Cruel As the Grave (12 page)

Justin gestured for Geoffrey to join him and they moved toward the doorway, out of eavesdropping range. "And you were not jealous?"

Geoffrey looked startled. "No, of course not."

"Why not?" Justin was deliberately abrasive. "Because you knew she loved you and you alone? Or because you did not consider your brother to be a rival worth worrying about?"

Geoffrey flushed slightly; he'd had little experience in deflecting hostility. "Both, I suppose," he admitted. "Daniel is pitifully awkward with girls, so tongue-tied that they either laugh at him or avoid him altogether."

"Which did Melangell do?"

"Neither - she befriended him. Melangell was ever one for taking in strays."

Justin changed the subject abruptly, hoping to throw Geoffrey off stride. "What of the silk cloth found under her body? Did you give it to her?"

"No, I did not. I'd given her presents in the past, when I could. But we do not sell that sort of silk weave, a patterned twill."

Justin did not expect Geoffrey to fall into so obvious a trap, but he still had to ask. "I take it you've seen the silk in question, then?"

Geoffrey nodded. "The serjeant... Tobias, I think he was called ... showed it to us."

Justin hoped that Tobias had thought to show it to the others who worked in the Aston shop; he wasn't very impressed so far with the serjeant's investigation. "Can anyone account for your whereabouts that night?"

Geoffrey smiled faintly. "Besides me, you mean? No, I regret not. I'd gone on an errand on my mother's behest, in search of henbane and bryony root and black poppy, for she was in need of a sleeping potion. But when I got to the apothecary's, he had already closed up for the night."

Justin sighed, sure that Beatrice Aston would verify Geoffrey's story, and sure, too, that her confirmation was meaningless; what mother would not lie to save her son? "That is all for now," he said, and then, suddenly, "Do you think your brother killed her?"

Geoffrey was not flustered by the unexpected question. "No," he said emphatically, "I do not."

Justin studied him for a long moment. They were of an age and could have been mirror images of each other, both tall and lean, although Justin's hair was dark and Geoffrey's was flaxen. "Would you tell me if you did suspect him?" he asked, and was not surprised when Geoffrey immediately shook his head.

"No," he said, "I would not," and Justin felt a faint flicker of respect. He'd grown up without a father and had felt the loss keenly. Geoffrey's father had been there since his first day of life, ever present and omnipotent, and Justin would not have traded places with him for half the riches in Christendom.

"Geoffrey!" The voice was a female one, unfamiliar to Justin. He turned to see a young woman coming up the street toward them. She was tall and willowy, and although she was modestly veiled and wimpled, her skin was so fair and her eyes so blue that Justin was sure her hidden hair color was blond. She was accompanied by a male servant, heavily laden with packages and bundles, so deferential that Justin knew at once this must be Adela, Geoffrey's prospective bride.

Geoffrey confirmed his guess even before the introductions were made, glancing toward Justin in mute entreaty. Justin understood what he was asking: to say nothing of Melangell's murder. Did Adela know suspicion had fallen upon her betrothed? Surely her uncle did by now. No wonder Geoffrey was uneasy, for the plight troth had not yet been finalized; Adela could still disavow him, put an end to the marriage plans if the scandal grew any worse. And it was obvious that Geoffrey wanted this marriage to take place, for there was an edginess underlying the affection in his greeting. Adela was a marital prize, niece to the master of the Mercer's Guild, and Humphrey Aston's choice of a bride for his son. With so much at stake, Justin was not surprised that Geoffrey should be nervous, and he obliged by identifying himself as a "friend of Geoffrey's, eager to meet his bride-to-be."

Geoffrey shot him a grateful look before giving Adela a circumspect kiss on the cheek. The talk was banal, mostly of Adela's shopping purchases in the Cheapside market, offering Justin an opportunity to appraise Geoffrey's future wife. She was undeniably elegant, but somewhat aloof, putting him in mind of a swan, regal and unapproachable, as unlike the earthy, wanton peddler's daughter as chalk and cheese. Would this pampered, bloodless child of privilege stand by Geoffrey if he fell under serious suspicion? Or would she shrink from the scandal, from a man less than perfect? If he were asked to wager on it, Justin would have put his money on the latter likelihood. And yet... those pale blue eyes were guarded, not vacant, and one of her well-tended, soft hands was resting possessively on Geoffrey's arm. Mayhap he had been too quick to judge, to assume that propriety was her ruling passion.

