Day of Vengeance: Dorothy Martin investigates murder in the cathedral (A Dorothy Martin Mystery) (8 page)

‘That’s why I’ve done nothing about it myself. I’m good at paper research, but my abilities end there. I’d hoped that you and Dorothy might be able to dig a bit deeper into the mess.’

Alan and I looked at each other. I was the one who replied. ‘We’re here in London for two reasons, Walter. And, Sue, this mustn’t go any further.’

‘Right.’ That was all she said, but I felt she could be trusted. After all, if Walter loved her …

‘Okay, then. You know Alan is on the Crown Appointments Commission, looking for a new bishop for Sherebury. And you know that Lovelace is one of the nominees for that position, and that another was murdered last week.’

Walter nodded.

‘So we came for Alan to get a look at Lovelace, and to meet and talk with him. But we’re also acting as unofficial investigators into the murder. No one likes to think that a clergyman could be a murderer, but it’s happened before now, so all three of the remaining nominees are potential suspects.’

‘I’d back Lovelace any day,’ said Tom.

‘Me, too,’ said Walter. ‘At any odds you like. So, what can I do to help you nail him?’

‘I’ve been thinking about that,’ said Alan. He looked around. The room was rapidly clearing, as the lunch crowd went on to their other pursuits. ‘We can’t talk here. Perhaps …’

‘Come to our place,’ said Lynn promptly. ‘Lots of room, lots of privacy.’

So we walked the few blocks to their house and settled in the sitting room while Lynn went to make us some coffee. I slipped off my shoes and massaged my feet.

‘I dressed for elegant shopping this morning, not for tramping the pavements. Ooh, that feels good. Now, Alan, what did you have in mind?’

‘Nothing terribly brilliant, I’m afraid. What I propose is this: I will phone St Barnabas’ this afternoon and book an appointment with Mr Lovelace, for tomorrow if at all possible. You will, of course, come with me, Dorothy, acting the dutiful wife for all you’re worth.’

‘What if he doesn’t have time to see you? Or pretends he doesn’t?’

‘A member of the Crown Appointments Commission? He’ll make time. And, Walter, I want you to come with us. I’ll introduce you as a young friend of ours, living in London, who has heard about his good works and is eager to help. Do you think your acting abilities are up to that?’

Walter gulped. He is an open, candid young man with a face that, like mine (I’m told), reveals his thoughts. I look dubiously at Alan.

‘I want you, Walter, to be our undercover agent. Dorothy and I can’t spend a lot of time in London just now, but it’s important that we learn anything we can about Lovelace. First, if he is what you believe, we certainly don’t want him to be our next bishop. In fact, we’d like to see him prosecuted and out of the Church completely. Second, we’re looking for a killer, and if Lovelace is engaging in criminal activities, it would give him an excellent motive to silence anyone who knew about them.’

‘Alan, don’t you see—’ I burst out.

He held up his hand, watching Walter.

The boy wasn’t stupid. ‘So if he figured out what I was doing, he’d have an excellent reason to silence me.’

‘Yes.’ Alan was still watching his face.

‘I hope,’ said Walter, sitting up very straight, ‘that you don’t think that would stop me doing what I think is right.’ He had turned a bit pale, and Sue, sitting at his side, put her hand on his.

‘If I thought that, I wouldn’t have asked. But I do want you to understand that what I’m asking you to do could be dangerous. I think the risk is slight, if you go about this the right way, but it’s certainly there.’

Walter took a deep breath. ‘Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I would do anything in my power to put that bastard where he belongs.’ This time he made no apology for his language, which, in fact, I thought was apt.

‘I
don’t like it, Alan,’ I said. ‘You know the police will be looking into Lovelace’s record, and they’re trained to spot that sort of shenanigans. Why put Walter in harm’s way?’

‘Because he can get on it right away. The police will be looking at Lovelace, first, in connection with Brading’s murder – trying to determine an alibi, that sort of thing. Despite what you often read in the kind of fiction you prefer, the police aren’t stupid.’

‘Well, I know that!’ I said indignantly. ‘Look who I married!’

