by James Runcie
Nigel answered the doorbell. He was wearing a tweed jacket and a crumpled open-necked Viyella shirt that looked as if it had been pulled straight back out of the laundry basket.
‘Thank goodness you’ve come,’ he said. ‘Everyone is in pieces.’
Sidney took a step back. ‘I’m not sure I can be of much assistance.’
‘Your calming presence will be a good start.’
Juliette came down the stairs in the same peignoir that she had worn the previous evening. She did not appear to have slept. ‘It’s Edna’s day off,’ she began. ‘But can I get you a cup of tea?’ It was a question, Sidney thought, which was more commonly asked of vicars than any other profession.
‘Say yes,’ her husband whispered. ‘We have to keep her mind on other things.’
‘That would be most kind.’
The two men walked to what Sidney supposed he must refer to as the scene of the crime. ‘How would you like to begin?’ Nigel Thompson asked. ‘We went through the room as thoroughly as we could and then put it back to normal. Juliette found it too upsetting to leave it in a mess. There were still bits of broken glass everywhere. I don’t know how we missed them.’
The dining table was without its tablecloth and was set with two silver candlesticks and a lazy Susan at the centre but was, Sidney noticed, smaller than the previous night. ‘There are only six places,’ he observed. ‘And yet the dinner party was for ten.’
‘It extends,’ Juliette explained as she came into the room with a pot of tea. ‘You can pull it out at either end. We can even seat twelve at a push . . .’
‘Late Georgian walnut,’ her husband continued, ‘with a rather unpredictable mechanism underneath. It’s a bit of a palaver to go under the table and do it and then put it back together in the morning but it’s a family heirloom. However, you’re not here to discuss the furniture.’
‘Indeed.’
Amanda entered the room. She was wearing a black jersey-knit twin-set and looked on edge. Sidney wondered what the outcome of the evening had been and whether she was engaged to Guy Hopkins or not. He would have to find the right moment to ask.
Juliette turned to her husband and began to cry. ‘I know that everyone thinks I did it.’
‘No they don’t, my darling.’
‘I was the last person that people can remember seeing with the ring but I know I never took it. It would never occur to me to betray one of my closest friends.’
Amanda put an arm around her while looking firmly at her husband. ‘Believe me, Juliette, none of us would ever suspect you of such a thing.’
‘Would other people?’ Sidney asked.
‘I am afraid so,’ said Nigel. ‘Juliette, perhaps you would like a little lie down, my darling? You know how these conversations upset you.’
‘But I don’t want to lie down.’
‘I will take you upstairs,’ Amanda offered. ‘Let’s leave the men to talk for a bit.’
Juliette looked frightened. ‘You will come and see me in a little while, Nigel? You know how I hate to be on my own.’
‘Of course, my darling. I think Sidney and I need a word in private. Amanda will be with you.’
The two men watched as the women left the room. Then Nigel Thompson closed the door. ‘Can I get you something stronger now we’ve had the tea?’
‘No, thank you. I’m sorry Juliette is so upset.’
‘The theft is a disaster. It’s clear everyone thinks she stole the ring because she has had her moments in the past.’
‘I remember you telling me. It was a sad time.’
‘I’m not sure that I confessed in full, Sidney. After we lost our first child I’m afraid there were incidents. Shoplifting. Mainly baby clothes. When she was caught I managed to appeal to the police and they turned a bit of a blind eye, thank God. I can hardly ask them to do the same thing again. I promised I would keep her in check. Now, of course, she’s too scared to leave home without me. I knew she was delicate when I married her. Daphne had even warned me. She told me Juliette would need a lot of looking after, but I didn’t expect this.’
‘Are you are sure she can’t have taken the ring without knowing what she was doing?’
‘We have searched the house. I’ve questioned Juliette quite carefully and I’ve never seen her frightened in this way. I wonder if she might even have seen something or if someone has threatened her because I genuinely don’t think she has done it. In the past she was never upset. She could not accept she had done anything wrong. Now she is all too aware of what has happened and she can’t think of anything else; and just when her nerves seemed to be getting better. I can’t understand it and it makes me furious. All these people are our friends, for goodness sake.’
