Sidney Chambers and The Forgiveness of Sins (4 page)

Hildegard prepared the lunch and Leonard asked about the Madara case. He extemporised on the obsessions of married murderers with reference to Shakespeare’s
Othello
, Tolstoy’s
Kreutzer Sonata
and the complete works of Dostoevsky. Then he began to expand on the theme of imaginary death as wish fulfilment, the replacement of fatality with fantasy as psychological protection and the possibility that Madara might be suffering from Munchausen syndrome.

‘Please,’ Hildegard interrupted on returning to the room. ‘Don’t start giving my husband any more ideas. Sidney, there is a lady waiting to see you. I’ve shown her into your study. She said it was urgent.’

‘Who?’

‘A Mrs Zhirkov.’

‘From the Holst Quartet?’

‘Yes,’ Hildegard answered. ‘It’s an unusual name.’

‘Why?’ Sidney asked.

‘Gustav Holst is not known for his string quartets . . .’

Natasha Zhirkov told them that the first music they had all played together was an arrangement of the Jupiter suite from
The Planets
, and that Josef Madara, like Holst, had Latvian ancestors.

‘He says that it is a recognition of his past. Holst’s music always reminds him of the first time he met his wife. It would be romantic if not for the present circumstances . . .’

Once priest and musician were alone, Natasha Zhirkov confessed to her affair with Madara and said that she had always been scared of his wife. In fact she was more worried that Sophie was alive rather than dead.

If that was the case, Sidney asked, why would a woman make her husband think that he had murdered her?

‘To get him out of the way.’

‘For what purpose?’

‘To give him an alibi. To make sure he isn’t blamed for what she’s about to do.’

‘And what is that?’

From the drawing-room came the sound of Hildegard playing the Mozart Rondo in A minor, a piece of such plangent grace that it seemed to reach beyond the cares of the world.

‘I think Sophie’s going to kill me.’

‘What?’

‘That is why I have come to see you, Canon Chambers. I’m scared. I need your protection.’

‘Unbelievable’ was the first word Keating offered in response to Sidney’s account of events. They had met for their usual Thursday-night backgammon game in the RAF bar of the Eagle. ‘As I said to you, most of the time people keep things to themselves. This lot are telling us too much.’

‘Do you think it’s deliberate?’

‘They are certainly confusing us. But we have no evidence that any crime has been committed and we can’t act on fantasy.’

‘Except that a woman is missing.’

‘And another thinks she’s for the chop. That could be a lie too. Perhaps Josef Madara and Natasha Zhirkov are still having the affair and they are planning to get rid of Dmitri Zhirkov as well. It’s definitely some kind of smokescreen, even though nothing at all may have happened. It’s all right for you; you’re used to mystery. That’s part of your faith . . .’

‘And your job.’

‘Not that I’m getting very far. It’s ironic, isn’t it? Normally people can’t wait to get out of a police station. I’ve got a man here who is desperate to stay in. Do you think it’s the weather?’

The next day, Sidney returned to the police station and asked Josef Madara about his affair with Natasha Zhirkov.

‘Have you ever done such a thing, Canon Chambers?’

‘I am asking you.’

‘In my country, priests do not even marry.’

‘I am aware of that. It doesn’t mean that those who do have a roving eye.’

‘And you don’t?’

‘I admit to liking women,’ Sidney replied carefully. ‘That is part of my job. Loving people.’

‘That is simple.’

‘But it must be the right kind of love. Would you like to tell me, Josef?’

‘About my sin?’

‘I am a priest. It seems right.’

‘A confessional.’

‘If you like.’

Madara looked away, not wanting to make eye contact. ‘It was after a rehearsal. Natasha wanted to practise a particular section.’

‘Without the others? In a string quartet?’

‘She had been asked to play in a chamber concert as a guest with some friends. It was the Holst lyric movement for viola and small orchestra. I offered to go over it with her.’

‘Is it difficult?’

‘It was the last work the composer finished before his death. When you play you feel he knows this. It would make a good ballet. We talked about how to release emotion while controlling technique. It is sometimes difficult; when you try too hard the right playing doesn’t always come.’

‘So you told Natasha she should be calm . . .’

‘I did. The need to be relaxed and in control. And then, of course . . .’

‘Did your wife find out what happened?’

‘She suspected. Perhaps that is worse. It was a mistake. We both knew. I am ashamed.’

Sidney tried a different tack. ‘Where is your wife now, Josef?’

‘Why do you ask? You must understand that I do not know. I thought she was dead. I saw her. She was beside me. The blood . . .’

‘You have told us.’

‘And you don’t believe me?’

‘I believe it was what you
thought
you saw. What you
actually
saw may be different.’

‘You think I imagined it?’

‘I don’t “think” anything at this stage, apart from the need to discover your wife’s whereabouts. Have you ever imagined an alternative, that she might not be dead?’

‘I know what I saw.’

‘Did Sophie ever want to end her life?’

‘You should not ask these things.’

‘When were you happiest?’

‘It was when we were first married. We lived in the countryside, on the edge of a small town, not far from London. It has a church with a medieval spire and a windmill. The countryside is very close. You can walk out into the fields. Sophie and I, we had a little almshouse near the windmill. Now you can rent it. When we return we like to remember how we once were.’

‘It is good to be grateful.’

