Death in Elysium

by Judith Cutler

  ‘I suspect we foiled a tired old scam the other day, Doctor Harcourt,’ he said quietly. ‘Someone dressed as a workman – overalls, cap, bag of tools, and so on – said you’d asked him to check your dishwasher. Or not,’ he added, ‘given that all the maintenance is under contract. The funny thing is that I’m sure I’ve seen him before. When he asked if you lived here.’

  ‘Really? You look as suspicious as I feel Ravi. Thank you.’

  ‘We thought you might like this.’ He flourished a DVD. ‘We downloaded the footage from all the CCTV cameras. Should there ever be any trouble, I’m sure the police facial recognition system would find them good enough to work on.’

  He declined a tip, as I knew he would. It was strictly against regulations to accept one, after all. But we both knew that he was always welcome to watch the cricket from my balcony, whether I was there or not. A couple of times I’d been able to wangle him into a hospitality box; he and I had probably been the only ones watching the game, rather than drinking far too much far too early. Thank goodness my networking days were over.

  I discovered he’d got an audition later in the week and was just wishing him a broken leg when he disappeared in response to a crackle from his radio.

  I weighed the DVD in my hand. Did I need to worry about this? On the whole I thought I probably did. Firstly, my address was hardly public knowledge, not like Theo’s, for instance. Could it be that in my past I’d annoyed someone sufficiently for them to seek me out after all this time? Or was the visit connected with my recent activities in Kent?

  They had paid me a visit: I must pay a visit myself. It would be quiet and unobtrusive, and I certainly wasn’t going to dress up as a workman. Reaching for the phone I fixed an evening meeting with an old contact of mine at my favourite restaurant, a tiny place, absolutely discreet, within walking distance of the apartment. When he heard whom I’d invited, Theo laid an ecclesiastical egg; he wasn’t a vain man, but he’d pretty well come as he was, and though there were some of his clothes in the wardrobe, they were thick winter affairs, and today was unseasonably warm. It took me longer to persuade him into the shop than for the suit to be tried on and bought.

  ‘Early birthday present,’ I said, flashing the plastic. ‘And you look very good in it. Do you want to go in mufti or in a clerical shirt? And there are a couple of things I need too …’ While I bought them I worked out exactly how to explain what I was up to. Perhaps it was better for him to wait till I told my dinner guest: good manners would prevent him from expostulating.

  They did.

  Naturally I’d organized menus without prices. Naturally the champagne was grand cru. Naturally the wines chosen to accompany the exquisite food were as good as my old friend the sommelier had promised. Naturally the proprietor waited on us himself, happy to talk about his children when I enquired, but equally happy to be the soul of silent service. All in all it was a delightful evening, and I achieved, over coffee and liqueurs, what I wanted.

  ‘You can’t really be serious,’ Theo exploded when we’d waved my contact into his chauffeur-driven car. ‘Arrive back in the village by helicopter! What sort of message does that send?’

  ‘A pretty mixed one. I can always tweet that I won a flight in a competition. It does happen. I know it’s not the truth, but telling everyone in the village I wanted to fly over what I believe is a highly suspicious building site isn’t a good idea either, is it?’

  ‘I really do not like it,’ he declared, already walking faster than I could manage in my heels.

  ‘In that case,’ I informed him, standing stock still so he had to turn back to me, ‘you don’t need to come. You can use the return train ticket.’

  His face fell comically. I caught him fingering his WWJD plastic wristband. What indeed would Jesus have done if he’d been offered such a treat with such a good ulterior motive? I’m sure I wasn’t the only one to be offering up a silent prayer. Mine included one for the future of our marriage; I’d never challenged our relationship like that before.

  ‘Or you could tell something nearer the truth,’ he said at last, ‘that someone offered you a flight and it would have been rude to turn it down.’

  ‘As a matter of fact,’ I said, ‘someone else offered me something too …’ He had to know about that footage sooner or later, and worrying about potential intruders would be better than remorse over luxury travel.

