by Kate Charles
‘She was hanging on a black girdle.’ Some of the older and more secular members of the audience chuckled with discreet amusement; Venerable Bead glared. ‘A girdle,’ he amplified with dignity, ‘is a sort of rope belt, worn with an alb.’
‘And this . . . girdle. It was kept in the sacristy?’
‘Yes, in a drawer.’
‘Mrs Conwell would have known this?’
‘I should have thought so.’
‘Thank you very much, Mr Bead.’
The rest of the inquest was an anticlimax. Cyril Fitzjames was called to answer a few questions about the church finances. He launched into a complicated explanation of the book-keeping system; he became hopelessly entangled in his own verbiage and had to begin again. David’s attention wandered and he idly watched the woman who was making the transcript of the proceedings. What a waste, he thought. All those words. Next week they’ll be forgotten, and the transcript will be filed away somewhere with thousands more just like it, and no one will ever look at it again. Unless . . . He sat up straight as an idea came to him, and he was in a fever of impatience as the inquest wound down with expert testimony from police, doctors and pathologists, all concluding that the state of the body was perfectly in keeping with suicide. He hadn’t heard a word since Cyril Fitzjames was speaking, and so he was possibly the only person in the room who was surprised when the coroner announced a verdict of self-inflicted death.
‘Suicide?’ he exclaimed to Daphne as soon as they were outside. ‘Is he mad? Didn’t he listen to what I said about the ledger sheet?’
‘He must not have thought it was important. All the expert witnesses agreed.’
‘Fine experts they are! Honestly, Daphne!’
‘Well, I suppose the funeral goes ahead tomorrow.’
David looked at his watch. ‘I don’t have time to worry about this now, Daphne, there’s something I need to do. I may be back quite late tonight. But promise you’ll wait up for me. I shall need your clear brain by then, I think.’
CHAPTER 41
When thy word goeth forth: it giveth light and understanding unto the simple.
Psalm 119.130
David’s last trip to Brighton had taught him a lesson; this time he took the train from Victoria, and arrived by mid-afternoon.
It was with a degree of reluctance that he approached his old offices. He hadn’t been back since he left Brighton nearly ten years ago. Things were bound to have changed.
The first change was evident on the outside: Graham’s name, on a brass plate, was now among those of the partners. He and Graham had started with the firm at just about the same time, nearly fifteen years ago, and now Graham had received his reward for faithful service.
David paused for a moment outside, contemplating Graham’s name, and summoning the courage to enter those doors again.
The interior looked much the same as he remembered, though the girl answering the phone at the desk was not familiar. She looked about eighteen. She would have barely been out of nappies when he was here, he realised with a faint shock. When she’d finished dealing with the phone, she turned to him with an inquiring, professional smile. ‘Yes, sir?’
‘I wonder if Mr Crawford is free?’
‘Do you have an appointment?’
‘No, I’m afraid not. I’m an old friend. I was hoping he might have a minute to see me.’
‘You might have rung,’ she reproved. ‘Mr Crawford is a very busy man.’
Suitably chastened, he persevered. ‘I am sorry. But would you ask Mr Crawford if he could see Mr Middleton-Brown, just briefly?’
With a disapproving look, she rang Graham’s office. ‘Mr Crawford will see you,’ she told him a moment later. ‘He’ll be down in a moment.’
‘Thank you very much.’ He smiled at her in a conciliatory way, but she turned away and applied herself to some papers while he waited.
He didn’t have long to wait. Graham burst into the reception area, a delighted smile on his face. ‘David, my dear chap! What a lovely surprise! What brings you here?’ He clasped David’s hand warmly.
‘I came to see you. Have you got a moment?’
‘For you, old chum, any time! Is this official, or shall we pop out for a drink?’
‘Oh, please.’
‘The pub round the corner is open all afternoon now. I love these new licensing hours! Miss Morris, please take any messages that come in for me. I’m not sure how long I’ll be.’
David couldn’t resist a slightly triumphant look at the disgruntled receptionist.
