Alan, who is accustomed to my multiple questions, answered them methodically. ‘Jonathan. He said the police found Lovelace in a pub in Dover. He had apparently intended to take an early ferry to Calais in the morning; he had a ticket in his wallet. He would never have been allowed to board, incidentally; the word was out and all the ports of departure were being watched. He took a room in the pub and was found there in the morning, lying quite peacefully in his bed, with an empty bottle of sleeping tablets on the bedside table.’
‘And it’s supposed that he discovered that the police were on his trail and killed himself rather than face arrest.’
It wasn’t a question, and Alan made no reply.
‘It’s a reasonable supposition,’ I ventured, after a mile or two.
‘Mmm.’
‘But you don’t believe it.’
‘I don’t like coincidences, and this is a whopping big one, Dorothy. The second death, out of four clergymen selected for the shortlist to be our next bishop. I don’t like it one little bit.’ He gripped the steering wheel and set his jaw, and I asked no more questions.
It was well past suppertime when we got home, weary, hungry, and upset. We hadn’t phoned Jane to tell her we were coming, but Jonathan had. So she had a cottage pie warming in our oven, with a crusty loaf of homemade bread sitting on the table and, I discovered, salad in the fridge.
I found, absurdly, that I had tears in my eyes.
Alan put the car in the garage, brought in our bags, and then told me he was going over to talk to the dean.
‘Let’s wait, Alan. We’re both tired, and Jane’s pie won’t improve with age. Let’s sit down and eat supper and drink a glass of wine, and then go over to talk to the dean. We’re both too old to keep running on empty for hours. Go on. Sit.’
Watson thought I was talking to him and obediently sat, looking up with his ‘I’m a good dog and deserve a treat’ face. That made us both laugh, so he got his treat. Then the cats wanted their share, and also wanted some lap time, so we were a bit more relaxed by the time we got through our meal. Animals are wonderful stress-relievers, except when they’re being maddening pests.
‘I’d better go over and say a word to Jane,’ I said. ‘You go on to Kenneth’s. I’ll be there in a minute or two.’
I found Jane sitting relaxed among her dogs, reading a book. I was stunned at her appearance. She had shed ten years, twenty, since I’d seen her last.
‘You’re an angel, Jane,’ I said, dropping down in a squashy armchair that was going to be very hard to get out of, but was oh! so comfortable. ‘We hadn’t really eaten all day, and Alan’s terribly upset besides. That meal was a lifesaver.’
Jane doesn’t enjoy praise. She made a dismissive gesture. ‘Not a patch on finding Walter.’
‘We didn’t find him. Jonathan did.’
The same gesture. ‘Alan’s idea. And yours.’
‘Well, at any rate, we’re very grateful indeed. And now I have to go over and try to calm some of the troubled waters at the Deanery. This is a very dreadful thing, this second death, but I won’t have Alan worrying himself to a frazzle over it, or the dean, either.’
I struggled out of the chair, with Jane’s help, and made my way through the Close to the Deanery.
May would soon be June, and Whitsunday was almost upon us, so the twilight was lingering late. The Cathedral floated, immense but serene, against the darkening sky. Though Evensong was long past, Jeremy was still at the organ; I could hear music drifting softly through an open door somewhere, and gentle light shone through the stained glass. ‘Lighten our darkness, O Lord,’ I prayed softly, ‘and in your mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night.’
At the Deanery I found the serenity less in evidence. Margaret greeted me at the door. ‘I’m glad you’re here, Dorothy. I’ve been trying to persuade those two old dears that the end of the world has not come, but I’m not sure they’re buying it. Maybe you can talk some sense into them. Kenneth takes everything so dreadfully to heart, you see.’
I walked into the room, where Alan and the dean were seated in front of a small fire, glasses of sherry at their sides. They were speaking in low, funereal tones, and the sherry appeared to be untouched. Oh, dear.
Shock tactics, perhaps?
‘Margaret, if you happen to have some bourbon on hand,’ I said in a clear, carrying voice, ‘I think I’d prefer that. We have occasion to celebrate, after all.’
