The Faded Alibi
The magistrate’s voice cracked like a dry twig over the stone floor. "Thomas Bradshaw, you stand accused of murder." The words hung in the cold air of the court, heavy and wet, smelling of damp wool and old fear. Thomas did not look up. He kept his eyes on the magistrate’s boots, caked in the red clay of the city’s lower quarter. He wanted to clear his name, to find the man who had truly killed...
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