It was after midnight by the time he returned to Grantchester. Although he had sketched out his sermon before he had left for London, Sidney knew that he would have to rise at six in the morning in order to finish it. It was ironic that the need to preach on the subject of Epiphany, the revelation of Christ to the Wise Men, should leave him so short of wisdom on the subject himself.
He knelt down by the side of his bed and said his prayers, ending with a plea that he knew that neither he, nor his Maker, would ever be able to fulfil.
‘Grant Lord, that I may not, for one moment, admit willingly into my soul any thought contrary to thy love.’
He was hopelessly restless and, after a night broken by insomnia and uneasy dreams, most of which involved a crime of some kind, Sidney made himself a pot of tea and began to think on what he might say later that morning. He would talk about Christmas presents, he decided, comparing the gifts brought by the Wise Men and the tokens exchanged by friends and family. He would improvise a few thoughts on the spirit of giving, and he would use the carol ‘In the Bleak Mid-Winter’ with the line: ‘What can I give him, poor as I am?’ He would speak about the importance of giving with your heart, something he remembered, involuntarily, and with a sinking feeling, that Guy Hopkins had singularly failed to do.
He lost himself for a moment in the memory of New Year’s Eve, and then felt annoyed by his inability to concentrate. He wished he could stop mulling over the crime and meditate on the meaning of Christ’s incarnation. It was so much more important than the theft of a ring at a dinner party.
It was an appropriately bleak morning and Sidney was further dispirited by the fact that his congregation was half the size that it had been on Christmas Day. This, however, was no excuse for putting in a performance that was below par, particularly as, to Sidney’s surprise, Inspector Keating had brought his family.
‘We never got to church on Christmas Day because our youngest had chickenpox,’ he explained afterwards. ‘And we felt like a change. Our own vicar can go on too long and we wanted to see if you lived up to expectations.’
‘I was not at my best.’
‘You made us think and you made us feel guilty. Isn’t that what you are supposed to do?’
‘We come to the table in good charity and in penitence . . .’
‘You do, however, appear to be tired, Sidney. Is it the exhaustion of Christmas?’
‘It is a little more than that, I am afraid.’
‘Ominous . . .’
‘I fear so. What are you doing this evening? We had to suspend our routine over the festive season and I feel in need of it now . . .’
‘It can’t wait until Thursday?’
‘I fear not.’
‘Then what about a quick pint in The Eagle at eight? Would you like to give me something to chew on over lunch?’
‘I can see your wife and children are waiting. It involves a group of friends, a stolen engagement ring and my own sister.’
‘Not as victim or thief?’
‘No, but bad enough. I can’t sleep, Geordie.’
‘Well, we can’t have that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so low.’
‘I think it is the New Year. I always find it a dark time. Another year gone.’
‘A good pint of beer will sort you out.’
That evening, a thick mist descended over Cambridge and the lights of cars and bicycles glowed dimly through the gloom of the wet streets. The rain had passed but the air was damp and it still felt like the end of an old year rather than the beginning of something new. Sidney wondered where he really belonged these days, working as he did, halfway between a parish and a college, making trips to London and involving himself with the police. He was constantly between places and never at rest; but perhaps it was a priest’s duty, he thought, to be a pilgrim, out in the world, a man of good courage, travelling wherever the Lord decided to take him.
Despite the consolation of faith, the religious life still contained its doubts and its loneliness; and on this dank winter evening Sidney needed the companionship of a friend.
Inspector Keating had already bought the drinks by the time he arrived and it was clear they were going to need a second round as it took nearly all of the first for Sidney to go through the salient facts of the case. He finished by asking if people sometimes collaborated to point the finger of suspicion at one man.
‘That is more in the nature of fiction than reality,’ Inspector Keating replied. ‘Although it does happen.’
‘There seem to be a number of possibilities but, apart from my sister, they all appear to think Johnny Johnson did it.’
‘Then either they are correct, or they are all in it together, or they are hiding something.’
‘I don’t find that very helpful.’
‘Then you have to start again, examine all the evidence as if you are doing so for the first time and without prejudice. In other words, you need a detective.’
‘They don’t want the police involved. The host is an ambitious MP who wants to keep this out of the newspapers.’
‘Well, that is evidence in itself, Sidney. If they were all so certain that Johnny Johnson is guilty then they would call us in. The fact that they haven’t done so might mean that they know the evidence against him will not stand up; or that they suspect someone else and are not telling you. Can you trust them? They sound a slippery lot.’
‘I think I can trust my sister.’
‘What does she think?’
‘The wife has stolen before.’
‘Then that too needs to be taken into account.’
‘I don’t think she did it, Geordie. We searched the room and then her husband went through all her possessions so that they could specifically eliminate her from their enquiries.’
‘But none of you could be objective. Some of you had drunk too much, others were tired and, once the crime had been revealed everyone probably wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible. That’s not an ideal scenario for a search.’
‘Which means?’
‘You need to conduct a further investigation.’
‘Surely it’s too late for that?’
‘The ring might still be there. Even if it isn’t, a search will give you ideas. I presume you looked thoroughly under the table and between the floorboards?’
‘We didn’t take the floor up . . .’
‘You need to picture the scene all over again.’
‘And then?’
‘You need to call everyone back into the very same room. You need to do a re-enactment and watch everyone very closely.’
‘I am not sure they will agree to that. And how will I know that some of them will not alter their behaviour?’
‘Sidney, you know that this is really a matter for the police?’
