J. Tomlin - The Winter Kill

“Kennedy was no fool even if he was a bad priest. He could deduce what I have. Either he confronted Brother Hugh with the deed, or the friar realized that Kennedy had guessed. And if he is as crazed as I think, killing a sinning priest might not even give him pause.”

“The money? What about that? He’s a friar, so he would hardly have any chance to use it, not without being caught.”

“He took the money, but that wasn’t why he killed them. Mayhap he meant to return it, or mayhap he just took it because he thought they shouldn’t have it. He thinks…it was a good thing to kill Jannet. And he probably had to kill Kennedy to keep from being caught. Or mayhap because he was a sinner. But he’s been both bold and clever.”

“So…” Cormac’s eyes brightened, and Law shook his head with a touch of despair. “To convince the bishop, we need proof. What do we do now?”

“First I start a search for Patrik Ross. I need to find out where he is and why he’s disappeared.”

“You cannae suspect him.”

Law shrugged.

“But Jannet was his daughter!”

With a grim pull of his mouth, Law said, “He wouldn’t be the first man in the world to put family honor above one of his children.”

“Surely not.”

“I dinnae think that is what happened, but I must be certain. This is no matter where guesses are enough. If he were dead, I think his body would have turned up.” Law rolled his eyes and grimaced. “With the rat catcher back, I’m nae certain of anything.”

“What?”

Law had to laugh. “Did I nae tell you? He is indeed Bishop Cameron’s man, though that is not something the bishop cares to have commonly kent.”

Cormac’s eyes narrowed with a fierce look. He had good reason for ill feeling toward the rat catcher, considering he’d attacked Cormac to obtain the infamous cross. “You cannae trust that man.”

“Och, that I dinnae.” Law stood and smiled at his indignant friend. “There must be a way to prove Brother Hugh is the killer, and I’ll find it. But first I must find Ross.”

Brother Nevan said, “Brother Hugh go out? Not through this door, not last night. No one goes through without my opening it. And no one touches the key except me. Not that there aren’t other ways out of the school. Any of the school lads can tell you ’tis possible to clamber over a wall if you can climb a tree.” He shook his head. “But Brother Hugh? He would never do that. He is a good friar, always at his prayers. Almost Saintly.” He crossed himself. “I hope it’s no sin to say such. But he would never sneak out.”

“But others do climb a wall. Mayhap there is a conveniently placed tree?”

“Och, aye. I ken all about lads who go scampering off after the lassies in the town every chance that they get, chasing after anything that wears a skirt. They are lads. What can you do? But Brother Hugh is nae like that.”

“This is just checking on anyone who was close to Maister Kennedy. I’m not saying Brother Hugh did anything wrong.”

The friar tilted his bony head toward Law, a suspicious look in his hollow eyes. “Making a chance to blame one of us for what we never did, is what you’re up to. You might as well give up, Sir Law, because neither you nor anyone else is going to find that Brother Hugh did anything sinful.”

“You have the wrong idea, Brother Nevan. I’m just trying to clear things up about Maister Kennedy’s death.”

“Well, Brother Hugh is a saintly man. So best you best go find someone else to blame for whatever evil you are thinking happened.”

After Law stepped out of the door, he turned and spoke to the shadowy figure within. “By the way, did you see Maister Kennedy that night that night?”

“Of course. I told you, no one leaves that I dinnae open the door.”

“Did he say anything to you?”

There was a thoughtful pause. “He said… I admit it was an odd thing to say. He said not everyone was always as they seem.”

Law tugged on his earlobe, scratched his ear and sighed. He had put off looking for Ross as long as he could. What would Law have done in Ross’s place? This was a waste of his time, but he had to be sure the man was still alive, so he started at Dunbar’s house and stopped at every inn that had a pole out showing it was serving ale. They bustled with people preferring to stay out of the snow, noisy with laughter and men shouting for service.

The third one Law stepped into, air ripe with peat smoke and the fumes of spilled drink, he spotted Ross slumped in a corner clutching a cup. He was staring into it as though the secrets of life and death were drowned in the cup.

Law stopped the innkeeper and slipped him a coin. “How long has he been here?”

The innkeeper shook his head. “He passed out on the floor last night. Kept going on about his lass and cursing at one of the Dunbars.”

Law went to slide onto the bench beside Ross. “You have better things to do than this, man.”

Ross raised his gaze, eyes bloodshot and bleary, but he seemed less drunk that Law had expected. “I went to her husband’s house. He laughed at me. Said it was my fault for not rearing her right. He shoved me down the steps and slammed the door in my face.”

Law squeezed Ross’s shoulder. “It was nae your fault. Her death was nae even his. I ken who to blame, but for now you need to see to her burying. I’ll talk to the sheriff, and she can have the proper rites. But you need to be sober and decent for that.”

Ross let out a gusty, ale-scented sigh and nodded. When Law rose, he squeezed Ross’s shoulder again. “I’ll talk to you on the morrow.”

It was time to put an end to this, but he had to make a plan. Deep in thought he walked home where Cormac quietly followed him up the narrow stairs.

Law paced back and forth across his small room. The minstrel sat on Law’s narrow cot, hunched over, elbows on his knees. Head tilted, he watched Law.

“He’s such a…sunny, happy-looking friar. They won’t believe it without proof. I don’t ken what I can do next. Look for the coin, but where? Try to trap him somehow. I dinnae ken exactly. But he’s dangerous. And when they look at him, no one will believe it. That is the most dangerous thing about him.”

Cormac frowned. “I suppose you are right. The bishop will have to have certain proof of it. Will Brother Hugh have to be tried in an ecclesiastical court?”

Law stopped his pacing long enough to shrug. “He’s only a friar, nae a cleric, a priest, so possibly not. I’m nae sure what they’ll do with him. If we can prove he’s the killer.”

“But how do we do it?” Cormac asked.

“I have to lure him out. He’s killed enough that I doubt he’ll stop now. I’ve given away that I suspect him. If I can tempt him into attacking me, that would be proof.”

A smile bloomed across Cormac’s face. “I have a better idea. You said he kens that you suspect him, but I could lie to him to trap him. If he killed Kennedy because Kennedy threatened to expose him, what would he do if I told him I saw him do the killing? I could demand the money and say he has to show me where it was.”

Law turned and scowled down at Cormac. If there was ever anyone who didn’t look like a fighter it was his brightly dressed, smiling friend. “I will nae let you take a risk like that, Cormac. No.”

“It would nae be such a risk. Jannet and Kennedy did nae ken that Brother Hugh was going to try to kill them. I do. I’ll be on my guard and…” He grinned at Law. “I do expect you to stay nearby to save me.”

“I dinnae like it. It would be better if I did it.”

Cormac straightened and shook his head. “He would nae believe you. There is no way you saw him that night. It has to be me.”