St Mungo's Robin by Pat McIntosh

Author:Pat McIntosh
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi

Chapter Nine

‘My maister?’ said Hob, standing in the doorway of the house in Vicars’ Alley. ‘Maister Agnew? What’s that to do wi you, might I ask, maister?’

‘He told me himself,’ improvised Gil, ‘but I never made a note of it, and now I’ve forgotten what hour he said he got home. Were you here that evening or had you gone away early?’

‘No to say early,’ retorted Hob, his scrubby beard twitching. ‘No to say early,’ he repeated, ‘but I still canny see what’s it to do wi you.’

‘I’m hunting whoever it was killed Deacon Naismith,’ Gil said soothingly, ‘and Maister Agnew was the last person we ken saw him.’

Hob snorted.

‘That daft pair o women Sissie Mudie’s got in her kitchen,’ he said. ‘They’re saying it’s the Deil cam for the Deacon. No, it wasny my maister. He was elsewhere that night.’

‘Was he, now?’ said Gil. ‘D’you mean he never came home? How d’you know that?’

‘When you’ve been wi the one maister as long’s I have,’ said Hob, ‘you can tell these things.’ He leaned against the doorpost, looking challengingly at Gil. ‘Was there anything else you were wanting, maister?’

‘So where was he?’ Gil began to play in a meaningful way with the strings of his purse. Hob glanced down and curled his lip. ‘Tell me what you know.’

‘No a lot,’ said Hob dismissively

Gil opened the purse and took a coin from it. ‘It would help if I knew where everyone was,’ he suggested, making the coin appear and disappear between his fingers.

‘Aye, I suppose,’ said Hob, and stood upright away from the doorpost. ‘You’d best come in for a bit. It’s cold standing here. But I’ve the supper to see to,’ he warned.

Following the man into the painted hall, Gil paused and added a second coin to the one in his hand.

‘You were away before Maister Agnew came back in the evening,’ he prompted. Hob nodded, his eye on Gil’s fingers. ‘What time would that be?’

‘Soon as I’d syned out the supper-dishes. He gaed out when he’d eaten, took his tablets and a bundle of papers wi him, so I took it he’d some business to attend to. I seen to the crocks and gaed out myself.’ He leered slightly. ‘I’d company to see.’

‘And you’re saying your maister was from home that night. Had he been back and gone out again, do you suppose?’

‘Oh, aye. He’d been at the Malvoisie, sticky glasses all ower the hall. It’ll no last, the way he’s going through it.’

‘Glasses? Brought someone home, had he?’

Hob shrugged, and hitched his jerkin back up one shoulder.

‘Maybe. Maybe no. There was one rolled away in a corner past where he’d spilled the stuff, it’s as like him no to bother lifting it, just fetch himsel a clean one off the cupboard.’

‘If it was dark, he might not see it,’ said Gil thoughtfully. Hob grunted, in a tone which clearly conveyed scepticism. ‘And then he went out again. Where would he be going, would you think?’

‘I’m no paid to watch him like a wet-nurse, ye ken,’ Hob retorted.

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