Sidney Chambers and the Shadow of Death

by James Runcie

‘I was not at my best.’

  ‘You made us think and you made us feel guilty. Isn’t that what you are supposed to do?’

  ‘We come to the table in good charity and in penitence . . .’

  ‘You do, however, appear to be tired, Sidney. Is it the exhaustion of Christmas?’

  ‘It is a little more than that, I am afraid.’

  ‘Ominous . . .’

  ‘I fear so. What are you doing this evening? We had to suspend our routine over the festive season and I feel in need of it now . . .’

  ‘It can’t wait until Thursday?’

  ‘I fear not.’

  ‘Then what about a quick pint in The Eagle at eight? Would you like to give me something to chew on over lunch?’

  ‘I can see your wife and children are waiting. It involves a group of friends, a stolen engagement ring and my own sister.’

  ‘Not as victim or thief?’

  ‘No, but bad enough. I can’t sleep, Geordie.’

  ‘Well, we can’t have that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so low.’

  ‘I think it is the New Year. I always find it a dark time. Another year gone.’

  ‘A good pint of beer will sort you out.’

  That evening, a thick mist descended over Cambridge and the lights of cars and bicycles glowed dimly through the gloom of the wet streets. The rain had passed but the air was damp and it still felt like the end of an old year rather than the beginning of something new. Sidney wondered where he really belonged these days, working as he did, halfway between a parish and a college, making trips to London and involving himself with the police. He was constantly between places and never at rest; but perhaps it was a priest’s duty, he thought, to be a pilgrim, out in the world, a man of good courage, travelling wherever the Lord decided to take him.

  Despite the consolation of faith, the religious life still contained its doubts and its loneliness; and on this dank winter evening Sidney needed the companionship of a friend.

  Inspector Keating had already bought the drinks by the time he arrived and it was clear they were going to need a second round as it took nearly all of the first for Sidney to go through the salient facts of the case. He finished by asking if people sometimes collaborated to point the finger of suspicion at one man.

  ‘That is more in the nature of fiction than reality,’ Inspector Keating replied. ‘Although it does happen.’

  ‘There seem to be a number of possibilities but, apart from my sister, they all appear to think Johnny Johnson did it.’

  ‘Then either they are correct, or they are all in it together, or they are hiding something.’

  ‘I don’t find that very helpful.’

  ‘Then you have to start again, examine all the evidence as if you are doing so for the first time and without prejudice. In other words, you need a detective.’

  ‘They don’t want the police involved. The host is an ambitious MP who wants to keep this out of the newspapers.’

  ‘Well, that is evidence in itself, Sidney. If they were all so certain that Johnny Johnson is guilty then they would call us in. The fact that they haven’t done so might mean that they know the evidence against him will not stand up; or that they suspect someone else and are not telling you. Can you trust them? They sound a slippery lot.’

  ‘I think I can trust my sister.’

  ‘What does she think?’

  ‘The wife has stolen before.’

  ‘Then that too needs to be taken into account.’

  ‘I don’t think she did it, Geordie. We searched the room and then her husband went through all her possessions so that they could specifically eliminate her from their enquiries.’

  ‘But none of you could be objective. Some of you had drunk too much, others were tired and, once the crime had been revealed everyone probably wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. That’s not an ideal scenario for a search.’

  ‘Which means?’

  ‘You need to conduct a further investigation.’

  ‘Surely it’s too late for that?’

  ‘The ring might still be there. Even if it isn’t, a search will give you ideas. I presume you looked thoroughly under the table and between the floorboards?’

  ‘We didn’t take the floor up . . .’

  ‘You need to picture the scene all over again.’

  ‘And then?’

  ‘You need to call everyone back into the very same room. You need to do a re-enactment and watch everyone very closely.’

  ‘I am not sure they will agree to that. And how will I know that some of them will not alter their behaviour?’

  ‘Sidney, you know that this is really a matter for the police?’

  ‘I think they are all expecting my sister to have a word with Johnny Johnson, that he will then return the ring, and the whole thing can be over and done with. The only problem is . . .’

