“Very well, then.” Cecily walked to the door. “Rest assured, Mrs. Taylor, should I get at the truth, you will be the first to know.”

Stepping outside, she took a good long breath of the chilly sea air. It was good to be on the trail of a killer again. When she’d given her promise to Baxter, she’d given up all thought of chasing down another murderer.

Her husband simply failed to understand that it wasn’t so much catching a criminal that gave her so much satisfaction, it was bringing closure to the people left behind-the mourners, who needed answers in order to regain some sense of peace.

“Come, Samuel,” she said, walking briskly toward the waiting carriage. “We have more questions to ask before we can go home.”

“Mr. Baxter will be waiting for you to join him for the midday meal,” Samuel reminded her. “He won’t be pleased if you keep him waiting.”

Cecily sighed. “I suppose you’re right. It wouldn’t do to upset him this early on in the investigation. Very well, then, Samuel. Home it is, and we will continue this quest this afternoon.”

She settled back in the carriage, her thoughts replaying her conversation with Mrs. Taylor. It would be most interesting to find out exactly how Basil felt about losing his sweetheart to Jimmy. Even more interesting was how Gracie Peterson fit into the picture.

Cecily felt a small tug of excitement. She was really looking forward to talking to Basil Baker.

When she arrived back at the Pennyfoot, Gertie met her with the news that Phoebe Carter-Holmes Fortescue and her husband were in the library awaiting her return. Cecily had no recourse but to invite them to join her and Baxter for the midday meal.

This did little to improve her husband’s sour mood, and throughout the meal Cecily struggled to keep Colonel Fortescue’s attention away from him.

The colonel had an unfortunate habit of launching into one of his tedious war memoirs, thus sending his audience into a near stupor before his long-suffering wife managed to halt the saga. Given that the colonel, thanks to his war experiences, was also somewhat touched in the head, Baxter’s tolerance of the gentleman was limited, at best.