Trudy eventually made her way back to the bar.
“This one wants to ask ye questions about Dory.”
There was no sympathy for what had happened to my friend.
“Got wot she deserved to my way of thinkin’, leavin’ me short shrift with the place full of customers. She said she had to meet someone.”
I then asked if she had noticed anyone that night who fit the description I had given the tavernkeeper.
She was thoughtful, even more so as I laid a coin on the bar. In a place where she very likely worked a week or longer before receiving pay that matched it, there was sudden interest.
“I might have seen a man like that.”
Might have?
She nodded “A right tight arse with one round of ale that he never finished, as if he mighta been waitin’ for someone. He left right after Dory took herself off.”
She was thoughtful even as shouts went out for more ale from customers.
“There was something odd about him tho’. He was a smallish sort, not the kind ye might think would risk pushin’ his weight around, nor the sort that a woman would like.”
“Have you seen him here since that night? What did he look like? What was he wearing?”
She was thoughtful. “He wore a long coat with some sort of fancy trim that reached to the toes of them boots. Expensive they were too, by the looks of ’em. He wore his hat low and didn’t take it off. Like them that keep a watch for someone but don’t want to be seen.
“Gave me the look, if ye know wot I mean. As if I’d take up with just any man. Made me skin crawl the way he just stared and had me looking over me shoulder when I left for the night.” She shrugged.
“I ain’t seen him since, and good riddance to the wee bugger, I say. Is that worth another coin?”
It was helpful. I paid the additional coin and thanked her.
As I turned to leave, I searched among the customers for someone who might fit that description, even though Trudy said that she hadn’t seen him since that night. I suddenly found my way blocked.
“Wot is a pretty piece like ye, doin’ here?”
“I am leaving,” I informed the man who stood over me with his foul breath and a hand on my arm.
“Ye might want to stay.”
“Let go of my arm.”
“Now, is that any way to speak to ole Tom when I could be persuaded to purchase drink for ye?”
“Let go,” I repeated.
The tavern was suddenly quiet. The tavernkeeper moved from behind the bar.
“Ye might want to do as the lady asks. I’ve no need for blood in me place.”
Tom laughed. “A wee thing like this? Are yer claws sharp then, missy? I might like that.”
“I doubt that,” I replied as I brought the blade up and thrust it against the paunch above the belt of his pants.
“A spirited little thing!” he hooted with a look around at those who watched. “Do ye think to frighten me?”
His hand tightened on my arm.
I shifted as I’d learned from my instructor at the Gymnasium in London where I’d taken lessons, and created just enough space between us that I slashed the blade lower.
