Constant Lovers Read Free Page A

more I’ll tell His Worship.’ The mayor would need to be informed.
    â€˜If we’re looking for a murderer we could use someone else to help,’ the deputy pointed out.
    â€˜I know.’
    Until the spring they’d had someone, a young cutpurse named Josh who’d turned into a promising Constable’s man. But he’d left, and Nottingham couldn’t blame him for going. His girl had lost their baby and died, and Josh had been beaten bloody by a pair of thugs. There’d been precious little to keep him in Leeds.
    Since then he’d talked to a few prospects, but there’d been no one to equal the lad they’d lost. He’d had intelligence and energy, he listened well and was used to being invisible, unnoticed. Finding someone that good was hard, but the Constable wasn’t going to settle for less.
    â€˜I need to find the right person,’ he said. ‘You know anyone?’
    Sedgwick shook his head. ‘None of the men are up to it. They’ll do what you need if you prod them but nothing more than that.’
    Nottingham grinned. ‘Maybe we’ll be lucky and solve this one in a day.’
    â€˜Aye, and maybe someone will have left me a fortune in his will.’ The deputy stood and stretched loudly, his arms extending almost to the ceiling. ‘Do you want me to check the Hall later?’
    Every Tuesday and Saturday afternoon undyed cloth was sold at the White Cloth Hall. Like the morning market on Briggate it was held in near silence; only the sound of whispers and footsteps echoed around the stone wings of the building. There was never any trouble, but they went when they could, just to walk around and remind people that the law was watching.
    â€˜Yes, I suppose we’d better put in an appearance,’ Nottingham answered. ‘I’ll wait here for the body.’
    Left alone he slipped next door to the White Swan for a fresh jug of ale and a pie from their kitchen. It would be at least an hour before the carter arrived with the corpse and he’d no intention of going hungry while he waited.
    The mutton was stringy but the gravy was rich and spicy, soaking deep into the pastry. The ale tasted refreshing, cool from the deep, dark cellar where a stream ran through the earth. He sat back on the bench, resting his head against the wall, and closed his eyes.
    Tomorrow his family would all be together. Emily would have the day off from her post as a governess in Headingley, and walk into Leeds to be with them. Mary would be cleaning the house now, although it was already spotless, ready for their daughter’s arrival.
    The girl seemed to have settled happily into her position. There was a new air of gravity and maturity replacing the wild ways of last autumn when she’d seemed uncontrollable. She loved the two young girls in her care, and responsibility agreed with her, smiles and sharp eyes replacing the bleak silences of winter.
    But that season had been a bad time for them all. After Rose had died, slipping away to a wraith in just a week, their lives had simply crumbled. Slowly, painfully they’d managed to look ahead. And now, with Emily gone, he and Mary were gradually becoming used to life alone again, cast back on themselves.
    It had been a tenuous easing back to old familiarities and intimacies. They were finding each other again, reminded of the pleasure of each other’s company once more. With the good weather they’d taken to walking together, just as they had when they were younger, letting their grief evaporate in the long, warm evenings.
    The grating squeak of a cart turning the corner on to Kirkgate roused him from his thoughts and he glanced through the dust on the window. The man had made good time from Kirkstall. He gulped the last of the ale and rushed into the street.
    The carter had stopped in front of the jail. He was a squat, bearded man, dressed in breeches and shirt, an old leather apron bulging over his