Cecily was forced to summon him whenever a death occurred on the Pennyfoot property. No matter how gruesome the situation, Northcott’s main concern was how much food he could consume from the kitchen before he left.

“With any luck at all,” Cecily said, “the constable will be leaving for his annual Christmas visit to his wife’s family.” She frowned. “I suppose, however, that we must inform him of the death, even if it was an accident. Tell Mrs. Chubb to ring the police station, and leave a message for him there.”

“Yes, m’m. Sorry, m’m.” Bending her knees, Gertie dropped a brief curtsey and left.

Madeline lowered her head to press her cheek against her baby’s. “I’m sorry, Cecily. The Christmas curse again. At least this time it appears to be an accident.”

Cecily sat down opposite her again. “We have thought so before, only to have it turn out to be murder.” She stared hard at her friend. “I don’t suppose you…?”

She had left the question unfinished, but Madeline had understood. “I’m sorry, Cecily. My dratted intuition tells me nothing. As you well know, my revelations are far from predictable.”

“Poor Charlie. He had only been with us a short time, but he seemed such a nice young lad. I can’t imagine what he was doing in the rose garden, though. I do hope Kevin gets here soon. I don’t like to think of that poor boy lying out there all morning.”

“Kevin will still be on his rounds,” Madeline said. “Very few of his patients have telephones. We’ll probably have to wait until he gets back to his office.”

“Oh, dear. I hope none of the guests see the body. It’s hard enough getting visitors to stay here this time of year with rumors abounding about the dratted curse. We do our best to keep it quiet but you know how people love to gossip.”

“Well, Clive didn’t see him until he went behind the bushes, and in any case, it’s chilly out there this morning. I doubt that too many people will be strolling around the rose gardens, especially since all the roses have died.”