‘And you have no suspicions?’
‘Well, I’m afraid I do, but it wouldn’t be fair to jeopardise your own line of inquiry.’
‘You mean Johnny Johnson?’
‘I can hardly suspect anyone else, can I?’
‘Even though he’s a friend of my sister?’
‘He was going on to a jazz bar afterwards. He could have passed off the ring there . . .’
‘I won’t believe it,’ Sidney answered. ‘You can’t just arrive as a guest at a house for the first time and do something like that. And Jennifer speaks very highly of him.’
Nigel thought for a moment. ‘It’s difficult though, isn’t it? You can hardly suspect Guy of stealing a ring that he has only just given to his future fiancée, or Amanda of taking it. I hope you don’t suspect me, and I’ve already told you about Juliette. Apart from Johnny Johnson and your sister that only leaves the Dowlands, who don’t appear to be too concerned about such things.’
‘Tell me a little bit more about Daphne Young.’
‘She was at school with Juliette. They were the prettiest girls in their year. Her mother died when she was fifteen and then her father went to the bad, I’m afraid. She doesn’t like to talk about it but it was gambling. As a result she works in the Health Service. Does very modern work: research papers into the psychological influences that contribute to addiction, although that doesn’t stop her enjoying the odd flutter herself. Research, she calls it. As you know, she’s one of the most popular girls in London.’
‘No money worries?’
‘I can’t imagine so. I think her suitors pay for whatever she wants. And she takes in paying guests. I think she has some kind of chaplain at the moment. Didn’t she mention him to you?’
‘She did.’
‘Of course she can’t have taken the ring. She emptied her handbag in front of us all before she left. And then, after we had searched everywhere and you had left, Guy went mad. He accused Amanda of being too scatty for words, careless, irresponsible, unreliable, clueless, embarrassing and stupid.’
‘She is certainly not stupid.’
‘The Dowlands made an attempt to stop him but Guy called them meddling know-nothings. That didn’t go down too well, either. He said that if they really wanted to involve themselves then they should have done so earlier by spotting the thief. He then poured an enormous glass of port and announced that if the ring wasn’t found he would go to the police and blame us all. I tried to calm him down as it’s the last thing I want but then Juliette started having hysterics and I had to get her to bed and the Dowlands went home. That meant leaving Guy and Amanda to scream at each other.’
‘Did Amanda put up a fight?’
‘I’ll say. She gave as good as she got. We didn’t hear the entire conversation as we were halfway up the stairs to the bedroom but it was one hell of a barney. We did hear Guy shouting out, “three hundred and twenty-five guineas” and Amanda screaming back that she wasn’t a horse to be bought at market and that if all he could think about was money then he could forget any engagement and go back to Wiltshire and marry a stable girl.’
‘You heard as much as that?’
‘It was impossible not to. Juliette asked me to go and make them stop but she was in no state to
be left, and then all we heard were slamming doors, Guy storming out with a bottle of my finest port in his hand and Amanda collapsed in a heap. I tell you, Sidney, it’s not easy to find yourself in a house with your wife shivering with fear in the bedroom and one of your guests crying on the sofa downstairs. Poor Amanda: what a night it must have been. And Juliette can’t sleep at all. She keeps coming down and searching the room, trying to remember where she put the ring.’
The door opened. It was Amanda. Sidney noticed that she had changed her hairstyle, pinning her dark hair back. ‘You are not telling him about my row with Guy, I hope? It is confidential.’
‘If we are to avoid going to the police then nothing is confidential.’
‘I can talk to him about the police. I am sure he will have calmed down, even if I have not.’
Sidney held Amanda’s look. ‘You will not forgive him?’
‘I am not one who subscribes to the theory of in vino veritas but I cannot marry someone who insults me in the house of my friends.’
