Guilty Pleasures (30 page)

‘He's consistently denied it, remember. The theory is that the Rushtons – who were to all intents and purposes decent members of the community – simply handed over a box of stuff to the fête, and that Pargetter woman forgot it was theirs.'

‘It was Marjorie, the lady in charge of the bric-a-brac, who told me, actually. Fi Pargetter wouldn't make a mistake like that. Anyway, it was total rubbish – they should have been ashamed of themselves,' I chipped in. ‘So why store something as precious as the snuffbox there?'

‘They didn't want to keep it in the house – just in case. Put it in a safe, it's an obvious target. But then Fi comes bustling along and takes a box of books – bingo. And from what I hear, Fi's not the sort of person you ask for your goodies back from – if that makes sense.'

Griff pulled a pedantic face and poured more coffee.

‘But the box of fête junk wasn't the only thing stored in the outhouses,' Morris continued more soberly. ‘The search uncovered a body.'

‘Not Fi! I didn't terribly like her, but she was devoted to the church.'

‘Not Fi. We still don't know where she is, which is worrying. But the MIT are happy. Simon Bonnaventure. It was his blood in St Jude's loo. More in a lock-up they rented in Hythe till they'd fortified their farm.'

‘Why him?' I squeaked. ‘Wasn't he just an architect?'

‘People are rarely “just” anything, my love,' Griff said, passing me the last croissant.

‘Bonnaventure was an architect, and his work took him into all sorts of public buildings, including, of course, churches. Freya's team are still trying to find who he tagged along with to that party you went to. He used to do an extra line in checking foundations and so on – a nice kind freebie, no fee, just advice. So legitimately he could get into all sorts of nooks and crannies.'

‘And safes? He's not the man Sotheby's put you on to?'

‘Almost certainly. When he nicked the silverware from their home church, our friends got cross, in case it would draw attention to their profitable little sideline.'

‘So that footage that seems to show me arguing with him actually showed the deliberate lookalike of me arguing with him. Ah.'

‘Exactly. They forgot about DNA testing, maybe – just because you can dress up to look like someone doesn't mean you take on their genes. Bad mistake.'

‘I can see why they needed to increase security round their farm,' I said. ‘The dogs and the fencing . . . But why all the horseboxes? Were they planning a flit?'

‘You bet. You can get a lot in a horsebox, as well as a horse – which they'd need for cover, of course. There was a lot of equine documentation – the sort you'd need if you were moving it to France, for instance. Had it not been for your Pa's sudden brainwave, they'd probably have got away with it.'

‘Or he might have been lying alongside Bonnaventure. Have they found the control-room mole yet?'

‘Yes, I'm glad to say. She'll get a good long stretch, I hope. We don't like it when coppers or anyone associated with us are bent. Which brings me on to my next job, Lina.'

Griff fussed with a couple of wasps and decided to remove temptation from their way, gathering all the jammy plates and disappearing into the house.

Morris took my hand. ‘That promotion I flung at Freya – a very unprofessional thing to do, by the way, and very unfair to you – it's in Lyon. There's a problem in Interpol. Information about stolen art works isn't being shared, and we don't think it's just Euro-inefficiency. So when things between Penny and me went pear-shaped, I applied for secondment. And I've just heard I've got it. It's only temporary, though I probably get to keep my rank at the end of it.'

I tried to keep my voice steady. ‘What about Leda? Does that mean you're giving up on her?'

‘Actually, quite the reverse. Penny and her horn player decided – just to place her out of my reach, I suspect – to apply for jobs with l'Orchestre de Paris. He's at the final audition stage, and Penny's ready to take up her post in a couple of weeks' time. So I shall probably see more of Leda. But less of you, Lina. One word from you and I'll turn it down. I promise. Otherwise, I shall be hopping on trains and planes whenever I can. And, as I said, it's only a short-term contract. Six months, probably – a year maximum.'

‘It's better than New York,' I managed.

‘It is. And with flights really getting going from Manston Airport . . .'

