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CHAPTER 22
The man is a well-known grain merchant.
“We argued last night,” he explains to Simon through his tears. “Sun forgive me, I said things I never should have, and she left.” He wipes his eyes. “She left and I didn’t think about the danger until she didn’t come back. I know that madman killed her. What else could have happened?”
Remi leans closer to whisper in my ear. “Did he think to check her mother or sister’s house?”
I don’t want to agree with Remi on principle, but he’s right. It does seems like quite an assumption. “Who else knows about the parchment?” I murmur back.
“No one. It was pointed out by someone who thought it was for me, but nobody around could read it. I brought it straight to you.”
A shadow cast by the architect falls over us. “And now you’re back, Remi,” he says sternly. “I’ve been waiting half an hour.”
“I’m helping the venatre,” Remi replies.
Magister Thomas’s gray eyes shift between us. “I’ve already lost Catrin’s assistance to the inquiry this morning, I can’t also spare you.” He cuts Remi off before his mouth can fully open.“For someone who begs for more authority, you’re very eager to shirk the responsibilities you already have.” He pivots away and leaves without waiting for a response.
I know the expression on Remi’s face. He’s holding back tears. I put my hand on his arm. “Thank you for bringing us the note so quickly.”
He turns on me, green eyes blazing. “You know why the magister lets you help the venatre, don’t you?” Remi clenches his teeth. “It’s because he knows you’ll protect him.”
“It’s because he wants Perrete’s murder solved,” I retort, my earlier empathy dissolving.
“Keep telling yourself that, Kitten.”
“Very well,” says Simon loudly. “Lead me to your house, and I’ll see what I can find.”
Thanking Simon profusely, the man beckons him to a road leading south from the square. Lambert and Juliane pause to look at me expectantly before following. Remi has already vanished, so I rush to fall in behind them. A small crowd follows, winding up the street like a funeral procession. Occasionally, I see Simon through the gap between the siblings. He walks alongside the babbling man, tension in every step. I can feel it building in my own shoulders.
Remi is right that I’ll do anything to protect Magister Thomas. He should be willing to do the same.
Our destination is a prosperous neighborhood. The man opens the door of his home, but Simon ignores the invitation and looks around. On one side of the house is a large shed with chains across the door, which he points to. “I assume in there is your horse, wagon, and stores.”
“Aye.” The grain merchant shifts his feet, clogs scraping across the stone threshold. “She’s not in there. I looked.”
“I didn’t think she was.” Simon sweeps his gaze up and downthe street, then strides back the way he came, passing Lambert, Juliane, and me. For a second, I think he’s leaving, but he stops outside an alley several houses away. The distraught husband runs to his side, panic and confusion on his face.
“Cousin,” calls Simon to Lambert. “Will you please stay with Master Merchant?” Without a word, Lambert steps forward and takes the man’s arm.
Simon motions to Juliane and me, then he turns and walks into the shadowed gap between buildings. Juliane and I are right behind him, but several steps inside he suddenly throws his arm out to make us stop. “There,” he says. “What do you see?”
I follow his line of sight to the ground. “Footprints.” Some are heavier than others, but I can’t make much sense of them.
“Those are of no real consequence,” Simon replies. “What else?”
“Two lines in the dirt,” says Juliane, pointing. “Tracks of something being dragged.”
“Good.” He looks over his shoulder at me with his flawed eye. “What could have made those, Cat?”
It feels like a chance to redeem my unimportant observation about the footprints. “Two…,” I begin and stop. Two what? Suddenly I remember Simon talking about what happened to Perrete after she’d been stabbed. “Two heeled shoes. A person was dragged backward down this alley. Someone unconscious.”
“Excellent.” Simon lowers his arm and continues, stepping so as not to disturb the two lines, and Juliane and I follow suit. This alley has a dead end, with piles of trash against the walls. The parallel tracks lead to a person-size lump with flies buzzing over and around it. Though it’s faint, the scent of decay hanging in the air is unmistakable. Simon pauses to let us brace ourselves. Juliane gives him a slight nod, and he bends down and flings the dingy canvas aside. I cover my mouth and nose with one hand just in time.
I’ll never get used to seeing this. Ever.
Simon squats next to the corpse’s feet, which are shod in sturdy women’s boots with high wooden heels, and tests the movement of her leg. “She’s been dead since about midnight, give or take an hour.”
“The killer grabbed her as soon as she left her home?” I ask through my hand.
