A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, but a very special THANK YOU to fairwinds09 whose review of the last chapter kept me coming back to this story even though my muse was being unhelpful. Sorry it took so long, but I kept having issues with the start.

A/N2: For those who seem a bit confused by the whole idea: the Cadfael books are, like NCIS itself, mysteries. This story is written in that spirit and while I realize that this is a bit of a departure from my usual KIBBS fluff I do hope that that will not stop anyone from reading it.

Chapter Seven

"I am the Sheriff of Shropshire!" Gibbs' long legs greatly added to the speed of his passage as he hurried through the gardens towards Ducky's workshop and his shorter companion was forced to a trot to keep up with the angry man's stride. "As such it is my duty, NOT yours, to investigate this death and to question all those who may be involved."

It had been several hours since the Sheriff and the monk had gone their separate ways at the bank of the Severn. Gibbs had spent the intervening time fruitlessly searching the town for anyone who might have information on Kerrigan's movements prior to his death. With the exception of a tavern owner who had served him at around dusk, no one could recall seeing the dark complexioned man at all the previous day or that morning. The lad that had made the unfortunate discovery had shakily repeated his tale to Gibbs and the guard of the nearby bridge had confirmed the time that the boy had reported his ghastly find while assuring the Sheriff that Thomas had not crossed at any point during his watch.

Brother Donald had spent those same hours overseeing the moving of the body from the river to the Abbey, where it could be more closely examined as necessary and eventually coffined for burial.

It was the task that the Benedictine had undertaken immediately after he'd seen to Kerrigan's transport that was the source of his old friend's current displeasure. Having informed Abbot Heribert of the situation and receiving permission from that august personage to assist the Lord Sheriff in what capacity he could, Ducky had made his way to the guest quarters and the rooms of Lord Todd and his family.

"The family had the right to know of the boy's misfortune." Donald's voice was soft as he closed the door of the workshop behind him and turned to face Gibbs, whose expression was still one of anger and outrage. "And a need to know why the Lord Abbott has halted the wedding plans." He paused, watching his old friend carefully, and then tried a different tack. "Who would you have preferred to tell HER such news?"

Slowly, as if against his will, Gibbs features softened. While it was true that he couldn't ignore Caitlyn as a suspect, he had, somewhat to his discomfort, developed feelings for her during the course of their short interactions and would not have wanted the news to come in a way that would unnecessarily hurt her. He sighed and shot Ducky a stern look, before turning to find himself a glass and some wine as he spoke, "I still should have been with you. I know you like to see all the world as good and incapable of such things, but even you have to admit that she is a likely suspect. And the other members of the wedding party only slightly less so. There are few others in town that knew him well enough to want him dead."

It was Ducky's turn to sigh heavily, sitting down at his table and accepting the glass that Gibbs handed him. "Yes, of course you're right. I cannot deny that the location of the body and the fact that he wasn't robbed – for he was still wearing a fine gold ring and his silver cloak clasp – certainly suggest that this was personal to the killer." He swirled the liquid in his cup, but did not drink. Looking across at the weary features of his old friend, he conceded the Sheriff's point, "And, of them all, she certainly has the most to gain by his death. But I honestly cannot believe that Caitlyn would do such a thing."

Gibbs nodded slowly as he stared into his own wine. He had known the Benedictine for a good many years and had found it to be a rare time when the older man's judgment, especially of people, was wrong. For his own part, Gibbs wanted to agree with Ducky's assessment, but he also couldn't ignore his own opinion. His encounter with Caitlyn, though brief, had left him with a lasting impression of strength and conviction. The very characteristics which so intrigued Gibbs also made her his prime suspect. It wasn't so much that she had been against the marriage which made him suspicious, for the same could be said for a great many women since the beginning of time and they had not killed, but that she had the spirit and determination to do something about it that made him worry.

He looked up to see Ducky watching him carefully. Taking a deep breath he spoke, "I don't want to believe her guilty of this crime Duck, but I have to consider the evidence before me. And that evidence suggests that Caitlyn could have done this; could have taken the life of her fiance. I cannot allow any feelings that I may have for her to cloud that reality."

Donald smiled slightly at the younger man's admission. For days the Sheriff had been avoiding Ducky and by extension this very conversation and while the circumstances certainly were not ideal, it pleased the Benedictine to hear Gibbs say out loud what Ducky had already seen. Wary of pushing the younger man away again, Donald chose his words carefully, "Yes, of course, you're right. I am sorry for giving them the news without you there to do your job. But, despite our admittedly short acquaintance, I also care for the girl and have begun to consider her a good friend. I do not think she did this, capable as she may be, but I agree that we must pursue it either way."

With another heavy sigh, he drained his wine and stood, "When I took my leave of them, the family was in the guest house. I suspect that we may still find them there if you would like to speak to them immediately."

The Lord Sheriff was silent for a long moment, taking stock of the situation, before he too stood and led the way out, leaving his cup, still full, on the table.