Page 87 of An Archer's Redemption

That part made little sense.

I sat quietly as Aengus launched into his dinner of pot roast, a well-known winter special of the inn. Virtually every table held the same hearty chunks of meat, dark sauce, and bowls of roasted potatoes.

I shoved my own roast around my plate as I thought.

Hershel’s murder, I thought as I sipped.Nothing in the factssuggestsa murder, merely a killing, as the locals believe. It all seems so obvious, yet my instincts are screaming there’s something hidden behind the mask.

“What are you thinking?” Aengus asked between bites.

I sighed and set my mug down. “I don’t know. Everything you said makes sense.”

“But your gut’s churning, and you don’t know why?”

I glanced up and nodded.

“Tell me about Hershel,” I asked.

Aengus set his fork down and looked around the room until he located Liam and Ma. When he spoke, I had to lean forward to hear him.

“Hershel was a good man. Stubborn and strong-minded, but loyal through and through. He and Ma bought this place twenty or so years ago. It wasn’t anything until the royals blew into town. To hear Hershel tell it, the King kissed the floorboards and shat gold on the bar.”

Aengus chuckled, but there was a sadness in his laughter.

“Was he well liked in town?”

“Liked? More loved than liked. Hersh could be a surly bastard when something didn’t go his way, but everyone knew to just let him cool down and peace would be restored—usually at the business end of one of Ma’s cooking spoons.”

Aengus sipped his wine and stared into the fire. To my eye, the man saw memories more than flames. It was clear Hershel was more than just another citizen to the Chief; he was a dearly missed friend.

“Chief, I am sorry. I know this is hard for everyone, especially those who were close with him.”

Aengus glanced up. “You don’t have to do that, play the empathetic Constable to get me to talk.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“Yes, you did—and you were right to—but it’s unnecessary. I want the truth as much as anyone, but I’m afraid it is a simple one that won’t give any of us satisfaction.”

Liam swung by and replaced our empty mugs with a pair filled to the brim. He seemed to sense the tenor of our conversation and slipped away without a word.

“Did Hershel have any enemies in town?”

“Not that I know of. He really was well liked.” Aengus shook his head. “Oh, there’s always one or two who don’t like anybody, but they’re that way with the lot of us, not just Hersh. I’ve been over this a thousand times in my head since he died, and I can’t come up with one person who would’ve wished him harm, much less dead.”

We focused on our ale as the stable boy, who seemed to do far more than manage the stables, stoked the fire, and a player took the stage. The room was now packed, every table filled, and two rows of standing patrons milled about the bar. With the first few notes of the gleeman’s fiddle, the low murmur of the crowd swelled to a clamor in anticipation of the entertainment to come.

“Well, Chief, I thank you for your time—and company. Despite the topic, you’ve made a traveler feel at home tonight. If it’s all right with you, I’ll leave you here and start again in the morning.” I finished my ale and set my mug on the table.

Aengus stood and gripped my arm. “The company was welcome. Get some rest. You look like you could use a good night’s sleep.”

Chapter 36

Keelan

The day began with Chief Kerr, reviewing the written account made by officers who were first to arrive at the scene of Hershel’s death. They were cursory and about what I expected. Aengus explained that unnatural deaths were rare, murders even more so. His Constables might face one murder in a dozen years. With that lack of experience, I thought it was a wonder the report contained more than “He was dead when we arrived.”

The rest of the day was spent interviewing townsfolk.

Each was friendly, respectful, and visibly despondent at the mention of Hershel’s death. As Aengus had told me, the man was well known and loved. No one could fathom a reason for foul play, and most expressed ongoing fear of a ravenous animal roaming free near their town. The people spoke of early nights, shuttering their businesses before sunset for the first time in a generation, and few willing to walk alone, even in broad daylight.

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