“I believe this is where Mr. Skaggs went over the edge, coming from the other direction.” I looked down that steep, rocky slope until it vanished into mist and I shivered. Someone was out there who could kill at will, leaving no trace, and was waiting to strike again the next day. According to the song he had two more victims planned . . . and the last two had been members of our house party.

I was very relieved as the first houses of the town appeared through the mist and we drove into the main street. Ghostly shapes darted in and out of shops, swathed in scarves against the bitter cold. We stopped outside the police station and went in.

“I’m afraid Inspector Newcombe isn’t here,” said the constable on duty. “No, I couldn’t tell you where he’s gone, but I believe it was some kind of meeting he had to go to. And I couldn’t say when he’d be back.”

I asked for writing paper and wrote a note for him, telling him that we’d come up with something very important concerning a case and needed to speak with him as soon as possible. As I sealed the envelope I experienced a sudden flash of satisfaction that I had been proved right after all. Now Inspector Newcombe would have to admit that the deaths were not accidents and they were linked and one person was doing the killing. Not bad for an amateur. Now if only I could come up with a motive. . . .

I handed the envelope to the constable with strict instructions that it be given to Inspector Newcombe immediately and we came out into the eerie stillness of the street.

“Do you fancy a cup of coffee and a bun before we go back?” Darcy asked. “There’s a little tea shop across the street.”

“I think we should go to visit Mr. Klein first, don’t you?” I said. “He might hold the key to this whole thing.”

“I’m not sure if we shouldn’t leave that—” Darcy began but I cut him off.

“Look, if Inspector Newcombe isn’t available to do it, then I don’t think any more time should be wasted. Someone’s life could be at stake.” I was already striding down the street toward the jeweler’s shop. Darcy caught up with me. “We’re not interfering, we’re helping,” I said. “And if Mr. Klein doesn’t want to talk to us, at least we can send him to talk to the police.”

“Since when did you become so forceful?” Darcy said. “I remember you as a meek little thing when we first met.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever been meek,” I said. “Remember, I do come from a great-grandmother who was rather forceful herself. Maybe I was just reticent when we first met—I didn’t quite trust you.”