After Hamish had retired beaming from ear to ear, the Master sat back in his chair. Fifteen down. Irreversible botanical fow, fve letters… Thyme. Time indeed waits for no man but on this occasion, the Master’s impressive record for completing crosswords remained unblemished. That left only the insoluble challenge of how to be true to him-self and civil to the vice-chancellor at the same time.
*
When Inspector Granger looked into the interview room he was delighted to see Dr Bloom pacing the foors. Augustus’ detainment had been handled during the day with a deliberate lack of urgency, each passing hour adding to his distress. Priming is what the inspector called this process of preparing a detainee for questioning, a technique based on the old medical notion of only lancing a boil when it is ripe. In the four hours since his arrest, Augustus had most certainly ripened.
‘That’s more like it,’ said the inspector under his breath and then swung open the door and marched in with Constable Trent at his heel.
‘Dr Bloom, terribly sorry to detain you. The constable here mentioned you had a din-ner this evening, but I’m afraid you will have to send your apologies as you are likely to be detained overnight. Would you like to make a phone call?’
‘This is preposterous,’ fumed Augustus.
‘Shall I take that to mean you don’t wish to make a phone call?’ The inspector usually tried to annoy his interviewees as much as possible. Anger loosens careful tongues far better than anything else he had ever discovered.
‘I certainly would like to make a phone call,’ said Augustus through clenched teeth. ‘Very well. Constable Trent will you escort the prisoner to the telephone at the front
desk.’
‘Theodore,’ hissed Augustus into the receiver.
‘Augustus? Is that you?’
‘Of course it is. Now listen, I’ve been stuck in the police station most of the day and they are threatening to hold me overnight. Even if they can’t, I’m certain to miss din-ner… ’
‘You stay right there, Augustus, I’m coming straight down. Don’t say a word until I get there… ’
‘Theodore, listen. There is no point in both of us missing dinner and I need you to tell Mary Frances that something has come up and escort her to dinner. Please, as a friend, just look after her.’
‘What shall I tell her?’
‘Oh, I don’t know… Look, tell her one my students has been arrested and I’m stuck down in the police station sorting it out. I was going to call at her room at six thirty to bring her to the drinks reception, so don’t be late.’
‘Augustus, are you sure you don’t want me to come down?’ ‘Positive. There’ll be plenty of time tomorrow to get this sorted out. I think the in-
spector just wants revenge for last time.’
*
True to his word, Theodore was at the door of Mary Frances’ room at the appointed hour. He gathered his thoughts before knocking timidly on the door.
‘Come in,’ Mary Frances shouted through the closed door. Theodore entered and found himself facing an almost, but not quite fully dressed
Mary Frances with her back turned to the door.
‘Could you be a sweetie and zip me up the last few inches, Augustus,’ she said while fddling with her earrings. Theodore stepped up and did what was asked only to have Mary Frances let out a scream when she turned around to thank him.
‘Oh my God, who are you?’
‘Terribly sorry, let me introduce myself. Theodore Flanagan, one of Augustus’ col-leagues. He’s been detained at the police station, one of his students is in a spot of bother and he has to sort it out. So he asked me to escort you to the Master’s lodge for the drinks reception.’
‘Is he coming later?’
‘He hopes so but it rather depends on the police.’ Mary Frances looked Theodore up and down. A little short for her liking but very
well turned out otherwise. She took Theodore by the arm. ‘Well, you’ll do for now. Shall we go? I could do with a drink after a day looking at
shrunken heads in a dusty museum.’
The Trinity term dinners of the shadow faculty of gastronomic science always had a very different feel to those in Michaelmas and Hilary terms as they traditionally started outdoors. The scene that met Mary Frances’ appreciative eyes when she and Theodore entered through the low arch into the Master’s garden was one of an idyllic English garden party. Surrounded by the vivid colours of one of Oxford’s fnest herbaceous bor-ders, the gentlemen were arranged in small black and white groups. A string quartet completed the picture. Mary Frances, aware she was the frst woman to grace a dinner of this august society, particularly appreciated the impact her arrival had on the assembled gentlemen. The hum of conversation was silenced for a few moments and the poor cel-list hit a note that Mozart could never have intended. A few moments later, once equi-librium had been restored, Theodore led Mary Frances towards the frst group, which included the Master, the vice-chancellor and George Le Strang.
