“Where were you at about two o’clock that night?”
“Asleep in bed, of course.”
“Can someone vouch for that?”
“My ma and dad, I suppose.”
“Then you won’t mind my asking them?”
The lad flushed.“I’d be grateful if you did it discreetly.Ma won’t like it if I’m under suspicion.”
Piers considered him.“Behaviour like this...”He gestured toward the bed, in particular to Edward’s pristine neck.“Will keep you under suspicion.”
“I know.I shouldn’t have come.”
Piers said, “What time did you come home from the inn on Saturday?”
It was guesswork.Lots of working people went to inns and taverns on a Saturday evening, because they could sleep in on Sunday morning.But Bert looked at him as though suspecting him of sorcery.
“Between ten and eleven I suppose,” he said nervously.“But I was with my dad, and we both went straight to bed.”
“Who else was at the inn that night?”
“Lots of people...”
“Jenson the blacksmith?”
“I think so...but he usually only has a pint and goes home.”
“Harold?”
“Nah.Harold was working here.”
“What about Troy from Edgwick Farm?”
“Yes, he was there.”
“Drunk?”
“As usual.”
“A fighting drunk, I imagine.”
“Never fought with me,” Bert said, a bit warily.“Nor my dad.”
“Was he still drinking when you and your father left?”
“Oh yes.”
“When would the innkeeper have sent him home?”
Bert shrugged.“Depends how many other people still wanted to drink.”
“Could it have been later than midnight?One o’clock?”
Bert spread his hands.“I got no idea, my lord.I-I’m sorry I came in here.I wouldn’t never have hurt him, you know.He’s too...helpless.”
And yet the gardener’s strong fingers had been around that helpless throat.
