The Hand of Justice by Susanna Gregory Read Free Book Online Page B

look. ‘That may well be true, but
I
was not Sheriff when their case came under review. Stephen Morice was.
He
was the one who claimed the town had no objection to their release, not me.’
    ‘Do you think Thorpe and Edward killed Bosel?’ asked Michael of Bartholomew, ignoring the Sheriff’s ire that he should be
     blamed for something his predecessor had done.
    Tulyet raised his eyebrows and spoke before the physician could reply. ‘I have just told you they were both in a meeting last
     night. How can they be responsible?’
    ‘Because you do not need to be present when your victim dies of poison,’ Michael pointed out. ‘They could have given Bosel
     the doctored wine hours before they went to this meeting.’
    Tulyet considered, then nodded towards the madwoman. ‘In my experience the person who finds a murdered corpse is often its
     killer, and
she
seems to have no rational reason for being with Bosel. Do I know her? She looks familiar.’
    ‘Where would she find the money to buy wine and poison?’ asked Michael. ‘And why kill Bosel when she is a stranger in Cambridge,
     with no reason to harm any of its inhabitants?’
    ‘How do you know she had no reason to harm Bosel?’ asked Bartholomew reasonably. ‘We know nothing about her, not even her
     name. And she is out of her wits, so isnot rational. She may have killed him because she thought he was someone else.’
    ‘Shall I arrest her, then?’ asked Tulyet. ‘I will, if you think she is guilty.’
    ‘I do not know,’ said Bartholomew, unwilling to condemn anyone to the Castle prison. It was a foul place, full of rats and
     dripping slime. ‘She might be telling the truth – that she found the body and did not like to leave it alone until a priest
     came.’
    ‘Perhaps she
stole
the wine,’ suggested Tulyet, reluctant to dismiss a potential culprit too readily. ‘Or Bosel did – and got more than he bargained
     for. Unfortunately, I am too busy to look into this myself. Repairs to the Great Bridge begin today, and I must be there to
     supervise.’
    ‘Why?’ asked Michael curiously. ‘That is the burgesses’ responsibility, not yours.’
    Tulyet’s face was angry. ‘Because the burgesses, in an attempt to cut costs, want to use the cheapest labour available: the
     prisoners in my Castle. That is why we had that meeting last night. I objected very strongly, but I was outvoted on all sides,
     so debtors, thieves and violent robbers will be set free to work on the bridge this very afternoon. I need to make sure they
     do not try to escape – or that my soldiers will know how to stop them, if they do.’
    ‘
When
they do,’ muttered Bartholomew.
    ‘It is about time the bridge was mended,’ said Michael. ‘It almost collapsed when I last used it.’
    ‘It has been subjected to some
very
heavy loads recently,’ agreed Tulyet. ‘But, besides watching forty able-bodied villains, I am also obliged to keep a close
     watch on Thorpe and Edward. I am sure they came here intending mischief. I shall have to delegate Bosel’s murder investigation
     to Sergeant Orwelle.’
    ‘Orwelle is a good man,’ said Bartholomew, although he thought it a pity that Bosel was to be deprived of thesuperior talents of the Sheriff. ‘He will do his best to solve this crime.’
    ‘And he has a limited number of suspects,’ added Michael. ‘Thomas Mortimer and his clan are the only ones with a known motive.’
    ‘Well, there is her,’ said Tulyet, pointing at the woman. ‘However, I have a feeling you are right: Bosel’s death probably
     does have something to do with the Mortimers. Bosel’s evidence was not worth much, but without it I have nothing.’
    Bartholomew and Michael left the Sheriff, and resumed their walk to Isnard’s house with Quenhyth and Redmeadow trailing behind
     them; Deynman had been charged with taking the woman to St John’s Hospital. They passed through the Trumpington Gate, then
     cut down the narrow lane opposite the Hall of