My husband and the dean looked up. The dean looked slightly shocked. Alan looked exasperated.
I went on. ‘I’ve just been to see Jane, and the difference since they’ve found Walter is amazing! She looks younger than I do, and she has fifteen years on me, at least. Thank you, Margaret.’ I remained standing and raised the glass she had handed me. ‘To Jane and the happy issue out of her afflictions!’ The two men stood, perforce, and raised their glasses. ‘To Jane,’ they muttered.
I kept my glass in the air. ‘And to the gallant men and women who helped find Walter and keep him safe, and to them and the God who will help all of us resolve our other tribulations!’
Both men raised their glasses a bit higher at that. ‘Hear, hear,’ said Alan softly, and gave me a rather weary smile.
Both men then sat back down as the dean said, ‘You’re quite right, Dorothy. I’ve let temporal concerns make me lose sight of the important things in life. We must give thanks to God, and Jonathan and the police, that Walter is safe, and trust him to see us safely out of our difficulties. But oh, dear heaven, I don’t want to read the newspapers tomorrow!’
I sat down, having achieved my object. The two men had come out of their funk and were ready for reasonable thought. ‘What’s the worst that can happen?’ I asked, really wanting to hear their answer.
‘Everyone concerned will be pilloried, of course,’ said Alan. ‘All of us on the commission, for choosing such unchancy candidates. The police, for not taking action sooner against Lovelace, and not solving Brading’s murder. But the worst is the beating the Church itself will take at the hands of the tabloids and the broadcast media. Back in the day, the Church was sacrosanct, like royalty. Criticism had to be veiled. No more. The media will leap with fiendish joy on yet another huge blot on the ecclesial copybook.’
‘Yes. That’s serious. The police can stand the racket; so can the members of the commission. Oh, none of you will like it, but it isn’t a matter of life or death for any of you.’ I took a rather large sip of my bourbon. ‘Sorry, poor choice of words. I meant that all of you will survive the attacks. But attacks on the Church are another matter. The dear old C of E doesn’t rank high enough in public opinion these days that it can risk publicity as damaging as this. What are you going to do about it?’ I was determined to keep them out of the Slough of Despond if I possibly could. Not that they weren’t right. This was a pit deep enough to drown anyone’s spirits. But positive action was needed, if we could think of any.
The dean sipped his sherry, and then put his glass down and stood. ‘I’ll tell you what I am not going to do about it. I am not going to hide, or cover up, or prevaricate. I am going to call a press conference for an hour from now, and I am going to make sure all of the commission members who can attend are there. The ones from this diocese ought to be able to make it, at least. The Archbishops are, of course, not mine to command, but I will request.’
‘Isn’t that stepping a bit outside the bounds of your authority, Kenneth?’ asked Alan diffidently.
‘Yes. But this is my Cathedral, and it’s my bishop we’re trying to appoint, and the buck, as your president once said, Dorothy, stops here. Now, if you’ll excuse me, ladies, I’d best get to the phone. Alan, can you help make the calls? I’ll put my secretary on it, too, but they need to go out as quickly as we can manage, and I’ll want the Chapter here, as well – as many of them as we can reach.’ He turned to leave the room. ‘Oh, and Dorothy –’ he looked me in the eye – ‘thank you for reminding me from whence cometh our help. Sometime
s the world is too much with me, and I forget.’
‘Never for long, Kenneth. You’ve certainly reminded me often enough.’
We watched them go, then Margaret sat back in her chair with a long sigh. ‘He’s a man of great faith, but he takes things so seriously, and sometimes forgets that all the responsibility isn’t on his shoulders.’
‘The wonder, in this age of cynicism, is that he ever remembers. What was it like, Margaret, back when he was just a parish priest, without all this burden of administration?’
‘We had a lovely parish,’ she said, smiling reminiscently. ‘Not very big, and not so many of them went to church, but they were delightful people.’
‘Come, now. All of them?’