  My contact had also suggested a professional photographer, pointing out that a casual sweep or two across the site was entirely reasonable, but persistent overflying was not and would draw attention to ourselves. I could snap away all I liked from one side with the new camera I’d had to buy – the one Burble had used was still in Rosemary’s lab. She’d said she’d not found anything suspicious on it, and had offered to return it. But I couldn’t have faced using it, and perhaps it would be used in evidence, so I told her it was probably safer in her lab than lurking in a corner of our loft. In any case, the snapper’s gizmo would have made it look like a Stone Age Box Brownie.

  Our pilot risked a couple of circles up above the site, but when workmen started to look up, as he’d promised, he did a few stunts, as if we really were just fun passengers. How would Theo cope? I simply wanted to die; I always did when the bottom dropped out of my world. But Theo was roaring with joyous laughter that he’d no doubt feel guilty about later, in Lesser Hogben at least.

  Perhaps landing on the village green wasn’t the most tactful thing I’d ever done, especially as Mrs Mountford happened to be crossing it at the time. Though George and Alison Cox seemed to enjoy the spectacle. We got back at eight fifty-nine precisely.

  While Theo dealt with a phone call almost certainly from Mrs M, I pottered off to dispatch all the photographs, professional and my own, to Rosemary, who had a colleague who was happy, for a considerable fee, to look at all the pictures. However, since he was busy in court today, we’d have to wait for the evening for him to examine them.

  It was an edgy day. The first thing was to view the DVD, with Dave, of course.

  ‘You’re dead sure you don’t recognize this guy?’

  ‘I’m not sure, in the circumstances, that that’s the best way of putting it,’ Theo said.

  ‘Right, first up burn a couple of copies. Send one to your solicitor, one to my flat, another to – I don’t know … How about your bishop, Theo? And the original to a guy I used to work with who’ll bring it to the eyes of the best person – who may not be the one in charge of the current investigation. For God’s sake, watch your backs, won’t you?’

  Theo looked him in the eye. ‘How safe is this place? Fort Knox doesn’t begin to describe Jodie’s London pad, but here …’ He spread his hands helplessly.

  ‘Here, indeed. Not even modern double glazing to deter a passing scrote. On the plus side the place is usually occupied; on the minus …’ He shrugged. ‘If I wanted to inflict damage here I’d resort to the time-honoured trick of petrol through the letter box and a lighted match. So I’d screw that up for a start, Theo. And get a few fire extinguishers on standby. I’m serious.’

  ‘You’re sure you’re not being paranoid?’

  ‘Just because you’re paranoid, Theo, it doesn’t mean they’re not out to get you. Look, you do your bit, and I’ll make a few calls. When all’s said and done, I’m owed a few favours.’

  ‘I’ve still got work to do,’ Theo protested. ‘I’m a priest.’

  ‘And by the nature of your job,’ Dave said, ignoring Theo’s twitch of the head at the word job, ‘very vulnerable. But I don’t think it’s you they want to – shall we say, talk to?’

  ‘Is that supposed to make me feel better? That they’re threatening Jodie?’

  Dave held up a hand. ‘You’re jumping the gun there. No one’s threatened anyone – yet. We’re just going to take some sensible precautions. And I’d get CCTV installed right now. Not necessarily obvious stuff – nice and discreet. OK, Jodie? Try these people.’ He jotted on our phone pad. ‘Grace Brothers. A
s in the TV sitcom. No, I know that doesn’t sound like any security firm you’ve ever heard of: that’s the whole point, isn’t it? They’ll make it look as if they’re just repairing your gutters – something that needs doing in any case, if you ask me. Everything the cameras pick up will come through to a monitor here, but more important, a monitor on their premises, where it’ll automatically be stored. They won’t come cheap but they’ll come today.’ He brought up a number on his mobile, which he handed to me.

  ‘Thanks, Dave. It’s only Monopoly money, after all, sweetheart,’ I said, kissing Theo as I left to make the call.

  I also did as I was told and emailed copies of the footage on the security disc to half a dozen people, including some of my own contacts who might just recognize the so-called workman. My in-box contained a few items to be included on the village website. Mazza, busily covering our letter box with another of his stray pieces of scrap metal, assured me that Sian was now spending hours catching up on her weeks of overdue homework, so I added them myself, and tidied up a few loose ends. The sun was shining warmly now, so what I ought to do was go into the garden again, though I was reluctant, to be frank, to mess up my hands and hair. And change, of course, from London to Lesser Hogben gear.

