“Not might, Mrs. B. She will. No doubt about it. I’ll never hear the last of it. She’ll be carrying on all year long until next Christmas, that’s a fact.”

“Well, I’m sorry to hear that, Sam, but I really don’t know what I can do about it.”

The constable fiddled with his helmet for a moment or two, then said in a rush, “I was rather hoping that you would help me out a bit. You’ve always been so good at finding out things, and people will talk to you, where they won’t talk to me. I thought if you could just ask questions here and there, you know, like you usually do…” He let his voice trail off, leaving Cecily no recourse but to answer.

There it was. The favor she’d been hoping he wasn’t going to ask, fearing all the time that it was exactly what he had in mind.

This was the very first time Sam had ever asked for her help, and she was flattered. Intrigued by the gold angel stamps and missing locks of hair, she was also sorely tempted.

There was only one problem. After a lengthy and sometimes heated argument, Baxter had refused an important position abroad in order to allow her to remain in Badgers End as the Pennyfoot’s manager. In exchange, she had promised never to get involved with another murder case.

It pained her a great deal to refuse Sam, especially since it meant he would most likely have to forgo his Christmas visit to London. More so, because she was already interested enough in the case to do some snooping, and most of all, because the threat of a murderer afoot in Badgers End could once more put a dampener on the Pennyfoot’s Christmas season.

A promise was a promise, however, and she had broken enough of them in the past that it had taken a great deal of persuasion on her part for Baxter to accept the compromise.

“I’m dreadfully sorry, Sam.” She squirmed at the dismay on the constable’s face, but nevertheless pressed on. “My duties here in the country club prevent me from taking on any extra activities at present. I’m afraid you will have to hunt down this killer without me.”