by Simon Parke
The two sat in silence for a while.
Then Peter said: ‘I feel a review is in order. I feel this case within, but the external outlines would be good to hear again, the hard outer casing of events.’
And so with tea and biscuits in hand, Tamsin and Peter, niece and uncle, Detective Inspector and Special Witness, secular and religious, reviewed what they knew on this second day of the investigation:
‘The Extraordinary Parish meeting finished at around nine on Tuesday evening. There were nine in attendance. All then left, except for yourself and the vicar.’
‘Though we know that someone was in the church,’ added Peter.
‘So you say. But everyone claims they left. The Bishop gave Clare a lift, and Sally, Betty, Jennifer, Ginger and Malcolm all left independently.’
‘Correct.’
‘You then talk with Anton. He leaves you to answer a call on his mobile. It lasts for twelve minutes. He goes off into the vestry and does not return. You decide to leave, enter the main church space and blow out the candle. You imagine you hear something.’
‘I did hear something.’
‘Later that evening, the murderer enters the building. The side door of the vestry was open, so either they came in that way or left that way. Clare is also in the building by this time. We don’t know why. The time of her fatal attack is put at around midnight. By midnight, Anton was probably nailed to the cross, still unconscious from the chloroform. Between midnight and 2.00 a.m. he dies from a heart attack.’
‘It is finished.’
‘Sorry?’
‘They were Jesus’ last words on the cross.’
‘Well they’re not ours. We’ve barely started.’
Tamsin was not impressed by time-wasting.
‘At six the following morning, his body is discovered by Sally and Ginger, both on the church premises. Sally found the side door of the vestry open. Ginger had come through the main door.’
‘And then the question marks which litter the page.’
‘As you say, there are question marks: you think, for instance, that someone remained in the church and you believe that someone was Malcolm. And then according to Jennifer, the Bishop did not give Clare a lift or rather, not as far as her home. There are witnesses that they left together. Jennifer saw him driving alone still some way short of Clare’s home.’
‘We know quite a lot.’
‘Or put another way, we know nothing.’
‘And then of course Betty took in the seafront on her way home,’ said Peter. ‘It was an unusual route given the storm, while Sally denies any relationship with the vicar, and Ginger asks us to believe that he was doing paperwork at six in the morning.’
‘Is anyone telling the truth?’ asked Tamsin.
‘No one tells the truth,’ said Abbot Peter with a smile. ‘We are most careful editors of our material. The genius is in discerning not whether people are lying but why they are.’
Tamsin moved on. ‘And then the following night, a brick is thrown through Jennifer’s window, saying, “We know it was you”.’
‘The most obvious suspect, as you intimated, is Clare.’
‘Your reasons?’
‘It’s straightforward. She crucifies Anton and then kills herself. Here’s someone who doesn’t mind whether he lives or dies or knows her or not. By the time he’s found, she will be dead. Either way, he’s punished and she’s free from whatever it is which troubles her.’
‘Good circumstantially, but the flaws in the theory are about to stack up.’
‘True. Who moved her body and why? Who also removed the knife? How did one person alone carry out the crucifixion? And how does the chloroform fit into the story? Why would someone committing suicide use chloroform?’
‘It’s the death of a theory, I think, unless there were two murderers.’
‘Or more?’ ventured Peter. ‘Murder on the Orient Express... the driver took a wrong turning.’
The weak joke indicated an impasse. Their knowledge was growing but not their understanding of it.
Peter said: ‘I think I’ll take a walk. I need to be alone.’
‘So do I,’ said Tamsin. ‘I’ll come with you.’
***
It was a quiet night by the sea. The dark water was docile as they made their way along the promenade past the Martello Tower built at the time of the Napoleonic Wars. It had remained a squat and spherical coastguard in Stormhaven ever since.
‘It houses the dullest museum in England,’ said Peter. ‘Cookers from the 1940s and kitchen scales from the 1950s, that sort of thing. Quite why, no one knows.’
‘Sounds like Sandy View.’
Peter laughed. ‘Oh dear. Is it that bad?’
‘It’s quaint.’
‘You should be an estate agent.’
They walked a little further until they reached the beach huts.
‘And this is where I met an angry Betty that night,’ said Peter.
‘Here?’
‘Yes, she appeared from behind one of the huts looking furious. They’re in great demand, of course. There’s a waiting list of ten years.’
‘Personally, I wouldn’t wait ten minutes for one of these.’
‘Who knows what she was doing?’
‘Perhaps it was a secret assignation,’ said Tamsin.
‘It was certainly a wet one. The rain was torrential.’
‘True love knows only sunshine.’
‘A romantic premise but not a convincing one,’ said Peter, who wondered what such sunshine would be like.
Tamsin said: ‘The old do have private lives, you know.’ There was a slight pause. Even the gulls seemed subdued.
‘So how’s your private life?’ asked Abbot Peter.
‘Same as before.’
‘I see.’
They walked on a little.
‘I’m not sure I know how it was before?’
