Free Cruel As the Grave by Sharon Kay Penman Page B

says she was," Justin pointed out, feeling as if he and Luke were dogs baiting a bear.
     
    "My father ..." Daniel choked up, spat out an unintelligible obscenity, and bolted, running as clumsily as a young colt, a boy who hadn't yet grown into his own body. They watched until he ducked into an alley off the Cheapside, none of them speaking. Geoffrey was pinioning his lower lip, showing even white teeth, his eyes conveying mute reproach. He stood his ground, though, awaiting his turn.
     
    "Who is right?" Justin asked abruptly, "your father or brother? Was Melangell a whore?"
     
    "No," Geoffrey said, showing a prickle of resentment, "she was not. She liked men and she took her pleasures where she found them. But she was no whore."
     
    "Did you kill her?"
     
    "No, I did not... and neither did Daniel."
     
    "Did you love her?"
     
    Geoffrey started to speak, stopped. "I cared about her," he said, for the first time sounding defensive. "I tried to be honest with her, told her about Adela .. . that is the girl I'm to wed. At least I was until this happened." His smile was rueful. "When we were negotiating what I'd be bringing to the marriage, not once was the suspicion of murder mentioned."
     
    Geoffrey paused then, waiting for questions that did not come. "Is there anything else you want to ask me?" When they shook their heads, he smiled again, this time politely. "If you're done, then I'll be off. I ought to see if I can find Daniel."
     

"Go on," Justin agreed, adding as Geoffrey turned to go, "I do have one last question. Do you know where Melangell is buried?"
     
    Geoffrey was taken aback. "I... I do not know," he stammered. "I could not attend her funeral. My father ... well, you heard him. He'd never have stood for it..." His voice trailed off. He'd only gone a few feet when he stopped. "She should have been buried in Wales," he said softly, "for she loved it so ..."
     
    "Why," Luke asked, as they watched him go, "did you ask that?"
     
    "I was curious," Justin said. "I wanted to know if he mourned her."
     
    "And do you think he does?"
     
    Justin whistled for Shadow, who was frisking happily after Geoffrey's retreating figure. "Yes," he said, "I think so."
     
    Luke arched a brow. "And does that eliminate him as a suspect?"
     
    "No," Justin said, somewhat regretfully, "probably not."
     
    Luke grinned. "By God, de Quincy, there is hope for you yet. So... now what?"
    "We go," Justin said, "to find her family."
     
    ~~
     
    Jonas had told them that the peddler, Godwin, rented a room on Wood Street, close by Cripplegate. As they expected, he was out selling his wares; even the death of a daughter did not lessen the need to pay rent and buy food. The landlord was loquacious, though, especially after Justin took out his money pouch, and cheerfully shared what little he knew about the peddler and his family. Godwin had been living there since their arrival in January, a decent sort who kept to himself and paid his rent on time and tried, without success, to keep Melangell from running wild.
     
    Surprisingly, the man's eyes filled with tears at the mention of the dead girl's name. A sweet lass, he said mournfully, with bright eyes and a laugh as rich and dark as honey. She'd flirted with every man who crossed her path, wheedled scraps from the butcher to feed an army of stray cats and dogs, played childish pranks, and once climbed out of the window on a knotted blanket when her father locked her in their room. "The whole neighborhood wept for her," he said, "God's Truth, they did. She was good-hearted, was Melangell. You find who hurt that little girl. Find him and make him pay."
     
    ~~
     
    It took the rest of the afternoon to track the peddler down. They finally found him at Billingsgate, trying to sell his goods to sailors as they came off the ships docked in the basin. Godwin's rickety cart and aged, cantankerous mule offered mute testimony to their owner's hardscrabble past, as did the man himself.
     
    According