Free The Killer of Pilgrims by Susanna Gregory Page B

it said that our College steals from the dead – or from the living, for that matter. And while he is busy, you can
     tell me about any spats or disagreements your husband might have had.’
    Celia watched Bartholomew lift the lid and begin unravelling the chain from Drax’s neck. ‘Well, Principal Kendale objected
     to the fact that John was going to raise the rent on Chestre Hostel – John hated Kendale, and hoped the increase would encourage
     him to leave. Then several of our customers argued with him, because he refused to give them credit for ale.’
    Bartholomew dropped the salvaged necklace into Celia’s eager hand. She wiped it on her sleeve then slipped it around her neck.
     He regarded her in astonishment. She scowled at him, and indicated that he should stop staring, and retrieve the badge.
    ‘Why did he refuse?’ asked Michael, struggling to conceal his revulsion. ‘If they were regulars?’
    ‘Because it might be weeks before the weather breaks, and they earn enough to pay us back. Or they might die of starvation
     in the interim. We are a business, not a charity.’
    ‘Your husband made donations to Michaelhouse,’ Bartholomew pointed out. ‘That is charity.’
    ‘Yes, but he got prayers in return. It was a commercial arrangement, although
I
shall not be buying anything from you.
I
do not deal with warlocks and fat monks who ask impudent questions.’
    ‘I am not fat,’ objected Michael. ‘I have big bones. And I am not impudent, either. I am merely trying to ascertain why your
     husband died. But tell me about your life together. Was it happy?’
    ‘Do not answer,’ advised Odelina sharply. ‘He is trying to trap you, because he thinks
you
might have murdered John and toted his corpse to Michaelhouse.’
    ‘Do you?’ asked Celia, treating the monk to a forthright stare. ‘Why? John was not the most scintillating of men, but we liked
     each other well enough. Now, give me the badge, Doctor.’
    ‘Here is the hat,’ said Bartholomew. ‘But I cannot see a pilgrim token.’
    ‘It is pinned on the
inside
,’ explained Celia. ‘Because he wanted to keep it safe. It is from Walsingham, you see – the shrine where the Virgin appears
     from time to time.’
    ‘Had he been on a pilgrimage, then?’ asked Bartholomew, surprised. Drax had not seemed like the kind of man to absent himself
     from his taverns in order to undertake arduous journeys.
    ‘No,’ replied Celia. ‘He bought it from a pardoner, who told him that owning it was the next best thing to goingon one of these expeditions himself. It will earn him less time in Purgatory.’
    ‘If you believe that, then why do you want to take it from him?’ asked Bartholomew. Talking to Celia reminded him why he had
     not minded when she had informed him that she was transferring her allegiance to another physician. He had always found it
     difficult to like her.
    ‘Because
I
want to spend less time in Purgatory, too,’ replied Celia shortly. ‘So look inside the coffin, if you please. It must have
     fallen off.’
    ‘Not necessarily,’ said Bartholomew, examining the hat. ‘There is a hole here, where something has been ripped away.’
    ‘What are you saying?’ asked Celia warily. ‘That John was murdered for his pilgrim badge?’
    ‘Was it valuable?’ asked Bartholomew, not bothering to reply. She knew as well as he did that the poor were struggling to
     feed their families that winter. ‘Made of precious metal or jewels?’
    ‘Naturally,’ replied Celia. ‘We neither of us are interested in pewter. And I want it back, so when you find his killer, be
     sure to prise it from his murderous grasp.’
    She turned and flounced away, leaving Odelina to scurry after her. Michael watched with his eyebrows raised so high that they
     disappeared under his thin brown fringe.
    ‘Well!’ he drawled. ‘So much for the grieving widow!’
    The following day was dry, but bitterly cold, and Bartholomew shivered as he trudged from patient