“I told you. To talk.”
She didn’t wait for an invitation, drawing in a deep breath and pushing her way into the small building. A stone fireplace took up one wall. A small fire was crackling in the hearth. There was a single cot, the wool blankets balled up on top of a straw mattress. Dozens of canvases were stacked against another wall, half covered by coarse blankets. A small table was littered with unlit candles and pots of dried paint and paintbrushes; a wooden cupboard held a dented, bronze teakettle, iron pots, and utensils. A trunk was wedged between the bed and the cupboard. A crude easel had been set up next to that. On it was a canvas that had been painted blue except for the beginnings of a featureless, ghostly shape lying horizontal in the center.
The shape, though, was decidedly female.
The single window was shuttered, leaving the interior in premature twilight. A lit oil lamp was in the middle of the dirt floor. Kendra’s gaze shifted to the tools next to the lamp, including the bamboo pipe that was fitted to a clay cup: a primitive bong. Well, that explained the glazed look to his eyes, and the sweetish scent that cruised above the primordial smells of earth, sweat, linseed oil, and grime. Opium.
“Not your day to terrorize ladies, Thomas?” she asked casually, toeing aside the drug paraphernalia to stand before the easel.
He frowned. “I do what I’m hired to do.”
“You should ask for a raise.”
“Eh?” Bafflement.
“Never mind.” She turned to face him. “I wanted to ask you again about the girl who was killed. Did you see anybody or hear anything unusual Sunday night, early Monday morning?”
Instead of answering, he dropped down in the middle of the floor, near the opium pipe. He regarded her sullenly. “I already told you—I don’t know nothin’.”
There wasn’t much space in which to move around. Four steps to the cupboards. Two steps to the easel. She moved in the direction of the blue canvas. She studied it for a long moment, letting the silence pool, before glancing back at him. “You see, Thomas, there’s a problem with that. I don’t believe you.”
Absently, she picked up a paintbrush. Like everything in this time line, it was homemade, just a thin stick of wood that had twine and wire wrapped around the base to keep the bristles in place. Thumbing the soft dark hairs, she glanced back at the hermit. “Nothing to say to that, Thomas? No denial?”
He was staring at her as though mesmerized.
Christ. Higher than a kite, she realized.
“You get paid to be a hermit. To run around the forest. To watch for people. Like the other day when you saw me.”
He was silent.
Impatiently, she tossed the paintbrush on the counter, moved around the easel, and squatted down so she could look him in the eye. “You’re not in trouble, Thomas. I just want to know if you’ve ever seen anybody down by the river. One of the gentry.”
“Nay.”
“Maybe you want to think about that for oh, I don’t know, a second or two longer.”
The glazed look became a glare. “I don’t know nothin’!”
“I’m not asking you what you know. I’m asking if you saw anyone.”
“Nay.”
She still didn’t believe him, but she eased back, tried another tactic. “Okay, Thomas. I’d appreciate it if you kept an eye out, let me know if you see anyone hanging out by the river or the lake. Gentry. Do you understand?”
He just stared at her.
“The Duke will give you a coin or two for your help.” Kendra wasn’t entirely sure about that, but bribery, in her experience, usually worked with the indigent in the twenty-first century. She saw no reason that it wouldn’t work just as well here.
She regarded him closely, and thought she saw a flicker of interest in his eyes. Or it might’ve been a trick of light inside the shadowy hut. She got to her feet. Thomas stayed exactly where he was.
It had been impulse to approach the hermit. Her gut told her that he was hiding something, that he knew more than he was saying. Still, it couldn’t hurt to encourage him to keep a look out. It wouldn’t be the first time a murderer returned to the scene, even if it was to make sure he hadn’t left anything behind.
She let herself out, grateful for the fresh air after the putrid stench of the hut. Surveying the ominous gray clouds gathering overheard, she began walking fast. And hoped she’d make it back to the castle before it began to rain.