  I was just psyching myself up to do my Cinders at midnight act when the front door bell rang. Our guest was possibly taken aback by my appearance, but, being Ted Vesey, he soon regained his aplomb and more or less invited himself in.

  ‘I’m afraid, Ted, that you’ve missed Theo. He left some forty minutes ago.’ In a rather belated response to that summons from La Mountford, who was presumably chewing his ears off even now about the chopper.

  ‘In fact, dear lady, it was you I wanted to speak to.’

  So where should I put him? He was not a kitchen table man, any more than I was a Theo’s study woman. Dave, of course, was ensconced in the living room. I could always dispatch him to his room – where better to prop up an injured limb than the bed? – but felt an obscure desire for a witness. And Dave did a remarkable thing that made me suspect he must have been as good a policeman as he said he was. He made himself invisible, all six foot five of him. He shook hands with Ted, but then returned to his book, and disappeared from our consciousness.

  ‘How can I help you, Ted?’ I graciously gestured at a seat with the least view of Dave, drawing my own chair closer, clearly giving him my complete attention.

  ‘I hear that you’re able to access a charitable foundation, Jodie,’ he said, with a frank smile that immediately put me on my guard. What was he up to?

  ‘Indeed I am. Its exclusive aim is to support the development of young people lacking a formal education. So it helps fund apprenticeships, sometimes pays course fees and occasionally offers a degree of maintenance.’

  ‘Its parameters are set in stone?’ he asked delicately.

  ‘You know what the Charity Commissioners are like: the trust daren’t deviate so much as a semicolon from its terms of reference.’

  ‘And it’s allowed to support people with a criminal background?’

  Could I guess what he was up to? ‘Absolutely,’ I declared with my sunniest smile. ‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say it prefers ne’er-do-wells, but its target is specifically the socially disadvantaged. Why, Ted, are you concerned that it might exceed its brief if it encourages young Malcolm Burns and his like?’ Gotcha!

  ‘The thought had occurred to me that there might be more worthy recipients. But it seems the fund was almost designed to help him and his ilk.’ You could see the effort he put in to keeping his face bland.

  ‘It was. And I’m proud to be a trustee of such a noble fund.’ You could almost hear Nimrod playing in the background. ‘Now, tell me, how are our church funds doing?’ I’d drawn unwelcome discussions to an end before. And clearly it was a question I was entitled to ask. I was just glad to have got it in before he mentioned the chopper ride. ‘You see,’ I continued, without waiting for a response, ‘I have a moral dilemma. You will be well aware that I have access to other monies.’

  He gave a delicate cough. ‘I am not unaware, though you hardly bruit it abroad.’

  Was that a euphemism for going round dressed like a bag-lady? ‘Would it benefit me if I did broadcast it? Or, more to the point, benefit Theo?’ Then I waited. It might have been a rhetorical question, but it would be interesting to see if he answered it.

  ‘It might benefit the church!’

  ‘It might equally harm Theo’s credibility. But I can hardly let St Dunstan’s fall down about our ears. Your and George’s ears, actually, because while you’re both signed up for three years, rectors move on, don’t they? Or are moved on – I’ve never quite grasped how it works. So do I swan in, a latter-day Lady Bountiful, or do I sit back and do nothing? What would you do?’ It was a reasonable question, given the apparent affluence he enjoyed. ‘I’ve already agreed to do a sponsored run, and made a match-funding offer, haven’t I? It’s usually in the ratio of one to one, but that presupposes the other participants in the bargain have the resources to raise a reasonable amount. How much would you say the sponsored teddy bear jump will raise, for instance?’

  He snorted. ‘Tens rather than hundreds. Certainly not the thousands we need.’

  ‘The shop will bring in a tiny rental, I suppose, and share some of the day-to-day running costs. But I see a vast chasm between what we can raise and what the quinquennial report said we need. Come on, there must be something better than teddies – I’m so sorry!’ I covered my face in embarrassment.

  He gave a short laugh. ‘Don’t think I haven’t heard that before. I was braced for it all the way through the PCC meeting that discussed the matter, as it happens. I thought about a sponsored abseil down the tower—’

  ‘I’d certainly put up at least a thousand pounds if you did it!’ Though I gave a social laugh, I was entirely serious.

