Rutledge rubbed his face, trying to remember what Hamish had said to him. And the voice repeated, “It’s no’ unlikely that Shaw himself gave the locket to the neighbor’s wife. A love token. Mrs. Shaw willna’ care to hear that.”

“With that telling inscription on the back? Besides, mourning jewelry isn’t the most romantic gift, is it? When Mrs. Cutter’s own husband was very much alive.”

“A promise, no doubt, that he wouldna’ be alive much longer. It could explain why she kept it.”

“You didn’t know Shaw,” Rutledge reminded Hamish.

But then, had he?

All the same, Rutledge did know his superior, Chief Superintendent Bowles. And therein lay a hidden snare that could be as explosive as a mine.

The Shaw investigation had brought a promotion to the then Chief Inspector Bowles, who had used the murders to political and professional advantage. Bowles had kept himself very much in the public eye, repeatedly promising the newspapers that this vicious killer would be brought to justice with all possible speed, assuring frightened neighbors of the murdered women that everything possible was being done, publicly pressing his men to greater and greater effort.

It was Philip Nettle who had stumbled on the connection that linked the three victims-the fact that each had at one time or another employed the services of the same carpenter when work needed to be done. A trusted man, a caring man, one who had trimmed the wicks of lamps, brought in coal for the fires, oiled locks on the doors, kept window sashes running smoothly, and generally made himself indispensable. And then betrayed their trust.

The discovery of the murderer had once more pitched Chief Inspector Bowles into the forefront of public attention.