"Geoffrey, I would like you to escort me home." Adela seemed to take his compliance for granted, for she then bade Justin a polite farewell and signaled for her servant to follow. Justin watched them move off down the street, wondering how much - if anything - Adela knew about Melangell. And then he stepped back into the shop, where Nell was chatting easily with the journeymen, and went in search of Daniel.

He found the boy in the storeroom, sitting on a barrel surrounded by items of luxury, for while mercers dealt primarily in silks and costly textiles, they also sold toys, hats and caps, belts, and spices. Daniel's face was blotched with color, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. He glared defiantly at Justin, square chin jutting out, freckled fists clenching on his knees. "Are you still here? I'm getting bone-weary of running into you every time I turn around!"

Justin slammed the door shut behind him, then leaned back against it, arms folded across his chest, saying nothing. It didn't take long. Daniel was soon squirming under his cold-eyed appraisal. "What are you staring at?" he demanded. "Why will you not leave me be?"

"If I do, lad, you're sure to hang," Justin said brutally, and saw Daniel quiver under the impact of his words. "I do not know if you killed the girl. I do know you're the one likely to answer for it, and on the gallows. So if you can clear yourself, now is the time to speak up ... ere it is too late."

Daniel's ruddy color had ebbed away. "I did nothing wrong," he said hoarsely. "I did not kill her!"

"I need more than your denial, Daniel. I need answers. Where were you on the night of Melangell's death?"

"I was down by the wharves."

"Alone?"

Daniel nodded. "I... I filched a flagon of my father's wine, and went off to drink it where I'd not be seen."

Justin didn't know whether to laugh or to swear. "Of all nights, you and your brother would pick that one to shun the company of others."

Daniel blinked. "Geoffrey cannot prove where he was, either?"

"You did not know that? Did you not talk to him about the killing?"

"No," Daniel said, so simply that Justin believed him. On reflection, it was not as odd as it first appeared. The Astons were not a confiding family, more like separate, lonely islands in a sea churned up by Humphrey's bile.

"What did you and Melangell quarrel about, Daniel, on the day of her death?"

Daniel looked at him bleakly, finally mumbling, "I told you I do not remember."

"Do not be a fool, Daniel," Justin warned, but he was too late. The door, having opened a crack, now slammed shut again. Daniel's face was stony, green eyes staring stubbornly off into space, looking anywhere but at Justin's face.

Justin soon saw further discussion was futile. "Never have I seen someone so eager to get himself hanged," he said impatiently, and left Daniel to the solitude of the storeroom and his own troubled thoughts.

As soon as Justin stepped back into the shop, he felt the change in atmosphere. One glance pinpointed the source of tension: Humphrey Aston had returned. He was blocking the open doorway, shutting out the light, and judging from his stance and his scowl, he was not pleased with what had been occurring in his absence. The apprentices were visibly wilting under the heat he was giving off, the journeymen had suddenly found urgent tasks to perform, and even the few customers seemed uncomfortable. Only Nell appeared unfazed by Humphrey's ire. She was regarding him with the same detached distaste she showed whenever her Lucy brought snails and toads inside for her inspection and identification.

Humphrey was startled by the sight of Justin. "Why did no one tell me you were here?" he asked irritably. "Well? What do you have to report? Have you found out who killed that peddler's wench?"

"No."

Humphrey waited for Justin to continue, and drew a shallow, aggrieved breath when he realized that terse response was all he was going to get. He may have been a bully, but he was no fool, and he'd grudgingly concluded that Justin was not easily intimidated. Swallowing his anger, he said dismissively, "I'd hoped you'd have made more progress by now." As his eyes roamed the shop, taking inventory of his realm, he noticed then two conspicuous absences. "Where are my sons?"

