Page 15 of Kilty Until Proven Innocent
Drum leaned forward like a hunter closing in on his prey. “Where’s yer crossbow, Matthias?”
“W-what?” the lad stammered, glancing at the sneering visage of the helmet propped on Drum’s desk.
“Yer crossbow. We’re asking all the guards to produce their crossbows and account for all their bolts. Can ye?”
Matthias seemed to rally, thrusting back his shoulders. “Aye! Of course! Of course I can! It’s just…no’ with me right now.”
As if sensing blood, Drum slowly stalked around the desk, holding the lad’s gaze. “Where is it, Matthias?”
“’Tis in the barracks!” the lad blustered. “With the rest of my gear.”
“Where is it, Matthias?” Drum growled, even more threateningly.
The guard’s chin rose mulishly, as if Drum’s threat made him even less likely to cooperate. “The barracks! Why would it no’ be there?”
Suddenly, Drum’s hand slammed down against the desk, the loudthwackcausing both Matthias and Brigit to jump.
“Where is it?” he roared.
And Brigit decided this was her cue to step in.
“Better tell him, lad,” she murmured sympathetically. “He can be a monster when someone doesnae tell the truth.”
Drum sent her an incredulous look, but she hoped, by holding Matthias’s attention, the lad didn’t notice. She moved close enough to pat his shoulder. “’Tis aright, Matthias—I can call ye Matthias?” Smiling charmingly, she bent a little closer, hoping the lad would be distracted by her bosom. “Why no’ tellmewhere yer crossbow and bolts are?”
“Uh…” Her plan had worked a little too well; the young guard was distracted by the skin revealed at the top of her bodice. “My, uh…?”
“Crossbow!” bellowed Drum, slamming his hand on the desk once more, causing Matthias to jump and swing his attention back in that direction. “Where is it?”
“Tell him,” Brigit urged in a compassionate tone. “Otherwise he might tear this place—and ye—apart.”
Matthias paled further, the column of his throat bobbing as he swallowed. “Apart?” he whispered.
She nodded sadly. “Completely apart. ‘Tis what happened last year when a witness wouldnae answer his questions. Puir man. Ye’d better tell Drummond what he needs to ken, or ye’ll be next.”
Suddenly, Drum swung on her. “Look,whatare ye doing, Brigit?”
She blinked. “Helping?”
“By making me out to be a monster?” he snapped.
Oh. Oh dear, she thought he’d picked up on her plan. “’Tis a game, aye? Good cop, bad cop? I’m being the good cop.”
“Cop?” he repeated. “What in the shite does that mean?”
“Cop,” she repeated. “A constable? From copper?”
He was shaking his head. “A constable? Because he has a copper badge?”
“What? Nay, he doesnae! Who the fook would make a badge out of copper?” She was half-laughing already. “Coppermeans ‘someone who takes’.”
Drum frowned. “Is it French? Sounds like something the French would do.”
“Actually, I think ‘tis from the Latincapere, to capture.”
Humming, he squinted at her. “I dinnae think this word’s been invented yet, Brigit.”
“Well, surely theconcepthas. We can call itgood constable, bad constable?”