  ‘That he had nothing to do with it.’

  ‘In my opinion. And that of my sister.’

  ‘Well, you need to be careful, Sidney. You know how desperate the rich can be.’

  ‘Do I?’

  Inspector Keating finished his pint. ‘Well, if you don’t know now then you will soon enough.’

  On Thursday 7 January, the day after the Feast of the Epiphany, Sidney found himself boarding another train to London, clambering on to yet another bus to Lord’s (it was so depressing to stop there in winter, when there was no cricket), and walking up to Cavendish Avenue. He was going to search the Thompsons’ dining room. By committing himself ruthlessly and concentrating hard at the scene of the crime he hoped an idea would eventually come to him.

  When he arrived in the early afternoon Sidney was not altogether surprised to see that Juliette Thompson was dressed in a white nightgown but he became alarmed when she appeared to have forgotten who he was, an incident so worrying that Sidney wondered what type of medication her doctor was giving her.

  Nigel himself was clearly irritated by the visit. Sidney had not been invited to lunch and his host was briskly polite. ‘We did search the room quite thoroughly at the time,’ he said. ‘We looked all over the floor and down the backs of the chairs, as you will recall.’

  ‘Can you extend the table to its full range, and bring in everything that was used on the night in question?’

  ‘I will ask Edna to help you.’

  ‘Do you have a torch and a stepladder?’

  ‘I can’t see the stepladder being of any use, Sidney. Nobody could have hidden the ring in the cornice.’

  ‘I think I need to look at the room from every angle, if you don’t mind,’ Sidney replied. ‘Is Juliette all right?’

  ‘I fear we may need professional help. I do not think we can solve this particular problem on our own. It only makes me hate the thief even more, not for the actual incident or for the hurt caused to Amanda – she seems to have recovered forcefully – but for sending Juliette into such a sharp decline. I sometimes think that the person who did it knew that she would react like this.’

  ‘Which would rule out Johnny Johnson. He had never met her before.’

  ‘Indeed. And so it must be one of our greatest friends, but I just can’t believe such a thing, Sidney. It would be such a betrayal of our trust. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to involve the police but I just can’t risk it. When Churchill retires and Eden takes over, I’ll be in line for a junior Cabinet post. I can’t allow anything to endanger that, especially something so trivial as another person’s engagement ring. The whole affair is taking up far too much time and trouble as it is.’

  ‘I will do all that I can to help you.’

  ‘I know that, Sidney, and I appreciate it, but do you really think this search of yours is going to do any good? The ring will be long gone by now.’

  ‘That is probably so. But I want to spend enough time in this room to think through all the permutations. One has to have a bit of faith.’

  Sidney imagined the room to be a series of cubes on a three-di
mensional grid. He would move from north-west to south-east, working in a series of horizontal lines from left to right and then right to left, using both a torch and a magnifying glass. He would look at the wood, the table, the walls and the floorboard. He would open the sideboard and empty the canteen of cutlery, and he would sit for a few moments, every ten or fifteen minutes, with the seating plan and the notebook, thinking and praying and waiting for inspiration to come from his observations.

  Three hours later he had his own, minor, epiphany.

  It was not a popular decision to re-create the final moments of the dinner party and it took place at the inexact time of five in the afternoon as the guests, or suspects, had only agreed to come on the condition that it did not scupper their plans for the evening. Daphne was being taken to Madam Butterfly at Covent Garden, Jennifer and Amanda were due to see Richard Attenborough in The Mousetrap, and although the Dowlands had no plans for the evening they were required to cut short their annual expedition to the National Exhibition of Cage Birds at Olympia. Consequently, there was considerable tension in the atmosphere as they sat down in their allotted places and waited for Sidney to conduct them through the events of the previous week.

  Nigel was further disconcerted by the idea that he was expected to waste yet another bottle of champagne by deliberately dropping it where he had done so before. Sidney reassured him that he could mime these actions as long as everyone repeated their movements on the night.

  ‘Next thing I know,’ Nigel complained, ‘you will suggest that I dropped the damn thing deliberately in order to cause a distraction.’

