Free 3 Service for Two by Kate Kingsbury Page B

little pale. “The constable wanted to know if I … ah … recognized the clothes, if I’d seen them before.” He shuddered, rippling the folds of his cassock. “I told them I had not. To be truthful, Mrs. Sinclair, the sight of those ghastly stains made me feel quite ill.”
    “Yes, I can well imagine,” Cecily murmured. “It’s really a shame the police couldn’t identify the body, though.”
    “Oh, but they did,” Algie said, nodding his head emphatically up and down. “They did that … ah … procedure with the fingers, cover them with ink, you see …”
    “Fingerprints,” Cecily said, nodding with him. “And what did they come up with, do you know?”
    “Yes, well, Dr. Prestwick told me that. He was there to do the … ah … post-mortem.”
    “Oh, he was?” Cecily wished she’d known that earlier. “And so what did he tell you?”
    “Not very much, I’m happy to say. I really do not care to dwell on the gory details.”
    “Oh, quite,” Cecily said hastily. “I meant the fingerprints. Did the doctor say anything about the young man’s identity?”
    “Well, he didn’t tell me his name,” Algie said, looking nervously over his shoulder. “I’m not altogether sure he should have told me … ah … anything. But what he did tell me gave me quite a turn, I can tell you.”
    “What did he tell you?” Cecily asked as patiently as she could manage. Really, the man was as difficult as Baxter when it came to getting information out of him.
    “He told me that the man was a resident of London. And that he was … ah … a notorious criminal.” Algie’s eyes widened in fear. “Now I ask you, Mrs. Sinclair. It is bad enough that someone should be brutally struck down here in our little village of Badgers End. But … ah … a criminal? What is a man like that doing down here?”
    That was, indeed, an interesting question, Cecily thought uneasily. It also led to another disturbing question. What, ifanything, did the Pennyfoot Hotel have to do with the murder of a notorious criminal from London?
    “I’m sure the police will have the answers soon,” she told the vicar without much conviction. “In the meantime, it might be as well if we keep this to ourselves. We don’t need to start a panic in the village.”
    “Oh, I agree … absolutely, oh my, yes …”
    And meanwhile, Cecily thought as she bade Algie goodbye, she would have a word with the good Dr. Prestwick. Apparently he was unaware of the power of the grapevine in the village. As for Algie, she could only hope he didn’t relate what he knew to his mother. One word to Phoebe, and the entire southeast coast would know the details.
    She hurried up the aisle, anxious to be out in the fresh air again, even if it was bitterly cold. She’d had enough of gloomy shadows for one day.
    Her thoughts returned to the attractive, smiling face of the new temporary doctor. It was as well he was there for only a short time, she reflected as she reached the doors. With that kind of magnetism he’d have half the village imagining themselves in love with him. Even she was not entirely immune to his charm.
    The acknowledgment disturbed her. Her heart belonged to James, and always would. There could be no room in it for anyone else. She would do well to remember that, for she would most likely run into the fascinating gentleman again. And since he had performed the post-mortem on the young man, she intended to make that as soon as possible.
    She didn’t have to wait for very long, for as she pulled open the doors of the church and stepped out into the portal, she saw that Dr. Prestwick had not left after all. He was standing by the trap, talking to Baxter, who looked very uneasy indeed.

CHAPTER
7
    Cecily did her best to look unconcerned as she joined the gentlemen standing by the trap. Both men lifted their hats as she reached them. Ian, sitting on the front seat, whip in hand, appeared to have no interest in anything but the lane ahead of him, but