Read Online 13 - The Midsummer Rose by Kate Sedley - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Kate Sedley
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polite request, argued a degree of intimacy between them that I knew, in my heart of hearts, did not exist, but which raised my hackles nonetheless. ‘Of course, you didn’t discover anything.’ It was my turn to sneer.
‘There was nothing to find out.’ He smiled in his maddeningly superior fashion. ‘Well, I won’t keep you.’ He nodded at my pack. ‘I see you’re anxious to be off about your work. I fancy that house must be something of a millstone around your neck, eh? Anyway, I have important business to attend to.’
I wondered unkindly how many pockets had been picked, how many purses snatched and how many little old ladies beaten up while he had been standing chatting to me. But I remembered Adela wanted us to be friends, so I said nothing, merely hitched my pack higher on my shoulder and prepared to depart. But just at that moment, Burl Hodge’s son, Jack, came running up High Street and, seeing Richard, stopped in full flight, catching him by the arm.
‘Sergeant! You’d better come. They’ve just fished a body out of the Avon.’
Five
‘A body!’ Jack repeated, clutching his side. ‘A man.’
Richard Manifold frowned. ‘A drunk, I suppose, who’s fallen in the river and drowned. Nothing to get excited about. There are at least two such every week. Get a couple of men to carry the corpse to Saint Nicholas’s Church, then spread the word. Whoever’s missing a husband, son or father will turn up to claim the body eventually.’
‘You don’t understand!’ Jack shook Richard’s arm. ‘This man wasn’t drowned. He’s been stabbed through the heart.’
Richard cursed. There was now no way he could avoid going down to the Backs to take a look.
‘Very well,’ he said grudgingly. ‘There’s no need for you to come, Roger. You’d best be off home.’
But I had no intention of doing any such thing. I gave him and Jack Hodge a moment or two’s start, then followed them.
A crowd had begun to gather near Bristol Bridge, everyone looking at something – or somebody – lying on the ground. Richard Manifold shouted as he approached – ‘Make way for the law!’ – and the people fell back to let him through. He dropped to one knee and rolled the corpse on to its back, when the depredations caused by over a week in the river became horribly apparent.
I knew the body must have been in the Avon for over a week, because I recognized it without difficulty. I recognized the unnervingly thick-soled boots, the seaman’s stout frieze breeches, the hands, or what remained of them, as big as shovels. And I recognized the tattoo on the back of the left one: a ship and what had once been the word Clontarf. I noticed, too, a rent in the left breast of his leather, salt-stained jerkin, surrounded by a darker mark that had to be blood.
I touched Richard Manifold on the shoulder. ‘He’s an Irish sea captain called Eamonn Malahide.’ The name had suddenly come back to me.
The sergeant’s face, when he glanced up and realized who was speaking, was the picture of frustration.
‘I thought I told you to go home, chapman! This is none of your business. It’s strictly a matter for the law!’
‘Even the law needs witnesses and information,’ I snapped.
‘That’s right, it does,’ a voice from the crowd agreed.
Richard got slowly to his feet, looking as though he might be about to burst a blood vessel. His face was a brighter red than his hair. His blue eyes sparkled furiously.
‘And what would you know about anything?’ he asked me angrily. ‘Unless, of course, you’re the murderer.’ He sounded hopeful.
I repeated, ‘This man’s name is Eamonn Malahide. He was at the house at Rownham Passage. Adela must have explained how I saw a man murdered by one of the two women who were present. It was the reason you rode out there.’ I indicated the waterlogged corpse. ‘That is the man I saw killed.’
Richard’s features relaxed. ‘You’re not back at that nonsense, are you? Go home
‘There was nothing to find out.’ He smiled in his maddeningly superior fashion. ‘Well, I won’t keep you.’ He nodded at my pack. ‘I see you’re anxious to be off about your work. I fancy that house must be something of a millstone around your neck, eh? Anyway, I have important business to attend to.’
I wondered unkindly how many pockets had been picked, how many purses snatched and how many little old ladies beaten up while he had been standing chatting to me. But I remembered Adela wanted us to be friends, so I said nothing, merely hitched my pack higher on my shoulder and prepared to depart. But just at that moment, Burl Hodge’s son, Jack, came running up High Street and, seeing Richard, stopped in full flight, catching him by the arm.
‘Sergeant! You’d better come. They’ve just fished a body out of the Avon.’
Five
‘A body!’ Jack repeated, clutching his side. ‘A man.’
Richard Manifold frowned. ‘A drunk, I suppose, who’s fallen in the river and drowned. Nothing to get excited about. There are at least two such every week. Get a couple of men to carry the corpse to Saint Nicholas’s Church, then spread the word. Whoever’s missing a husband, son or father will turn up to claim the body eventually.’
‘You don’t understand!’ Jack shook Richard’s arm. ‘This man wasn’t drowned. He’s been stabbed through the heart.’
Richard cursed. There was now no way he could avoid going down to the Backs to take a look.
‘Very well,’ he said grudgingly. ‘There’s no need for you to come, Roger. You’d best be off home.’
But I had no intention of doing any such thing. I gave him and Jack Hodge a moment or two’s start, then followed them.
A crowd had begun to gather near Bristol Bridge, everyone looking at something – or somebody – lying on the ground. Richard Manifold shouted as he approached – ‘Make way for the law!’ – and the people fell back to let him through. He dropped to one knee and rolled the corpse on to its back, when the depredations caused by over a week in the river became horribly apparent.
I knew the body must have been in the Avon for over a week, because I recognized it without difficulty. I recognized the unnervingly thick-soled boots, the seaman’s stout frieze breeches, the hands, or what remained of them, as big as shovels. And I recognized the tattoo on the back of the left one: a ship and what had once been the word Clontarf. I noticed, too, a rent in the left breast of his leather, salt-stained jerkin, surrounded by a darker mark that had to be blood.
I touched Richard Manifold on the shoulder. ‘He’s an Irish sea captain called Eamonn Malahide.’ The name had suddenly come back to me.
The sergeant’s face, when he glanced up and realized who was speaking, was the picture of frustration.
‘I thought I told you to go home, chapman! This is none of your business. It’s strictly a matter for the law!’
‘Even the law needs witnesses and information,’ I snapped.
‘That’s right, it does,’ a voice from the crowd agreed.
Richard got slowly to his feet, looking as though he might be about to burst a blood vessel. His face was a brighter red than his hair. His blue eyes sparkled furiously.
‘And what would you know about anything?’ he asked me angrily. ‘Unless, of course, you’re the murderer.’ He sounded hopeful.
I repeated, ‘This man’s name is Eamonn Malahide. He was at the house at Rownham Passage. Adela must have explained how I saw a man murdered by one of the two women who were present. It was the reason you rode out there.’ I indicated the waterlogged corpse. ‘That is the man I saw killed.’
Richard’s features relaxed. ‘You’re not back at that nonsense, are you? Go home
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