  ‘Not me personally,’ he said tetchily.

  ‘I don’t see why not. You. Theo. George we might have to excuse because of his heart condition. Me. I can think of one or two others, too.’

  ‘Ida Mountford, for instance? I can just see her in a hard hat and harness.’ His laugh sounded genuine. Then his eyes narrowed. ‘Why not just donate, Jodie? Think about rich men and heaven and camels and the eye of a needle.’

  ‘If you just wanted to ask me to do that, you could have done it with far more tact, Ted. Now, what exactly did you come for? I’m sure your time’s as valuable as mine, so I assume you’ll forgive my blunt speaking. Ah! Please excuse me: Theo’s not keen on my letting the phone ring on to answerphone, in case there’s someone in urgent need. Dave, why don’t you apply your skills to the coffee-machine? I particularly recommend the mocha. And I’m sure you know where the biscuits are. Perhaps Ted will carry the tray for you.’

  The caller was the woman whose husband had left her on her own with the disabled child. Apparently he’d come back, tail between his legs, and she wanted to thank Theo for his prayers. I talked to her a bit about the nature of the child’s medical issues and the difficulties they had dealing with the authorities. At last, I said, forthrightly, ‘If I were you I’d contact my councillor and also my MP – they’re good at stirring things up on behalf of their constituents.’ I was exceeding my brief, wasn’t I? ‘But look, I’m not an expert. I’m not Theo. I just put my mouth into gear before my head. I’ll get Theo to phone you – I’m sure he’d like to hear your good news in person. I’m sorry? I can hardly hear you …’

  ‘One of those damned great JCBs outside the house. Oh, and it’s woken Jason, just after I’d got him off …’

  By the time I returned, Dave had moved to the opposite end of the sofa; he and Ted were affably discussing the changes made to Kent’s St Lawrence ground. I joined in for a few minutes, but soon Ted was looking at his watch – a top of the range Tag Heuer no less – and getting to his feet. We exchanged bland farewells on the step, curtailed when a lorry bearing ladders and lengths of plastic guttering pulled u
p.

  ‘I’m sick of getting dripped on,’ I said by way of an explan-ation, ‘and I didn’t think I’d need a faculty for basic maintenance.’

  ‘As one who’s been dripped on many times, I’m quite sure you don’t,’ he said with a charming smile.

  ‘So what the hell was that all about?’ I asked Dave before he could pick up his Tolstoy again. ‘I thought at first Ted was thinking about blackmail, but I can’t think what he might have on me.’

  ‘You always were the lily-white girl, weren’t you? Perhaps it’s something you’re not embarrassed about but he thinks you might be. Which shows how little he knows you, I’d say. Of course there might be stuff you wouldn’t want Theo to know about.’

  ‘Which shows how little you know me. And him,’ I said with a grin.

  ‘Was he asking for money? No. Like you said, he’d have licked your arse a bit more if that was the case.’

  ‘Did he say anything of note to you?’

  ‘He thought Kent’s prospects were better than I did. One thing – he looked at his watch a couple of times. Not in that finger-drumming way people use when they’re sick of waiting – as he might have been for you. Now, Jode – don’t book me into the funny farm – he couldn’t have been establishing some sort of alibi, could he?’

  ‘To prove he’s not robbing a bank?’

  ‘The big cheese in a gang is never there at the front end.’

  ‘Like McCavity,’ I suggested. ‘And if you don’t know Old Possum’s Book of Practical Cats you could try it after War and Peace.’ But he wasn’t joking, was he? ‘Actually, I’ve known no end of people who’ve wanted an unpleasant outcome at a meeting but didn’t turn up to fire the bullets. They sent their apologies and someone else did the dirty work.’

  ‘Excatly. And your Ted Vesey strikes me as that sort of man.’

  EIGHTEEN

  When TVInvicta led their lunchtime news with a story about a JCB scooping out the safe from an Isle of Thanet post office, Dave and I fell about with entirely inappropriate giggles, choking like school kids over our explanation to Theo, who all too clearly did not think that Ted was masterminding a distant bank raid.