Sidney Chambers and the Shadow of Death (31 page)

‘Sounds thrilling . . .’

‘After that I’m going to hear Gloria Dee again. Perhaps you’d like to come?’

‘Jazz is not really my thing, Sidney. You do realise that Rubinstein is playing Rachmaninov at the Festival Hall?’

‘I’m sorry, Amanda.’

‘Hang on, though. Wasn’t Gloria Dee the singer who was performing when the poor girl was murdered?’

‘That’s what I’ve been telling you.’

‘I don’t suppose any of the band could have done it?’

‘They were on stage at the time.’

‘The perfect alibi. One of them could have had an accomplice.’

‘Will you come?’ Sidney asked. He was in no mood for further conjecture. ‘It’s in Soho, so not far. We can go to the bar and you can meet Gloria.’

‘It would be interesting to see what she is like.’

‘She is rather fabulous.’

‘And she may even be a murderer. Where are you staying tonight?’

‘A friend at the Abbey has agreed to put me up.’

‘You could have kipped on our sofa.’

‘I’m not much of a kipper, I’m afraid, Amanda.’

‘No Sidney, you have more soul. Shall I pay the bill?’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘It’s only seven and six. I know the clergy never have any money.’

Amanda had recently discovered that Sidney’s annual stipend was £550. There had been an article in
The Times
about clergy salaries and she had asked Sidney if it was true. She was intrigued because her car had cost more than twice his annual income. ‘Perhaps the police should start paying you as well?’ she asked.

‘There’s no need for that.’

‘Or maybe Miss Dee will sweep you off to America?’

‘That is highly unlikely,’ Sidney replied.

‘But still possible?’ Amanda teased. ‘You can be such a dreamer. I think it’s one of the things I like best about you. Anything can happen.’

‘That is not always a good thing, of course.’

‘But it does mean that life with you is never dull.’

The next day’s visit to the newspaper library took up far more time than Sidney had anticipated. There were reports of some of the original burglaries that Phil the Cat had committed but little information that was not in the police files. Sidney found himself looking for reviews of jazz concerts instead.

He was too excited about the evening trip to Soho to concentrate on much else. He decided to wear his double-breasted suit and this time his Homburg hat, which even attracted the approval of passers-by.

‘Hey man, nice lid.’

A thin, blonde woman in a short skirt and a low-cut top was standing in a doorway. ‘Need a girl?’ she asked.

‘Not at the moment,’ Sidney replied. ‘But thank you for offering.’

He met Amanda at The Moka in Frith Street and then proceeded down a series of dingy alleys where several couples were taking advantage of the darkness to get to know each other better. Sidney knew that Amanda was unused to these surroundings but decided that it was good for her to experience them. When they arrived at the club he ordered her a Martini and found a table to the side of the stage.

‘What time do they come on?’ Amanda asked.

‘Miss Dee likes it late.’

‘And how is your investigation?’

‘Slow,’ Sidney replied.

‘The police not much help?’

‘They’re doing their best but there were so many people in the club. It could have been almost anyone.’

‘Do you think it was a
crime passionnel
?’

Sidney felt a presence by his side. ‘You talkin’ about passion?’

It was Gloria Dee. She was wearing a golden sheath dress. It looked as if honey had been poured over her body and left to set.

Sidney had the look of a schoolboy who had never seen a woman in his life before. ‘You remember me?’ he asked.

‘Sure thing, I remember you, sweetheart. Every time you show up someone gets killed. Who’s your baby?’

‘This is my friend, Miss Kendall.’

‘Pleased to meet you, friend.’ Gloria turned back to Sidney. ‘You found the cat who killed that girl?

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘Better get a wiggle on. Man could’ve moved miles by now.’

‘Or woman of course,’ Sidney replied.

‘Tell it to Sweeney. I don’t think a woman did that. She’s more likely to use a stiletto. Stranglin’s hard work.’

‘I wouldn’t know about that.’

‘You never killed a chick?’ She looked at Sidney’s companion. ‘I mean the
animal
variety . . .’

‘Wouldn’t you leave that sort of thing to your husband?’ Amanda asked.

‘Aint got no husband. You don’t keep the carton once you’ve smoked the cigarette. What you preachin’, Sidney?’

‘The usual.’

‘And what you drinkin’?’

‘Whisky.’

‘Are you going to fix me one?’

‘Whatever you like’.

‘I’ll take a triple shot and have it on stage.’ Gloria signalled to the barman. He had clearly been briefed to keep an eye on her. ‘I’ve got to get myself ready. You’re one lucky woman, Miss Kendall. Don’t know if I’ve ever seen an English cat so hip to the jive as your man.’

The lights dimmed, a spotlight moved on to the drums, followed by the bass and then the piano. Sidney realised that Gloria was about to sing one of his favourite songs: ‘Careless Love’. He only hoped Amanda would appreciate it.

Almost all of Gloria’s songs were about love, disaster and recovery. ‘I Aint Got Nobody’, ‘I’m Wild about That Thing’, and ‘Gimme a Pigfoot’, but they were brightened by one of the most unexpected moments in Sidney’s life. Gloria dedicated a song to him.

‘When you hear that the preachin’ has begin

Bend down low to drive away your sin

When you get religion

You’ll want to shout and sing

There’ll be a hot time in the old town tonight’

Amanda was not amused. ‘How much more of this do we have to up with?’ she asked.

‘It’s a rare treat,’ Sidney replied. ‘I’m enjoying it.’

Halfway through the song Sidney realised that Gloria was teasing him.

‘Please, oh please, oh, do not let me fall,

You’re all mine and I love you best of all,

And you must be my man, or I’ll have no man at all,

There’ll be a hot time in the old town tonight!’

