Free The Killer of Pilgrims by Susanna Gregory Page A

two scholars stepped
     away to give them privacy. ‘But then Langelee explained it to me: the beautiful Celia is the heroine in the romantic ballads
     that Odelina so adores.’
    ‘Odelina does seem to worship her,’ agreed Bartholomew, watching them together. ‘But what does Celia gain from the association?’
    ‘According to Langelee, a warm welcome in the house of the town’s most influential businesswoman. There is a lot a resourceful,
     ambitious lady like Celia can learn from Emma.’
    Before he could say more, Celia began to haul on the ring that still adorned one of Drax’s two remaining fingers. Unfortunately,
     it was a tight fit, and she could not twist it free. After a few moments, during which Bartholomew was obliged to make a lunge
     for the coffin, to prevent it from being yanked off its trestles, she turned to him.
    ‘Will you get it for me? You are always clamouring to hack out Emma’s bad tooth, so I am sure you have a knife to hand. If
     not, then borrow mine.’ Celia removed a slender blade from her belt. ‘But hurry, if you please. I do not like this church.
     It is draughty and smells of dead birds.’
    Bartholomew did as she asked, pointedly avoiding theuse of sharp implements. He blinked in disbelief when she immediately donned the retrieved ring, flexing her hand to admire
     the effect. Odelina was also dismayed by the brazen materialism, and he supposed it did not square with her image of Celia
     as the noble heroine.
    ‘What happened to John?’ Celia asked, turning abruptly to Michael. ‘You say he was found dead in your College, but I do not
     understand why he should have been there in the first place.’
    ‘Neither do we,’ replied Michael, also struggling to mask his distaste. ‘He was stabbed, and his body hidden behind some tiles.
     Unfortunately, a member of our College tugged on the sheet that covered them, causing a couple to topple—’
    ‘You mean he was
murdered
?’ demanded Celia. For the first time since entering the church, she seemed shocked. ‘You must be mistaken! No one would
     kill John.’
    ‘Unfortunately, it would seem someone did,’ said Michael. ‘But I shall find out who.’
    ‘Lord!’ breathed Celia, gazing at him. ‘He always expected to die in bed at a ripe old age.’
    ‘You discussed death with him?’ asked Michael keenly.
    Celia nodded. ‘Sometimes, when we were bored and had nothing else to do. These winter evenings are very long, and it is easy
     to run out of nice things to talk about.’
    ‘I cannot say I have ever had that problem,’ said Michael. ‘What exactly did—’
    ‘I suppose I had better start making arrangements for his funeral,’ interrupted Celia. ‘But before I go, there are a couple
     more things I want from his corpse: the medallion he wore around his neck and the pilgrim brooch pinned in his hat. However,
     now I know he was murdered, I do not feel equal to rummaging for them myself. Would you mind obliging me, Doctor?’
    ‘Yes, I would, actually.’ Bartholomew felt as though he was being asked to rob a grave.
    ‘Odelina,’ said Celia, turning to her friend with a coaxing smile. ‘You love me, do you not? Slip your hand inside the box
     and grab the trinkets.’
    ‘No!’ cried Odelina, appalled. ‘I cannot touch a murdered man in a church! It might bring me bad luck regarding getting a
     husband.’
    ‘Perhaps you should leave them where they are,’ suggested Michael coolly. ‘The dead are entitled to carry some personal effects
     to the grave, and you already have his ring.’
    ‘I am not one for making sentimental gestures over corpses,’ retorted Celia. ‘Gold is gold, and it belongs with the living.
     Or is there another reason why Michaelhouse is unwilling to help a grieving widow? Such as that they have already removed
     these items for themselves?’
    ‘Matt will retrieve them for you,’ said Michael stiffly. Bartholomew started to object, but the monk overrode him. ‘I will
     not have