The Janus, rearing itself up from the abyss, Theodora thought, was a reminder of what has been overlaid by tarmac. What would the cathedral do with that reality now confronting it? And what would the clergy make of their horror, the murder of their dean?
She thought again of the small crumpled heap at the foot of the statue, its throat cut like a sacrificial animal. She turned back to the collect for Ash Wednesday. ‘Almighty God, who hatest nothing that thou hast made.’ Well someone had hated the dean enough to kill him. Whose job would it be to find out who? Would the murderer have been at the party? Was it a man or a woman, clergy or laity? And why? What, in the life and conduct of Vincent Stream, had brought him to this unseemly end at the moment of his triumph? She made her last prayer, ‘for the soul of thy servant, Vincent, that he may rest in peace and light perpetual shine upon him.’
‘Ah,’ said Inspector Spruce to Theodora as she came down the shallow steps of the south porch of the cathedral, ‘I thought it must be you.’
Theodora focused her gaze on the neat, gymnastic figure of the inspector with genuine pleasure. At least if there was murder in the cathedral, Spruce she knew was about as good as could be hoped for to solve it. He brought back the memory of a holiday in Norfolk and another clerical death. It had been the first time she had known a policeman, as she put it to herself, in detail. She had been cheered by Spruce’s alert and sympathetic intelligence.
‘I had no idea,’ Theodora began. ‘Surely this is outside your usual beat?’
‘I’m here on secondment from Norwich,’ Spruce explained.‘Six months. And you? Are you part of the cathedral establishment?’
‘Like you, I’m being trained.’
‘When I saw the list,’ Spruce was pressing on, ‘I thought there couldn’t be more than one Reverend Braithwaite.’
‘Actually,’ said Theodora with dignity, ‘there are seven Braithwaites currently in orders and I am related to five of them.’
‘Visiting are you?’ Spruce was not abashed.
‘My archdeacon feels I need stretching. I am learning how to educate the laity.’
‘How very interesting,’ Spruce murmured. Theodora liked him because it was impossible to tell from his tone whether he was being ironical or not.
‘Been here long?’
It was instantly clear to Theodora where Spruce was heading.
‘I’ve been here a mere forty-eight hours and I scarcely know my way round the close, never mind the dramatis personae.’ And then to make it quite clear she added, ‘I am not a sleuth. Last time was an accident. The bishop got hold of me. I couldn’t refuse.’ She was aware of a note of desperation in her tone which she sought to exorcise.
‘Of course. Of course,’ Spruce soothed. ‘All the same, the clergy are going to need,’ he chose his term, ‘handling. Specialist knowledge.’
‘Snoop on one’s own colleagues?’ Theodora said with distaste.
‘No, no,’ Spruce took himself in hand, realising he wasn’t advancing down the right path. He halted suddenly and swivelled on his heel to face the cathedral. Theodora turned with him.
‘Nothing like this,’ he gestured towards the building, ‘can function properly with something like this,’ he jerked his head back towards the Janus and its body. ‘Whatever places like this are for, whatever good they can bring about, will be vitiated as long as there is a murderer undetected and unpunished in its midst.’
‘Yes,’ said Theodora. ‘Yes, of course. You’re absolutely right.’
Spruce relaxed. He did not say, did not need to say (but Theodora quite understood him to mean) that keeping one’s hands unsullied and behaving with clerical decorum wasn’t going to solve this one. And she quite saw that without allies things Would be difficult for Spruce. The clergy, she reflected, were past masters at obstruction and evasion.
‘Pooling resources,’ Spruce pressed his advantage home, ‘complementary techniques formal and informal, might speed things up. Yes? What I mean is, you move more easily amongst these people,’ he gestured round the close, ‘than any policeman could hope to. You’ll hear things and they’ll talk to you in ways they certainly aren’t going to talk to me or my men. And then there are the children, Riddable’s kids, I can’t question them officially without a parent and a WPC present. I ask you, what am I going to learn in that sort of set-up?’
