Holy Disorders

by Edmund Crispin

  ‘It seems to me,’ Geoffrey interposed, ‘that they’ll have to make up their minds which motive to go for. If they think it was the radio…’

  ‘The point is, sir, that they regard the money motive as simply a cover for the real one.’

  ‘Is all that money business a fake, then?’

  ‘No, it isn’t: and that’s what worries me. We’ve checked on it, and things are exactly as Peace said, even to the fact that Butler was trying to get his wife to transfer the dibs to himself. Now it’s all very well to say that’s a cover for the spy business. But it seems to me the crisis over the money came up pretty conveniently just at the time when the murder was necessary. Somehow, it doesn’t really seem plausible. Not that they haven’t got a pretty good case without that.’

  ‘For instance?’ queried Fen.

  ‘Well, the stuff that was found in his room.’

  ‘Could have been a plant. The fact that there were no fingerprints suggests it, in fact.’

  ‘That might have been only an additional precaution. But I agree, mechanically speaking it could have been a plant. I’ve checked times, access to Peace’s room, and so on, and you can take it from me that anyone remotely connected with the case could have put the things there. But there’s other things, the chief being that only Peace could have been in that cathedral when Butler was murdered. They had it in for me, I can tell you, for not searching him for the key immediately afterwards.’ The Inspector stared aggrievedly. ‘Not that he couldn’t have hidden it somewhere, and recovered it afterwards.’

  ‘The point is,’ said Geoffrey, ‘that one can’t see why he kept it at all. He could quite easily have put it back in the clergy-house or left it where he’d hidden it. He didn’t need it again.’

  ‘Exactly, sir. That’s another point in his favour. But there’s more to it yet. According to his own account, Peace got to Dr Butler’s house at five past six, and was there till a quarter past, when Dr Butler and Mrs Butler returned. Now, the poison was put in Brooks’ medicine at six o’clock, and we’ve no proof at all that Peace didn’t go straight down there from the station and then back to Dr Butler’s house, since there weren’t even any servants in to receive him. Mr Vintner, you didn’t happen to notice which way he went when he left the station?’

  ‘I didn’t, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Well, there it is. It’s possible, though it doesn’t seem to me likely.’

  Fen, who had been shuffling his feet and showing other signs of impatience, now demanded:

  ‘But what about the first attack on Brooks – in the cathedral? I thought it was quite certain Peace was in town that night. And why should he have the hypodermic in his room?’

  ‘Yes,’ said the Inspector, scratching his nose thoughtfully. ‘If your theory about a plant is right, that was a serious mistake. Even those ruffians from London’ – he pointed a thumb at the interior of the police station – ‘admit that he couldn’t have been responsible for that. But then, we know there’s more than one person concerned, don’t we? And the evidence against Peace on the other two counts is pretty black.’

  ‘Except,’ said Fen, ‘for the business about the key and the mixed motives. But I suppose there are ways of getting round that.’

  ‘The trouble is, sir, that I don’t know where else to look, even though I’m inclined to agree with you that Peace isn’t guilty. They’re mainly concerned with the spy business, mind you, and of course that’s quite right. But they think they can get at it through Peace, and they’re hardly bothering about anything else.’

  ‘Can I see Peace? There are a couple of rather important questions I want to ask him. If I get the answer I want to the first of them, I think I shall be on to something at last.’

  ‘I don’t see why you shouldn’t, sir. I shall have to ask those churls’ permission, though. And they’ll probably want to be present.’

  Fen nodded, and all three passed inside. As they went, Fen asked if Josephine had been got away safely.

  ‘Nasty business that, sir,’ said the Inspector. ‘What decent person’d want to do a thing like that to a little kid? It was clever of you to tumble to it. Yes, we got the doctor to look at her, and she’s been sent to a private nursing-home up north for expert treatment. Mrs Butler wanted to go with her, but we headed her off. She was in a rare taking when she heard about it, I can tell you. I don’t think she had anything to do with it, though.’

  ‘No. Still, it was wiser not to let her go. Did you get anything more out of the girl?’

  ‘No, the doctor wouldn’t let us ask any questions.’