Alan smiled. ‘Point taken. The police are, however, hamstrung by regulations. They would need a warrant to search the books. I’ve told you how often we knew, in Belleshire, who had committed a crime – knew it beyond all possible doubt – but were unable to prosecute because of some irregularity in the evidence, some mistake in procedure, some obscure point of law. Now, I concede that they’re necessary, these laws about evidence and procedure. I even embrace them. They protect the innocent. Unfortunately, they also sometimes protect the guilty. That’s why I want you, Walter, to dig up evidence I can present to the Met, evidence that will warrant a full investigation.’

‘Evidence of fraud?’

‘Or anything else juicy enough to bring the coppers into the act. But the first thing you must do is ingratiate yourself with the good rector.’

‘It is Lovelace we’re talking about, isn’t it?’ Walter snickered.

‘And for a start, you’ll have to rid yourself of that tone of voice. Try to remember what you thought of him early on. Flatter his vanity. Project your concern for the people of his parish, and your admiration of his work. Can you do that convincingly, do you think?’

‘I’ll see to it.’ Sue spoke firmly. ‘Alan, you don’t need to introduce us. If the Reverend Mr Bloody Wonderful knows you’re a retired policeman, he might get suspicious. He can’t be stupid, or he wouldn’t be where he is. No, I’ve had an idea. We’ll go to him for pre-marital counselling, and then Walter can go into his act.’

They argued about that for a while. My mind drifted away. It was obvious that Walter was going to get involved in this, one way or another. I hated to think what Jane would say when she heard about it. She was our dearest friend, but her tongue could blister paint when she chose, and she was fiercely protective of Walter, her only family.

Was there no other way? Could Alan and I … but no, plainly we couldn’t. We had no possible excuse for poking around in the finances of a London parish.

‘You’d stand a much better chance of getting in with my introduction.’ Alan’s voice rose rather heatedly. ‘He’s going to be much too busy to bother with pre-marital counselling. He probably has staff for that.’

‘But the connection with you cuts both ways,’ Walter insisted. ‘We can’t risk it.’

‘Look.’ I held up a hand. ‘You’re both right. And there’s only one way around the problem – that I can see, anyway.’

Five heads turned toward me.

‘A bribe,’ I said crisply. ‘He likes money. Offer him money to do your counselling.’

Five faces wore looks of incredulity.

‘Oh, you should see yourselves! I don’t mean you to do it that baldly. You go in, Walter. Perhaps with Sue on your arm, perhaps alone. You decide. You tell his secretary or whoever bars the door that you have two reasons to see Lovelace. First, to discuss with him a major gift to … to whatever seems to be his pet project at the time. You can find that out easily enough. Second, to hope that he just might find time to do some counselling, because you and this lovely lady plan to be married … well, you’ll have to set a date.’ I glanced at Sue. She seemed absorbed in my narrative. Maybe they really did plan to marry sooner or later.

‘That should get you in,’ I went on. ‘It’s up to you from then on. Lots of enthusiasm for whatever cause you pick. Lots of time to do volunteer work. You stress that you don’t need to do anything glamorous; behind-the-scenes secretarial work will be fine if that’s what he needs most. And it will be, I can assure you. I’ve been active enough in various organizations through the years to know that volunteers usually want to do something they think is meaningful, but grow weary of dull routine very quickly. And then you ice the deal with a cheque.’

‘And there’s the rub,’ said Walter. ‘The fly in the ointment. The spanner in the works. Choose your cliché, and I’ll come up with five more. Sue and I could top the proverbial church mice in the poverty charts. As soon as we land jobs, we’ll be fine, but meanwhile we’re living on bread and Marmite, and not too much of the latter. Thanks, by the way, for feeding us today. As for large cheques, we could certainly write one, but it would bounce higher than the London Eye as soon as Lovelace took it to the bank.’

‘That’s where Alan and I come in. You supply the brains and the derring-do. We supply the funds.’ I looked at Alan. ‘At least, I imagine you wouldn’t mind blowing a bit of our savings to feed London’s poor, or whatever the money will go to.’

‘I mind very much using it to line Lovelace’s pockets,’ he said warmly. ‘But presumably Walter will see that doesn’t happen. Or if it does, and it’s the means of bringing him to justice, then it’s spent in a truly good cause. By all means, my dear, squander such of our substance as you think wise. I’m told the alms-houses in Sherebury are really quite nice.’