‘I think they are all expecting my sister to have a word with Johnny Johnson, that he will then return the ring, and the whole thing can be over and done with. The only problem is . . .’
‘That he had nothing to do with it.’
‘In my opinion. And that of my sister.’
‘Well, you need to be careful, Sidney. You know how desperate the rich can be.’
‘Do I?’
Inspector Keating finished his pint. ‘Well, if you don’t know now then you will soon enough.’
On Thursday 7 January, the day after the Feast of the Epiphany, Sidney found himself boarding another train to London, clambering on to yet another bus to Lord’s (it was so depressing to stop there in winter, when there was no cricket), and walking up to Cavendish Avenue. He was going to search the Thompsons’ dining room. By committing himself ruthlessly and concentrating hard at the scene of the crime he hoped an idea would eventually come to him.
When he arrived in the early afternoon Sidney was not altogether surprised to see that Juliette Thompson was dressed in a white nightgown but he became alarmed when she appeared to have forgotten who he was, an incident so worrying that Sidney wondered what type of medication her doctor was giving her.
Nigel himself was clearly irritated by the visit. Sidney had not been invited to lunch and his host was briskly polite. ‘We did search the room quite thoroughly at the time,’ he said. ‘We looked all over the floor and down the backs of the chairs, as you will recall.’
‘Can you extend the table to its full range, and bring in everything that was used on the night in question?’
‘I will ask Edna to help you.’
‘Do you have a torch and a stepladder?’
‘I can’t see the stepladder being of any use, Sidney. Nobody could have hidden the ring in the cornice.’
‘I think I need to look at the room from every angle, if you don’t mind,’ Sidney replied. ‘Is Juliette all right?’
‘I fear we may need professional help. I do not think we can solve this particular problem on our own. It only makes me hate the thief even more, not for the actual incident or for the hurt caused to Amanda – she seems to have recovered forcefully – but for sending Juliette into such a sharp decline. I sometimes think that the person who did it knew that she would react like this.’
‘Which would rule out Johnny Johnson. He had never met her before.’
‘Indeed. And so it must be one of our greatest friends, but I just can’t believe such a thing, Sidney. It would be such a betrayal of our trust. Perhaps it would have been a good idea to involve the police but I just can’t risk it. When Churchill retires and Eden takes over, I’ll be in line for a junior Cabinet post. I can’t allow anything to endanger that, especially something so trivial as another person’s engagement ring. The whole affair is taking up far too much time and trouble as it is.’
‘I will do all that I can to help you.’
‘I know that, Sidney, and I appreciate it, but do you really think this search of yours is going to do any good? The ring will be long gone by now.’
‘That is probably so. But I want to spend enough time in this room to think through all the permutations. One has to have a bit of faith.’
Sidney imagined the room to be a series of cubes on a three-dimensional grid. He would move from north-west to south-east, working in a series of horizontal lines from left to right and then right to left, using both a torch and a magnifying glass. He would look at the wood, the table, the walls and the floorboard. He would open the sideboard and empty the canteen of cutlery, and he would sit for a few moments, every ten or fifteen minutes, with the seating plan and the notebook, thinking and praying and waiting for inspiration to come from his observations.
Three hours later he had his own, minor, epiphany.
It was not a popular decision to re-create the final moments of the dinner party and it took place at the inexact time of five in the afternoon as the guests, or suspects, had only agreed to come on the condition that it did not scupper their plans for the evening. Daphne was being taken to
Madam Butterfly
at Covent Garden, Jennifer and Amanda were due to see Richard Attenborough in
The Mousetrap
, and although the Dowlands had no plans for the evening they were required to cut short their annual expedition to the National Exhibition of Cage Birds at Olympia. Consequently, there was considerable tension in the atmosphere as they sat down in their allotted places and waited for Sidney to conduct them through the events of the previous week.
Nigel was further disconcerted by the idea that he was expected to waste yet another bottle of champagne by deliberately dropping it where he had done so before. Sidney reassured him that he could mime these actions as long as everyone repeated their movements on the night.
‘Next thing I know,’ Nigel complained, ‘you will suggest that I dropped the damn thing deliberately in order to cause a distraction.’
‘I have already discounted that,’ Sidney replied, rather too punctiliously.
‘Are we expected to keep to the conversation as well?’ Guy asked.
‘You can paraphrase,’ said Sidney. ‘I would just like to recreate our movements round the table from the giving of the ring.’
‘When do we stop?’
‘At the moment you were left alone with Miss Kendall and your hosts, Mr Hopkins. The subsequent conversation has no relevance to the disappearance of the ring even though it was certainly of importance to those involved.’
‘I’ll say,’ said Amanda.
‘There’s no need to bring that up,’ Guy snapped.
‘I would remind you,’ Amanda bristled, ‘that we are on “no speaks”.’
‘Then why are you “speaking” to me now?’
‘I am not talking to you. I am “speaking” to Canon Chambers.’
Sidney tried to calm the proceedings. ‘Let us begin. We need, of course, a ring. I have brought one in this box from Woolworths. I hope it will suffice. Mr Hopkins, if you would be so good as to give it to Miss Kendall?’
‘Very well.’
Guy stood up and walked round. He placed the box in front of her and she opened it. ‘I see. Rather better than the one you gave me last week.’
‘Oh, for God’s sake.’
‘Mr Hopkins,’ Sidney continued, ‘if you would be so good as to return to your seat.’
Amanda handed the ring across the table to Daphne Young. She passed it across to Mary Dowland, who gave it to Sidney. He then placed the ring in front of Juliette.