*
‘Lord Faulkner,’ said Theodore. ‘May I introduce one of our distinguished guests best known from her writings as M.F.K. Fisher.’
‘An honour to meet you Ma’am, I have heard and read a great deal about you,’ said the Master, lifting Mary Frances’ hand to within a whisker of his lips before delivering the perfect diplomatic air kiss. Mary Frances visibly fushed and unusually fustered by the Master’s gesture, made an attempt at a response that was halfway between a bow and a curtsy. Lord Faulkner, ever the perfect diplomat, picked up on her confusion and tried to put her at ease.
‘Welcome to our college and my little oasis of a garden, though I can’t take credit for that personally.’
‘Why thank you, it is truly an honour to be here,’ said Mary Frances, recovering her poise.
‘Now,’ continued the Master, ‘may I introduce our Professor of Modern History, Ge-orge Le Strang.’
‘Mrs Fisher,’ said Le Strang, offering his hand. ‘The honour is all mine. Your trans-lation of Brillat-Savarin has a special place in my bookshelf.’
‘Why thank you, but please call me Mary Frances.’ Before George could reply the Master gently guided Mary Frances towards the vice-chancellor.
‘May I introduce the vice-chancellor of our fne university, Dr Ridgeway. A man on a mission to modernise Oxford and bring us all into the twentieth century before it’s all over. Isn’t that right?’ He smiled with perfect insincerity at the vice-chancellor.
‘Indeed, but I hope it won’t take another thirty years,’ Ridgeway said offering his hand to Mary Frances who, whilst admiring his reforming agenda, was disappointed with his limp handshake. She was spared the conversational challenge of talking to the vice-chancellor by the arrival of Hamish McIntyre who had grabbed three of his herbal mojito’s from Gerard’s tray and rushed over.
‘Now, frst treat of the evening,’ he said, proudly offering a glass to Theodore and Mary Frances.
‘Where’s Augustus?’ asked Hamish, holding out a third glass for his clearly absent friend.
‘He’s been delayed,’ explained Theodore.
‘Oh well, his loss,’ said Hamish taking a slug from the mojito in his hand. ‘Wow,’ said Mary Frances suddenly bereft of words when the cocktail hit her parched
taste buds.
‘My thoughts exactly,’ said the Master. ‘Now I think apart from Augustus, most people are here, so I’d better say a few words.’ With that, he tapped his glass discreetly and cleared his throat.
‘Gentlemen and esteemed Lady,’ he said bowing his head towards Mary Frances. ‘I should frst like to welcome all our guests. Tonight’s dinner promises to be another fne adventure in gastronomy, a barely explored continent of human experience. Sadly I shall not be joining you tonight. You have been invited over me as you are all experts in some aspect of this fne science, except of course for our vice-chancellor who is here for an-other purpose entirely.’ The Master relished the pained expression these words carved on the face of the vice-cha
ncellor. ‘For their part, your hosts are a group of devoted gast-ronomes who have recently lost one of their dearest colleagues, Professor Arthur Plant-agenet. He left a magnifcent legacy, which I have the great honour of announcing this evening. This legacy amounts to a quarter of a million pounds to the university and a further ffty thousand to this college.’
The vice-chancellor led the applause, which the Master had to quell with a raised hand.
‘The sum he donated to the college was to create the post of Professor of Gastronomy and as Master I hereby confrm my commitment to make the frst appointment to this chair in the next academic year.’
A far more voluble response met this announcement from all, apart from the vice-chancellor whose expression turned decidedly icy.
‘In relation to the donation to the university,’ the Master pulled out a cheque from his jacket pocket and held it up, ‘this magnifcent sum is to be donated on the condition that a Faculty of Gastronomic Science is set up within the university, to which I am sure the vice-chancellor can have no objections.’
All eyes turned to the vice-chancellor.
‘A magnifcent donation indeed,’ he said holding out his hand for the cheque, ‘which the university will duly take into consideration depending on other priorities.’
