Read A Killer in Winter for Free Online Page B

him, but do not be surprised if you find
     a secular investigation in progress, as well as your own.’
    ‘Thank you for the warning,’ said Michael. ‘But I am not worried by anything Morice might do. He is no Dick Tulyet.’
    Tulyet smiled wanly. ‘I trust you to find the truth, Brother. You will not fail me.’
    ‘Lord, Matt!’ said Michael uneasily, as Tulyet went to break the news of Norbert’s death to his father. ‘I shall do my best
     to oblige him, but Norbert had many enemies. I am not sure Dick’s confidence in me is warranted this time.’
    Bartholomew expected Michael to begin making enquiries immediately into Norbert’s death, but the monk had different priorities.
     The physician was surprised to find himself being manoeuvred in the direction of St Michael’s Church, away from Ovyng Hostel
     and the scholars who were anticipating being interviewed about their classmate’s murder.
    ‘He will not be there now, Brother,’ said Bartholomew, astonished to think that Michael should even begin to imagine that
     Harysone had spent half the morning in that frigid little building. ‘There is not much to do inside, so he will have looked
     around and left.’
    ‘Nonsense,’ said Michael firmly. ‘There was real purpose in his movements as he fiddled with the lock. He was determined to
     enter, and I conclude that there was some specific task he wanted to perform. He will still be there and we shall catch him
     in the act.’
    ‘You sound deranged,’ said Bartholomew accusingly. ‘You follow him all over the town because you do not like the look of him,
     and now you assign him some dark and sinister purpose for entering a church. He may have gone inside to pray. People do, you
     know.’
    ‘Not him,’ said Michael with conviction. ‘He is not the type for prayers.’
    ‘Enough, Brother!’ said Bartholomew irritably. ‘I have been up much of the last two nights with Dunstan, and I am too tired
     for this. It is also freezing out here. I have humoured you long enough today: it is time to go home.’
    ‘Just a few more moments,’ said Michael, not to be diverted from his purpose just because his companion wasweary and cold. He smiled when a familiar figure emerged from the north porch as they approached. It was Beadle Meadowman,
     huddled deep inside his cloak. ‘I left a guard here when we went to see Norbert, to make sure Harysone did not escape.’
    ‘He has not come out,’ said Meadowman, flapping his arms vigorously in a futile attempt to drive the chill from his body.
     His usual good temper was gone, and he clearly did not appreciate being ordered to lurk in north-facing porches when there
     was a bitter wind blowing. ‘But then, I did not see him enter, either.’
    ‘What do you mean?’ demanded Michael peevishly. ‘You must have done. We all saw him battling with the latch.’
    ‘I took my eyes off him for a moment – just a moment – but when I looked again, he had gone,’ said Meadowman. He was not at
     all intimidated by Michael’s irritation, and was not going to apologise for his lapse, either. He was obviously as frustrated
     and bemused by Michael’s obsession with Harysone as was Bartholomew, and had had enough of orders to stalk the man when there
     were better and more productive ways to pass a morning. He gave a careless shrug. ‘So, maybe he entered, and maybe he did
     not.’
    ‘Did you look inside?’ asked Michael testily. ‘To see whether he was there?’
    Meadowman pursed his lips disapprovingly. ‘You told me to watch the door. You did not say I should search for him.’
    Bartholomew grinned at Michael’s exasperation, while Meadowman looked defiant. Michael glowered at both of them, then turned
     to the church.
    The latch on the porch of St Michael’s was notorious for being temperamental. Michaelhouse scholars, who came at least once
     a day for prayers, were used to its peculiarities, and most were able to open it with a minimum of jiggling. The