J. Tomlin - The Winter Kill

“I’d rather…”

“You’ve talked to him too many times. He’s never seen me. It would be more believable a sneaky Hieland minstrel would be out on a dark night spying on him. That he’ll believe.”

Suddenly they heard a roaring wind. Law opened the shutters to look to the east. A heavy curtain of black clouds was speeding toward them. The fringes of wind hit, speeding flurries of snow into his face. He slammed the shutter closed and latched it. Within minutes, it was dark and cold. The hard pounding of the wind against the walls and roof seemed to cut off the world.

Cormac came to stand next to Law and put a hand on his arm. “Let me try.”

Cormac was right, but it didn’t mean he had to like it. “If you promise to be careful and do exactly as I say.”

“I promise. I’ll be careful. Very careful.”

Law arrived at the song school while the morning was still dark, only a sliver of light breaking above the horizon. The storm of the night before had blown through, but the ground was once again covered with a thick layer of snow. Since the bishops had approved Law’s searching Kennedy’s office and the school, Brother Nevan only glowered a bit when he let him in.

Law gave the friar a hard stare. “The bishops would prefer that no one hear about my movements. It’s best there be as little scandal as possible, so dinnae mention that I’ve been here. Not to anyone. If anyone needs to hear about it, leave that to bishops.”

The gaunt-eyed friar nodded, and Law could only hope it was enough for Brother Hugh not to learn of his presence. He walked, soft-footed, through the hall and Brother Hugh’s little office, and into Maister Kennedy’s. He swung the door back and forth to be sure it didn’t creak before he pulled it so that it would appear to be closed. Once Cormac arrived, he would push it open a crack to watch.

Law was sure that Brother Hugh would follow the same pattern as he did before. He must have made an appointment with Jannet. Law suspected he must have agreed to meet Kennedy away from the school to talk or the priest wouldn’t have left late at night.

The morning dragged as the sky outside slowly lightened. It felt as though an entire day had gone by although it must have only been an hour when he heard the slap of sandals on the floor, the scrape of a chair, and papers rustling. Law breathed as softly as he could. The last thing they wanted was for Brother Hugh to realize Law was here.

He heard Cormac say, “I need to talk to you a while.”

He eased the door open a finger’s width so he could spy out.

Brother Hugh looked up. He stilled, his back stiffening. “Why? You have no business with the school.”

Cormac softly closed the door behind him. “No. But I have business with you.” He gave a wry smile. “You see, minstrels are often about late in the night, as I was.”

The friar gave a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair and across his tonsure. He sounded sad when he said, “The sins… They just keep piling up. We pray and pray to rid the world of them, but then there are more. But I suppose a minstrel is always sinful, so I should nae be surprised.”

Cold crept up Law’s spine.

“That was why you killed Maister Kennedy?” Cormac asked softly. “To stop the sin? And Jannet?”

“I what ?” He sounded genuinely shocked.

“I saw you sneaking about before he was killed. You were following him.”

Brother Hugh stood and took a turn around the chamber, his expression brooding and angry. “You could nae have seen me.”

“But I did.”

Brother Hugh shook his head sadly. “This is a foolish trick. Do you think I have money that you can blackmail me? I am a friar. Even my robe belongs to the order. If you say you saw me, you are lying. Or you are crazed and imaged it.”

“You were walking toward where Maister Kennedy’s body was found.”

He looked at Cormac, his handsome face alight with indignation and virtue, smile lines enclosing his firm mouth and a little blond stubble on his cheeks. The sleeves of his robe were pushed back to expose the corded muscles of his forearms as he clasped his hands in a prayerlike pose. He was as unlikely a murderer as Law could imagine.

Cormac stared the friar down.

“You have no right to question me so, but let me think for a moment.” Brother Hugh went back to his chair, sat, and put his elbows on his desk. “I was thinking of telling that Sir Law about this. Do you ken him?”

“I’ve seen him in the inn where I play.”

“Mayhap you can help me with this. There may even be a reward for finding money that is missing.” He licked his lips and continued, “I believe I ken who did these murders, and you can help me prove it. You did nae see me, but one person in a friar’s robe looks much like another. In the dark, how could you tell? Meet me near the house that belonged to Maister Kennedy where the Town Ditch runs nearby. I am sure I ken where there is evidence. It had to be someone who kent the maister well, and that will tell us who.”

Cormac squinted at Brother Hugh. “How would there be evidence there?”

“The money must be somewhere, aye? That is where it is hidden and something there will show who hid it.”

“Why would there be evidence? That makes nae sense.”

“I believe it is in the river not far from that house. The killer put it in a casket and sunk it there. Whoever the casket belongs to is the killer. I believe I shall recognize it. All we have to do is find it.”

“Then why not say who this casket belongs to?”

The friar crossed himself. “That would be a sin, to accuse someone without proof. Once we have it, I shall ken. Then you can take it to the lord sheriff and claim a reward.” His voice hardened. “Unless you try to blame me for it again.”

Cormac smiled. “You think he’d believe a minstrel over a friar?”

Brother Hugh nodded slowly as though thinking it over. “Meet me out there at the Town Ditch near Maister Kennedy’s house. I have to bide here a while, or there will be questions. It will have to be late, near nightfall, and I’ll show you where it is. They deserved what happened to them, sinners that they were.” His voice got a hard, singsong quality. “The evil shall perish. Thus it must be.” Then his voice became normal again. “But I shall nae let you blame me for the killing.”

Cormac stared at Brother Hugh, sitting stiffly at his desk, fists gripped atop the papers. “They did nae do anything to you,” he said softly.

“They were sinners, and God’s wrath was visited upon them. But what happens now is up to God as well.”

His face stiff with an unreadable emotion, Cormac turned and left, softly closing the door behind him. Law softly closed the crack had peered through. When Brother Hugh led him to the hidden coin, he would be able to convince Bishop Cameron and the sheriff to… He shook his head. He wasn’t sure what they would do with the crazed friar. Whether they hanged him or just locked him away in some remote monastery, it wasn’t his problem.

Unless he was wrong. Perhaps he hadn’t done the killing. Jannet might have hidden the money and become lost in the storm. Kennedy might have slipped and fallen. The hand-shaped bruise on his face could have been a coincidence, nothing to do with his death.

Law didn’t believe that, but he had to find out.

As soon as Cormac walked out of the song school, he decided to ignore Law’s instructions. Law wanted him to go back to the inn and sit on his hands while he followed Brother Hugh out to the house. Law was so convinced he could not take care of himself. He was to sit and wait and wonder, and not set foot out of the sight of Wulle and a room full of customers.

With an indignant sniff, Cormac hurried through the slushy, snow-covered street to Wulle’s inn. Midwinter, nightfall came early to Perth, so he did not have long to prepare. A bowl of Mall’s thick bean pottage warmed him up. He wrapped his plaid over his cloak. He’d need both as darkness fell to keep from freezing like the poor murdered Jannet. When Wulle pointed out Cormac would receive no coin if he wasn’t playing, he shrugged and left.