‘Where did you get her?’ David asked as they went around the corner. ‘What happened to old Miss Bradgate?’
‘Miss Bradgate, bless her, retired a few years ago. Michelle’s not so bad when you get to know her – she just takes her responsibilities very seriously.’
‘I suppose that’s no bad thing. But for a young girl she’s damned intimidating.’
‘You’ve always been easily intimidated, David.’ They reached the pub and went up to the bar. ‘What are you drinking, my good man?’
‘Whisky, please. I’m not driving today.’
Graham ordered the drinks, then turned to him. ‘How did you get here?’
‘I came down by train from London.’
‘Damn, it’s good to see you, David. It’s been a long time.’
They appraised each other for a moment while they waited for their drinks. Graham looked decidedly middle-aged, David thought. He’d always been boyishly handsome; now his fair hair had thinned noticeably and his hairline had receded well back from his forehead. The moustache also made him look older. David assumed that Graham was drawing similar conclusions about him.
‘So, how are things?’ David asked. ‘How are Fiona and the children?’
Graham grimaced. ‘To tell you the truth, David, Fiona and I have split up.’
David could have kicked himself. ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘No, of course you didn’t.’ Graham paid for the drinks and led the way to a table. There was an awkward silence as David tried to think of something to say; Graham finally answered the unasked questions. ‘Things hadn’t really been right between us for quite a while. I moved out this spring, and a divorce is in the works.’
‘I’m really sorry. I always liked Fiona.’ David remembered all the occasions when Graham’s wife, feeling sorry for a lonely bachelor, had included him in family get-togethers.
‘Yes, so did I,’ Graham said with a wry shrug. ‘Don’t ask me what went wrong. But there you are.’
‘Where are you living? It’s a good thing I didn’t go to the house to find you.’
‘I’ve taken rented accommodation here in town for the time being, until I get myself sorted out.’
There was another pause. ‘And the children?’ David asked.
‘James is at university now, and Sarah is still at home with Fiona. She’s entering her last year at school this autumn, doing her A Levels.’
‘Good Lord. I still think of them as being about this high.’ David indicated the height of a small child.
‘They probably were, the last time you saw them. God, it has been a long time! How has life been treating you? You’re still in Wymondham?’
‘Yes.’ He paused. ‘Mother died about two months ago.’
‘Now it’s my turn to say I’m sorry. I didn’t know.’
‘No.’
‘Are you keeping the house?’
‘For the moment. Like you, it’s a bit soon to decide where I go from here.’
‘Well, if you ever want to come back to Brighton, there’s a job for you at the old firm. I can guarantee that.’
‘Thanks, but I doubt it somehow.’ David smiled.
‘Is there . . . anyone special in your life right now?’ Graham asked discreetly. Graham, bless him, had never pried into his private life, for which David had always been grateful. Fiona had occasionally tried to fix him up with one of her single friends, but Graham had shielded him. Dav
id wondered whether Graham suspected the truth – he’d have to be pretty naive not to – but Graham had never said a word to indicate any possible suspicions.
‘No, not really.’ On impulse he added, ‘I met a lovely woman recently. I thought . . . anyway, nothing has come of it. Nothing will,’ he finished, embarrassed.
‘Oh, you never know, old chap.’ Graham looked interested and, yes, possibly a bit surprised. ‘I must say, I’m rather enjoying the single life myself. There are a lot of women out there – God, I had no idea! All those years of marriage, and now . . . well, it’s a whole different world! Women these days aren’t ashamed to take the lead, to let you know what they want!’ He smiled a self-satisfied smile.
‘Another drink?’ David suggested. ‘Or do you have to get back to work?’
‘Bugger work. It’s not every day I have a chance to see an old friend.’
‘I won’t tell Miss Morris you said that,’ David said over his shoulder as he went to the bar.
Graham lifted his glass when David returned. ‘Cheers. So, David, what brings you to Brighton? It’s a damned odd time for a social call, if I may say so.’