Of course, Lynn insisted that Walter and Sue stay for a substantial supper, and sent them home with a large bag of leftovers. ‘Nonsense,’ she said when Walter protested. ‘We have plenty of food, but we were once young church mice ourselves. And now that we’ve met, you can expect a supper invitation now and then. When you both get jobs, you can take us all to the Savoy for lobster and champagne.’

When they had left, we sat around over drinks and mulled over the day’s events. ‘I was really horrified by that demonstration in Parliament Square,’ I said.

‘Why, love? Were you really frightened? I wish I’d been with you.’

‘No, not so much that. At least, yes, I was scared. It looked as though things could turn really nasty.’

‘In New York or Chicago, they might have,’ said Tom soberly. ‘With both the police and a lot of the onlookers carrying guns, it could have turned into a full-scale riot.’

I nodded. ‘Of course, it’s different here. All the same, emotions were running pretty high, and it could have been ugly. I don’t suppose either of you has had a minute to catch up on the news and find out what happened. I hope no one was hurt.’

‘A few scrapes and bruises,’ said Lynn, ‘no worse. I turned on the TV in the kitchen while I was getting supper. The media were out to cover the demonstration, and one of the cameras caught that little business we saw, with the woman and the sign. It looked like a gust of wind caught the sign and it fell on the policeman. It wasn’t deliberate. But then the woman fell, and things got messy. It wasn’t too bad, though, and nobody was arrested or anything.’

‘It was still upsetting.’

Tom frowned. ‘D, I thought you were in favour of women bishops. I know you’re a raving conservative about the church services, but aren’t you pretty liberal about other church business?’

I laughed. ‘I’m not sure conservatives rave, Tom. We rather tend to sulk. But you’re right, of course. There are women bishops in America, and my friends tell me that some are great and some are awful, just as you’d expect. No, it’s not the cause that bothers me, either, though I do think they could have chosen a more dignified way to make their case. It’s more about where they chose to demonstrate. I suppose it was the nearest place to the Abbey that they could congregate, but Parliament Square, of all places! I’m so foolishly sentimental about Parliament. The Houses of Parliament were the first “sight” I ever saw in England that I recognized, and I was so awestruck I couldn’t speak.’

‘There’s a first,’ murmured Tom.

‘I heard that! But it’s not so much the buildings, though I think they’re wonderful and I don’t care if they’re Victorian Gothic. They still stand for representative government, our government as well as yours, Alan, and, with all its flaws, that system is still the best in the world. So yes, I get teary-eyed whenever I look at the buildings, and the idea of a rowdy protest right in front of it seems all wrong!’

I had grown vehement. I had a lot more to say, but I was afraid I couldn’t keep the silly tears away. I picked up my glass, which was empty. Lynn smiled and refilled it.

‘But don’t you see, D?’ Tom sounded unusually serious. ‘Free speech is what it’s all about. It’s only in countries like ours that people can gather like that to protest whatever they want, without fear of the army coming in and mowing them down. There are always going to be incidents, of course.’

‘Incidents! The 1968 Democratic Convention! Kent State! You call those
incidents
!’

‘Calm down, love,’ said Alan. ‘You’re preaching to the choir. And you’re confused about which side you’re on. Tom’s point is that free speech can be messy, and authorities can overreact. Things can go grossly, horribly wrong, as you say, in cases like the Kent State murders and the Chicago riots – but only when authorities lose control. You’re waxing emotional about representational government, but forgetting that demonstrations like the one you saw today are an integral part of that democratic system.’

‘Which, as somebody said, is the worst form of government, except for all the others,’ said Lynn. ‘Winston Churchill?’

‘Yes, but I think he was quoting somebody else. Okay, okay, you’ve made your point. I want to eat my cake and have it. A lovely building, symbol of a noble idea of government, but with pristine surroundings that no one is allowed to sully with argument or protest.’

‘Furthermore,’ said Alan, tenting his hands in his familiar lecturing mode, ‘if you think what goes on outside the House is disorderly, you should see what happens inside. Have you never visited the public galleries or watched Question Time on the telly?’

‘No. Is it anything like our Congress? I’ve been in both the House and the Senate a couple of times.’

Both Tom and Lynn were laughing. ‘My
dear
, the House and Senate are both models of decorum compared with the Commons! You would not believe the shouting that goes on! Interruptions, vociferous cries of agreement – or disagreement – it’s a bear garden! I cannot
imagine
how anything ever gets done, but somehow the government carries on.’