Free Fate and Fortune by Shirley McKay

says he has no knowledge of her. That implies she is a stranger here.’
    Gently, Giles lifted the arm and examined her hand. ‘A fisherlass, though. Look at her fingers,’ he muttered to Hew. ‘See how cracked and raw they are; that comes from the herrings. The sea water hardens and thickens the skin, but these little sores never heal. She is young, sixteen, I hazard, small and badly nourished for her age. And she is very poor, though I infer that she was coming to the fair, or else had been there. Though her clothes are old, they are her Sunday best. Her dress is clean.’
    ‘How did she die?’ the coroner persisted. ‘Did she drown?’
    ‘Her hair and clothes are soaked, possibly from spray. Tis possible she drowned, but I do not think it likely. I would hazard, if we cut her open, we would find no water there. Tis hard enough to see, through this discolouration, but there are bruises on her face around her mouth, the pressure of a hand, that was meant to stop her cries. Do you see this, Hew? This is the mark of his thumb. Now …’
    Carefully, he folded back her dress, and the thin thighs flopped open, willing in death. ‘She has been dead perhaps a day and night. There is no rigor here. And she is not a maid. And yet there is a little blood and bruising on the thighs, which does suggest, that she was recently a maid, or else she was taken by force. Though I cannot be sure, I conjecture that this lass was smothered: suffocated, that’s to say. And she has been raped.’
    ‘Then it’s as I feared,’ the coroner said gloomily. ‘We must hope this is a singular transgression, that will not occur again. We will leave her here till nightfall, and the next low tide, when I will have her taken to St Leonard’s kirk. There is a place there will serve as a dead house, for a day or two. If no one comes to claim her, we can bury her in private, and allow this death to go unmarked. We may be thankful she is of little worth.’
    ‘How can you say so?’ Hew asked, appalled. ‘She was a girl of sixteen!’
    ‘My concern is to prevent rumour from spreading, and from causing riot and disorder at the fair. It takes little enough to set off the mob. But my office is to make arrests, and act on the instruction of the Crown. My jurisdiction does not extend to solving crimes,’ the coroner said evenly. ‘If you would see justice done, provide the justice with a suspect, and I will be glad to make an arrest. As I recall, you did so once before.’
    ‘What does he imply,’ Hew demanded as he left, ‘because I solved one crime, am I responsible for all? There is nothing I can do.’
    ‘I am inclined to agree,’ Giles answered sadly. The likelihood is that this poor child’s killer has left in a boat. The town is filled with strangers, and unless he kills again – God willing, he will not – the lass will take his secret to the grave. I am right sorry that you had to see this, Hew. I ought not to have encouraged it. Go on ahead, and say I won’t be back for dinner. I will make her decent for the man who comes to bury her.’

Bloodlines
     
     
    Although Hew had turned his back on St Andrews, he did not forget the dead girl. As he began his journey south, he resolved to make his way along the coast, inquiring at each port and harbour whether they had lost a lass. For someone missed and mourned her, looking out each morning on the grey unfolding sea, waiting for their loved one to come home. He did not know what he would say, if ever he found them. But he hoped to bring her back among her friends.
    Nonetheless, though Hew did not forget the girl, he was anxious to put the town behind him and forget his own responsibilities. The breath of warmer air upon the late spring frosts had left an early haar upon the water that the bluster of the sunlight threatened to blow off, promising a sky of cloudless blue. Hew was wearing fine new clothes, in deference to the capital, trunk hose and doublet made of cream embroidered silk,