A Killer in Winter by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online

scholars
     of Ovyng, Garrett, St Catherine’s and Physwick hostels, who paid Michaelhouse a fee to use the building on a regular basis,
     were also familiar with it. But to anyone unaware of its idiosyncratic nature, the latch presented aformidable barrier, and more than one would-be visitor had been thwarted by it in the past. Michael gave it one or two expert
     shakes, and the door sprung open.
    The two scholars walked through the timber porch and entered the short nave, while Meadowman seized the opportunity to slip
     away to his other duties. It was even colder inside the church than it was out, which was probably the real reason why the
     beadle had declined to search it for Harysone. The air was still and damp, and ice-glazed puddles showed where water had leaked
     through the roof during the last sleety downpour and had collected in depressions on the floor. Most of the window shutters
     were open, but the glass was thick and opaque, the building shadowy, and the winter day dull and grey, so it was difficult
     to see anything at all.
    The church smelled of cheap incense and damp plaster, with an underlying musty odour emanating from an array of ancient vestments
     that were hanging on a row of hooks near the porch. Michaelhouse’s scholars believed that these grimy robes, which were liberally
     spotted with mould, should be either cleaned or thrown away, but the Master always demurred, claiming that they might ‘come
     in useful one day’. Bartholomew supposed they would remain festering on their rusty hooks until they turned to dust, since
     he could not imagine anyone willingly donning the things when there were newer and less odorous ones available.
    Harysone was not in the nave, so Bartholomew and Michael walked towards the chancel, their feet on the flagstones making
     the only sound. The church comprised the nave and chancel, two aisles and two chapels. The south chapel was usually called
     the Stanton Chapel, named for Michaelhouse’s founder who was buried there. It was one of the finest examples of modern architecture
     in Cambridge, but the chancel was the building’s crowning glory. It was larger than the nave, and boasted simple, but elegant,
     tracery in its arched windows, while its walls were painted with scenes from the Bible in brilliant reds, blues, yellows and
     greens.When the sun shone, light pooled in delicate patterns on the creamy-white of the floor, although that day the whole building
     was gloomy, and no lights pooled anywhere.
    Bartholomew noticed that one of the candles on the high altar had wilted, and that wax was dripping on the floor. He went
     to straighten it and scrape away the mess with a knife, while Michael gazed around in agitation.
    ‘Harysone is not here!’ he muttered angrily.
    Bartholomew shrugged as he worked. ‘We were at least an hour – probably longer – with Norbert. I am not surprised that your
     quarry has left.’
    Michael was disgusted. ‘Now we shall never know what he was doing.’
    ‘Meadowman said he may not have come in at all. Perhaps he gave up on the latch and went away. Or perhaps he exited through
     the south door.’
    ‘Why would he do that?’ called Michael testily, prowling around the lovely Stanton Chapel, as though anticipating that Harysone
     might be hiding behind the founder’s tomb.
    ‘Because the latch jammed and he found himself unable to leave through the north one?’ suggested Bartholomew, giving the pewter
     candle-holder a quick polish on his sleeve.
    ‘You are right!’ exclaimed Michael triumphantly, when he went to inspect the exit in the south aisle. It was larger than the
     north door, but using the smaller entrance tended to keep the building warmer. The south aisle was occasionally employed as
     a mortuary chapel for parishioners, but most of the time it stood empty and its door was permanently barred. ‘Someone has
     been out this way.’
    The door had been left ajar, and the monk opened it fully to peer out,