Michael JECKS - The Crediton Killings

The smell of rotting flesh pervaded the street. Although many townspeople complained regularly to Baldwin about the smells and the flies, there was little he could do. If folk wanted to eat, the butcher must ply his trade. It was a shame that feces voided from the bowels of animals were dumped until they could be carried to the midden, for it created an unwholesome aroma, but the guts must be cleaned so that sausages could be made. Little if anything was wasted from a pig’s carcass.

When the body had been carelessly shaved and carried away, a fresh hog was brought to its three-legged scaffold. Adam stropped his knife and waited while it was hauled aloft, squealing in rage and terror, its evil little eyes rolling wildly in fury. Seeing the three men watching, Adam smiled and waved, and Roger thought to himself how like a hog the butcher himself looked, with his little shining eyes and round features.

They walked on across the street. It was only a matter of yards from here to the jail, and Simon’s eyes were on the small, squat building, but when he shot a glance at Baldwin, the knight was staring at the inn almost opposite.

“What is it?” Simon asked.

“Oh, I was just thinking that being here, near the market, the inn must often have wagons parked outside it. Look, one is there now.”

“Yes.” The bailiff could see the old cart, the horse standing slack and tired, thin and ragged from underfeeding and maltreatment. “So what?”

“I had thought it would be too obvious for Cole to try to get the silver out through a window on the street, but look! If a stranger parked a carriage of some sort here, it would be noticed immediately, but a man could wait nearby, and take the things from the window, couldn’t he? If there was someone there now, he would be hidden from sight by the butcher’s wagon.”

“But if the silver weighed so much that three men were needed to carry it…”

“Oh yes, but he could have had more than one accomplice, or he might have passed it out in small parcels. That way his companion could have stood here for a few minutes, then gone to hide the silver and come back for the next instalment. Always hidden, always out of sight behind a wagon. It would be a perfect arrangement.”

“There’s one thing I don’t understand.”

“What?” Baldwin looked at him with a faint grin. Simon was a long way from being himself, he thought, but he did seem to be mending. It was not only the way he had smiled at his wife over breakfast; he had a different look to him. Last night he was peevish and complaining, but now that he had something to occupy his mind, he had almost become the cautious and thoughtful man whom Baldwin remembered. Apart from anything else, raising objections to Baldwin’s ideas was a sure sign that the bailiff was improving.

“Let’s say you’re right and he had an accomplice out here…”

“He must have had an accomplice somewhere, whether here or out back, in the yard.”

“Fine. If that’s right, why did he still have two plates on him?”

Baldwin stopped. “I… What?”

“If you’re right, then he must have passed everything out to his companion. So why did he have two plates on him when he was caught?”

“I suppose he might have discovered that his friend had gone so he had to take them out himself when he left the room.”

“Through the hall, you mean? That makes no sense. If he was part of an organized group, the reason for having someone outside was so he didn’t need to carry anything himself. Nor would he have left any spare things behind, like the saltcellar. If he was going to carry out something worthwhile, he’d have gone for that, but instead he took two plates, the last things I would have expected him to choose.”

“It would have been easier to hide two plates. They are flatter,” the knight suggested.

“True, but even better would be nothing. Why risk discovery by carrying them? Far better to leave them behind and make good his escape. Especially since you’re supposing his accomplice had disappeared – in that circumstance, I would have expected him to get out and not take anything with him. His only interest would be in how fast he could vanish, not what else he could take with him. That’s what I find so difficult.”

“Why? He was greedy, that’s all. He’s a thief. All right, so his accomplice had to leave for some reason, or maybe he simply took too long to get back. Whatever, Cole found himself with the last two plates and decided to brazen it out.”

“If you were him, would you have taken out those plates? Put yourself in his shoes. The whole theft has been thought out carefully, even down to the accomplice outside. And then the accomplice disappears… you don’t know why, but surely you would suspect he had been seen. You still have to escape – and that means walking through the hall, under the eyes of thirty – odd men. You have two plates left out of God alone knows how many, and you are so blase you decide to take them with you? I find that hard to believe!”

“Thieves can be irrational.”

“Not so irrational, surely, that when they know they’re being chased they keep some spoil on them! He would get rid of any incriminating evidence as soon as he discovered his pursuit.”

“You might have a point, but think on this: you have just had to murder a girl as well. That has thrown your plans all awry. You hide the body, and then escape, taking the shortest route. It could well be that your accomplice never disappeared: after having to commit murder, you decide to get out through the window yourself.”

“Somebody would see a man diving out through a window.”

“Would they? If so much silver could be shoved out without being noticed, I doubt it. If somebody’s carriage was in the way, maybe no one could see. Cole could have jumped out and remained hidden, then gone on later.”

“But, Sir Baldwin,” Roger interrupted, “who closed the shutters afterward?”

Baldwin found that he was frowning. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of a merchant staring at them. Grinning apologetically, he continued in a mutter, “I have no idea, but it is the best explanation I can think of for now.”

“I want to know what really happened,” Simon stated.

Baldwin raised a fist to hammer on the door. “Well, rather than speculating, let’s find out. Simon, I… Where are you going?”

“Just a thought, Baldwin,” Simon called over his shoulder.

The butcher had that minute stopped, and was sitting on a three-legged stool, a pot of ale in his fist. As people walked past, all had a polite word with him, Simon noticed, and all received a nod and a smile from the genial man. Children got a wink too.

Simon was aware of his companions joining him as he reached the other side of the road. The inn’s hall ran parallel to the street here, the entrance almost in the middle. Here, almost opposite the jail, they were at the dais end, and to their left were the windows that gave on to the solar block commandeered by the captain. With the bustle and hubbub in the street, it was obvious to the two men that nobody could have taken anything from the inn unseen.

Walking slowly past the butcher’s, Simon went to the road which led up the hill. Aware of the amused patience of his friend, Simon walked past the butcher and his tripod to the corner where the two roads met, and looked up the incline.

The butcher had storerooms and a small pen, and past that was the cookshop, and then the alley which led to the inn’s yard. The road rose steeply after that, and was soon lost among the trees scattered on the hillside.

“Seen enough?” Baldwin asked.

“Yes, I think so.” Simon gave him a long and thoughtful look, then smiled at the butcher. “A pleasant morning, isn’t it?”