A cold chill brushed across the back of Cecily’s neck. “You think they were killed by the same person.”

“Yes, m’m. It certainly looks that way. Especially since both victims had a gold angel stuck to their forehead.”

She stared at him, wondering if she’d heard him correctly. “A gold angel?”

“Yes, m’m. Those little gold stamps that you lick and then stick ’em on Christmas cards? Well, both Jimmy and Thomas had one stuck to their foreheads.”

“Oh, my.”

“Down at the station they’re calling the murderer the Christmas Angel.”

Cecily winced. “That’s a rather incongruous name for a killer.”

“Yes, m’m. I don’t think they mean anything by it. It’s just a matter of reference, that’s all. But there were something else you should know.”

Given that she was already intrigued by the case, Cecily wasn’t at all certain she wanted to know more.

Northcott, however, was already launching into his next revelation. “The killer left another mark behind.” The constable leaned forward, dropping his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “This is something the constabulary isn’t letting on to the public, so I’d appreciate it if you’d keep mum about it, m’m, so to speak.”

“Of course.” Now wild horses wouldn’t drag her away. “What is it?”

“Well, it seems that the perpetrator took a lock of hair from his victims before he left.”

“A lock of hair?”

“Yes, m’m. Cut off nice and neat, it was.”

Cecily drew in a sharp breath. How she would have loved to dig her teeth into this one. It took all her willpower to say briskly, “Well, it sounds as if you have quite a case on your hands, Sam. I don’t see, however, how this is any of my business.”

“Well, I was coming to that, m’m.”

The disquiet she’d been harboring ever since she’d walked into the room now intensified. “What exactly does all this have to do with me?”

“Well, that’s the favor, you see.” Once more Northcott dragged his handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose. “It’s like this, Mrs. B. As you know-” Once more he was interrupted by a tap on the door.