‘Yes,’ said Theodora. ‘Yes, of course. I see all that but …’
‘But what?’
‘Haven’t you neglected the fact that I too must be on your list of suspects?’
‘Of course.’ Spruce was in no way shocked or rejecting of this fact. ‘What I feel is that, if I trust you, the gain outweighs the loss. What I need to do above all else is to get some smell of a motive. This is an elaborate, planned crime. It doesn’t look like an impulse killing. Someone wanted Dean Stream dead. Now why? Why should a blameless man of the cloth evoke such hatred that someone went to the trouble not just of killing him but of then dragging the body to the foot of the Janus and laying him out with his arms crossed? I need to know as much as possible about Stream and his colleagues. The faster I can do that the better and I hope I’ve convinced you that someone of your particular background would be invaluable. That doesn’t mean to say that I shan’t put you on my list of suspects.’
Spruce smiled. But it was because Theodora knew he meant what he said that she replied, ‘All right. All right then. I’ll do what I can in that one area of research into motives.’
‘Spot on,’ said Spruce with satisfaction.
‘Breakfast,’ said Theodora. She had been to early service fasting. The cold morning was beginning to get to her.
‘Come and have a bite in my flat. I’m next door to the cathedral offices. By the look of it it’s also over the top of your incident room. Very symbolic.’
Spruce kindled the fire and made coffee and toast. Theodora grilled bacon and scrambled eggs. Afterwards Spruce spread out Sergeant Mules’ guest list on the table and added his own and Doctor Gibbon’s preliminary report.
‘Time of death 1.10 a.m. Death due to a single blow to the throat. The wound runs from left to right. Suggests a right-handed assailant. Weapon for the throat wound probably Stanley knife, razor or similar thin-bladed instrument.’
Theodora swallowed hard.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Spruce. ‘I’m not sure how much you really need to know the detail of all this.’
‘I suppose it’s as well to know the worst.’ Theodora steeled herself. ‘I saw some horrifying wounds when I was in Africa. And my present parish in south London has its bloody affrays. It’s just that somehow I never quite get used to what man can do to man.’
‘It could be woman,’ he said. ‘That is, if we’re keeping an open mind.’ He ran his index finger down the list. ‘Do I gather that Canon Millhaven is a member of the cathedral chapter?’
‘Yes. She’s the most junior member. They haven’t allowed women in deacon’s orders to hold residentiary canonries for very long. But she’s fairly senior in the diocese. She’s got rooms in the close over the Archgate. What makes you say it could be a woman?’
‘Canon Millhaven is a tall woman, I gather. Dean Stream was a small man.’
‘I’d point out that I am a tall woman.’ Theodora’s six foot one communicated itself through her voice.
‘I’m not forgetting that,’ said Spruce equably. ‘We agreed, didn’t we? Now then, was she at the dean’s party last night?’
‘If she was, I certainly didn’t see her. I seem to recall the suffragan saying something about her being delayed. Have you a guest list?’
‘Yes, we got one off the dean’s verger.’
‘Tristram Knight?’
‘Right. Do you know him or either of the other two vergers?’
‘Hardly at all. The younger one, Nick Squires, seems to make himself useful round the close in a number of capacities. For example he services my rooms, at Canon Millhaven’s request. The oldest one I’ve only seen at work heaving
chairs about. The senior one, dean’s verger, Tristram Knight I think may not be what he seems.’Theodora told him of their conversation at the party. ‘The only other thing I know about them is they cook bacon sandwiches in the vestry.’
Spruce looked impressed. ‘Not bad for someone who knows nothing of the close and has only been here forty-eight hours. We’ll be having a go at all three of course. In fact I think Mules has started on the old man because he found the body. But could you do a bit about either of the others?’
‘I could probably do the youngest. He ought to be thanked for buttling round my rooms.’
‘And the Riddable children?’
