” Cecily rose and gathered up her cape. “I think I shall go to Dolly’s and have a nice cup of tea.”
The doctor took the cape from her and slipped it around her shoulders. “Be careful, lass. Don’t be taking any chances now. This is a nasty business, and I don’t want to see you hurt. Leave it to the police. They will work it all out, no doubt.”
Ah, Cecily thought as she climbed up into the trap, but will they work out the solution in time? Ian’s name was on that list, and she had the dreadful feeling that if she didn’t put a stop to the murderer’s game, whatever it was, Ian could be the next one to turn blue.
* * *
Cecily felt perfectly safe walking into the tea shop later, since Louise had told her it was her day off. The rain had brought a steady influx of customers to the tearoom, and Dolly was rushed off her feet, but eventually she found a few minutes to greet Cecily, who sat at her favorite corner table.
“Come and sit with me for a minute or two,” Cecily said, watching all but two of the customers finally leave. “I haven’t had a chance to chat with you in such a long time.”
Dolly glanced around the room, then nodded. “Don’t mind if I do. It feels good to take the weight off me feet for a minute.”
She plunked herself down on the chair, overlapping it on both sides. Jamming her elbows on the table, she said cheerfully, “You are looking so much better, Cecily. Good to see you smile again.”
“I am feeling much better, thank you.” Cecily finished her tea and set down the cup. “I can see that business has improved for you, too.”
“Yeah, that lighthouse project has really made a difference. I’m going to miss them all when they go back, as will most of the businesses in town. Especially the George.” Dolly looked over her shoulder in case anyone was within earshot. “Not doing so good down there now, though, since that last one copped it. People are afraid to eat down there, so I heard. That’s probably why I’ve been so busy.”
Cecily nodded. “Good thing you have Louise to help you out. She seems very efficient.”
“My lucky day that was, when she came down here.” Dolly leaned forward and dropped her voice. “Tragic for her, though, it was. That poor woman has had more than her share, I can tell you.”
Cecily tried to hide her avid interest. “Oh? I’m so sorry to hear that. I understand she lost her husband some years ago.”
“Yeah, she did.” Dolly licked her lips, prepared to indulge
in her favorite hobby. She considered the day a waste if she didn’t exchange at least one piece of juicy gossip.
“She told me all about it, one night after we closed up. Gave her a shot of my gin, I did. ’Cause she seemed so depressed. Must have loosened her tongue.”
It was more like Dolly’s expert questioning that had loosened the woman’s tongue, Cecily thought.
“Anyway,” Dolly went on, “Louise’s only child lost her husband in all that fighting in Africa. Carrying her first baby, she was. She nearly lost it, so Louise said, and spent weeks in bed. Then what do you think? The poor girl died having the baby. After all that.” Dolly shook her head in pity. “Anyway, Louise ends up having to take care of the little girl. Then Louise’s husband goes and dies in the tropics. Working on a science project, he was. Caught some terrible disease. Poor Louise, all she had left of her whole family was that granddaughter. Brought her up, she did.”
Cecily, listening intently, nodded in sympathy. “It must have been dreadfully difficult for her.”
“Oh, it was,” Dolly said, “it was. But that’s not the end of it. Oh, dear no. Something much worse happened after that.”
Cecily waited, knowing that Dolly would finish the story even if the tearoom were burning down.
“Well,” Dolly said, settling herself more comfortably on the chair, “this granddaughter, see, she meets a chap and falls in love with him. Only he weren’t no good. Got her in the family way, then took off. Poor girl was so miserable and ashamed, she went and killed herself. Left a note, she did. Said she was doing the best thing for everyone.” Dolly looked down at the tablecloth and heaved a tremendous sigh. “Weren’t the best thing for Louise, of course. Near on broke her heart. She couldn’t stand to be around London after that. So she hopped it down here. Trying to forget, she is.”
“How awful.” Cecily paused, then added carefully, “I wonder what kind of research her husband had been working on? Did she say how he caught the disease?”
Dolly thought for a minute. “No, I don’t think so. I remember her saying as how he’d been working on something that puts people to sleep. Like an ana … ani … oh, you know, that stuff what puts people to sleep when the doctor has to cut you.”
“Anesthetic,” Cecily said.
When injected into the skin, however, a small dose would slow down the heartbeat and put the victim into a deep sleep
. “Thank you, Dolly. Thank you very much.”