When it became apparent to Justin that no one else was going to answer, he said, "Geoffrey left to escort Adela home."

"Adela was here?" It was the first time Justin had seen Humphrey show pleasure and it was a moment before he realized that teeth-baring grimace was indeed a smile. "Well, that was what he should have done," the mercer said, so indulgently that Justin understood exactly why Geoffrey was so anxious to wed Adela. Humphrey's satisfaction was short-lived, though. Remembering that he had another son still unaccounted for, he demanded to know where Daniel was.

Again, it was left to Justin to respond. Deciding that it was better to reveal Daniel's whereabouts than to have Humphrey conclude he had sneaked off as soon as his father's back was turned, he said, "He is working in the storeroom," and hoped that the boy would have the wit to appear busy as soon as he heard that familiar heavy tread. Catching Nell's eye, he headed then for the door.

Once they were out in the street, Nell said indignantly, "You should have heard the way he was browbeating those poor souls! What a pity he was not the one murdered instead of little Melangell."

"Murder is probably not the best way to cull the wheat from the chaff," Justin said, with mordant humor. "Did your conversation with the apprentices and journeymen yield anything of interest?"

"They all loathe Humphrey, of course. But the sons do not seem to be following in the father's footsteps, for Humphrey's hirelings bear them no ill will. I get the sense that they find Geoffrey more likable, but Daniel has earned their respect - on a few rash occasions, he actually dared to stand up to his father. You can well imagine what his courage cost him in bruises and welts. Humphrey will not abide the slightest opposition to his will, and has a temper that kindles faster than sun-dried straw. But they say he fawns over Adela as if she were the Blessed Virgin Mary, so eager is he for an alliance with Master Serlo, the girl's uncle."

"I saw that, too," Justin agreed. "I'd even wager he hungers for the prestige of such a union as much as the marriage portion she'd bring to his son. What of Melangell? Did the other apprentices know about her dalliance with Geoffrey?"

"Indeed, they did. It had to be one of the worst-kept secrets in all of London. The other lads were quite envious of Geoffrey's 'good fortune,' for they thought Melangell looked like a 'right ripe piece,' a judgment they delivered with much smirking and rolling of eyes." Nell did some eye-rolling now of her own, for she had little patience with youthful male braggadocio. "What of you? Did you have any luck with the sons?"

"Well, I got Geoffrey to admit the dalliance was more serious than he'd have us think, at least on Melangell's part. When I asked if she loved him, he conceded as much. And Daniel unbent long enough to insist he was innocent."

"Do you believe him?"

"I'd like to," Justin hedged. "Nothing would make me happier than to be able to clear Agnes's nephews. Like Geoffrey's protestations, Daniel's denial sounded sincere. Alas, the world is filled with people who can lie as easily as they draw breath," he said, thinking of his father, thinking of Claudine. "Nor is it helpful that neither brother can prove where he was whilst Melangell was being attacked."

"So," Nell prompted, "what does your gut tell you?"

"That I'm hungry again," Justin joked, and grinned when Nell shoved him. "You wanted a serious answer, did you? Well, I think Daniel Aston has something to hide," he said, his fingers straying toward his money pouch, feeling for the outlines of that bloodstained rock.

~~

Despite Nell's protests, Justin escorted her back to the alehouse, left her scolding Ellis for broken crockery while Lucy played in the kitchen with Shadow, and set out in search of Tobias. He found the serjeant at the London gaol, where he had just delivered a prisoner. Jonas was on the scene, too, and gave Justin an ironic smile when he ever so casually invited the two of them to share a meal, well aware that Justin hoped for his help in extracting information from Tobias. Both men accepted the offer, though, and led Justin to a tavern on Fleet Street, not far from the river where he'd rescued Shadow from drowning.

Justin waited until they'd been served heaping helpings of mutton stew before he broached the subject of Tobias's investigation. He was treading with some care, lest Tobias take offense, not yet knowing if the other man would view his involvement as meddling, his suggestions as interference. He soon saw, however, that he had no reason to worry, for Tobias was a far different breed of peacekeeper than Jonas.