Constant Lovers Read Free

me to find out,’ Nottingham told him. ‘Have you seen any of her clothing? Anything at all?’
    â€˜Nowt,’ Johnson answered. ‘Just her, like that.’ The Constable could see that the man’s hand was trembling, clutching tight on the brittle pipe stem.
    â€˜Have some people look around,’ he suggested. ‘There might be something.’
    â€˜I will,’ Johnson agreed.
    â€˜Do you have a coroner out here?’ Nottingham said. Outside the city boundary, this was beyond the writ of Edward Brodgen, the Leeds coroner.
    â€˜Usually the master does it, but he’s gone, like I say.’
    â€˜Have his deputy pronounce her dead. Can you find someone to bring her to the jail?’ he asked. ‘I’ll need her there.’
    â€˜I’ll get Elias and his cart. He does all the hauling round here.’
    â€˜Cover her properly,’ Nottingham warned gently. ‘We don’t want all the world staring at her.’
    â€˜Aye,’ Johnson agreed, his voice barely more than a whisper. ‘Aye.’
    â€˜And if you find anything, bring it to me. Anything at all. It could be important.’
    He walked away, leaving the farmer to his thoughts, and mounted the horse for the ride back to Leeds. His spine hurt from the constant, jarring movement, and he looked to the distance, happy to see the outline of the city, the roofs and spires that meant home.
    Like it or not, it seemed that looking for the girl’s killer was going to be his job. She obviously wasn’t local to Kirkstall; someone would have known her immediately. Nor did she have the air of the country girl about her. Her skin was too white, too smooth; she’d never spent much time exposed to the sun. When they brought her to the jail he’d look at her hands, but he was willing to wager there would be no calluses.
    She came from money. Everything about her said that. Very soon someone would report her missing and then he’d be under pressure to find the murderer. The mayor, now in the last months of his office, would carp and command. Never mind the poor who died from violence, this would come first.
    But there was nothing more he could do until he inspected her body properly. He hadn’t paid attention to see if she wore any rings, or had marks on her fingers from them. There would be a few things she could still tell him, even in death.
    He sighed, willing the horse back to its stable so he could plant his two feet on the ground. The heat had grown during the morning, and even the small breeze simply stirred the warm air around.
    Soon enough, though, Leeds was around him, the noise and press of people, the full, awful summer perfume of the city filling his nostrils. Strangers often found the place unnerving, roaring loud, busy and crowded, but the familiarity of it all comforted him. Smiling, he walked back along Boar Lane, glancing up at the buildings, the inviting scent of ale seeping from the open door of an inn.
    Sedgwick was waiting at the jail, the remains of a beef pie on the desk in front of him, his coat thrown across a chair. Nottingham poured a mug of small beer and drank eagerly.
    â€˜Any joy with the thieving servants?’ he asked.
    â€˜No. I’ve told people to look out for the lace handkerchiefs. I don’t think there’s anything else we can do for now. If this lot have any sense they’ll have moved on by now and be trying it somewhere else.’
    â€˜How many criminals have sense?’ Nottingham asked. ‘We’ve got something bigger now. We have a murderer to find.’
    â€˜Oh?’ Sedgwick fixed his stare on the Constable.
    â€˜They called me out to Kirkstall. A girl stabbed at the abbey.’ He poured more beer and drank. ‘From a quick look at her, I’d say she’s from quality.’
    Sedgwick made a sour face. He knew what that meant.
    â€˜Someone’s going to be bringing her in later. Once we know a little