  The churls were, as the Inspector had predicted, playing rummy and smoking foul pipes. He went over and engaged in a muttered colloquy with them, while Fen stood with a poker-faced expression which made him look like something loose from a mental home, but which was evidently intended to be noncommittal. After a while they all set off to Peace’s cell, which was small and comfortable-looking. Peace was sitting on the bed, smoking a cigarette and reading The Mind and Society. He seemed pleased to see them.

  ‘Ah,’ he said, ‘you’ve come to visit the condemned man. Have you been hearing about the case against me? It all sounds rather unpleasant. And as I keep telling these people, I’m damned if I know how those things got into my room.’ His tone was light, but Geoffrey sensed great strain and anxiety behind it.

  ‘You’ll be out of here in no time,’ said Fen. ‘That is,’ he added minatorily, ‘if you give the right answer to a question I’m going to ask you.’

  ‘Well?’

  Fen hesitated. Even Geoffrey, who had no idea of what Fen was getting at, felt somehow the importance of the moment. Even the churls took their pipes from their mouths.

  ‘What time,’ Fen asked, ‘did you leave the clergy-house to go up to the cathedral and meet Butler?’

  ‘It was’ – Peace paused – ‘just before ten.’

  Fen turned to the Inspector. ‘According to Spitshuker, five minutes before we got to the clergy-house.’ The Inspector nodded; Fen turned back to Peace.

  ‘Now this is the point.’ He leaned forward and spoke with emphasis. ‘When you left the clergy-house, did you go straight up to the cathedral?’

  Peace stared. ‘Yes – I…’

  ‘Damn!’ Fen began pacing about the room. ‘No, it can’t be. I can’t be wrong. Think again. Think, man, think. Didn’t you delay at all? Everything depends on this.’

  Again Peace hesitated. ‘No, I – wait a minute, though, I did.’

  ‘Well?’ There was a fury of impatience in Fen’s voice.

  ‘I went straight out on to the cathedral hill. Then I stopped for five minutes to look at the burning-post. I was thinking about the psychological impulses which go to make witches and witch-hunters…’

  ‘Only five minutes?’ Fen broke in. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Peace helplessly. ‘It couldn’t have been more than that. If as much.’

  ‘That would mean you got up to the cathedral at five past ten – at the latest. It was 10.15 when we arrived and heard the crash. What were you doing in the other ten minutes?’

  The two Yard men looked at one another. ‘It seems to me, sir,’ said one of them, ‘that you’re just doing our work for us. In that time we have reason to believe that he went into the cathedral, knocked Dr Butler out, dropped the slab on him, and slipped out, locking the door behind him. Then he met you as you rushed round.’

  ‘He did nothing of the sort,’ said Fen offensively. ‘And don’t interrupt.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Peace, ‘I wandered round the cathedral trying all the doors. I couldn’t make out why Butler didn’t hear me.’

  ‘All the doors? On both sides?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Several times.’

  Fen took out a handkerchief and mopped his brow; Geoffrey had seldom seen him show so much emotion. ‘Thank God!’ he said. ‘It is possible, then. Or rather’ – he became suddenly anxious again – ‘it’s possible provided we can f
ind out what that innkeeper was doing all evening.’

  ‘Harry James?’ inquired the Inspector.

  ‘Yes. There’s a third conceivable snag, and that is that none of these people we’re thinking of had anything to do with it at all. But no, that’s impossible. It must have been someone connected somehow with the cathedral, for reasons we’ve discussed. One more point,’ he added to Peace. ‘What key did you use to unlock the gate between the clergy-house garden and the cathedral hill?’

  ‘I borrowed Spitshuker’s.’

  ‘Good. Well,’ said Fen, recovering something of his normal boisterous manner, ‘we shall have you out of here in no time. Try not to get into any mischief,’ he adjured Peace with tedious facetiousness. Then he nodded farewell, glared at the Yard, and marched out, accompanied by Geoffrey and the Inspector.

  They paused on the steps, and the Inspector remarked: ‘I didn’t quite see what you were getting at, sir.’

  ‘No,’ said Fen rudely; ‘you’re too stupid. And let me tell you another thing: I have to report an attempted murder.’

  The Inspector stared. ‘What? Attempted murder of who?’

  ‘Of me.’

  ‘Good heavens!’ The Inspector stared even more. ‘But how?…why?…’

  Fen explained about the Black Mass, and what had followed.

