Sidney Chambers and The Problem of Evil (The Grantchester Mysteries) (8 page)

‘I named the first generation after the church fathers,’ Simon Opie explained, ‘but then I thought that it was all getting a little pretentious. You can’t really have a parakeet called Polycarp of Smyrna or a budgie called Tertullian.’

‘I think I’d name them after cricketers.’

‘No, I’d never remember all that. I think I’m going to call the next batch after the great poets. I’m going to have to have a think because I’ve lost quite a few birds recently.’

‘Nothing serious, I hope? No disease?’

‘Nothing like that, fortunately, and at first I did think it was just a question of fate. There really is a special providence in the fall of a sparrow, you know. But then, this morning there was something unusual.’

‘And what was that?’

‘I found a dead robin inside the aviary. It could have got in of its own accord, of course, but I don’t see how. I would have noticed, I am sure of it.’

‘You mean it did not seem a natural death.’

‘Indeed it did not.’

For a moment neither priest spoke.

‘Who killed Cock Robin?’ Simon Opie asked after a while.

Sidney felt cold. ‘Not the sparrow with his bow and arrow, I imagine.’

‘It all seems so spiteful. I suppose I must be the rook, with my little book, and bury him.’

‘Then if it’s not in the dark I’ll be the clerk. There’s a great deal I need to ask you, Simon. There’s more to this, you know.’

‘I was afraid that you were going to say that.’

‘I am
extremely worried
. I cannot exaggerate.’

‘Then we should have a cup of tea and discuss the matter. Do you have time? I will ask Mrs Maguire to see to it.’

‘You have employed my former housekeeper?’

‘The very same. She told us that after your marriage she missed the company of clergy
.
.
.’

‘That doesn’t sound like her at all
.
.
.’

Sidney remembered overhearing Mrs Maguire complaining to his wife. ‘There’s another thing I should tell you. Both men leave the toilet seat up and their aim isn’t as good as it should be so there’s always a mess on the lino. They just don’t
concentrate
, that’s their problem.’

‘She works here part-time,’ Simon Opie continued. ‘She’s a lively presence, as I am sure you will remember. I can always count on her for an opinion.’

‘I am sure you can, Simon, but it’s not her opinion I’m after. It’s yours.’

‘Then proceed.’

Sidney filled his former tutor in on the facts of the case, concentrating particularly on the idea of animal sacrifice. What were these portents or warnings? The dove was the representation of peace and purity, the blackbird’s dark feathers were a reminder of the darkness of sin, and the canary was self-explanatory, but Sidney was extremely worried by the robin.

‘There are several mythologies about his red breast,’ Simon Opie answered. ‘One is that it was scorched after taking water to the condemned in hell; another is that it was pierced and bled when removing the thorns from our Lord’s crown on the cross. You also know the legend of animals talking at the moment of the nativity, the robin being one of them
.
.
.’

‘I remember something from Martial. “I magpie, a talker, greet thee, O Lord.”’

‘Speaking of talking
.
.
.’ Mrs Maguire entered the room with a tea trolley. She nodded to Sidney, put out a plate of pink Peek Freans biscuits and proceeded to pour out two cups while muttering that there was a man outside waiting to see the Principal.

‘Did he say who he was?’

‘He speaks a bit too fancy, if you ask me.’

‘Never mind about that. What is his name?’

‘I think he said his name was Harland.’

‘Ah yes. He will have come to discuss his offer of lay-reading.’

‘Did he study here?’ Sidney asked.

‘For a short while. I am afraid he did not find it congenial. I think he had a bit of a breakdown. Not all that are called are chosen.’

‘Would you mind if I spoke to him too?’ Sidney asked.

‘I have no objection. But why would you want to do that? I am sure that you have parish duties to attend.’

‘He assisted at Philip Agnew’s funeral. He didn’t strike me as a man who had suffered a nervous breakdown.’

‘Sometimes people emerge from their setbacks all the stronger. With God’s help.’

‘They are changed, I know, but not always for the better.’

‘That’s rather uncharitable of you, Sidney.’

‘I sometimes think there is a reason people don’t find themselves
.
.
.’

‘You have always preferred a life in doubt and mystery. I know you of old.’

‘Plato, of course
.
.
.’

Mrs Maguire hovered. ‘Shall I show him in or not?’

Simon Opie smiled and gave her a little nod. ‘So good to see you, Sidney. I am only sorry about the circumstances.’

‘These are very worrying times.’

Patrick Harland was wearing a three-piece pin-striped suit that was too hot for summer, and there was a light sweat across his forehead. He was surprised to see Sidney. ‘I hope I am not interrupting.’

Simon Opie decided to forgo the introductions. ‘I believe you two know each other?’

‘Not well.’

‘I thought you lived in London?’ Sidney asked Harland.

‘I do. But I’m spending the weekend with my sister. She and her husband run a boarding house off Midsummer Common.’

‘I must take a look at it. People are always asking where they might stay. What’s it called?’

‘The Willows. I’m sure she’d be glad to be of service.’

‘I’ll be in touch then. What did you say her name was?’

‘I didn’t, Canon Chambers.’

‘Then would you mind telling me?’

‘She’s Mrs Jay. Bianca Jay.’

‘A bird’s name,’ said Sidney. ‘There’s a coincidence.’

‘I don’t see what makes it so.’

‘We have just come from the aviary and we were talking about Christian symbolism. Is that a subject which interests you, Mr Harland?’

