Death in the West Wind by Deryn Lake Page B

settle by the fire which Matthew Salter, anxiously hovering and wanting to be part of all that was taking place, had thoughtfully stoked up.
    The Apothecary and the constable eyed each other over a glass of brandy.
    “What do you make of it all, Mr. Rawlings?”
    “I truly don’t know. But before we discuss it let me tell you everything that happened in Exeter today. To begin with, the dead girl’s brother has gone missing. Secondly, quite by chance, I located her father and his grief was terrible to see. Or so it appeared.”
    “Are you saying it was an act?”
    “I’m saying that it could have been.”
    “Go on. Tell me the rest.”
    John did so and the constable looked thoughtful. “Is the young man’s absence connected to all this?”
    “Yes, I think it is. I saw them both get the very early coach from Topsham on Monday morning. The girl was going to Exeter to tell her lover she was pregnant, that is according to her father who is guessing just as we are. Richard was obviously in league with his sister. I have ascertained that she had a large bag with her, just as if she were running away. Her brother must have realised what she was up to and been assisting her.”
    William took a mouthful of brandy that would have downed a lesser man.
    “More than that, he probably helped her plan it.”
    “Does this suggest to you that he knew who the lover was?”
    “Yes, Mr. Rawlings … “
    “John, please.”
    “Yes, John, it does. But the question remains, why did he vanish?”
    “Fearing his father’s wrath when the plot was discovered?”
    William nodded thoughtfully. “A very good point. And now he’s too frightened to emerge.”
    “You think he’s heard about his sister’s death?”
    “When I drove that cart into Exeter, even though I’d put a tarpaulin over the coffin,there were those who saw it arrive at the mortuary. And there were those who noticed me go to the coroner’s office to report the death. Believe me, the fact of poor Juliana’s demise would have been common knowledge throughout the city by nightfall.”
    “But not the gruesome details, surely?” William shook his head. “Not all, but I wouldn’t put it past a loose-mouthed mortuary attendant to describe the injuries of a Topsham merchant’s daughter to a crony in a hostelry. That would be enough to inform the world and his wife.”
    “And what about our present corpse? Will you take him to Exeter as well?”
    “There’s a mortuary in Topsham so that’s where he’ll go, then he can lie with the other seafarers.” William gave a humourless laugh. “His ship has gone back to harbour as well.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “The Constantia was towed to Topsham yesterday. Apparently that’s where she and her cargo of hemp were originally bound.”
    “Will the cargo be unloaded?”
    “Most certainly. Whoever bought it will insist that it won’t go to waste.”
    “William,” said John urgently, “have you enough authority to stop that happening until the Flying Runners get here?”
    “I don’t know that I have. Why?”
      “I would like that ship searched by experts from prow to stern before a horde of people start clambering all over it.”
    Poor William, who was clearly wrestling with the most difficult challenge of his year in office, said, “I can only try, John. Maybe if we both had a word with the quay master it might do some good.”
    “Why should he listen to me?”
    “Because you have that way with you.”
    John smiled in the firelight but said nothing and there were a few minutes of companionable silence before the constable spoke again.
    “What do you think the dying man meant by his last words?”
    “Angels come? I have no idea.”
    “Do you think that he was so near death he had glimpsed the heavenly host?”
    John, who was something of a cynic, looked at William and saw that he was utterly sincere. “It’s possible, I suppose.”
    But though it could be argued the dying sailor was in a death dream, it