She threw him an uneasy glance. “Are you suggesting this could be the same scenario?”

“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m merely pointing out that you can’t assume anything-something that Sam Northcott apparently hasn’t learned yet.”

She sighed. “He does have a tendency to jump to conclusions.”

“That’s not his only tendency.” Baxter tapped the newspaper with his fingers. “I’m surprised Cranshaw isn’t in charge of the case.”

“So am I. There has to be something of vital importance to keep him in London at such a time.”

“Nevertheless, I think Northcott has a blasted cheek asking you to help him do his duty.”

“As I said, he must be desperate.” She turned her gaze from the fireplace to her husband and found him watching her with a wary look in his gray eyes. “It is rather an intriguing case. I feel very sorry for Jimmy’s family. How sad to lose someone so young. And then there’s Thomas Willow, the shoemaker. I seem to remember you mentioning his name?”

“He made my last pair of shoes. Dratted nuisance, that. Now I shall have to go into Wellercombe to get new shoes fitted.”

“What was he like?”

Baxter shrugged. “Old man, gray hair, gnarled hands. It amazed me how he could use those twisted fingers to make such remarkable shoes. He was a bit of a grouch, but I can’t imagine why anyone would want to kill the old goat.”

“He doesn’t sound much like Jimmy Taylor.”

“He wasn’t. Couldn’t have been more opposite, if you ask me.”

“That’s very strange.”

Baxter’s eyebrows drew together. “What is?”

“I just wonder what it was they had in common to cause their violent deaths.” Cecily returned her gaze to the fireplace. “It would seem, from what Sam told me, that Jimmy’s death was unintentional, yet someone used Jimmy’s whip to beat an old man to death. Not only that, there’s the gold angels and the missing locks of hair. There has to be a connection somewhere.”