The song came to an end, Gloria smiled, gave a little bow and blew him a kiss.

‘That was hardly necessary,’ Amanda said.

‘She doesn’t mean it.’

Gloria Dee thanked the audience for coming. ‘Before we take a break, I’d like to introduce the band . . .’ she began, and then paused to take a large glass of water and a shot of bourbon.

Sidney whispered to Amanda. ‘I need to see what happens in the drum solo; if people leave. It may give me a clue. I think this is the end of the first set.’

‘The first set. You mean there’s more?’

The band struck up a version of ‘Embraceable You’ and the introductions were made at the end of each solo. As soon as Tony Sanders’s moment on the drums came some of the more experienced punters used his improvisation as an early opportunity to order a sharpener at the bar or get to the toilets.

Sidney realised how easy it would be for a criminal to take advantage of the situation but also how risky. There would only be a very short time, and there was the constant danger of being discovered.

When the first half came to an end a waitress approached the table to ask if they wanted to order food. Amanda said that if they weren’t leaving she would like fried chicken with some white wine. As Sidney looked up, a boy and a girl pushed past to go to the bar. He ordered another beer and asked for a steak. When the couple returned he remembered that they were Liza Richardson and Justin the driver. But what were they doing out front? They had told him that they always remained backstage.

‘Hello again,’ he called out.

‘Oh,’ said Liza. ‘It’s you. We were just fetching drinks.’

‘I didn’t expect to see you amongst the audience.’

‘Sometimes we need emergency supplies.’

Sidney looked at the drinks and was surprised to see a key on the tray. He wondered what it could be for. ‘This is my friend Amanda . . .’ he told them.

Amanda looked at Justin. ‘Do I know you?’ she asked.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Was it at the Blakeleys?’

Justin seemed keen to get backstage as the number was about to finish. Perhaps he was scared of his employer. ‘I don’t know any Blakeleys, I’m afraid.’

‘What’s your surname?’

‘Wild.’

Amanda didn’t give up. ‘I’m sure we’ve met. I never forget a face.’

‘No, I don’t think so,’ Justin replied. ‘I would definitely have remembered you. But if you’ll excuse me I have Miss Dee to attend to.’

After he had gone Amanda was puzzled. ‘That was very odd. As soon as he saw me he looked frightened.’

‘You do have that effect on some people.’

‘No, Sidney, this was different. It was as if he thought I was some kind of ghost . . .’

‘Well, I’m sure he’ll get over it.’

‘And quicker than you’ll get over Miss Dee. That singer has quite turned your head.’

‘Nonsense.’

‘She has.’

‘She has not.’

‘Then you won’t mind if we leave?’

‘So soon?’

‘It’s late, Sidney. I have to be at work at nine in the morning. We can’t all live the life of a clergyman.’

‘It has its pressures.’

‘Only because you create most of them. The next concert we go to will have to be at the Festival Hall. The Düsseldorf Symphony Orchestra are coming next month.’

Sidney sighed. As midnight chimed over Soho he realised that it was going to take a long time to convert Amanda to the wonders of jazz.

The day of Claudette’s funeral was one of heat and impending storm. Sidney had been informed that there would be a procession from the Johnson household to the crematorium and was surprised to see not only the mourners waiting outside, but also a brass band and half the jazz community of London. As the white coffin emerged from the house, held by pallbearers who had taken off their hats, the band struck up the old spiritual ‘Just a Closer Walk with Thee.’

Three men led from the front with snare drums followed by trombones, saxophone and tuba; then the clarinets, and trumpets, and a bass drummer bringing up the rear.

Sidney’s brother Matt came over and spoke directly into Sidney’s ear over the volume of the music. ‘It’s a jazz funeral, New Orleans style. We’re all here. Three-line whip.’

‘Whose idea was this?’ Sidney asked.

‘It was mine. We’ve even persuaded Gloria Dee to sing at the service.’

‘That must have taken some doing.’

‘I used charm. Apparently it runs in the family.’

Sidney felt suddenly nervous about his ability to say a few appropriate words at the ceremony. He was used to speaking at country funerals and in churches where the congregation were expecting the traditions of the Anglican Communion. A jazz funeral was altogether different.

He wondered what Martha Headley would make of all this. She was the Grantchester blacksmith’s wife who sometimes helped out on the organ at funerals but was only confident of her ability to play two tunes, seeing the coffin into the church with Mendelssohn’s ‘Song without Words’, and out with ‘Jesu Joy of Man’s Desiring’.

Phil Johnson, Johnny and Jennifer led the mourners. Behind them, three women were holding a large floral tribute that spelled out the name CLAUDETTE. As the procession made its way through the south London streets, passers-by took off their hats as a sign of respect to the dead, remembering those they had lost themselves.

Gloria Dee had been waiting in the crematorium. She stood next to a baby grand piano and sang ‘Amazing Grace’ as the coffin was brought in. She sang unaccompanied, with such poise and intensity that at one point Sidney thought he could hear the timbers in the roof vibrate in response to the force of her voice.

Once the congregation had settled, he read the opening prayer.

‘Man that is born of a woman hath but a short time to live and is full of misery. He cometh up, and is cut down like a flower; he fleeth as it were a shadow, and never continueth in one stay.’

Jennifer sat between Johnny and his father, with Matt Chambers just behind her. Sidney found it disorientating to see his brother and sister as members of a different family. A few rows behind them he noticed the rest of Gloria Dee’s Quartet: Jay Jay Lion, Milo Masters and Tony Sanders with his girlfriend Liza. Justin the driver sat behind them at the end of a row on his own.

After the prayers, the congregation gave a full rendition of ‘Take My Hand, Precious Lord’. It felt a long way from the hymn singing of Grantchester.