‘Has he apologised?’
‘He telephoned and tried his best but then kept repeating “three hundred and twenty-five guineas, Amanda”, the very phrase that had set me off in the first place. He seems to think that the monetary value of the ring excused his behaviour.’
At this moment the telephone rang. ‘I’m sorry,’ Nigel apologised. ‘I think I had better answer.’
Amanda looked at Sidney. ‘Would you like me to stay?’ she asked.
‘If there is any light that you can shed on last night I would be grateful.’
She sat down next to him and, almost absent-mindedly, looked down at her ringless left hand. He had expected her to choose a seat opposite and at a distance and found her proximity and her intimacy unsettling. She had a brittle, challenging presence, and he could smell her perfume. It was the same fragrance as that worn by a girl he had met in Paris at the end of the war: Voile d’Arpège.
She put her hand by her side. ‘I’d like to think the ring may just be lost. I try to think the best of people and I don’t want to blame anyone, apart from Guy, of course.’
‘I don’t think he can have done it.’
‘When I really hate him I think he might have done it as some kind of insurance swindle but I don’t think he’s capable of that. He’s too stupid.’
‘I wouldn’t say he was stupid. He chose you.’
‘Anyone can do that,’ Amanda replied. ‘He was probably after my money.’
‘Are you very well off?’ Sidney asked.
‘Very, as a matter of fact; but I try not to let people know too much. It gets in the way and you start suspecting their motives. That is why it is easier to mix with rich people. It’s not something that I feel proud about. Although, truth to tell, I could have bought the bloody ring myself . . .’
The grandfather clock in the hall struck the hour. It was four o’clock.
Sidney tried to imagine what it must have been like to have a proposal made and withdrawn in the same evening, with the ring stolen and a public argument following. Many women, given that course of events, would have taken to their beds or fled back to their parents. ‘You seem more angry than upset,’ he said gently.
‘I’m furious with myself for not realising what Guy was like. My head was turned by his good looks and his courtship but the man turns out to be appalling. And to accuse me of deliberately losing the thing! I wish I had now. That would serve him right.’
‘So who do you think took it?’ Sidney asked.
‘Are you going to talk to Johnny Johnson?’
‘I am hoping to talk to everyone.’
‘The Dowlands have gone down to Cornwall for a few days so you won’t have much luck there. I suppose most people think it’s Johnny since no one, myself included, can bear to think it’s Juliette. And that’s where the ring was last seen. But it’s horrible to think like this. Loyalty should be at the heart of friendship, don’t you think?’
‘I don’t think it counts for much without it. It’s a question of trust.’
Amanda met his eyes and did not look away. ‘So, Sidney, what are you going to do now?’
‘I think Jennifer is taking me to meet up with Johnny at a jazz club tonight. It’s a good excuse to talk to him, as I’m rather fond of jazz and I’d like to hear some music before I go back to Grantchester.’
‘When do you return there?
‘I have to prepare for Sunday, Amanda.’
‘But you’ve only just had Christmas. Can’t you have a holiday? You must be exhausted.’
‘I am. I find all this rather depressing, I am afraid.’
Amanda continued to study his face as she spoke. ‘Betrayal, anger and mistrust. It’s not a good start to the year.’
Nigel returned to the room. ‘Daphne has been on the telephone. She was asking if there had been any sign of the ring and if there was anything she could do to help. It might be worth your going to see her, Sidney.’
‘I can’t imagine I’d be welcome.’
‘She tells me that you offered to see her lodger, although I think she refers to him as a “paying guest”. Doesn’t he want a job as a curate or something?’
‘I didn’t plan on going so soon.’
‘Well, they are both ready for you now. I could give you a lift.’
‘No time like the present,’ said Amanda.
Nigel was putting on his coat. ‘It’s a twenty-minute drive across to Hereford Square. I hope you don’t mind.’
It was quite extraordinary, Sidney thought, to have the control over his life taken away with such entitled ease.
