A Dead Man Out of Mind (33 page)

Ruth was furious. ‘What about
me
? I'm the one who's done all the work! Why are you always trying to leave me out?'

CHAPTER 27

    
I will receive the cup of salvation: and call upon the Name of the Lord.

Psalm 116.12

‘Two more days,' was the first thing that David said on Thursday morning, even before he'd opened his eyes. ‘I think we're going to make it, love.'

Lucy wasn't quite awake yet. ‘Hm?'

‘I said that I think we're going to make it. We only have two days in which to restrain ourselves from wringing her neck. Forty-eight hours and a bit.'

‘What a lovely thought.' She turned over and burrowed her face into her pillow, then remembered the day before and was suddenly wide awake. ‘Seriously, darling,' she said in a completely different tone of voice. ‘What
are
we going to do now? About the things that we've found out?'

‘I'm not sure,' David confessed. ‘We've never been in quite this position before, have we? We can't just go marching up to the police and tell them that we've solved three murders for them.'

‘We haven't exactly solved them,' she protested. ‘And anyway, I think that we should take it slowly and carefully, don't you?'

‘There's no hurry, as far as I can see,' he agreed. ‘I think we should definitely wait until Ruth is gone before we do anything at all.'

‘That will make her furious.'

He smiled. ‘I know.'

‘You're terrible,' she giggled.

‘I know that too, and you love me for it.'

‘Or in spite of it.' There followed a few undignified moments in which tickling played a prominent part, but after they settled down and stopped laughing David returned to the subject again.

‘At any rate, Lucy love, we're meant to be seeing Gabriel and Emily again on Saturday. Ruth will be safely out of the way by then, so that should be time enough to decide where we take it from here. After all, it was Gabriel who got us into this in the first place. So I think we'd be justified in throwing it back into his lap. Just tell him what we've learned, and let him deal with it. He's the Archdeacon, as he's so fond of reminding us.'

‘Yes . . .' Lucy turned her back to him. ‘Do we have to go?' she said quietly into her pillow. ‘To see them on Saturday, I mean?'

‘But why ever not, love?'

He had to strain to hear her answer. ‘I hated it the other night. I hated the way that you were flirting with Gabriel.'

David was astonished. ‘Me? Flirting with Gabriel? That's absurd!'

‘All right, then.
He
was flirting with
you
, and you let him.'

‘Don't be ridiculous!' He wasn't defensive, only puzzled. ‘Why on earth would you think such a thing?'

‘All that talk about old times, about Brighton and St Dunstan's. How was I supposed to feel, David?'

He leaned over so that he could see her face. ‘I honestly don't know what you're going on about, my love. There was absolutely nothing in it, as far as I was concerned. And as far as Gabriel was concerned as well, I'm quite sure. He's a happily married man, and I'm a . . . well, what
would
you call me? Since you refuse to make an honest man of me?' He put on such a comically mournful expression that Lucy couldn't help giggling, and it soon degenerated into further tickling and other forms of intimate activity.

David had an idea over breakfast; he broached it to Lucy while Ruth was still in the shower. ‘Were you doing anything special this afternoon?' he asked as a preliminary.

‘Nothing in particular. I've got a commission that I should be getting on with, for Joan Everitt, but it's not pressing. Why? Did you have something in mind?'

‘Well, I thought that it might be nice for you to take the
enfant terrible
out to lunch, on her nearly-last day.'

‘Oh, yes?' Lucy sounded sceptical. ‘In other words, you want to get rid of her.'

He gave her a shamefaced grin. ‘Well, that
is
part of it, of course. And I've got an important client to see at lunchtime, which means that I'll have to lumber my secretary with her again, otherwise. But I
did
think that it would be a good idea – after all, love, you and Ruth haven't had much time together, just the two of you, since she's been here.'

‘That's true,' Lucy admitted. ‘She'd probably like to have me to herself for an hour or two.'

The idea developed further. ‘You could take her shopping afterwards, if you liked.'

‘So you'd be rid of her for even longer.'