‘It was private then as well.’ Peter smiled.
‘Why do people imagine that close things will be shared in the family?’ asked Tamsin.
‘Why indeed? As Jesus said, when his mother insisted on seeing him: “Who is my mother?”’
‘He said that?’
‘Famously.’
‘That must have offended everyone wonderfully.’
‘He kept his secrets for friends like Mary Magdalene, where I suppose he felt safe. We do reveal things when we feel safe.’
‘That could be a very long wait as far as I’m concerned.’
‘Of course the murderer will be aching to reveal themselves.’
‘You think?’
‘Of course. When things weigh on our minds, we need to reveal. The trouble is, there’s nowhere very safe for them at present.’
‘I hope not.’
Another pause in conversation but no slackening of pace in the chill night air.
‘So no young man on the scene.’
‘What sort of a question is that?’
‘It wasn’t a question. There was no question mark at the end of it, more a reflection really. But even if it was a question it’s not so very threatening. It’s something anyone might ask in the supermarket.’
‘That’s why I have my food delivered.’
‘And there’s nothing wrong with a young man in tow.’
‘How about a young woman? Is she allowed?
‘Oh, I think so. I once knew a camel like that. She became very upset when any male camel came near her.’
‘And do you have one?’
‘A camel? No, it would look odd in Stormhaven.’
‘Like you don’t already. You know I mean your private life.’
‘Ah.’
‘Do you have something or someone,
hidden and wonderful? After so long in the desert you must have energy to burn.’
‘Oh well, nothing to report on that score, really,’ said Peter.
‘Nothing? I thought churches were full of illicit assignations.’
‘I’m more tempted by illicit solitude.’
‘So who was the last woman to give you a present?’
‘Er, well, Sally sent me a nice card to thank me for helping out at the Summer Fayre. I don’t know if that counts. Oh, and Betty gave me a picture of her father on the beach in a swimming costume, appropriate to the era. He was standing just over there.’
Peter pointed through the darkness to a place on the shingle. ‘I’ve still got that picture. I find old photos strangely haunting.’
‘So who was the last woman you fancied?’
‘You don’t give up, do you?’
‘Never.’
This question was less easy to answer. The last woman he’d fancied was Tamsin herself, when she’d stood on his doorstep at their first meeting.
‘Well, I’ve always thought Jennifer was a handsome lady,’ he said, and this was true. He did find her attractive, though the word handsome hardly described the nature of his desire. So it was the truth, just not the whole truth. As he said himself, we are editors all.
They walked on in silence back towards Sandy View.
***
Abbot Peter still thought of Clare as he cleaned his teeth that night.
‘Tomorrow we must talk again with the Bishop,’ said Tamsin.
‘He may have been the last person to speak with Clare.’
‘No. She’ll have spoken with someone else. You don’t return to church on a night like that just to light a candle.’
‘So who was she meeting?’
‘We don’t know. Perhaps the Bishop can help us.’
‘Best to summon him rather than to be summoned,’ said Peter, before swilling his teeth with mouth wash. ‘Get him out of his office, away from his palace. Get him down to the rough and tumble of Stormhaven police station. And disrobe him of his purple shirt as he enters.’
‘You don’t think highly of him?’
‘Self-righteousness is a manifestation of self-hate. His ego has merged almost entirely with the need to be right. It makes true conversation with him difficult.’
Peter wondered if he had been a little uncharitable.
‘Apart from that, of course, he’s a good man doing his best.’
Forty Eight
It had been kind of Sally to come. She’d even brought a lemon and two tins of gin and tonic which they now drank in Jennifer’s front room. No one would have known that the previous night a brick had skidded across this clean and comfortable floor in a tinkling of shattered glass. All was now restored but for one small change. Jennifer had opted for reinforced double-glazing this time.
There was respect between the two of them. They had worked closely during the interregnum and unlike some others in the parish, both knew what was required to run an organisation. Sally enjoyed Jennifer’s ruthlessness and Jennifer appreciated Sally’s competence. Together, they had successfully handled the transition from one vicar to another. Admittedly, they had not seen so much of each other recently. Both had tended to revolve around Anton and each had much on their plate. But they’d twice shared a trip to the theatre in Brighton and had even talked of a holiday flat in Italy together.
‘It must have been terrible,’ said Sally.
‘It was rather bizarre,’ said Jennifer. ‘Me and my metal piping!’
‘And do you know who it was or have any suspicions?’
‘I have no idea,’ said Jennifer. ‘Absolutely no idea. I told the detective that I thought it could be an angry parent. That was before the Abbot went off on one his desert stories. I’m not sure he’s cut out to be a sleuth. He does wander sometimes.’
‘I know what you mean. I do sometimes wonder a bit when I talk with him! He doesn’t react in the normal manner. It’s as if my words are falling into some huge abyss of emptiness. But Tamsin seems very, well, competent.’
‘Oh yes, you can see why she’s made it to where she has. A touch insensitive, of course, which people do not warm to, but there we are.’