Josef smiled. ‘When we were young we were only worried about money, but we had each other and no one knew where to find us. Music was our refuge from the noise of the world. We were good when we were alone. Some marriages are like that, don’t you think? When you have no need for anyone else, you can protect yourself from pain.’

‘But you can’t live like that all the time.’

‘Some people do. It is only when you meet other people that there’s trouble.’

‘As you found.’

‘And who knows the price I am paying now?’ Madara asked. ‘Help me, Canon Chambers. I have told you everything.’

When Sidney returned home, he found that Hildegard was not that interested in his news. She was clearing out the fire, Anna was in her Moses basket, and there was no sign of any food. When he enquired, his wife stood up and suggested that they employ an au pair girl. The current situation was not working. ‘I know you have your work, Sidney, and I have mine and many people think it might be easier if I was only a housewife . . .’

‘Not me . . .’

‘. . . but we cannot go on like this. You are not able to provide the time that Anna needs and I cannot do everything on my own. Even the dog is neglected.’

‘I don’t know about that. I take Byron everywhere. It’s only that it’s been very cold recently.’

‘And so he has been at home as well. I cannot work only when Anna sleeps. And at night I am so tired. I’ve written to my sister. She will be able to find someone. If we can find a girl who needs to perfect her English then it need not cost so much and Anna will speak German too.’

‘Then it will be two of you against one of me.’

‘It is not a fight, Sidney. And you are forgetting Malcolm.’

‘He is out most of the time.’

‘Not if there is any cake to be had.’

‘I will have a word with him about that.’

‘It’s not his fault. And most of the time it’s his cake. The ladies in the village like him. They say that at last they have found a priest who has time for them.’

‘They mean that I don’t?’

Hildegard gave her husband one of her looks. ‘They say you have more urgent things to do.’

‘It is for
their
benefit. I am helping to keep the peace. It’s hardly my fault if they insist on murdering each other.’

‘Perhaps if you struck the fear of God into them they would stop?’

‘I don’t know if that’s the sort of thing for this day and age. It feels medieval.’ Sidney mused for a moment. ‘God’s mighty thunderbolt has had its day; struck into the long grass by the cricket bat of destiny.’

‘You can change Anna,
mein Lieber
. That will cheer you up. I don’t want you forgetting all about her . . .’

Sidney picked up his daughter and took her into the bathroom. Something was different. He realised that it was the loo paper. Now he remembered. Malcolm had suggested that they should use appropriate liturgical colours: green for the season of Trinity, purple for Lent and Advent, and pink for saints’ days.

Had Hildegard agreed to this? Or was it Mrs Maguire? What was Sidney going to do about his curate’s plans to alter his life, step by step? He had started with cake, loo rolls and model railways. Where was it all going to end?

He began to change his daughter’s nappy. This was something he
did
do, even if it wasn’t very often. He sang quietly as he did so. It was a hymn rather than a lullaby. He didn’t know quite why. Perhaps it didn’t matter.

‘A safe stronghold our God is still

A trusty shield and weapon.’

He wondered how soon Anna would start to crawl and discover a world for herself, moving away from him, even when she was still a baby.

‘He’ll help us clear from all the ill

That hath us now o’ertaken.

The ancient prince of hell

Hath risen with purpose fell;

Strong mail of craft and power

He weareth in this hour;

On earth is not his fellow.’

He had just reached the end of the hymn and picked up his daughter once more, clean and fresh and smelling of baby powder, when the doorbell rang.

It was Helena Randall.

‘Don’t look like that,’ she said, on seeing Sidney’s face.

‘I think we are about to eat.’

‘It’s very good of me to visit. I could have telephoned.’

‘Would you like some supper?’

‘That’s kind of you but there’s no time.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Josef Madara has escaped from the police station.’

‘Then I imagine Geordie is pleased. I thought he wanted him to leave.’

‘On his terms rather than those of the suspect,’ Helena replied.

‘Perhaps Madara will lead us to his wife?’

‘You think he knows where she is and that all of this has been some kind of hoax?’

Sidney never found it easy to think on the doorstep, especially when holding a baby. The conversation, like the location, was neither one thing nor the other. ‘I am not sure Madara knows what he knows . . .’

‘Why do you think he’s gone now, when he could have left earlier?’ Helena asked.

‘Because he needed the police station as an alibi?’

‘But they have discovered no crime.’

‘So far. Remember that we have also failed to discover a wife. We need to speak to Geordie.’

‘That’s why I’ve come to collect you.’ Helena checked her notebook. ‘Do you think it’s possible that the wife, if she is still alive, could be in danger?’

‘You mean Madara might plan to kill her now,
after
he has confessed?’ Sidney replied.

‘Either that or he could be after Dmitri Zhirkov. Then he could be with Natasha at last.’

‘But if that is the case, why kill his wife first, or come up with such a story?’

‘Your supper is ready,’ Hildegard called out.

‘Perhaps Madara is not entirely in control of his destiny?’ Helena asked.

‘You mean he is being used?’

‘By his wife, or Natasha Zhirkov, or by persons unknown.’

‘It seems a very complicated way of doing things,’ Sidney answered. ‘Isn’t it just simpler to think that Josef Madara killed his wife but has blotted out everything that happened afterwards?’

‘I suppose so.’

‘Do you happen to know if he ever got to see a psychiatrist?’ Sidney asked.

‘SUPPER,’ Hildegard repeated.

‘I would like to see the notes if he did.’