‘Well, yes. But she'd enjoy it, more than what she'd be doing at the office. Take her to Covent Garden and buy her something. I'll give you some money.'

‘Oh, so now you're offering me bribes to take my niece off your hands.' Lucy tried to look cross, but a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth.

David was beginning to get enthusiastic about the plan. ‘She should really buy something to take home to her parents,' he went on, developing it further. ‘Something from F and M would be nice. Some special tea, or perhaps chocolates. I could meet you there at teatime, give the two of you a nice Fortnum's tea.'

‘You've talked me into it,' Lucy laughed. ‘I can never resist a Fortnum's tea.'

Lucy came by Fosdyke, Fosdyke & Galloway to collect Ruth as arranged, at about half-past twelve, stopping in only long enough to say hello to David. Things augured well for a less stressful afternoon than might have been expected: Ruth had actually expressed enthusiasm for the plan, and seemed to be looking forward to an afternoon of having her aunt to herself, at least until teatime. She had been almost pleasant that morning, perhaps still savouring her clever triumphs of the previous day.

Still, David wasn't sorry to see her go. His afternoon passed quickly, with two important meetings and a great deal of paperwork to be got through.

He took the Central Line to Bond Street and walked down towards Piccadilly; having allowed plenty of time to get through the early rush-hour traffic, he found himself in Old Bond Street with several minutes to spare. Suddenly he remembered his intention to call into Christie's to look at the catalogue for their sale of ecclesiastical items; it seemed a good time to do that.

There was only time to flick through it cursorily, but it looked interesting, so David bought a copy for a later, more detailed perusal, then progressed on towards Fortnum & Mason.

Lucy and her niece, laden down with carrier bags, were already waiting for him in the tearoom. They both seemed in high good humour; evidently their afternoon together had been a great success, and had gone a long way towards re-establishing the bond between them.

They were seated; David said grandly, ‘I think we'll have the lot, don't you? Sandwiches, scones, and cakes.'

‘Oh, yes,' agreed Ruth.

‘Of course.' Lucy nodded. ‘Now this is what I call civilised,' she added, indicating the string quartet.

‘We've had such fun,' Ruth told him. ‘We went to the Hard Rock Cafe for lunch – it was brilliant.'

‘Oh, was it?' David glanced at Lucy; she resolutely refused to catch his eye. ‘Had hamburgers, did you?'

Oblivious, Ruth rattled on. ‘
I
did. Aunt Lucy had a salad. And then we went to Covent Garden. That was super. There was a bloke there who was walking on his hands. And another one who was standing like a statue, dead still, and people tried to get him to move.'

‘Did you buy anything?'

‘Oh, yes. Aunt Lucy bought me some earrings, and then I found this wonderful hat. Didn't you notice?' She indicated the floppy black velvet which was perched atop her red curls.

‘Very nice,' David acknowledged, realising to his shock that she was almost pretty when she smiled, in spite of the flashing hardware; it wasn't a phenomenon that he'd had very much chance to observe.

‘And there was a cute teddy bear, but I decided against it. I thought that it was probably too babyish. But I bought some things for my brothers – some wooden toys. And in one of the shops I got some pipe tobacco for my father. And when we got here, I bought some special tea for my mum.'

The food arrived, and Ruth tucked in happily – appropriating all of the smoked salmon sandwiches, to David's secret sorrow.

‘Aunt Lucy,' she said, ‘I want your opinion about this hat. Now honestly, does it look better with the flower in the front, like this, or on the side, like that? What do you think?'

While Lucy gave careful consideration to the question and its ramifications, David picked up the Christie's catalogue and leafed through it casually. He turned a page, stopped, and went back. ‘Good Lord,' he said. His voice was calm, but his mind was racing nearly as fast as his heart.

‘What is it?' Lucy looked across the table.

‘Here.' He held it up for her to see. ‘For sale at Christie's. It's the chalice from St Margaret's.'

