the murderer turn the room upside down to look for it?’
But Richard Manifold had his answer ready. ‘Maybe it wasn’t difficult to find. Maybe she kept it in that chest under the window.’
‘And how did the killer get in without forcing an entrance?’
Again, he was ready for me. ‘Mistress Bracegirdle had gone to bed and forgotten to bolt the door…’
‘She hadn’t gone to bed. The bed hasn’t been slept in. Moreover, her supper is still in the pot over the fire, uneaten. Not even tasted. The spoon and bowl on the table are clean.’
‘Very well! She hadn’t gone to bed.’ My companion was desperately trying to control his temper. ‘She was still sitting over the fire but had forgotten to lock the door. Our murderer crept in, strangled her and took the money from the chest. It would be the first place to look, now wouldn’t it? And if he found it there, there’d be no need to go ransacking the cottage.’
He hadn’t convinced me, but I had to admit that his version of events was plausible enough. It was known that some thieves tried the latches of houses at night on the offchance that a few doors might be left unbolted. I recollected seeing our own latch being lifted on one occasion, when I happened to wake up in the middle of the night. (I scared my mother-in-law half to death by leaping out of bed, yelling at the top of my voice, in order to frighten away the would-be intruder.) So I sighed and conceded the argument.
‘You’re probably right. I’ll be off to the Priory then, to see about the cottage.’
Richard Manifold nodded smugly. ‘You do that. Ask for Brother Elmer. And in future, stick to the thing you’re good at. Peddling.’
I gritted my teeth, but made no answer.
* * *
The Priory of Saint James had been founded as a cell of Tewkesbury Abbey, but at some time in the distant past, an agreement had been reached between the then Abbot and the local people that the nave should be maintained by the parishioners and used for parochial purposes. This morning it had been taken over by the Sheriff and his men in order to hold a brief, preliminary inquest into Imelda Bracegirdle’s murder. I wondered whether or not to go in and make them free of my thoughts on the subject. Then I told myself not to be a fool, and went instead in search of Brother Elmer.
The January morning was less overcast than it had been earlier, the threat of rain and sleet receding, but it was still extremely cold and the trees of the orchard stood like skeletons against the skyline. I found Brother Elmer at last, after enquiries at both the brewery and the bakehouse directed me thither; he was closeted with Father Prior, and so I was able to make my request on Adela’s behalf to the highest authority. I was promised that the matter would be raised at the following day’s Chapter meeting, and with that I had to be content. There would also be, as Brother Elmer pointed out to me, other equally deserving cases to be considered, but the claim of Adela Juett would be borne in mind.
‘Do you have any idea by whom, or why, Mistress Bracegirdle was murdered?’ I asked as I turned to go.
‘Oh, a chance thief, undoubtedly,’ replied Brother Elmer, ‘who took advantage of an unbolted door. The Sheriff is convinced of it.’ He glanced for confirmation at Father Prior, who inclined his venerable head. ‘There were always stories that Imelda had a secret hoard of money, though alas, poor soul, I think it most unlikely. But a thief, abroad after dark and who had heard the rumours, finding her door unlocked could have thought it worth the risk, and a sudden evil impulse prompted him to kill her. Or perhaps a man desperate for money, to repay an urgent debt.’
I knew now where Richard Manifold got his version of events, for it seemed to be the Sheriff’s version, too. I was half-inclined to pay this worthy a visit and tell him about the scream heard by Adela Juett, with the added information that it had
But Richard Manifold had his answer ready. ‘Maybe it wasn’t difficult to find. Maybe she kept it in that chest under the window.’
‘And how did the killer get in without forcing an entrance?’
Again, he was ready for me. ‘Mistress Bracegirdle had gone to bed and forgotten to bolt the door…’
‘She hadn’t gone to bed. The bed hasn’t been slept in. Moreover, her supper is still in the pot over the fire, uneaten. Not even tasted. The spoon and bowl on the table are clean.’
‘Very well! She hadn’t gone to bed.’ My companion was desperately trying to control his temper. ‘She was still sitting over the fire but had forgotten to lock the door. Our murderer crept in, strangled her and took the money from the chest. It would be the first place to look, now wouldn’t it? And if he found it there, there’d be no need to go ransacking the cottage.’
He hadn’t convinced me, but I had to admit that his version of events was plausible enough. It was known that some thieves tried the latches of houses at night on the offchance that a few doors might be left unbolted. I recollected seeing our own latch being lifted on one occasion, when I happened to wake up in the middle of the night. (I scared my mother-in-law half to death by leaping out of bed, yelling at the top of my voice, in order to frighten away the would-be intruder.) So I sighed and conceded the argument.
‘You’re probably right. I’ll be off to the Priory then, to see about the cottage.’
Richard Manifold nodded smugly. ‘You do that. Ask for Brother Elmer. And in future, stick to the thing you’re good at. Peddling.’
I gritted my teeth, but made no answer.
* * *
The Priory of Saint James had been founded as a cell of Tewkesbury Abbey, but at some time in the distant past, an agreement had been reached between the then Abbot and the local people that the nave should be maintained by the parishioners and used for parochial purposes. This morning it had been taken over by the Sheriff and his men in order to hold a brief, preliminary inquest into Imelda Bracegirdle’s murder. I wondered whether or not to go in and make them free of my thoughts on the subject. Then I told myself not to be a fool, and went instead in search of Brother Elmer.
The January morning was less overcast than it had been earlier, the threat of rain and sleet receding, but it was still extremely cold and the trees of the orchard stood like skeletons against the skyline. I found Brother Elmer at last, after enquiries at both the brewery and the bakehouse directed me thither; he was closeted with Father Prior, and so I was able to make my request on Adela’s behalf to the highest authority. I was promised that the matter would be raised at the following day’s Chapter meeting, and with that I had to be content. There would also be, as Brother Elmer pointed out to me, other equally deserving cases to be considered, but the claim of Adela Juett would be borne in mind.
‘Do you have any idea by whom, or why, Mistress Bracegirdle was murdered?’ I asked as I turned to go.
‘Oh, a chance thief, undoubtedly,’ replied Brother Elmer, ‘who took advantage of an unbolted door. The Sheriff is convinced of it.’ He glanced for confirmation at Father Prior, who inclined his venerable head. ‘There were always stories that Imelda had a secret hoard of money, though alas, poor soul, I think it most unlikely. But a thief, abroad after dark and who had heard the rumours, finding her door unlocked could have thought it worth the risk, and a sudden evil impulse prompted him to kill her. Or perhaps a man desperate for money, to repay an urgent debt.’
I knew now where Richard Manifold got his version of events, for it seemed to be the Sheriff’s version, too. I was half-inclined to pay this worthy a visit and tell him about the scream heard by Adela Juett, with the added information that it had
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