He resolved, then and there, and even as Jennifer was speaking, to spend more time with her, to cherish her presence and to be a better brother.
‘Do not think you have always to say the right thing,’ he began. ‘It does not have to be meaningful. It’s all right to be silent. All you can do is be alongside them.’
‘That’s what I am doing.’
‘Nothing can be hurried. Grief has to take its time.’
For a moment Sidney worried that his sister was still on the line. Then she spoke. ‘There’s something else.’
‘And what is that?’
‘Claudie had a boyfriend.’
‘Did her father know?’
‘It was a secret. I don’t think that anyone knew. She was always her Daddy’s little girl. But the point is that they had broken it off.’
‘And so?’
‘Sam was in the club with some friends on the night of her death. Now he’s terrified of anyone finding out that he was ever her boyfriend.’
‘The police have questioned him?’
‘Of course.’
‘And he gave nothing away?’
‘He doesn’t think so, but it’s not only the police he’s worried about. It’s the Johnson family. I’m sure they wouldn’t do anything but his father does have some nasty friends. They might put two and two together and make five.’
‘You mean they might think that he killed her?’
‘Exactly. And then take the law into their own hands. They don’t trust the police. I know that much. Will you speak to him, Sidney?’
‘Me?’
‘Who else can he talk to? You are used to sharing confidences and you know how the police work.’
Sidney knew that he should help his sister but he did not want to become personally involved any more than he was already. ‘I do have my work to do here.’
‘Sam is frightened. Please will you see him? He’s willing to come to Grantchester. He’ll tell you everything.’
‘It’s not the type of thing I do, Jenny. I’m not sure anything I say will be of any benefit.’
‘But he needs help. That’s what you offer, isn’t it? And he’s a good boy. I know they loved each other but Sam was scared of her family. I think something may have happened that caused it all to end but neither of them would tell me. And now it’s too late. Please will you see him, Sidney, as a favour to me?’
‘Very well,’ Sidney replied. He could hardly refuse his own sister. ‘But I can’t promise anything.’
‘All I ask is that you see him.’
A few days later, a shy-looking boy in a dark suit and a college tie was waiting to speak to Sidney after the Sunday morning Communion service. He made a tentative approach, as if his shoes were too tight for him. ‘I’m Sam Morris,’ he said.
A wood pigeon flew out of the trees. Sidney steeled himself for another difficult confrontation. ‘I’ve been expecting you, Sam. I normally take my dog for a walk after the service. Perhaps you would like to join us?’
‘If it’s not any trouble.’
They returned to the vicarage, put Dickens on his lead and set off for the Meadows. On the way Sidney expressed his condolences and established that he had understood the facts his sister had conveyed. He also needed to make clear that anything Sam said was, of course, in confidence, but also that his influence in the current situation was extremely limited. There was only so much he could do; but if Sam wanted someone with whom he could share any anxiety and who would not rush to judge him, then Sidney hoped he could be of assistance.
‘Some friends were going to the club and asked if I wanted to come along. They didn’t know about Claudette and I wasn’t sure she’d be there. She doesn’t work every night and I hadn’t seen her since Christmas.’
‘And did you speak to her at all?’
‘I said “Hello” and she looked a bit embarrassed.’
‘Did any of your friends notice her discomfort?’
‘I don’t think so. My friend Max was quite keen on her. But she couldn’t stop at any table for long. She had her job to do.’
‘And were you hoping to see her alone?’
‘She said if I waited until the end then perhaps we could talk but I knew she didn’t want us to be seen together. Her father is very protective.’
‘I’ve noticed.’
They had reached the Meadows, and Sidney set Dickens free to explore pastures both new and familiar. ‘How long were you together?’ he asked.
‘About six months. We used to walk by the Thames and hold hands. But then a strange thing happened. I was going home one night and a man started walking alongside me. I thought he wanted to get past so I slowed down but then he slowed down too. I picked up the pace and he did the same. He didn’t say anything. He just kept matching my footsteps. Eventually I stopped. I asked what he wanted and he just told me to stay away from Claudie if I knew what was good for me.’
‘Could you describe this man?’
‘I knew him. He was a friend of her father’s. He’s called Tommy Jackson. He runs a garage in Tooting.’
‘And then he just walked away?’
‘He called it a “friendly warning” but I didn’t know what to think. I spoke to Claudette and she told me not to worry. Tommy would never do anything. He was probably just having a laugh but it didn’t feel like that to me. And then, after that, things never quite felt the same. I was worried every time I saw her.’
‘She couldn’t put your mind at rest?’
‘We came from different backgrounds. I was at university. I couldn’t imagine bringing her home to meet my parents. But she was beautiful and she had such life in her. I didn’t know what to think or do, but in the end I told her I just couldn’t see her any more.’
‘What did she say?’
‘She thought I was a coward. How did I know, she asked, if she hadn’t sent Tommy Jackson herself as a test to see how much I loved her? I told her that if she had done that, it was a mean trick. We argued. Then it was over.’
‘And yet you went to the club on the night she died. Why did you do that?’
‘I missed her. And I wanted to see if she had found anyone else.’
‘Have you?’
‘Of course not.’
‘So you wanted her back?’
‘I wanted to see her. That was as far as I had thought. If we spoke then I hoped to take it from there. I didn’t have a proper plan, and it was so crowded I could never get near her. There was no time.’
