The Body in the Thames by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online

was
     not entirely without foundation – she had ‘mislaid’ missives before, and had been defiantly unrepentant when Chaloner had
     tackled her about it. ‘She did not have the chance to pass me anything.’
    Bulteel sniffed disbelievingly. ‘My note was about Hanse. Mr Kersey, down at the charnel house, has a body matching his description.’
    Westminster’s mortuary was a grim building, located between a granary and a coal yard. It comprised a long, low cellar for
     storing bodies, with two more pleasant rooms near the door. One of these chambers was the office in which the charnel-house
     keeper collected his takings. John Kersey charged an admission fee for spectators, and also ran a small museum containing
     some of the more unusual artefacts he had collected from his charges over the years. The other was a comfortable parlour in
     which he explained formalities to grieving friends and families.
    Despite the early hour, Kersey was at his place of work. He was a neat, dapper little man whose fine clothes and expensive
     wig said he made a decent living from his grim trade. Chaloner might have suspected him of dressing himself with garments
     retrieved from his wealthier corpses, but they fitted him far too well, and were obviously the work of bespoke tailors.
    Soberly confiding that the hot weather meant he was much busier than usual, Kersey conducted Chaloner to the main chamber,
     where the stench was enough to make a man light-headed. The place hummed with flies, and Chaloner’s stomach began to churn.
     Although not a religious man, he found himself praying that the body he was about to be shown would not be Hanse’s.
    ‘Here,’ said Kersey, stopping next to a table that was about halfway down the room and lifting the sheet that covered it.
     ‘Is this him?’
    Chaloner felt a great wave of sadness wash over him as he gazed at his brother-in-law, a man he had liked and respected, despite
     the fact that they had met rarely since his first wife’s death twelve years before. Familial ties were important in both Dutch
     and English society, and were rarely severed because someone died or remarried, so Chaloner was still kin as far as Hanse
     was concerned, and vice versa.
    Their paths had crossed by pure chance in White Hall the previous Wednesday, and Hanse had been so delighted that he had hauled
     Chaloner immediately to the Savoy to pay his respects to Jacoba – his own wife and Aletta’s sister. Their next meeting had
     been in the Westminster tavern two days later, after which Hanse had disappeared.
    ‘You look as though you could do with a drink,’ said Kersey gently, after some time had passed, and Chaloner had done nothing
     but stare.
    Wordlessly, Chaloner followed him through the mortuary to the parlour, flapping bluebottles from his face as he went. Once
     there, he sat on a chair and watched Kersey pour wine into a pair of handsome crystal goblets. He usually avoided drinking
     from Kersey’s cups, on the grounds that the charnel-house keeper wasin the habit of letting them be used for unpleasant procedures in the mortuary, but such considerations were a long way from
     his mind that day, and he accepted without thinking. When he sipped the brew – dawn was a little early in the day for wine,
     but Kersey was right in that he needed something – he was surprised by its fine quality. Clearly, Kersey was a man who knew
     how to cater to his personal comforts.
    Gradually, the wine settled Chaloner’s roiling innards. Seeing Hanse dead had upset him more than he would have anticipated
     given the number of people he had lost in his life – to the civil wars, to sickness, and because he had chosen a dangerous
     occupation. He could only suppose that meeting Hanse in London, combined with his recent visit to the States-General, had
     resurrected memories and feelings about his first family that he had thought were well and truly buried.
    ‘Can I assume it
is
the Dutchman?’ asked Kersey, his