  ‘I have already discounted that,’ Sidney replied, rather too punctiliously.

  ‘Are we expected to keep to the conversation as well?’ Guy asked.

  ‘You can paraphrase,’ said Sidney. ‘I would just like to recreate our movements round the table from the giving of the ring.’

  ‘When do we stop?’

  ‘At the moment you were left alone with Miss Kendall and your hosts, Mr Hopkins. The subsequent conversation has no relevance to the disappearance of the ring even though it was certainly of importance to those involved.’

  ‘I’ll say,’ said Amanda.

  ‘There’s no need to bring that up,’ Guy snapped.

  ‘I would remind you,’ Amanda bristled, ‘that we are on “no speaks”.’

  ‘Then why are you “speaking” to me now?’

  ‘I am not talking to you. I am “speaking” to Canon Chambers.’

  Sidney tried to calm the proceedings. ‘Let us begin. We need, of course, a ring. I have brought one in this box from Woolworths. I hope it will suffice. Mr Hopkins, if you would be so good as to give it to Miss Kendall?’

  ‘Very well.’

  Guy stood up and walked round. He placed the box in front of her and she opened it. ‘I see. Rather better than the one you gave me last week.’

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake.’

  ‘Mr Hopkins,’ Sidney continued, ‘if you would be so good as to return to your seat.’

  Amanda handed the ring across the table to Daphne Young. She passed it across to Mary Dowland, who gave it to Sidney. He then placed the ring in front of Juliette.

  ‘I feel quite sick,’ she said.

  ‘Now,’ said Sidney, ‘Mr Thompson, can you please drop the bottle of champagne?’

  ‘I found some rather uninspiring sparkling wine,’ said Nigel. ‘I am sorry about the waste but I think I might as well repeat the whole blasted thing.’

  As he did so his wife gave a shriek and dropped the ring, Johnny Johnson pushed his chair back and brushed the sparkling wine off his trousers with a cry of ‘twice in one week’.

  ‘Continue,’ Sidney ordered.

  Amanda removed Juliette from the room while Daphne fetched a dishcloth and Mary Dowland a dustpan and brush.

  After the mess had been cleared up for a second time, the ring from Woolworths remained by Juliette Thompson’s place.

  ‘You can hardly expect someone to steal it this time,’ said Mark Dowland.

  ‘Please go on,’ Sidney insisted. ‘Let us repeat our search.’

  The guests walked round the room, looking across and under the table.

  The maid rang the doorbell. Sidney explained. ‘Miss Young, I think you said your goodbye at this point.’

  ‘I certainly did.’ Daphne Young opened her bag and emptied its contents on to the dining-room table once more: the same compact, perfume, handkerchief, set of keys, diary, address book and small purse fell out. She scattered her change across the table. ‘Here we go round the mulberry bush,’ she said.

  ‘Amazing,’ said Johnny Johnson. ‘That’s exactly as you did it before.’

  Mary Dowland appeared beside him. ‘Then I came up beside you, I think.’

  ‘And Mr Hopkins went through the bag,’ Sidney explained. ‘Will you do so once more?’

  ‘It’s a bit pointless, isn’t it?’

  ‘On the contrary,’ Sidney said quietly. ‘Miss Young, I think you returned to your place and picked up your stole?’

  ‘I did.’

  ‘And then you said your farewells.’

  ‘That is correct. May I go now?’

  ‘Not quite,’ Sidney explained. ‘We need to continue, if you would not mind waiting. Mr Hopkins must give you your handbag . . .’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘And then the Dowlands leave quite shortly. As, of course, do I. So we will just re-enact these movements and then, instead of leaving, we will return to our places.’

  ‘I can’t see how that has done any good at all,’ said Mark Dowland when the domestic ballet had been completed.

  ‘On the contrary,’ said Sidney, ‘you have shown me a great deal. And now, I have something unexpected.’

  ‘I don’t like surprises,’ said Juliette Thompson, returning to her seat. ‘They make me afraid.’