Sidney realised that Sam Morris was finding it difficult to express himself clearly and decided to ask a few direct questions in order to ascertain exactly what had happened. ‘Did you go to the Gents at all?’ he asked.
‘Of course I did. It was a long night.’
‘When?’
‘I’m not sure. About half an hour before she was discovered. I went at the same time as my friend Max. There were witnesses if that’s what you are worried about.’
‘I understand. When you were being questioned did you admit that you knew Claudette?’
‘No.’
‘You lied?’
‘I was frightened.’
‘I understand, Sam, but if your relationship does come to light then this will not help your cause.’
‘No one will seriously think I was involved, will they?’
‘At some stage the police will need to know all the facts. I don’t want to alarm you unduly but a secret, whatever the context, is always problematic. If you reveal it, then at least you have control over how it is told and you can explain it in your own terms. If it is discovered, however, then you cannot predict when that will happen or how people might interpret it. It’s a matter of timing. If you go to the police, even now, and tell them what happened then you will have control over the information. If you do not . . .’
‘I don’t think I can do that.’
‘If Tommy Jackson knew that you were seeing Claudette then I am afraid that it will come to light. There is no escaping this, Sam.’
‘I have done nothing wrong.’
‘I know it doesn’t sound serious in comparison with murder but, as a matter of fact, you have. You have told a direct lie to the police. They don’t take kindly to that sort of thing. Of course you could just carry on and hope that no one finds out.’
‘Do you think that’s likely?’
‘It’s possible. But then, once again, if you hope to conceal something, you have no control over the release of information, and so you live in a state of anxiety.’
‘Can you help me?’
‘I can have a word with Inspector Keating here in Cambridge if you like. He was there on the night and he’s a good man. But the information would be far better coming from you directly.’
‘I know.’
‘Where are you living at the moment?’
‘In London University halls.’
‘Is it easy to find you?’
‘Of course.’
‘I need you to tell me if anything unusual happens or if you receive any more warnings. It would be easier if you had told the police at the time of Tommy Jackson’s warning.’
‘The Johnson family are not very keen on the police, as you can imagine. To go to them would be the worst thing I could have done. Claudette told me that I just had to wait until she was eighteen and then we could do what we liked. It was only going to be another six months but I didn’t believe her. I thought there would always be pressure from her father and his friends.’
Sidney was thinking about the events of 7 May. ‘I still don’t understand why you went to the club that night. You could have sent her a message and arranged to meet elsewhere. You must have known her father and all his friends would be there.’
‘I didn’t think it through. I was with my friends. I thought it would be all right, and I wanted to see Claudette. But, of course, as soon as I arrived I knew it was a mistake. She asked me what on earth I was doing there.’
‘I thought she just said “Hello”.’
‘No. I bumped into her again a bit later.’
‘And when was that?’
‘When I was on the way back from the Gents.’
Sidney thought it was incredible that this boy could neither tell his story clearly nor realise the potential trouble that he might be in. ‘Did anyone see you talking together?’
‘I don’t know. I was only looking at Claudette. The barman called her over.’
‘So he must have seen you?’
‘I suppose so.’
Sidney was momentarily infuriated. There was no
suppose
about it. How could this boy be so hapless?
‘I’m sorry, Canon Chambers, I’m scared. I am just a student who wants to become a doctor. I never intended to get mixed up in all this.’
‘I can see that.’
Sidney was exasperated. How could Sam Morris be so aware of the trouble that he might be in but remain so ignorant of the implications of his behaviour? What had he been thinking in going to the club that night, seeing Claudette once more and then lying to the police?
As a priest Sidney’s first instinct was to listen hard and trust what he had been told, but after they had said their goodbyes and Sam had left, a number of anxieties remained. Had the boy given a clear account of everything that had happened or was he still hiding information? Sidney sensed that Sam was trustworthy and hardly likely to be responsible for Claudette’s death, but he had also been extraordinarily naive. He might have charm and intelligence, but he was undoubtedly weak, and he had given up on love too easily. Sidney puzzled over whether he might have done things differently if he had been the same age, and what he could do to help a boy who had got himself into such a mess.
When informed of the conversation with Sam at their regular Thursday night session of backgammon in The Eagle, Inspector Keating responded with a burst of anger Sidney had never seen before. ‘Tell that bloody boy to come and see me and make a statement. We can’t have him blabbering away to a clergyman even if it’s you. There’s a procedure to these matters.’
‘I only thought it might be helpful.’
‘Of course it’s not helpful. It’s bloody unhelpful. Tommy Jackson was in the jazz club with all his mates. He was sitting at a table by the front of the stage for the entire bloody drum solo. He couldn’t have done it.’
‘I’m not saying he did.’
‘None of them could, as far as I can tell. For all I know this could be a double-bluff – your boy getting his story in early, shifting the blame elsewhere before we get to him; a pre-emptive strike. Does he have an alibi?’
‘Not really.’
‘What do you mean “not really”. Honestly, Sidney . . .’
‘And he went to the Gents about half an hour before the murder.’
‘So he could have done it?’
‘Half an hour before, Geordie.’
‘He could have murdered the girl then and moved the body later.’
‘But why would he tell me all this?’
‘I’ve said: a double-bluff.’
‘He’s not that kind of boy.’
‘What kind of boy is he, then?’
‘I meant that he doesn’t seem the murdering type.’
‘No one seems the murdering type. That’s the whole point, Sidney. If the murdering type made himself known to us then crimes would be solved a hell of a lot quicker.’