‘And it'll be better for Leda. The thing is, Morris, she's more important than any of us. She didn't ask to be born into a mess.'

‘It might be better for Leda if I simply bow out of her life except as a nice kind uncle who drops by from time to time. I haven't proved a specially good dad when she needed me. Police officers aren't good at relationships, I'm afraid. Even those that really matter put a strain on the loved ones. Hell, I want to spend the rest of today with you – the rest of my life with you, if it comes to that – but do you know what? I've got to leg it into Maidstone and help sort out all last night's arrests.'

I took his hand. ‘And then it's back to London for Leda?'

‘Uh, uh. The orchestra's back in town. Tonight it's back here to you – if you and Griff will have me.'

‘We might. So long as you promise to come back for Freya and Robin's wedding.'

‘What wedding?' he squeaked.

‘Wait and see.'

THIRTY

I
've never regarded myself as hot on morality, so it was a bit of a surprise when Robin called me and asked me for advice. As Griff was tiptoeing round me as if I was an invalid, I welcomed the chance to get out – particularly as I could now drive our van without fear of being run off the road. Since I'd be going past Pa's, I loaded it with food and drink, to be delivered not to the main house – from which he'd been expelled, after his night of glory in his favourite four-poster – but to his usual quarters, now mercifully free of police activity.

We were stowing stuff in his fridge and freezer when he turned to me.

‘This Morris chappie: are you going to marry him?'

It was one question Griff hadn't dared put. ‘Why do you ask, Pa?' I busied myself reorganizing the freezer.

‘I like to keep my eye on you, that's all. I prefer him to young Robin – he's got better taste in booze. Nice shampoo he sent to apologize for all that mess. Mind you, I hoped that that gorgeous Lizzie Siddal woman would bring it.'

‘Freya's been busy, I dare say, tying up all the loose ends.'

‘I suppose in her condition she shouldn't be carrying heavy weights,' he mused, putting the kettle on.

‘Her condition?' I asked carefully.

‘Anyone could tell she was preggers. Who's the father? Not that Morris of yours, I hope to God!'

I shook my head. ‘But I think God's going to be involved before long. Sorry, Pa – I must fly. I'm late for lunch already.' To my surprise, I dotted a kiss on his forehead.

There was no way I was going to eat in the rectory kitchen, not if it was in the state it was when Griff and I had had to sort it out. It'd be the Rose and Crown for me, tactful or not. However, the whole place gleamed. Surely not Freya's work!

‘When you phoned you said I should start making small changes and the big ones would look after themselves,' Robin said. ‘So I started in the kitchen. Just putting things away. And then I could clean. And – you see, I mowed the lawn, too. Actually, I borrowed a couple of sheep from a guy who keeps his flock on the Minnis. And I'm beginning to feel better. So thank you.' His eyes rounded when I started to unpack the goodies Griff had sent. ‘Proper lemonade – let's drink it in the garden. Don't worry: the sheep have gone and I've got rid of the poo.'

He had, more or less. We sat under an apple tree and I prepared to listen.

‘I know I said I might move to Rome. Would it seem dreadfully inconsistent if I said I didn't feel I could?'

‘No one else knows, do they? OK, you may have talked to someone while you were on retreat, but surely any conversations you have with them are confidential. And I shan't tell. But why the change of heart?' As if I didn't know.

‘I want to save St Jude's first.'

That was one answer I wasn't expecting.

‘You don't think I should?'

‘Of course you should. But isn't there something else you should save first?'

‘Is there?'

Despite the heat, I shivered. ‘Have you spoken to Freya? You know I said you should.'

‘I've phoned – she's always been busy. Hey, what are you doing?' he demanded as I took the glass from his hand.

‘Telling you to do what you ought to have done when I first told you to do it, you idiot. Go and see her. Now. Tell her you love her and have done from the moment you first saw her and how you want her to have your babies. Especially the last bit. Practise saying it in the car as you go over. If she's in a meeting, burst in. If she's interviewing a suspect, get them to confess. Just bloody go.'