  ‘Black Mass!’ the Inspector exclaimed. ‘Holy God, what shall we be having next? Here, you’d better come in and make a formal statement about all this.’

  ‘I haven’t time,’ said Fen shortly. ‘They’ll be closed in half an hour. Besides, I’ve got to write things down on pieces of paper, to clear up my ideas a bit. If it’s devil-worship you’re worried about, then you can take it from me that’s not likely to crop up again after this evening’s fracas.’

  ‘But what about you?’

  ‘I’m all right,’ said Fen irritably.

  ‘They’ll try it again.’

  ‘No, they won’t. That was just a panic impulse, because the fellow thought we’d find out who he was. Very silly. Come on, Geoffrey, we must go.’

  ‘Just as you like,’ said the Inspector with theatrical resignation. ‘It’s your own funeral. But you might tell me what this idea of yours is. It won’t be much good to us if you’re bumped off without telling anyone.’

  ‘You go and think up an idea of your own,’ Fen replied. And without more ado he strode off towards the Whale and Coffin.

  ‘Seriously, though,’ said Geoffrey when they were out of earshot of the Inspector, ‘why don’t you tell him?’

  ‘Because, my dear Geoffrey, he’d insist on at least detaining the person concerned, and that’s the last thing I want. They’re not quite such fools that they won’t have provided against the contingency of arrest. Whatever work they have to do will be done in any case. By far the best thing is to leave them free, imagining we don’t suspect them, and then see if we can’t somehow ferret out what their methods are. But it’s going to be difficult. Damned difficult.’

  The public bar of the Whale and Coffin was crowded, and they went round to the lounge, where it was still possible to sit; not, however, before collecting Fielding, whom they found playing darts. A spasm of remorse seized Geoffrey as he realized that he had not once thought of Fielding during the past few hours; after all, the man had twice saved his life. He seemed as dejected and purposeless as ever. Geoffrey resolved to make amends for his past neglect.

  They discovered the innkeeper, Harry James, and Fen questioned him. He seemed quite ready to reply, and suspiciously prompt in his details. Last evening, he said, he had been in the bars uninterruptedly from opening time (six o’clock) to closing time (10.30). From 9.30 to 10.30, he said, he had been talking to three regulars, whose names he was prepared to give. (Geoffrey noticed with surprise that Fen heaved a sigh of relief at this intelligence.) Fen asked if he had himself opened the doors at six o’clock. He said he had, and that several customers who had been waiting outside would bear him out. It was all very natural, and not unexpected, but Geoffrey found himself disliking more and more the little man, as he stood there with his small eyes blinking through the thick lenses of his glasses, and fingering incessantly his watch-chain. There was something almost physically repulsive about him.

  ‘I was wondering,’ Geoffrey put in, ‘how it was you came to know my Christian name last night.’

  ‘Why, Mr Vintner’ – James smiled, and his glasses flashed, as he turned, in the electric light – ‘I know of you as a composer of Church music. I’m afraid you must be too modest about your reputation.’

  ‘You said at the time that you were thinking of someone who was dead.’

  ‘I didn’t wish to embarrass you,’ James replied smoothly. ‘I deplore the habit of pestering well-known men.’

  ‘You’re interested in Church music, then?’

  ‘Very much so. I’ve made it a life-long study.’

  Geoffrey simulated interest with, he secretly thought, a good deal of success. ‘It’s unusual to find a layman who knows anything about it. We must have a talk some time. What is your favourite setting of the evening service?’

  James smiled again. ‘I’m a Presbyterian myself, so I’m not well acquainted with settings of the Anglican service. But of those I’ve heard, I have a sentimental liking for Noble in B minor.’

  ‘Personally I prefer Stanford in E flat.’ Geoffrey waited breathless for the answer. But James only raised his eyebrows and said:

  ‘In E flat? I’ve never heard of it. The B flat is delightful, of course, and the less-known G.’

  Geoffrey cursed inwardly; the man had the better of him. Aloud he remarked:

  ‘You should come to Mattins at the cathedral tomorrow. We’re doing Byrd’s eight-part setting of In Exitu Israel.’

  ‘Ah,’ James beamed, and Geoffrey’s spirits rose. ‘I’m afraid the only one I know is the Wesley.’ Geoffrey’s heart sank; his ruse had failed again.