‘All of them. Truly. Oh, there was the usual run of grumblers, the old women with the bad legs, the old men who didn’t bathe often enough, and one or two young toughs who thought they could terrorize the village, but we all got on comfortably enough. And when anyone was in trouble, the rest rallied round. Our children were young when we first went there, and that made a difference. That huge, draughty old rectory would have been much different without the girls giggling and the boys racing up and down the stairs.’
‘And did Kenneth worry as much about his parishioners then as he does now?’
She laughed a little. ‘More, perhaps. There were fewer of them, and much less to do on the business side of things, so he knew more about their troubles, and took them all upon himself. I speak of a parish, but we actually had three to look after, so Sundays got a bit hectic, especially in bad weather. But it was a wonderful time in our lives.’
‘And then he was made dean.’
‘And then he was made dean. He didn’t want the job at first, you know. We were so happy where we were, and the responsibilities here were so much greater. He prayed about it for a long time. Well, we both did, really. I didn’t want to go, either. I had so many friends in the villages. But the children had grown and gone, as children will, and we didn’t need that big house anymore, so it seemed quite selfish to stay there. And really, we could see that the Cathedral needed us. You weren’t here then, so you never knew how badly it had been allowed to deteriorate. Lack of funds, of course, but also lack of attention. Kenneth finally decided that this was where God wanted him, so this is where we are. And I have to say housekeeping is much easier in a place this size, even if it is several hundred years older than the old rectory. And this is a parish church as well, of course, so he still has the pastoral work he loves. But this appointment process …’ She sighed and shook her head. ‘Kenneth isn’t as young as he once was, and this was never going to be easy, with feelings running so high about so many issues.’
‘And the deaths have made it much, much worse. I’ve been worried about Alan, too. The crime aspects he can deal with. That’s what he’s done all his life, after all – deal with crime and criminals. But he isn’t and never has been a politician or a diplomat, so the negotiations within the diocese and then on the commission have taken a lot out of him. You know, Margaret, if there’s a bright spot anywhere in this mess, it’s that the appointment process has been put on hold until the smoke clears. That gives us all a little time to concentrate on the crime, or crimes, if the Lovelace death turns out not to be suicide.’
‘Suicide is a crime,’ said Margaret. ‘As well as a sin.’
‘So it is, but, Margaret, I don’t mind telling you that I’m hoping it was suicide. The idea of a serial killer of clergymen makes my blood run cold.’
‘You do realize that’s exactly what the gutter press is going to make of it.’
‘Oh, Lord, I suppose you’re right.’ I levered myself to my feet. ‘I’m dead. I’m going home before I fall asleep right here in your sitting room. Thanks for the drink and the company.’
I walked home through the soft spring night. Darkness had fully fallen, and the Cathedral organ was silent. I could see no light streaming from the stained-glass windows, though the Cathedral itself glowed, reflecting the light from the discreet spotlights trained on it from the Close. I shivered suddenly. It seemed suddenly an aloof, almost menacing presence, looming over the tiny humans who served it.
I was glad to get home, and very glad when both cats wanted to cuddle in my lap. I needed the warmth and comfort.
TWENTY
I took Watson and a book to bed with me, intending to stay awake until Alan came home. I was sure I couldn’t sleep anyway, but I must have dropped off from sheer emotional exhaustion. I didn’t know a thing until Alan woke me with coffee.
‘Mmph. What time is it?’
‘Almost nine.’
‘In the morning?’
‘As ever was. I found you last night with the light on and an open book on your chest, and Watson sprawled over half the bed. Drink up, and let me know when you want some breakfast.’
I don’t know what I ever did to deserve such a jewel of a husband.
A shower completed my return to consciousness, and I went downstairs feeling almost ready to face the day.
Alan has learned how to make French toast, for which he has developed a quite un-British liking, although he claims the stuff would make any Frenchman cringe. So we had that for breakfast, along with some lovely sausages. Watson got his share of the sausage, of course, and when I finally pushed my plate away, I was sure I’d never want to eat again. ‘Salad for lunch,’ I proclaimed, and Alan just nodded. He knows quite well that I often feel hungrier by lunchtime than I think possible after a big breakfast.