  ‘But this is, I think, a pleasant one,’ said Sidney. ‘You will see that the ring from Woolworths has disappeared.’

  ‘Where is it?’ Guy Hopkins exclaimed.

  Sidney reached under the table in front of him. ‘Instead, I have something else. Quae amissa salva. What was lost is safe.’ He placed Amanda Kendall’s original engagement ring in front of him.

  ‘Where did you get that?’ asked Daphne Young.

  ‘Your lodger very kindly retrieved it from The Lanes in Brighton.’

  ‘He is not a “lodger”. He is a “paying guest”.’

  Sidney ignored the distinction. ‘In Brighton, there is a second-hand jewellery store, next to some shared accommodation for distressed gentlefolk. Living there is a rather confused gentleman called Hector Young, formerly of the jewellers Braithwaite and Young.’

  ‘You cad.’

  Sidney began. ‘The ring was reclaimed from your father, Miss Young. How it came into his possession is a matter for conjecture, but my colleague received a rather full explanation.’

  ‘You sent a priest under false pretences knowing that my father was confused?’

  ‘On the contrary, his mission was perfectly straightforward. I sent him under clear instructions to talk to your father and recoup the ring. You often take jewellery down to Brighton, I believe . . .’

  ‘There is nothing wrong with that.’

  ‘Most has been secured on approval so that it can be returned. Some former colleagues also help . . .’

  Daphne Young looked down into her lap. ‘It is the only thing that keeps him in his right mind. He remembers the treasures he has lost. Sometimes he believes he still has his shop.’

  ‘I am sure he does, Miss Young.’

  ‘He lost everything.’

  ‘How?’ Juliette asked.

  ‘He used to rent out things on deposit so that women could make a bit of a splash of an evening and then return the jewellery the next morning. Unfortunately, he . . . he . . .’

  Sidney quietly finished her sentence. ‘Gambled.’

  Daphne was pulling at the handkerchief in her han
ds. ‘He thought he could escape his debts and give his clients a little bit of the proceeds. He went to Epsom and Goodwood and put the biggest bets on the handicaps. He liked to think he could always spot an underrated horse but he was wrong. He didn’t mean to lose so he borrowed in order to pay his customers back. He thought it would all come right in the end. Then he started going to the pawnbrokers with some of the stock and without telling his business partner. Now half his mind has gone . . .’

  ‘You were being a dutiful daughter,’ said Sidney.

  ‘The jewellery I show him takes him back to the early thirties when I was a little girl and my mother was alive. The shop was a success then. So I’ve been trying to keep him living there, in the memory of that time, so that he can die with more contentment than he would if he was aware of the world today.’

  Mary was unsympathetic. ‘So are you trying to tell us that you stole the ring for charitable purposes?’

  ‘I took it without thinking. It was right in front of me.’ Daphne looked at Juliette. ‘It was there. I couldn’t help it.’

  ‘My God,’ Nigel exclaimed. ‘You stole the ring in the house of one of your best friends. Are you aware of the effect this has had on Juliette?’

  ‘It was her or my father. I made a choice.’

  Johnny interrupted. ‘How did you do it, Daphne?’

  ‘I am sure Canon Chambers can explain.’

  Sidney began. ‘It did look as if you were the criminal, Mr Johnson. Miss Young was aware of your father’s history and could feel quite confident that you would be blamed; she even tried to do this herself. Then, if that didn’t work, there was always Mrs Thompson.’

  ‘But she has never stolen anything,’ Mary Dowland cut in.

  ‘No,’ Sidney lied. This was not the time for further revelation. ‘But she was upset and distracted and it would be a simple matter to make her think she had taken the ring even when she had not.’

  Juliette Thompson looked at Sidney. ‘So I was right? I never had the ring?’

  ‘It was taken from your place. For the criminal to act in such a way when there were two ready suspects was tempting . . .’

  Daphne cut in. ‘I am not a criminal. I didn’t think of it like that.’

  ‘It must have been when Nigel dropped the champagne,’ said Johnny. ‘Daphne was picking up bits of broken glass . . .’