Mrs Maguire trudged into the room without knocking, a cup and saucer in her hand. ‘Would you care for a cup of tea, Mr Harland? There are some quite nice biscuits there if you fancy them. Peek Freans wafers. Popular with all the vicars I’ve worked for. They can’t get enough of them.’

When he returned to the vicarage Sidney was relieved to find that Hildegard had gone out. She had left a note on the table saying that she was seeing an old friend. Sidney wondered who that friend might be and felt an unexpected pang of jealousy before being thankful that this would buy him time to talk to Leonard. It was such a pity he was leaving. He would miss the company of his curate and only hoped that he could find a suitable replacement, especially one with whom he could discuss his criminal cases.

He wanted to explore all the issues surrounding Patrick Harland, Bianca Jay and Jimmy Benson. It was clear that they knew each other and that there could have been something going on between Jimmy and Bianca. He made a pot of tea in the kitchen and tried to sum up his thoughts.

‘The intriguing factor in all of this is that Bianca Jay is married,’ said Leonard. ‘Are there any biscuits? I was hoping for a flapjack.’

‘I had a Peek Freans with
Princeps
. A married woman can still have a boyfriend, of course.’

‘Or a former lover. That would be more likely. Ah, I see we have some Garibaldis.’

‘Hildegard doesn’t approve of shop-bought biscuits. I wonder where they could have come from?’

‘I think that’s a mystery we can leave aside at the moment. We have to assume, I think, that Jimmy Benson’s love was either unrequited or at an end.’

‘And he, being spurned, turns up on the doorstep
.
.
.’

‘With a bit of blackmail, perhaps? If he suspected Bianca’s husband was the murderer
.
.
.’ Sidney continued.

‘Although he may not have been the blackmailing type. Do you think Hildegard could make some Garibaldis? They are quite ordinary run-of-the-mill biscuits but with lots of raisins.’

‘I prefer shortbread. Mrs Maguire, of course, made the most marvellous shortbread. Do you know they’ve employed her at Westcott House?’

‘Perhaps we could ask her to keep an eye on developments there.’

‘I’m sure she’s already doing that. But I think we should try and speak to Bianca Jay about Jimmy and then find out more about her husband. We have no idea of who he is or what he is like but perhaps he has something against priests?’

‘It’s a bit of a long shot and it’s hard to see how we can justify a visit. He’s not in our parish. Surely he will smell a rat?’

‘That is true. But he could very well be our man. If only we had more information.’

‘Do you not think we are out of our depth, Sidney?’

‘The police need all the help they can get.’

‘But neither you nor I, nor Miss Randall for that matter, are trained detectives.’

‘But we are trained priests, and priests have been the victims. Miss Randall is an investigative journalist.’

‘I see your position towards her is softening.’

‘She’s very bright.’

‘That’s what Keating says. I wouldn’t admit as much to Hildegard.’

‘What do you mean? She approves of intelligence in a woman.’

‘When a man praises a woman’s intelligence, Sidney, he is normally acknowledging how attractive he finds her.’

‘The intelligence being part of the attraction.’

‘Yes, but only a part. Be careful.’

‘I don’t think you need worry about my having the wrong kind of feelings. But it’s kind of you to be concerned. I know you’re not so interested in women yourself, Leonard.’

‘They do interest me. It’s simply that I don’t understand them. I think I must be scared of them.’

‘They can be distracting, of course.’

‘You mean Miss Randall has been distracting?’

‘Don’t start on that all over again. I’d rather talk to you about biscuits.’

‘I think we have had a tinful of that, Sidney. But what do you think about the religious aspect to all this? Do you think it could be a case of demonic possession of some kind; or that it is being made to look like that? I am remembering the animal sacrifices as well as the murders.’

‘Perhaps it could be someone who is theologically aware?’

‘You don’t mean a fellow priest?’

‘No, Leonard, but someone who might once have been a priest; or someone who thinks he has been treated badly; rejected, perhaps, personally, sexually, or even from the priesthood itself.’

‘A former ordinand who turned against us?’

‘Having been rejected. And that expulsion from our midst then fuelled his resentment and his fury?’

‘I don’t know, Sidney, I am thinking aloud. I need more time to consider.’

‘I am not sure Inspector Keating is up for waiting. Can you tell me a little more about Patrick Harland?’

‘Why are you asking about him? He is an over-enthusiast for God rather than the devil.’

‘I’m not so sure about that,’ Sidney replied.

‘You don’t think he can have anything to do with this, do you? He trained as a priest.’

‘But he didn’t become one. Simon Opie told me he had a nervous breakdown.’

‘Something like that. An occupational hazard for evangelicals who run out of certainty.’

‘He was a late convert?’

‘God has spoken to him, yes. He had a road-to-Damascus moment on the A1, I believe.’

‘A near-death experience?’ Sidney asked.

‘A blinding light. And a voice telling him to turn back. He was on his way to join his father’s firm in the Potteries but he gave it all up to work with the poor. He wanted to do something more profitable than make plates.’

‘You don’t mean
“
profitable
”
; you mean socially useful.’

‘Yes. He wanted to change the world.’

‘How do you know all this, Leonard?’

‘Some of his behaviour was cited in our tutorials as an example of how not to be a clergyman.’

‘The idea being that just because you think you have been given the gift of revelation, it doesn’t give you
carte blanche
to become a cleric?’

‘Or that it was even revelation in the first place,’ Leonard continued. ‘It could have been a fantasy; or even a migraine. Harland was never named but I knew that it was him. One of the tutors let it slip when we were talking about the difference between revelation, inspiration, creativity and madness. How can we know which is which? It’s a theme that obsessed Dostoevsky, of course
.
.
.’