It was after five o’clock when Sidney rang the doorbell of Daphne Young’s flat in South Kensington. As he did so, he continued to wonder when his life was going to return to normal. He should have been in his study preparing for Epiphany, but now the only revelations in his life were all too human. The reason he felt so unsettled, he decided, was because these investigations forced him to think about life in a manner that was contrary both to his character and his faith. As a priest he was expected to be charitable and think the best of people, tolerating their behaviour and forgiving their sins; but as an amateur sleuth he found that the requirements were the exact opposite. Now his task was to be suspicious, to think less of everybody, suspect his or her motives and trust no one. It was not the Christian way.
Daphne Young was wearing a pale pink afternoon dress with bands of bright red dotted Swiss cotton alternating with ivory lace. ‘Let me take your cloak,’ she began. ‘I always think they make priests look like vampires.’
‘That is not the intended effect, I can assure you.’
‘Mr Graham has left in search of shortbread. You remember that he is a clergyman who is keen to meet you? Would you like some tea?’
‘I wouldn’t want to detain you.’
‘I was hoping to get down to Brighton this evening to see my father. He’s on his own. Then I will have Sunday lunch in the country. Do you know the Longstaffs?’
‘You asked me that last night.’
‘Friends of the Quickmains. Lord Teversham’s often there. Lovely people.’
‘Your father, you say?’
‘A daughter’s duty,’ Daphne Young replied. ‘But I like to be social. It’s not often I’m in town at the weekend. Now, of course, the idea of a London dinner party is even less attractive.’
‘Last night was very difficult.’
‘It was, Canon Chambers. Although why the Thompsons can’t go to the police is beyond me. I suppose it’s all to do with Nigel worrying about his reputation. He doesn’t want to be in The Times for the wrong reasons.’
‘I think it is a matter of discretion.’
‘Even if the crime is obvious?’
‘You think Johnny Johnson stole the ring?’
‘I can’t imagine anyone else doing such a thing.’
‘But why would he want to do that? He’d only just met everyone.’
‘Why do people steal, Canon Chamb
ers? I suppose that is something for someone of your profession to consider. Is it the need for money or could it not also be the thrill of the crime? Could it even be seen as a kind of revenge, a political act against the wealthy, an attempt to restore some kind of social balance?’
‘I see you have thought of this in the past.’
‘I am a trained psychologist, Canon Chambers, as I think you know. But this case seems pretty straightforward. Mr Johnson’s background certainly provides pause for thought.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t you know?’
Sidney gave a brief shake of the head.
‘His father is Phil “the Cat” Johnson: a well-known jewel thief.’
‘How do you know?’
‘My father is a retired jeweller, Canon Chambers. Johnson was notorious. Of course if the Thompsons had involved the police then they would have looked through their files, put two and two together, and the whole sordid business would be over and done with.’
‘I had no idea,’ said Sidney.
‘Did Jennifer not tell you?’
‘It’s possible she did not know. His son is very charming, as you have seen.’
‘Like father, like son,’ Daphne Young smiled to herself. ‘Everyone trusted Johnson. Then he robbed them blind. This is quite a simple matter when you think about it. Go to the police, Canon Chambers. I know it puts your sister in an awkward position but she’ll thank you for it in the long run.’
‘I think I must do this in my own way.’
‘If word gets out we will be social pariahs. Invitations will cease immediately. If I had known that the Thompsons weren’t intending to involve the police I would never have got in that taxi. We should have stayed and searched the room and taken all of our clothes off if necessary. Then we would have discovered where Johnny Johnson had put it. A ring can’t simply disappear.’
‘But it appears to have done exactly that.’
Leonard Graham entered the room and was full of apology. He was a small, well-groomed man with precise and definite manners and he was wearing a clerical cassock. This was unusual for an off-duty priest, almost as unusual as his pencil-thin moustache. A mistake, thought Sidney. A clergyman, as far as he was concerned, should either be fully bearded or clean-shaven; a moustache was neither one thing nor the other.