J. Tomlin - The Winter Kill

At first glance the prior was simply clad in his white robe and black cloak as any other, but the cross that hung from his leather girdle was jeweled, and his robe was fine wool. He raised a graying eyebrow at Law.

Law bowed respectfully, but he paused, rubbing his ear. This was a delicate matter. “Mayhap we could speak alone?”

The prior motioned to an alcove at the far side of the long, simple chamber filled as it was with trestle tables and benches where the sizeable community would dine. Law let the prior lead him there. “You ken that Ross’s daughter died under strange circumstances.”

“Aye. A sad matter, but it has nothing to do with us.” He gave a wry twitch of his mouth. “Although that has not meant that some of the lay brothers have nae gossiped about it.”

Law lowered his voice. “You may not have heard that Maister Kennedy of the song school has died as well. Been killed. Bishop Cardeny has tasked me with looking into the matter for him. The death of Ross’s daughter and Kennedy’s murder seem to be linked. And I am concerned if Ross did nae return last eve. I absolutely must examine the guesthouse where he is lodged.”

“You spoke with Ross after his daughter died. The porter reported as much to me.”

“Aye. I have in the past…” Law pondered how to put it. “I have helped work out strange matters, and her death seemed so. He asked for my aid. But this goes beyond that. If something has happened to Ross, I dinnae ken. Or if he has any connection with Kennedy’s death, but if there is anything to be found in his lodging, I must find out.”

The prior widened his eyes. “If he has any connection with the death? You think it was his doing?”

“I’ll nae accuse a man without proof, but it is possible. I spoke to him yesterday, and he was beside himself. Furious, in fact. So I need to find evidence one way or the other. I must start here.”

The prior stroked the cross that hung at his waist for a moment. “If Bishop Cardeny has approved your scrutiny into the matter, I’ll nae deny you.”

A moment later the porter was leading Law once more through the narrow covered passage between the large chapter house and the chapel and through the courtyard along a path now cleared of snow. He hammered at the door of the guesthouse before pushing it open. Law thanked him and firmly closed the door.

The gloomy light from the window was not enough for a proper search, so Law lit a half-burnt candle on the table. In this room, there was little to search. He pulled cushions off the settle, but the shallow box that formed the seat was empty. The door opened at Law’s touch. Holding the candle high to light the shadowy room, Law took a good look about. It was a simple chamber with a box bed that did not even have hangings, a smallish kist against a wall, a bare hearth, and a stool next to a table that held only another candle. Law lit it from the one that he held.

The two cast a wavering light, so he went quickly to work. The hearth was cold. It had not been used for at least the night before, so it was likely that, as the porter had said, Ross had not been here the night before and had probably not returned after speaking to Law at Wulle’s inn. He peered behind the bed, knelt to look under it, and craned to look on the top. He moved the stool to beside the kist, put one of the candles on it, and opened the lid. He quickly turned over a plaid carelessly folded, a paper with a list of goods to be purchased while in Perth, and more garments. Obviously, Ross had intended to return.

And there was no sign of a store of coins, whether belonging to the song school or anyone else.

Law quickly returned everything to where he had found it. Where was Patrik Ross then? What had he been doing since he stormed out of the inn last evening?

Sun breaking through storm clouds in the west gave the afternoon a dim, watery light. Law splashed through ice-rimed puddles toward Wulle’s inn, trying to unravel the knots in all of the stories he had been told. Gusts of cold wind rattled the shutters of houses as he passed.

What Kennedy sent Jannet to retrieve or possibly to store had to have been the missing coins. Or had he planned to meet her there? A priest stealing from the church was not unheard of, but a man as well-established as Kennedy? Law shook his head. The thoughts spinning through it were giving him a headache. In no way could he imagine his present employer being pleased with the solution to the murders.

The benches of the inn were empty, and Cormac was alone sitting on a stool near the peat fire, his small lute in his lap. Notes plinked in, seeming random to Law’s ear, as the minstrel tuned it. From time to time, Cormac tilted his head as he tested the strings. Cormac did not see Law until he walked around to the far end of the long room. Then he stopped and smiled up at him, pushing strands of his red hair out of his eyes.

“No custom to play for, but I’ve never seen you play a lute before,” Law said.

“I can when I need to.” He stood and carefully laid the lute on the stool. “But after being out in the cold and damp of night, it was out of tune.” He walked ahead of Law to a table where he had left a pitcher and cup. He sat, poured a cup of ale, and looked up ruefully. “Did what we learnt help at all?”

“It added to the puzzle. I have a guess who the killer is, but no way to prove it. And I could be wrong. But I dinnae think so.”

Cormac’s eyes widened. “Who?” The minstrel was sitting, chin on his hand, head tilted, looking at Law with an intent expression.

“Think about it.” Law glanced around. Mall was busy on the far side of the long room, so he continued. “Kennedy was dallying with a married woman, hardly the first priest to do so, I’ll admit.”

Cormac smirked.

Law chuckled. “But this was a woman who had left her husband, who was likely to at some point demand she return. One with a connection to a powerful family. So they give out the story that they’re appealing to the pope for a divorce. To buy time? To satisfy her family? That I dinnae ken.”

“But…?”

“But it’s nonsense. And no such papers to be found, but good clothes stored at his house-not clothing of a cleric-and money gone missing from the song school.” Law paused to take a drink of his ale. “No, they planned to flee together. That much is clear. I suspect taking the money there to hide was the reason he gave her the key. But why did she go out there that morning when the weather was so ill? Kennedy admitted he hadn’t expected her to do so. She was lured out there. Mayhap with a false message from him. But for that to happen, it had to be someone who kent about the house. Someone who kent that they met there.”

Cormac was frowning, forehead creased. He shook his head. “You’re sure it was nae Kennedy who killed her and his death an accident?”

“Och, his death was murder. The bruise on his face showed that clear enough. So I had to ask, who might have kent about his little house and that she could be lured yon? Someone who must have learnt that coin was missing from the song school.”

Cormac leaned forward. “You mean…? Someone from the school itself? Brother Hugh? Would Brother Hugh have kent about the coin though?”

“I believe so.”

“Why kill her? Why kill Kennedy?”

“He’s a bit crazed. The church is always preaching about women bringing sin into the world, but when he starts about it, the hairs raise on the back of my neck.” He snorted. “But I dinnae think that is going to convince Bishop Cameron that a friar is the killer. And…I still could be wrong. All I have is that I dinnae see how it could be anyone else, hardly convincing. Nor have I found Patrik Ross.”

Cormac chewed his lip as he considered Law’s suppositions. “But why kill Kennedy?”