‘Of course,’ beamed the Master, ‘and until such time as your considerations are com-plete and the new faculty is inaugurated, his executors will look after the cheque. Per-haps you could take this cheque for now Theodore. You can talk this over with the vice-chancellor over dinner. Now may I propose a toast to Arthur Plantagenet and to Gastro-nomy.’
After the toast, Gerard appeared at the entrance of the garden and rang a small silver bell. The shadow faculty knew this was their cue to assemble their guests and make their way to dinner. As for the Master, he settled himself onto a bench nestled within the fowerbed to enjoy the evening sun, mojito in hand.
*
In stark contrast to the Master, Augustus Bloom was sitting in a dimly lit room and the very picture of abject misery. Across the table sat Inspector Granger.
‘I had a most interesting conversation earlier today with the Inspector of Anatomy from the Home Offce in London. Dr Bloom, do you know what the Inspector of Ana-tomy does?’
Augustus remained silent, assuming correctly that the question was a rhetorical one. ‘He supervises the operation of the 1832 Anatomy Act,’ continued the inspector, ob-
livious to Bloom’s silence. ‘An act that was introduced after an epidemic of grave-rob-bing in the early nineteenth century. The advice I have received from the inspector is that you are in breach of this act and hence no better than a grave-robber. Do you have anything to say before I formally charge you?’
‘Can you at least tell me what exactly I am to be charged with? It certainly can’t be grave-robbing as Arthur doesn’t even have a grave,’ asked Augustus.
‘Of course. I shall be charging you under the 1832 Anatomy Act of illegally receiving body parts for the purpose of anatomical examination without a licence.’
‘But Arthur didn’t leave his body for anatomical examination. If he had he would have donated it to the department of human anatomy.’
‘If that is your only defence, Dr Bloom, perhaps you could explain why Professor Plantagenet donated his leg to your laboratory?’
‘For research… scientifc research.’
‘Research requires examination and examination of any part of the human body is to my mind anatomy. So, quite frankly, Dr Bloom, you are wasting your breath. You will have to argue your case in front of a judge and jury. By the way, if found guilty there is a prison sentence of up to three months, which seems rather lenient to my mind.’
There was a knock on the door then and a young constable stuck his head around the partially opened door.
‘Sorry to interrupt, but there’s a man at the front desk who says he’s Dr Bloom’s so-licitor. He’s demanding to be present if you are questioning his client.’
Augustus glanced at his watch. Almost quarter to seven. He hoped to God it wasn’t Theodore otherwise Mary Frances was stranded and tonight’s dinner was turning into a complete shambles.
‘Dr Flanagan, I presume. Well, show him in,’ said the inspector with an irritated sigh. When Mr Barringer was shown into the room, the inspector’s demeanour changed bey-ond recognition.
‘Cornelius, long time no see,’ said Mr Barringer holding out a hand, which was stu-diously ignored by the inspector.
‘Mr Edgar Barringer. Well, well. It has certainly been a few years.’ ‘Time marches on Cornelius. Now I wish to speak to my client in private. Five or ten
minutes should suffce.’
When they were alone, Mr Barringer opened his leather briefcase and pulled out a note-pad and pen.
‘I didn’t expect to see you here,’ said Augustus. ‘I mean I’m delighted you are but I thought you wanted your name kept out of this mess.’
‘Theodore Flanagan is a very persuasive man when he wants to be. As he pointed out when he phoned me earlier, if this gets to court my role will be fully exposed. I’m afraid I was tied up in court most of the day so apologies for leaving you in the lurch for so long. Now I’m here my mission is to make sure we get you off whatever trumped-up charges dear old Cornelius Granger is trying to stick on you.’ Mr Barringer uncapped his fountain pen with a fourish.
‘Sounds good to me,’ said Augustus.
‘What has he charged you with?’ said Mr Barringer, getting straight to business. ‘Well he hasn’t charged me yet but he was about to when you came in. Something
along the lines of receiving body parts without a licence under the Anatomy Act. I told him it was nothing to do with anatomy but… ’
‘First things frst, Dr Bloom. The Anatomy Act? That was back in the eighteen hun-dreds.’
‘I think he said 1832,’ offered Augustus.