David took his measure carefully before replying. Except for the inevitable physical alterations, Graham hadn’t changed since he’d last seen him. He thought he knew the best way to approach his problem. ‘I want to ask you a favour,’ he began. ‘I need you to do a bit of spying for me.’
Graham immediately looked interested. He’d always been fascinated by espionage, devouring spy novels in his spare time. He’d sometimes lamented the fact that he’d missed out on a career in MI5. ‘Yes? What sort of spying?’
‘It’s a delicate matter,’ said David temptingly. Graham leaned forward. ‘I need some information from the transcript of an inquest.’
‘But they’re not available for public inspection. You know that.’
‘That’s where the spying comes in. I need you to infiltrate the coroner’s office and take a look at this transcript for me.’
Words like ‘infiltrate’ were calculated to pique Graham’s curiosity.
‘Is this top-secret stuff?’ he asked eagerly.
‘Top secret. Very important, too.’
Graham leaned back. ‘The coroner’s office. I just might be able to manage that. There’s a sweet girl who works there – Denise. I have reason to believe that she might be willing to bend the rules a bit to do me a favour.’ He nodded in satisfaction.
David smiled. ‘I knew that your charms would come in handy some day.’
‘When do you need it?’
‘Uh . . . tomorrow,’ David replied. ‘If that’s not asking too much.’
‘That should be no problem,’ said Graham expansively. ‘Tell me what you need to know.’
David had declined an invitation from Graham to stay and join him for a meal, promising to return at an early date. The train was not an express, so he had time for a quick meal from the buffet car. ‘East Croydon,’ came the near-unintelligible announcement over the loudspeaker, and David stopped in mid-bite. Croydon. Of course.
He was back in London much earlier than he’d anticipated, and walked the short distance from the Tube station to the flat quickly, full of his new revelation. Daphne was not at the flat when he arrived; he got himself a drink and settled down impatiently to wait for her.
She was surprised to see him back already when she returned. ‘I’ve been down at the church getting things ready for the funeral,’ she explained. ‘I didn’t think you’d be back yet.’
‘No, neither did I. I hope you don’t mind.’
‘Of course not. Have you eaten?’
‘More or less.’ He grimaced. ‘I had a bite on the train. Delicious British Rail cuisine.’
‘Train? Where have you been, then?’
‘Brighton.’
Daphne looked interested. ‘Have you got a lead?’
‘That remains to be seen. Just a little idea I had – I’ll tell you when and if it pans out.’
‘Be that way.’
‘Oh, it will probably come to nothing. But I’ll tell you what I have remembered: I remembered who was talking about Croydon. Just as you said, it came to me when I wasn’t thinking about it, tonight when the train went through East Croydon.’
‘Tell me! Who was it?’
‘It was Tony Kent, last week when I had lunch with him. He mentioned that he’d come from there – talked about the High Church tradition he’d grown up with.’
‘Well, well.’ Daphne sat down. ‘So Tony comes from Croydon.’
‘I’ve been thinking about this all the way back. Tony is about the same age that Peter would have been . . . if he’d lived. They might have known each other.’
‘Tony Kent.’ Daphne considered the possibilities.
‘Wait a minute,’ David said slowly. ‘Tony. What is his proper name, do you know? Is it Anthony?’
‘It could be, I suppose. You just never know with nicknames. I’ve never heard him called anything but Tony, but it probably is Anthony. Why?’
He rubbed his forehead. ‘Did I tell you? I asked Gabriel if he knew the names of any of Peter’s friends. He couldn’t remember much, but he did mention that Peter had a friend called Anthony.’
Daphne looked at him for a long moment. ‘You might be on to something, my boy. You just might be on to something.’
Later, they discussed the morning’s inquest. ‘I just can’t believe they still think it’s suicide,’ David groaned, shaking his head. ‘After what I told them about the ledger sheet.’
‘The ledger sheet,’ said Daphne. ‘Let’s think about the ledger sheet. Why would anyone take it?’
‘To hide something?’