‘Alan, I’ve been thinking,’ I said after a second cup of coffee had fully restored my faculties. ‘What we need is a council of war – you and me and Jonathan.’
‘War?’
‘Figure of speech. We need to get together, pool our ideas, work out how we’re going to track down Brading’s murderer.’
I expected an argument. Leave it to the police, not our job, et cetera, et cetera. He surprised me. ‘That’s very much the decision reached at the dean’s meeting after the press conference last night.’
‘Oh! I forgot all about that. I intended to find out about it when you got home; I really was dead to the world. Too much has been happening. Tell me about it.’
‘Dorothy, Kenneth was simply splendid. I’ve handled a fair number of press conferences in my time, but he outperformed anything I ever managed.’
‘What did he say?’
‘First of all, he stole their best line. He said that he knew what they must be thinking: some mad killer on the loose, targeting clergymen. And then he said, “If some of you ladies and gentlemen are broadcasting this conference live, and the killer is watching or listening, I hope he or she realizes that there’ll never be a better opportunity to bag a dozen or so of us at one fell swoop!” Of course, everyone roared, including the canons and the other clergy who were there. And then he changed tone and spoke of the vast sorrow of the Church as a whole, that a priest should feel so much despair as to take his own life, and he was sure that extenuating circumstances would be found that would make those actions perhaps easier to understand and forgive. And then – can you believe it? – he read a few of the more moving bits of the Burial Service and asked for a moment of silence and prayer for the Reverend Mr Lovelace. That shut off the questions they were panting to ask. Even the media aren’t quite so rude as to break into silent prayer offered by a dean in his own great cathedral!’
‘Brilliant!’
‘Then, before they could gather their wits again, Kenneth said that he was grateful to the press and the broadcast media for giving him this opportunity to “enlist the aid of the nation” – that was his exact phrase – in discovering the person who killed Dean Brading. He added that he and the Chapter would be in continual prayer for that person, who must, he said, be suffering great anguish of conscience. And then, to their vast astonishment, he pronounced a blessing and the dismissal. They were so caught up in the liturgical atmosphere he’d created that a lot of them responded with “Thanks be to G
od” before they could help themselves, and then found Kenneth had vanished. Now, what do you think of that?’
‘I think I owe him an apology. I’ve been feeling sorry for him, thinking he was entirely out of his depth and wondering how he could possibly cope. But the performance you’ve just described was nothing short of miraculous. The man’s turning out to be a genius.’
‘He credits it all to God, you know. When we met with him afterwards, Chapter and commission members, he said he hadn’t the slightest idea what he was going to say when he got up there in front of them all. He’d had no real time to prepare, so he had to wing it. “I was given the right words,” he insisted.’
‘And I believe him. So, what did you all talk about in the meeting?’
‘He expanded on his remarks about finding Brading’s murderer. He stressed that most of us had no experience in such matters, of course, so the main job would be simply to keep our eyes and ears open, and report any unusual behaviour to the proper authorities. He asked me, then, to give some pointers about what might constitute “unusual behaviour”. I obliged, listing some of the less obvious things such as lights being on or off at times that didn’t seem to fit the usual pattern, comings and goings, any changes in someone’s usual routine, as well as the moods and actions that usually constitute what one thinks of as behaviour. I also hammered home his point that they were to report anything they found odd, and on no account to try to take any action. And I do hope, my dear, that you are taking heed. Over the years, you’ve escaped any truly catastrophic consequences of some of your reckless acts of derring-do, but the law of averages is bound to catch up with you one of these days.’
I put my hand on his. ‘You know I don’t try to get into trouble. Somehow it just seems to follow me.’
‘You follow it.’
‘But not deliberately. The thing is, when I’m about to discover something important, I don’t actually abandon common sense. I consciously decide how far I can go without disaster. It’s just that sometimes my judgement is off by a hair’s breadth or two.’
Day of Vengeance Page 17