* * *

It was the one thing that they'd forgotten, David admitted to Gabriel later: the missing chalice. That it was no small omission he also admitted, with some chagrin. The chalice, it was to be assumed, had been taken at the time of Father Julian's murder to give the appearance of a burglary; it followed that the person who had taken the chalice had also killed Father Julian. And two other people as well. The chalice was the evidence they needed to catch the murderer – suspicions were all very well and good, but they needed something more concrete than suspicions to take to the police. They needed the chalice, or at least the name of the person who had taken it.

Admittedly, the police hadn't looked very hard for the chalice either. They had checked the usual outlets for stolen goods, Bermondsey Market and Portobello Road; they had circulated a vague description which might have applied just as well to a thousand other chalices.

Who would have thought that it would have turned up at Christie's? The catalogue description was admirably accurate. ‘Silver gilt. Hallmarked John Hardman and Co., 1850. Thought to be a very early design by A. W. Pugin,' it said. The reserve price was £15,000.

Of course David raced back to Christie's as soon as they'd finished their tea. Not surprisingly, at the end of the day, there was no one there who could give him any information about the person who had put the chalice into the sale. ‘I'm very sorry, sir, but you'll have to come back in the morning,' said a very junior functionary. ‘You can check with our sales desk at that time. They may be able to help you.' He didn't sound very hopeful about the prospect.

CHAPTER 28

    
With the holy thou shalt be holy: and with a perfect man thou shalt be perfect.

    
With the clean thou shalt be clean: and with the froward thou shalt learn frowardness.

Psalm 18.25–26

‘I'm going with you,' Lucy said at breakfast on Friday morning, in a tone that would admit no argument. ‘You're not leaving me behind.'

‘Me, too.' Ruth's jaw stuck out at a pugnacious angle.

David wasn't sure that it was a good idea, but he could tell when he was outnumbered, and surrendered gracefully. ‘Suit yourselves.'

They arrived at Christie's shortly after its opening, and went straight to the sales desk. An officious-mannered young man with more teeth than chin came forward to peer down his nose at them through hornrimmed spectacles. ‘Can I be of help?' he enunciated in the most exaggeratedly self-conscious public school accent that David had ever heard.

David produced the catalogue along with his most imperious manner; this was not the time or the place for diffidence, he'd decided instantly. ‘I do hope so. I'd like to know the name of the person who placed this item – the chalice – into your sale, please.'

‘Out of the question,' the young man said with satisfaction. Saying no, and finding pretentious ways of saying it, afforded him his greatest pleasure in life. ‘That information is of course classified.'

Briefly and fancifully considering whether he might not invite Ruth to sink her armoured teeth into the young man's tweedy leg, like the red-headed Rottweiler that she was, he decided to pull rank instead. ‘We'll see what Sir Crispin Fosdyke has to say about that,' David stated, matching supercilious with supercilious. ‘He
is
on your Board of Directors, I believe?' From his pocket he produced a business card and extended it with the ‘Fosdyke, Fosdyke & Galloway' logo in prominent view.

It was the right thing to say. Instantly the young man's manner changed; he became almost fawningly obsequious. ‘Oh, well of course if it's for Sir Crispin, that puts an entirely different light on things. I'm so sorry. You should have said.' He nearly bowed, backing off into the nether regions. ‘I won't be a moment, sir.'

And indeed he was back quickly, with a card. ‘Here's the information you require, sir. I've written it down for you.'

He'd been thorough. It was the name of an antique dealer, along with the address of his shop in Kensington Church Street. David knew the shop, though he didn't think he'd ever been inside: it was small but reputable, and not given, so far as he knew, to dealing in items of stolen church plate.

‘Thank you very much indeed,' he said magnanimously. ‘Sir Crispin will be pleased to hear that you've been so helpful. And so cooperative.'

‘My pleasure, sir. And do convey my very warmest regards to Sir Crispin.' He ducked his head.

In a moment they were back in Bond Street; David thought hard as he hailed a taxi. ‘Lincoln's Inn,' he told the taxi driver.

Ruth insisted on sitting backwards on the little fold-down seat. ‘Why are we going to the office?'