Sally nodded with a knowing smile.
‘I certainly had to bite my tongue when she interviewed me otherwise heaven knows what I might have said.’
‘And how is everyone else?’ asked Jennifer. ‘I’m afraid I’ve been a bit remiss in my Church Wardenly duties.’
‘Everyone’s fine,’ said Sally. ‘Bearing up pretty well. Hopefully last night’s meeting helped.’
Jennifer gave her no reassurance on that score.
‘I’m staying in close contact,’ said Sally.
‘I’m sure you are.’
‘Obviously the news about Clare has shaken people.’
‘Yes.’
‘Though perhaps the unknowing was harder to take than the truth.’
‘What weird psychological animals we are!’ said Jennifer. ‘Our fears are more upsetting than reality.’
‘And of course, Clare wasn’t the warmest of souls,’ said Sally casually. ‘People respected her but I’m not sure they ever quite liked her.’
‘You mean she was a cold bitch, Sally. I always have to say the nasty things on your behalf.’
Sally looked into her glass and at the fizz around the lemon.
‘And life must go on,’ she said.
And life did go on, all around them, close and far away, life of all sorts. Outside, a car drove by noisily like a mobile disco; inside, a leaflet dropped through the door, advertising a new Chinese restaurant in the area, offering a ‘special deal’ for new Stormhaven customers; a mile away, a despairing local council employee opened his window and heard the waves of judgement; and here in the warm, two ambitious women called Sally and Jennifer contemplated the parish affairs of St Michael’s with a little gin and tonic. Life goes on until one day it doesn’t.
‘Betty seems unhappy,’ said Sally confidentially.
‘Oh really? Why’s that?’
‘She’s reluctant to say.’
‘She’s not the Betty she was. It’s so sad seeing someone in decline. I remember it in my grandmother. I found it very unsettling as a child.’
‘I’ve said I’m there for her, if she wants to talk.’
‘Let’s hope she does. It would do her good.’
‘She says it’s no one’s business but her own.’
‘You’ve done all you can, Sally.’
‘I hope so. I don’t like to think of her suffering alone.’
There was a pause in the conversation. Jennifer was pleasant company for Sally. She wasn’t as stupid as other people; and her respect meant a lot.
‘And how’s the big strong Ginger?’ asked Jennifer. ‘We all want to know.’
‘Ginger? Oh well, who knows? Ginger is a mystery!’ Sally blushed as she spoke.
‘He does seem to like you. His behaviour at the meeting was a bit boorish but it seems two are fast becoming one.’
‘Me and Ginger? Oh no, no, he’s much older than me. You’re fishing in the wrong pool there, Jennifer! Definitely fishing in the wrong pool.’
‘Yet you were both there in church at six in the morning. And I shouldn’t imagine the police believe in coincidences any more than I do.’
Her delivery was as smooth as cream and Sally was a little startled.
‘Well, you’ll just have to believe in this one, because there’s nothing else to say. Absolutely nothing!’
‘If you say it, Sally, I believe it. You are a priest after all and if I can’t believe you, who can I believe?’
‘You can believe me.’
Sally got up and went to the window.
Perhaps it was time to leave.
‘I have some yoghurt in the fridge,’ said Jennifer. ‘Or some cheese cake.’
‘No, I’m fine, thanks,’ said Sally.
‘You’re not dieting again are you? You should let your body be for a while.’
‘No, I’ve just lost my appetite what with recent events.’
‘Liar.’
‘I ought to be going anyway.’
‘Stay, Sally. Why not? Get drunk! It would be good to see you loosen up a little. I won’t tell on you!’
‘It’s probably not a good time for loosening up. Not at the moment.’
She took her bag from the sofa.
‘So tell me - how did Anton look?’ asked Jennifer, leaning forward.
‘How do you mean?’
‘When you found him? How does a crucified vicar look? I mean, I know we’re not supposed to ask and all that.’
‘Oh, well it was awful, of course.’
‘It must have been.’
Sally sat down of the arm of the sofa to reflect.
‘I hear he was naked,’ said Jennifer.
‘Yes, he was. He was - naked.’
Sally’s eyes began to water. Jennifer was quickly up, to put her arms around her shoulder.
‘It must have been just the worst,’ she said.
‘It was.’
‘And have you talked about it with anyone?’
‘The police offered me a counsellor but I said “No”.’
‘You’re too proud.’
‘I just don’t think it would be helpful.’
‘So what do you most remember? You need to tell someone.’
‘The shock, I think. Yes, the utter sense of shock in his face.’
They kept a silence.
‘He was a good man at heart,’ said Jennifer. ‘Others may have regretted his appointment but I never did. Well, that’s not quite true, he could be grossly insensitive but I think I prefer that to the grossly depressed Reverend Stone. Anton could have done great things here, if he’d been given a chance. He just needed time.’
‘But someone disagreed.’
Sally got up to leave and Jennifer didn’t stop her.
‘Yes, someone did.’
‘Goodnight, Jennifer.’