The Renegade Merchant by Sarah Woodbury Page A

wasn’t the case.
    “Of course not!” John said. “What do you
take us for here?”
    Gwen put out an appeasing hand. “I’m sorry.
I’m very sorry, but I felt I had to ask, and by your reaction, I’m
glad I did.”
    For a moment John looked as if he was going
to stalk away and not accept Gwen’s apology. This conversation had
started badly, and Gareth didn’t want it to end badly too. He
clapped a hand on John’s shoulder. “What Gwen just did is what we
do when we interview people during an investigation. Your unguarded
response—angry as it was—revealed the truth far more than a
considered straight denial ever could have done.”
    John settled back on his heels, his
expression clearing. He even managed a laugh. “That was well done.”
He bowed to Gwen. “Remind me to let you interrogate all my suspects
before I let my men at them.”
    Gwen laughed. “See—this is why you need to
include me when you visit the brothel.”
    “To continue—” John took in a breath,
seemingly determined to ignore Gwen’s quip, “—laws outside of
Shrewsbury are very different and enforced differently. The
sheriff’s writ runs through the whole of Shropshire, but he is
under the authority of the Earl of Ludlow, who has no mind to
prevent any legal commerce in his lands, as long as the businesses
pay tax to him.”
    “Brothels are allowed in most places, as
long as upstanding citizens can continue to pretend they don’t
exist,” Gareth said. “If a brothel is prosperous, I could even see
the earl encouraging the proprietor to move it from Shrewsbury,
from which he receives no taxes, to the countryside.”
    “One here already has.”
John gestured to the coin still in Gwen’s hand. “This coin grants
admittance to two brothels: the one I told you about by the west
gate, and also to one to the west of Shrewsbury, both owned by the
same people. The one outside the town is called The Dancing Girl .” Then his brow
furrowed. “Come to think on it, the one in town isn’t far from
where we found the pool of blood.”
    “Nothing in Shrewsbury is far from that pool
of blood,” Gareth said.
    John shrugged. “The brothel outside the town
is less convenient for patrons. But, as you say, it has the benefit
of being beyond the council’s jurisdiction.”
    “And this coin could be used to enter either
of them?” Gareth said.
    John nodded. “Conall still had it, though,
so he may never have visited either one.”
    “Or he could have bought it for a repeat
visit.” Gareth held out his hand to Gwen, who gave the coin back to
him, though clearly with some reluctance. “We won’t know until we
show his picture around and ask.”
    “I still don’t see why I can’t come with
you.” Gwen’s hands were on her hips. “Do you really think the women
who work there are going to talk to you more than they would talk
to me?”
    Gareth studied his wife before answering.
John was horrified at the thought of her visiting a brothel, which
for all his explanations, Gareth thought was more a gut response
rather than a rational assertion. Gwen was a married woman, soon to
be the mother of two children. John knew she investigated murders
and, surely, whatever went on in a brothel was no worse than
standing over Roger’s dead body this morning. Still, John was
determined to prevent her from coming with them, whether or not he
was justified in doing so, and Gareth didn’t feel he was in a
position to overrule him.
    “I don’t know,” Gareth said, finally. “John
is right that whores tend to avoid respectable women because they
feel they are being judged.”
    Gwen wrinkled her nose at him. “Which they
usually are.”
    “In which case, speaking to a man would be
more normal for them,” John said, looking pleased with this sudden
conclusion. “For now, let Gareth and me do this. If our luck fails
us, I promise I will consider other options.”
    “We should go right now,” Gareth said. “The
trail will never be warmer than