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Chapter 10



"Do you think that his arrival and the killings are just coincidence or do you think that they're connected in some way?" asked Agnes taking a sip of her tea.

"That is something we must find out. I can't say he fits the profile as we don't have a profile. If he wants to derail us and fill our shoes then the deaths certainly work in his favour," said Cecil.

"If he wants to do what we do then I expect he would want to solve the killings as well. If he did them then he won't be able to, unless he frames someone," Dennis pointed out.

"Then we should watch our backs," warned Cecil, pouring a second cup from the teapot, making sure not to drip on the woolly cosy. "The second victim has been identified, a known loiterer and litterer. The killer isn't just killing innocents, he has intel."

"How do you know this, I thought that we were all stood down?" asked Dennis.

"I have my ways," smiled Cecil mischievously.
*
Sylvia was known for her skills of blending into a crowd. Being hidden in plain view. A lot of the men had distinguishing features such as long hair or well groomed beards which made them instantly recognisable. Sylvia however, when not dressed in her bright dress with floral accessories, could pass for any other retired lady. Today she was trying to get closer to the Lord of the Dance. It didn't take much effort to track him down. His showboating spread by word of mouth very quickly. She found him performing in Shawbury. His musician came as a shock to Sylvia, she didn't know that he had an accomplice. A lady wearing a long floaty dress and numerous rings on her fingers was playing a delicate tune on a mandolin as the Lord of the Dance slowly entranced the audience. His performance ended after half an hour or so with the lady playing a small harp and the dancer leaping ballet-like around the circle created by the audience. The Lord of the Dance requested a round of applause for his musician, the Dancing Queen. The on-lookers did as asked before dispersing, leaving Sylvia sat on the bench keeping one eye on her target and one on her knitting.
*
"Report," said Cecil. He hadn't intended on it sounding like a command from a long-in-the-tooth police Sergeant, but that was how it came out. He apologised and asked Sylvia what she had found out. "Well," she said, "he can really move his tight little touche."

"Yes, we know that. What did you find out about what he's up to?"

"I was getting to that," said Sylvia. "After he'd finished his dancing he went with the Dancing Queen, that's his musician, to a coffee shop where they each had a grande-skinny-mocha-latte and a croissant."

"That's too much detail," said Cecil.

"Will you let me finish?" said Sylvia, getting frustrated. "The point is that they didn't pay for their coffees and pastries."

"Aha, thieves!"

"No! The cafe owner let them have them for free on account of them scaring off the loiterers and teenagers. From there they seemed to be patrolling the streets. That was when the interesting bit comes in. There was this confrontation at about twoish with John the Thatcher."

"John the Thatcher?" interrupted Brian. "I brought him in last month for parking in a disabled space. Nasty piece of work."

"Well John the Thatcher accused the Lord of the Dance of being a Sharpie. I mean, really. Anyhoo, the two squared up and John was well and truly whipped. Literally. He's a dab hand with the hankies as well as the stick. A little flick here and there and John was begging for it to stop. It's like he knew exactly where to hit him. And John's a big fella."

"OK. Good. Anything else?" asked Cecil.

"No, I lost them after that heading towards the shops. If you want my opinion, I think he wants what we have. Or what we had anyway. And based on how the cafe owner and the crowds treated him, I think he's got it."   

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