‘I could probably do something there too. Mrs Riddable has kindly asked me for coffee this morning.’
‘Splendid.’ Spruce happily ticked a number of names and columns on his list. ‘How about motive? I imagine cathedrals have their own tensions. Have you picked up anything which might give a reason for murder?’
Theodora thought of the dean’s party and its undertow of unease. It wasn’t enough to put forward at this moment. ‘There’s some sort of feuding going on between the cathedral chapter and the local press,’ she offered and recounted her conversation with Bishop Clement at the party.
Spruce was amused. ‘So the bishop enlisted you as a sleuth before ever I got to you.’
‘You could put it like that,’ Theodora’s tone was frosty.
‘Could it have anything to do with the murder do you suppose?’
‘I don’t know. The tone of the articles was vitriolic. Someone clearly feels the chapter is incompetent at a fairly basic level, the level of celebrating the liturgy. And Bishop Clement feels that tempers are running high about the cathedral’s need for money and their method of getting it by selling off the land at the Hollow. There might be something there.’
‘Since the bishop’s commissioned you,’ Spruce saw no reason not to rub it in, ‘May I leave you to see if you can turn up anything else in that line? Of course I’ll keep it in mind when I question the rest of the list.’
Theodora nodded unhappily.
Spruce ticked some more of his list and after a moment raised his head. ‘I suppose the Roman chap in the quad couldn’t be a motive for murder?’ His tone was almost apologetic. Other policemen would have ridiculed him he knew. But Theodora appeared not to find the question silly.
‘It’s certainly disquieted the chapter. They seem almost to fear him. But I don’t know how that would translate into a motive for murder.’
Spruce did not pursue the topic. Instead he leaned forward and, as though offering the menu at a good restaurant, inquired. ‘What about the chapter? What have you got for me there?’
‘What do you want?’
‘I wouldn’t mind knowing what a chapter is for a start and what it does.’
‘I’ll have to give it some thought,’ said Theodora.
CHAPTER SIX
Clerical Opinions
‘Do you read your stars, Miss Braithwaite?’
Rebecca Riddable smoothed out the Bow Examiner on the table in the
Precentory kitchen. Theodora looked from face to face of the young
Riddables. Rebecca was a thin child of about twelve with long straight
mousy hair and a look of her mother. Her youngest brother of about
seven was fair-haired and bullet-headed, his pale eyes had a look of
anxiety which later he might learn to commute into anger and thus
resemble his father. Timothy, the middle child, was a square and solid ten
year old who resembled neither his brother not his sister. He’d found the
Janus, albeit inadvertently, been interviewed by the press and coped
with it all with composure. Their heads, at Theodora’s entry, had been
clustered together as they poured over the astrological chart. Theodora thought of replying that you couldn’t both believe in an
almighty and generous God and also think that the stars determine your
lives.
‘I’m Leo,’ she said equably, instead.
‘So am I,’ said Timothy.
Rebecca knew her hostessly duties. ‘I’m Pisces, Ben’s Cancer,’ she
said as though making introductions.
‘What is it you want to know from the stars?’ asked Theodora, impelled
by curiosity.
‘I want to know what’s going to happen,’ said Ben.
‘I want to know what I’m like,’ said Rebecca.
‘But surely someone else can’t tell you what you’re like, you know
yourself, and you surely want to choose what you’re going to become,
not have it all laid out for you.’ Theodora was reasonable rather than
religious.
There was a silence. ‘What if you can’t?’ said Rebecca, her voice a
wail, ‘What if it’s all laid down for you before you were born?’ ‘Why should it be? How do you know it is?’
‘It sometimes feels like that. No one would choose to be born Clergy,
into a family like ours, I mean.’
Theodora caught a glimpse of the problem. ‘I was,’ she said. ‘And was that what you wanted?’
‘I wouldn’t have had it any other way. It was an immense blessing, a
privilege.’ Theodora realised she’d been drawn into more than she
normally allowed.