He went.

If he got there in time, Freya might not have the abortion I was sure she'd be considering. A single woman, a job like hers, even worse for childcare than being in an orchestra, I'd have thought: a baby wasn't an easy option. But when the father was a clergyman . . .

Just to help things along a bit, I stopped off at St Jude's on the way home to have a word with God. The police tape had disappeared at last, and the door was open. The flowers weren't in the same league as those on the day of the fête, but they still brightened the place up. I sat for a long time in a quiet corner, thinking not just about Freya and Robin, but about poor X, killed so he wouldn't steal any more fakes, according to Freya, and about Josie, now moved from the ICU to a high dependency ward, whatever that meant. I thought about Morris and me, too, and little Leda.

It was time to go. First I'd pay my respects to the misericords. Squatting to look at them, I felt a sudden pang of guilt. Shouldn't I have been kneeling in a church? I grabbed a kneeler donated by the Mothers' Union.

At last, as I got up, ready to leave, a familiar outline appeared in the doorway. Fi Pargetter.

I braced myself. As far as I knew, the police no longer wished to question her, but I wasn't sure I'd forgiven her for dobbing me in as a possible thief when all I'd done was grub round for my beads.

Her wave was friendly enough, however, and, since I'd finished trying to tell God how to run His universe, I strolled over to join her. She was grovelling with apologies before I could speak.

‘At least you have your silverware back,' I said, putting up a hand to cut her short. I wished I could tell her she'd have the profits on the sale of the snuffbox, but since it had been left to the V and A, it wasn't mine to sell. They didn't seem likely to offer me a reward, either, or St Jude's could have had that.

‘It's a terrible thing to say, but the insurance money would have been more welcome.'

‘Sell it. Get a faculty and sell it. The market's really good for silver at the moment. In fact, you may find it's underinsured,' I told her.

‘If it's so precious, do we have a right to sell? I couldn't live with myself if I made the wrong call.'

‘From what the rural dean told me, it's all done by prayer and committee, in whichever order, so it wouldn't be your personal decision. The money could save the church. And think: a buyer might put it on public display, so hundreds of people could enjoy it, rather than no one, while it's locked away where it is now.'

She smiled. ‘Perhaps you're right.'

‘I may be. Tell me, did you have a good holiday?' It was a safe question. She was very brown. But why had she kept it all so secret?

‘Lovely, thanks.' She smiled again. Her mouth was full of wonderful, even, white gnashers.

‘Good,' I smiled back. Dared I exploit her good humour? ‘I hate to ask, but something's worried me ever since – since the police spoke to me about your safe. You know now that I didn't touch it, and for one very good reason. I don't know where on earth it is!'

Another smile. ‘Not so much on earth as
in
earth. When I found you on your knees in the choir, I was sure you'd found it. Follow me. It's where no JCB will ever reach it, not unless they knock the church down first.'

And there it was, under the choir carpet. I'd been kneeling on it all the time.

Some of my kneeling seemed to have worked. The news of Josie was good. She was at last moved into an ordinary ward. Now I was no longer suspected of assaulting her, Griff and I were finally allowed to visit her.

She looked desperately frail, but brushed aside all our sympathy. ‘They say I shall get a lot of compensation for this,' she announced gleefully. ‘So I shall have a big party. Well, not too big. Not when you think of the size of my house. But I want all my friends there.' Her smile faded. She took my hand and held it. ‘I just wish I knew why someone should attack me. I've only ever tried to do good.'

‘Of course you have. I wish I knew, Josie. I know someone was trying to get me into trouble. Maybe they did it to frame me.'

‘I didn't believe for one second it was you. And to think they wouldn't let you even speak to me, let alone come and see me! I don't understand people these days.'

Was she talking about the attacker or the police? I wasn't sure, so I said, ‘It'll all come out at the trial; at least, I hope so.'

She smiled again and rubbed her hands together. ‘Bring it on, that's what I say. Now, how's that handsome man I said was too old for you?'