  ‘May I before I go,’ James was saying, ‘thank you for your own delightful Communion Service. The Creed is particularly fine, with that recurrent rising crotchet figure in the accompaniment…Well, gentlemen, if I can’t help you further. Jenny!’ He called to a passing waitress. ‘These gentlemen are my guests for the evening. A glass of the special whisky for Professor Fen here. A very fine liqueur whisky,’ he added confidentially to Fen. ‘You’ll like it, I’m sure. Good night to you all.’ He beamed at them, and was gone.

  ‘Whisky!’ said Fen with great satisfaction. None the less, he tasted it circumspectly when it came.

  ‘Flummoxed,’ said Geoffrey in disgust. ‘Amazing what a day’s intensive study of the text-books will do.’

  ‘Personally,’ Fen remarked, ‘I like Dyson in D. It’s a battle of religion and romance, of Eros and…’ He checked himself abruptly. ‘Never mind that. I’ve got what I wanted to know. Let’s get down to work now.’

  He produced from a pocket a number of grubby, crumpled sheets of blank paper, and from another an assortment of blunt, stubby pencils. Then he and Geoffrey settled down to work out individual timetables for each of the persons likely to be concerned in the case, Fielding proffering valueless conjectures and advice the while. Eventually, after some acrimonious argument and mutual accusations of defective memory, the following list was produced:

  Garbin At 6.0 p.m. was alone in his house (unconfirmed); about 7.30 arrived at clergy-house; stayed to meeting after dinner.

  Left the clergy-house shortly before 9.0 and went for walk along cliffs (unconfirmed). Arrived home at 10.30.

  Spitshuker At 6.0 working in his room at home (unconfirmed). At 7.0 set out with Garbin for the clergy-house, arriving towards 7.30.

  Vouched for from then to the end of the meeting (circa 8.50). Walked to the clergy-house gate with Butler.

  From then till just before 10.0 talking to Peace. Met on the point of leaving, at 10.0, by Geoffrey, Fielding, Fen, Frances, the Inspector. From 10.5–10.15 talking to the Inspector.

  Dutton At 6.0 out walking
(unconfirmed).

  At 7.30 returned to dinner.

  After dinner retired to his room, but was seen about when Butler was arranging to meet Peace at the cathedral. Remained there for the rest of the evening (unconfirmed).

  Dallow At 6.0 talking to his servant at his house. Had an early dinner, and went down to the hospital to see Brooks. Then returned to clergy-house, arriving about 8.0. Stayed to meeting, left about 9.0, and went to see a local contractor on business; found him out, and returned home about 10.30 (unconfirmed).

  Savernake At 6.0 was walking with Mrs Garbin from the station to the house where she was dining, and stayed there for some time. Returned direct to dinner at the clergy-house, only stopping to leave his bag at Butler’s house.

  After dinner went for a walk (unconfirmed). Talking to one of the aldermen between 9.45 and 10.20. Returned home just in time to hear the news of Butler’s death.

  Peace At 6.0 had arrived from the station at Butler’s house and found no one there (unconfirmed), but met Butler and Mrs Butler when they returned at 6.15. Dinner at the clergy-house at 7.30. After dinner sat in the summer-house (unconfirmed) but went back shortly before 9.0. Arranged with Butler to meet at the cathedral at 9.20. Stayed talking to Spitshuker till just before 10.0, then set off for the cathedral. Found outside the cathedral at 10.16.

  Butler At about 6.0 was smacking Josephine at the clergy-house.

  Returned home at 6.15, arrived at clergy-house about 8.0. Left meeting to go up to the cathedral about 9.0. Was found dead at about 10.20-10.25.

  James From 6.0 to 10.30 in the Whale and Coffin.

  Frances At 6.0, shopping down in the town (unconfirmed). Returned to clergy-house, meeting tail-end of Josephine disturbance and Geoffrey and Fielding at about 6.10. Got dinner, went to her room with a book afterwards, reappeared as the meeting broke up (8.50). Did some work in the kitchen (unconfirmed), set out for a stroll, met Fen, Geoffrey, Fielding, the Inspector at about 9.50 and returned with them to the clergy-house, subsequently going to the kitchen (unconfirmed).