Dark Asylum_A Novel by E. S. Thomson

Author:E. S. Thomson [Thomson, E. S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781681775395
Amazon: 1681775395
Publisher: Pegasus Books
Published: 2017-11-07T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fourteen

Will needed the garden more than I, I realised now, and I had hardly put the keys back into my pocket after locking the gate behind us before he pushed past me and vanished behind the lavender bushes. I hoped we would be alone this time, for I wanted no other company but his.

‘Thank God the sun is out, for once,’ I heard him say. I looked at the sky. I could tell that the fog was coming, even if it was not yet with us, for there was a dampness to the air that was unmistakable. I had noticed it at Mrs Roseplucker’s. We would have a couple of hours and then the world would be lost to us.

Will was on his back in the middle of the camomile lawn. I considered a lawn to be a waste of space in a garden, especially a working, productive one. But Will had persuaded me, and for him I had sown a square of fragrant low-growing camomile mixed with zesty lemon thyme. Will loved to lie on it, staring up at the sky through half-closed eyes. He had discovered that if he lay at a certain angle he was unable to see any walls, spires, or windows, and so could indulge his fantasy about being back in the country. It was only the reek from the middens beyond the haven of our walls that threatened to destroy the illusion, though the herbs where he lay did something to sweeten the air.

I had bought a jug of ale from Sorley’s, a piece of pie each and a bag of apples. Will took a swig from the flagon and bit into his pie. Already he was looking better. He crushed some lemon thyme between his fingers and held it to his nose. ‘I didn’t think we’d ever see Mrs Roseplucker again,’ he said. ‘The place hadn’t changed much, had it? It was worse, certainly, but other than that—’

‘Mm,’ I said.

He pulled out his knife and sliced his apple into quarters. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘I’m wondering how the murderer knew about the cutting and stitching. Mrs Roseplucker said it was from the Rents. From the gangs of thieves and footpads, but I’ve never heard of such a thing.’

‘Why should you have heard of it? It’s from a thieves’ code. The customs and rules of Prior’s Rents are a mystery to outsiders. We’re not supposed to know.’

‘Then how did the murderer know about it? We can only assume he – or she – comes from Prior’s Rents. More than that, we must assume it’s someone who is familiar with the codes and habits of its most vicious residents. Perhaps Rutherford was cut and stitched as some sort of retribution?’

‘For what? He surely wasn’t in a criminal gang. Dr Golspie certainly wasn’t’

‘No, but perhaps he knew people who were. I am minded to think that the two murders are linked, but separate,’ I said. ‘Designed to look the same, but in fact perpetrated by two quite different hands.

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