‘That’s preposterous.’
‘I’m sure he said it was 1832.’
‘No, the idea of it, not the date. How about the will? Has he asked about that?’ ‘I was questioned for at least an hour earlier this afternoon by another police offcer,
but I refused to say anything other than we are following Arthur’s instructions to the let-ter.’
‘If it comes to it, Dr Bloom, we may have to explain exactly what Arthur has asked of you.’
‘Are you daft?’
‘The most important thing is that we convince the inspector not to press charges and avoid a court case. Showing him the will is a last resort but we may have to. I’ve brought a copy just in case.’
‘I’m sorry, Mr Barringer, I couldn’t betray Arthur’s trust just to save my own skin. If it comes to that I’ll just plead guilty. He said the maximum sentence was three months. With the summer holidays coming up I could be out for the start of next term.’
‘Dr Bloom, you can’t be serious?’ Mr Barringer looked across the table and realised immediately from Augustus’ eyes that he was deadly serious. ‘All right, well we’d better fnd some other way to get us all out of this predicament. Let’s get the inspector back in and see exactly why he thinks he can charge you with this alleged crime. Remember, don’t say anything unless I ask you to. You are not obliged to answer any of his ques-tions.’
‘So Cornelius, do you mind if I call you Cornelius or should I call you Inspector Granger under the circumstances?’ asked Barringer smiling.
‘Either is fne.’ The inspector muttered in reply. ‘Good. Now could you explain why you are holding my client and exactly what he is
alleged to have done?’
‘This isn’t an alleged crime, Edgar. We have ample proof.’ ‘Of what?’
‘Of receiving a portion of a human body in the absence of an anatomy licence or cer-tifcate of release and of failing to notify the inspector of anatomy within the required 48-hour period that Professor Plantagenet’s body was to be used for anatomical studies. As proof, we have a sworn statement from one of the mortuary attendants at
the John Radcliffe Hospital indicating that the leg of the late professor was delivered to Dr Bloom on Friday, 5th December 1969.’ The inspector rattled off this information without a hint of hesitation.
‘These charges are being brought under the 1832 Anatomy Act, is that right?’ ‘That is quite correct, Edgar. Dr Bloom is in breach of the regulations set out in sec-
tions I, IX and XI.’
‘I see. Well in that case do you have a copy of Halsbury’s Statutes I can consult to check on the details of this act? I am quite familiar with the history behind the passing of this act but rather sketchy on the details. Until today, none of my clients have been charged under this act. I should also like to see the statement made by this mortuary as-sistant.’
‘I’ve told you which parts of the act Dr Bloom has contravened – that should suf-fce.’
‘Cornelius, I don’t think it is an unreasonable request.’ There was an uncomfortable silence until the inspector relented. ‘Jenkins, show him up to my offce. You’ll fnd a full set of Halsbury in the glass
cabinet behind my desk, Mr Barringer. Jenkins, stay with him while he’s checking that the details I have given are correct. And get him a copy of the Hogarth statement too.’ Mr Barringer reappeared after an agonising delay of almost thirty minutes carrying the relevant volume of Halsbury under his arm.
‘Cornelius, if I may I wish to read out section VII of the 1832 act: “And be it enacted, that if any action or suit shall be commenced or brought against any person for anything done in pursuant of this act the same shall be commenced within Six Calendar Months next after the cause of action accrued.”’
‘What does that mean, exactly?’ said Augustus. ‘It means that the inspector has no reason to detain you any longer. You are a free
man, Augustus. Isn’t that so inspector?’
‘If I may?’ Inspector Granger held out his hand. Mr Barringer offered the volume in his hands to the inspector. While he read, Mr Barringer continued talking.
‘Arthur Plantagenet passed away sometime between the night of December 3rd and the morning of December 4th. As you have already indicated the alleged crime of re-ceiving Professor Plantagenet’s leg occurred on December 5th 1969. As it is now June 10th 1970, six months and fve days later, no charges can be brought under this act.’ At that, Mr Barringer wisely stopped talking, leaving the inspector to read and reread the relevant section of the act. Finally, Inspector Granger broke his silence.
The Reluctant Cannibals Page 32