‘To hide what? Something about the figures on the sheet.’
‘Like . . . that they didn’t tally with the money on the table!’ David exclaimed, with dawning comprehension.
‘Exactly!’ Daphne agreed.
‘And they wouldn’t have!’ he added, his excitement increasing. ‘I just remembered – Mavis told me when I saw her that they’d already raised over two thousand pounds! I’d forgotten completely that she’d said that!’
‘And how much was there when the body was found?’
‘I think Gabriel said it was around eighteen hundred pounds.’
‘So someone took some of the money – not enough that it would be obvious as robbery, and took the sheet so that no one would know any money was missing.’
‘And they wouldn’t have known that she’d told me about the two thousand pounds . . .’
Daphne nodded. ‘It fits perfectly. The murderer goes in the sacristy, kills Mavis, takes some of the money and the ledger sheet, and makes it all look like suicide. If they’d taken all the money, it would have been obvious that it was murder.’
‘Then who?’ asked David.
‘Who, indeed? That’s the question.’
‘Someone she would have let in the sacristy, someone who could have got behind her unawares . . .’
‘Someone who needed money. Maybe not a lot of money, but . . .’
‘Craig,’ stated David. ‘We ruled him out as a possible murderer before, but that’s when we thought the motive was blackmail. But if the motive was money, theft . . .’
‘But would he kill his own mother for a couple of hundred quid?’ Daphne asked.
‘From what I’ve seen of that young man, I wouldn’t find it a bit hard to believe. He probably would have killed her for tuppence. She had to have been a frightful parent – there must have been a lot of bottled-up hostility on his part.’
‘We’re forgetting something,’ Daphne put in reluctantly. ‘Craig wasn’t at St Anne’s on Saturday. He said he wasn’t, and no one saw him there.’
David sat very still for a moment, searching for an elusive memory. ‘Oh, yes, they did,’ he said slowly. ‘Beryl Ball saw him.’
‘How do you know?’
‘She said so, a few days later. Before the organ recital. It was one of her us
ual stories – I wasn’t paying much attention. You know, about every man in London being after her body. She said that Craig had wanted her. On Saturday, she said. ‘On Saturday.’
‘Maybe it was earlier in the day. Or later.’
He thought a bit longer. ‘No. It was then, all right. When I left the sacristy and went through to the organ recital, I met Beryl Ball in the corridor.’
‘And the little outside door was unlocked.’
‘Yes. Craig could have – must have – come in right after I left.’
They stared at each other. ‘Good Lord,’ said David at last. ‘Good Lord.’
CHAPTER 42
Save me, and deliver me from the hand of strange children: whose mouth talketh of vanity, and their right hand is a right hand of iniquity.
Psalm 144.11
Daphne had gone to the church early, to make sure that all was in order for the funeral, so David walked to St Anne’s alone. He looked automatically at the vicarage as he passed; Emily was just coming out of the front door, so he stopped and waited for her self-consciously. He’d heard from Daphne that she was back, but had not yet plucked up the courage to seek her out; he told himself he’d been too busy.
She smiled at him without reservation. ‘Good morning, David.’
‘I’m glad you’re still speaking to me.’
‘Of course I am.’
He plunged in immediately. ‘Emily, I want to apologise for betraying your confidence and telling Gabriel where to find you. It was very wrong of me, but my only excuse is that I thought I was doing the right thing. I should have contacted you first, and asked your permission to tell him.’
She put her hand on his arm. ‘It’s all right, David. I was a little upset at first, but it all turned out for the best.’
‘He was so devastated. I thought – well, I felt that if you saw him like that, you’d know how much he cared.’
Emily turned grateful eyes on him. ‘That was very . . . unselfish of you, considering how you feel.’
‘He does love you very much, you know,’ said David impulsively. ‘I knew it that day.’
She smiled. ‘Yes. We’re not out of the woods yet, Gabriel and I, but things are better between us now than they’ve ever been. For the first time in our relationship, he’s been totally honest with me.’