‘Well,’ said Timothy firmly, ‘there are too many things you can’t do if
your father’s a clergyman. And I want to keep rabbits.’
Theodora didn’t quite see the connexion.
‘If you live in a close, you mustn’t annoy the other chapter members.’ ‘And rabbits would?’ Theodora was curious.
‘I think rabbits should be free range and I can see it might be difficult in
the close but I can’t see what harm a tortoise would do. They’re very
unobtrusive.’
‘You can always go and see the rabbits at the Hollow,’ said Ben. ‘They
run about everywhere there.’
‘Daddy doesn’t like us to go to the Hollow. He says they’re all new
agers and perverts.’
The kitchen was large and warm. A cauldron of washing boiling on the
large old gas stove threw off clouds of steam.The grey walls were running
with condensation.Theodora had tried the front door and got no response.
Mrs Riddable had offered coffee at eleven. It was five to. Wise in the ways
of clerical families she’d looked around for other methods of entry. The
iron staircase had invited to the basement.
‘The Janus has two faces,’ said Timothy suddenly. ‘Does that mean
choice?’
‘Look both ways,’ said Rebecca who had to see the other two across
the road.
‘Daddy doesn’t care for the Janus,’ said Ben. ‘He says it stands for dark
and unloving powers.’
‘Mummy says it has claimed its first sacrifice,’ said Timothy. ‘The dean shouldn’t have been walking about the close late at night
near the old god.’ Rebecca was nannyish.
‘Was the dean out last night?’ Theodora prompted.
‘Well, I waited up to see Mummy and Daddy home after the party,’
Rebecca said. ‘Only I fell asleep. When I woke up the clock said a quarter to one and they’d both come in. But I looked out of the window of my room
and I saw the dean coming out of the Deanery.’
‘Which way was he going?’ Theodora inquired.
‘He was going to the cathedral.’
‘Wasn’t it rather late to be doing that?’
Rebecca shrugged. ‘It’s his cathedral,’ she said dismissively. ‘Anyway,’
she concluded hastily, ‘Mummy’s in now. I just heard the front door. Would
you like to go upstairs. I expect she’s expecting you. Ben will show you<
br />
the way.’
Theodora allowed herself to be ushered out of the kitchen and guided
up the basement stairs.
‘Daddy didn’t like the dean,’ said Ben fixing his eyes on hers. Theodora
made no comment. It seemed to her that Ben’s main social function was
to echo his father’s condemnatory judgements. Would Ben be destined
for the Church, Theodora wondered.
‘I couldn’t sleep last night,’ Ben said lightly as he shepherded her up
the last few stairs to the ground floor. ‘I don’t think Daddy came back with
Mummy. He came back a bit later.’ He took his eyes from Theodora’s. ‘When would that have been?’
‘I heard the clock strike one.’
Mrs Riddable unpacked her shopping carriers on the dining-room table. The table was large and filled most of the room. It was not clear to Theodora where she was supposed to station herself in relation to her hostess. She played safe and edged her way round to the empty fireplace. There was no fire but a handful of dusty-looking pine cones with the remains of gilt paint on them failed to decorate the grate. The room was formidably cold. Mrs Riddable took from the top of one of the carriers a large plastic-looking wallet and from the other carrier a large plastic-looking purse. These she ranged beside a plastic key case.
‘Never put all your eggs in one basket,’ she said gaily. ‘Now how about coffee. I’m starving. Just ring twice on that bell would you?’ She indicated the brass bell-push beside the fireplace and Theodora did as she was told.
Theodora continued to watch fascinated as Mrs Riddable laid out the domestic economy of her family on the dining-room table. The basis was washing powder, three sorts in tremendous quantities. This was supplemented by cornflakes in similar industrial quantities, four packets of fish fingers and three large economy size frozen mixed vegetables. You could chase this down with a large jar of pale, shredless marmalade, six individual fruit pies and an unpleasantly veined chunk of polythenewrapped Stilton.
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