Read Online Hugh Corbett 06 - Murder Wears a Cowl by Paul Doherty - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Paul Doherty
Ads: Link
handed the cup back to Cade.
‘I’ll ignore your blushes, Master Cade, when I say the King has high regard for you.’
The under-sheriff looked embarrassed and shuffled his great, booted feet.
‘However,’ Corbett neatly closed the trap. ‘Isn’t it strange that you have failed to draw up a list of customers of these whores? Who frequented them? After all, your informants can tell you about the emergence of a rogue like Puddlicott but not about the customers of dead whores.’
Cade’s smile faded. ‘Look,’ the under-sheriff sat down on a stool and ticked his points off on stubby fingers. ‘First, some of these whores were high-class courtesans. Oh, yes, they are poor in death but, when alive, they were favoured by some of the rich and powerful men of the city—’
‘Wait,’ Corbett interrupted. ‘Some of these young ladies earned silver and gold. What happened to it?’
Cade pulled his mouth down. ‘Most of them immediately spend what they earn. Once they die their property is plundered by people who should know better. Finally, they have no heirs or relatives so any remaining property is immediately confiscated by the Crown.’
Corbett nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, as I was saying, the lords of the soil, the prosperous merchants, would not take too kindly to having their names linked with, what they now term, common street-walkers. Secondly,’ Cade drew in his breath, his eyes turned away and Corbett sensed the under-sheriff was not telling the full truth. ‘Secondly,’ Cade repeated, ‘it’s the manner of their deaths which makes me guarded: most of them were killed in their own chambers, so they must know their killer or they wouldn’t open the door. Master Corbett, I am an under-sheriff, my fees are paid by the wealthy burgesses, I do not want to be the official who finds that one of my pay-masters visited a whore on the night she died.’ Now Cade did blush with embarrassment and he rubbed the side of his face with his hand. ‘Yes, yes, I admit,’ he continued, ‘I am frightened. I’ll catch any rogue – be he priest, merchant or lord – but, Master Clerk, this is different. I can discover that the Lord Mayor himself visited a whore but what does that prove?’
‘You could search for a pattern, a name, common to all the killings.’
Cade jabbed a hand at Corbett. ‘No, Master Clerk, you are the King’s confidant, you were recently knighted by him. You find out! You point the finger! For God’s sake, man, that’s why you were sent here and I say that without intending any offence!’
Corbett chewed the inside of his lip, he stretched over and touched Cade gently on the hand.
‘I understand,’ he muttered.
In fact, Corbett did, and appreciated why an under-sheriff had been appointed to deal with something none of his superiors would touch with a bargepole. Corbett smiled to himself; he also understood why the King had sent him back to London.
He stared at the list Cade had given him. ‘You are most observant, Master Cade,’ he remarked. ‘These whores must have known their killer; shown a great deal of trust. Even this last one, Agnes, whose corpse we are about to inspect. She was killed in a church,’ Corbett continued, ‘I suspect she was invited there by her killer.’
‘Possibly,’ Cade replied. ‘But let’s put the deaths of these poor girls to one side. How do you explain Lady Somerville’s murder?’
‘I don’t know,’ Corbett muttered. ‘Perhaps the old woman knew something. But I tell you this, Cade, your anxieties are well founded. When we arrest this killer – and don’t worry we will – I wager it will be some high-born bastard with a great deal to hide.’
‘Sweet Lord!’ Cade whispered.
Corbett stared at the far wall. ‘What puzzles me,’ he continued, ‘is why the killings have increased. According to your list, Master Cade, a whore dies on or around the thirteenth of each month but in May the pattern changes: Somerville is killed on
‘I’ll ignore your blushes, Master Cade, when I say the King has high regard for you.’
The under-sheriff looked embarrassed and shuffled his great, booted feet.
‘However,’ Corbett neatly closed the trap. ‘Isn’t it strange that you have failed to draw up a list of customers of these whores? Who frequented them? After all, your informants can tell you about the emergence of a rogue like Puddlicott but not about the customers of dead whores.’
Cade’s smile faded. ‘Look,’ the under-sheriff sat down on a stool and ticked his points off on stubby fingers. ‘First, some of these whores were high-class courtesans. Oh, yes, they are poor in death but, when alive, they were favoured by some of the rich and powerful men of the city—’
‘Wait,’ Corbett interrupted. ‘Some of these young ladies earned silver and gold. What happened to it?’
Cade pulled his mouth down. ‘Most of them immediately spend what they earn. Once they die their property is plundered by people who should know better. Finally, they have no heirs or relatives so any remaining property is immediately confiscated by the Crown.’
Corbett nodded. ‘Go on.’
‘Well, as I was saying, the lords of the soil, the prosperous merchants, would not take too kindly to having their names linked with, what they now term, common street-walkers. Secondly,’ Cade drew in his breath, his eyes turned away and Corbett sensed the under-sheriff was not telling the full truth. ‘Secondly,’ Cade repeated, ‘it’s the manner of their deaths which makes me guarded: most of them were killed in their own chambers, so they must know their killer or they wouldn’t open the door. Master Corbett, I am an under-sheriff, my fees are paid by the wealthy burgesses, I do not want to be the official who finds that one of my pay-masters visited a whore on the night she died.’ Now Cade did blush with embarrassment and he rubbed the side of his face with his hand. ‘Yes, yes, I admit,’ he continued, ‘I am frightened. I’ll catch any rogue – be he priest, merchant or lord – but, Master Clerk, this is different. I can discover that the Lord Mayor himself visited a whore but what does that prove?’
‘You could search for a pattern, a name, common to all the killings.’
Cade jabbed a hand at Corbett. ‘No, Master Clerk, you are the King’s confidant, you were recently knighted by him. You find out! You point the finger! For God’s sake, man, that’s why you were sent here and I say that without intending any offence!’
Corbett chewed the inside of his lip, he stretched over and touched Cade gently on the hand.
‘I understand,’ he muttered.
In fact, Corbett did, and appreciated why an under-sheriff had been appointed to deal with something none of his superiors would touch with a bargepole. Corbett smiled to himself; he also understood why the King had sent him back to London.
He stared at the list Cade had given him. ‘You are most observant, Master Cade,’ he remarked. ‘These whores must have known their killer; shown a great deal of trust. Even this last one, Agnes, whose corpse we are about to inspect. She was killed in a church,’ Corbett continued, ‘I suspect she was invited there by her killer.’
‘Possibly,’ Cade replied. ‘But let’s put the deaths of these poor girls to one side. How do you explain Lady Somerville’s murder?’
‘I don’t know,’ Corbett muttered. ‘Perhaps the old woman knew something. But I tell you this, Cade, your anxieties are well founded. When we arrest this killer – and don’t worry we will – I wager it will be some high-born bastard with a great deal to hide.’
‘Sweet Lord!’ Cade whispered.
Corbett stared at the far wall. ‘What puzzles me,’ he continued, ‘is why the killings have increased. According to your list, Master Cade, a whore dies on or around the thirteenth of each month but in May the pattern changes: Somerville is killed on
Similar Books
