Chapter 11

The third attack came as a shock to everyone. Not the ferocity or the mess which matched and possibly surpassed the other two, but the victim. John the Thatcher. He was found outside his house in a lane in the early hours of the morning. The milkman had spotted some feet near the bins. The sight hadn't curdled his milk but he felt as though it should have. The morning milk delivery would be late for the next few weeks as a result.

The morris dancers found out through word of mouth that same afternoon as they were no longer in the loop. The rumour mill was working overtime. Three attacks, all of them known law breakers. All of them killed in the most brutal of manners. This time however, the story went that there was something different, a clue maybe. Something to go on, a lead, but what was it? Cecil made it his job to find out. With the morris dancers stood down, and nobody in their place, the role fell to the Morris Ring's official spokesperson for the county. In this case it was the Mayor of Shrewsbury. He did not have any actual affiliation with the Morris Ring, no training or dancing skills to mention, but he did wear a nice chain and cut lots of ribbons which made him next in the pecking order. It wasn't a role which he wanted but it was one which he would perform to the best of his abilities.

Cecil knew the Mayor well. He had often reported to him about significant events in the county, such as the sheep rustling, so when the Mayor saw Cecil pass by outside his house for the third time he knew exactly what he was after. On the fourth pass, the Mayor opened his large Victorian front door and beckoned Cecil in. He had a pot of tea made and brought through to them in the parlour with a couple of slices of fruit cake.

"Mr. Bloomsworthy," said the Mayor, slightly more formally than usual, "I know that your dancers have been asked to step down whilst the Morris Ring evaluates your effectiveness, and you know that I have information about the third murder. Let us not beat about the bush and pretend that we don't each have something which the other wants." Cecil was silent, neither agreeing nor denying. "You will no doubt be aware that this role which has been thrust upon me is not something for which I have an aptitude. I would like to know what you would do were you in my shoes."

"Other than have us reappointed?" said Cecil, regretting it the moment it was said.

"You know that is out of my hands," replied the Mayor. "Tell me Mr. Bloomsworthy. You will know about the reports, you will be aware of who was killed. What would you do with all of your experience?"

"Have you tried to see if their is any connection between the victims?"

"I have what you had already considered between the first two. Other than the method of murder, the only link was their past records. This third one fits in with that pattern."

"Any witnesses?" asked Cecil.

"None," replied the Mayor.

"Anything different?" asked Cecil.

"I knew that we'd get around to that at some point. What do you know?" asked the Mayor, trying to be coy but failing miserably.

"You know that I know that their is a rumour that something was different. But nobody knows what that difference is."

"And you know that I know that I am unable to openly share any such information, if there was any," he quickly added "whilst you have been relieved of duty. If you don't mind, I've had a little too much tea, will you please excuse me." The Mayor stood, patted a box which had been sat next to his chair and winked exaggeratedly at Cecil. Once that he had left the room, Cecil wasted no time in taking the hint and opened the box. What he saw inside was very small yet very significant - a piece of stretchy purple cloth complete with a sequin or two. It did not take much to know where it came from. He heard a chain flushing and quickly replaced the box next to the Mayor's chair.

"So, as we were saying Mr Bloomsworthy. I cannot say whether we found anything of interest or not at the scene", he pointed wildly at the box, "but if we did, having checked the deceased hands for clues, what would you suggest that we do with them?"

"Well that would very much depend on what the clue was. For example, if it was a weapon then you would need to check for finger prints and from where it was acquired, if something had been dropped then again, prints are good and details of why somebody would be carrying it would help. If it were a scrap of purple cloth then I would probably find out who would wear such a garment and whether that person owns an item which has been torn recently."

"Aha, that is useful information. I'm afraid that I cannot give you anything in return other than my gratitude and the tea but your co-operation is much appreciated." After a little small talk about cricket and Darjeeling, Cecil left and hot footed it back home where he knew that he would have to gather the side.