Sidney Chambers and the Perils of the Night (12 page)

‘I suppose it is.’

‘I did try to talk to her but she thought I was trying to pick her up.’

‘And were you?’

‘Of course not.’

Sidney tried to appease him. ‘I’m sorry. I do not know about your personal circumstances.’

‘There is not much to know. I’m not the easiest of people.’

‘You must spend a lot of time on your own; watching and waiting in the woodland.’

‘You do need patience, yes.’

‘And you must have to train your eyes to look out for signs of life and movement?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Since you live so close to the garage,’ Sidney asked, ‘I wondered what you were doing on the night of the fire. Did you see it at all?’

‘I saw it all right; but only once it had taken hold.’ Benson hesitated. ‘You don’t think I started it, do you? Morden had my best stag’s head in there, and I’d already paid him to do my next catalogue. Why would I burn his place down?’

‘I am not saying you did.’

‘You have a very odd way of going about things, Canon Chambers.’

‘I should not have troubled you.’

‘No,’ Jerome Benson replied. ‘You shouldn’t.’

He put on a pair of protective goggles and took up a blowtorch to cauterise the back of an alligator’s head. There was little that was attractive about the man. He had no charm, he cared little for his appearance or for his effect on others, and he didn’t appear interested in anything other than animals and young women.

On his way out Sidney passed a white-faced ibis surrounded by grassland in a rectangular case, and then a series of panoramas involving a selection of seabirds: a puffin, razorbill, guillemot and red-throated diver. He was depressed by this lifeless display. At least his dog still had plenty of vim in him, and his boundless enthusiasm would be sure to cheer him up. Dickens was sniffing round a low table that held an African grey parrot.

On seeing it, Sidney remembered one of his favourite stories. A friend had once told him about his uncle’s funeral. His aunt had insisted that her husband’s pet parrot should join the mourners but, on seeing his beloved owner’s coffin being solemnly carried from the church at the end of the service, it had called out for all to hear: ‘Wakey! Wakey!’

The next morning Sidney was overtaken by a strange whim. He picked up a copy of
Sultry
magazine from the shelves at the newsagent’s and added it to his morning purchase of
The Times.

‘Are you sure you want this?’ the shopkeeper asked. It was Abigail Redmond’s Aunt Rosie.

‘I’m doing a little bit of research.’

‘Into what, may I ask?’

‘Contemporary morality.’

‘And you need to read this to help you understand it?’

‘I thought I’d see what young people were reading these days.’

‘It’s not just young people that’s the problem.’

‘Then it’s probably more important that I take a look. I don’t plan on studying it closely. I just wanted to get the general idea.’

‘I see. I’m sure you can imagine most of it. We only stock one or two copies. This is a decent village, after all. The taxidermist always asks for one but that’s about it. I’ll be glad to be rid of it, if you want my opinion.’

‘I’d rather you didn’t tell anyone, if you don’t mind.’

‘It’ll be our secret, Canon Chambers.’

Sidney knew that it would be no such thing. The news would be all round the village by lunchtime and he would have no choice but to brazen it out. Why had he done this? It was madness. He returned home and made himself a cup of tea.

As he waited for the kettle to boil Sidney skimmed through the pages of
Sultry
. It seemed harmless enough. Then he came across a girl who looked alarmingly familiar. She went by the name of Candy Sweet. Sidney recognised her to be Gary Bell’s girlfriend: Abigail Redmond.

‘
I don’t pose for no one.
’

Abigail was the only daughter of Harding and Agatha Redmond, a prominent farming family with plenty of land between Grantchester and Barton. Her mother was a member of the flower guild and had provided Sidney with his Labrador. Sidney presumed that Abigail had left school and wondered whether her parents would approve of her liaison with Gary Bell, or if they even knew about it. He decided to visit her mother on some canine pretext and ask a few questions.

The farmhouse stood on the east side of a large paved courtyard which contained a milking shed, a hay barn and a series of outbuildings in various stages of disrepair. Two black Labradors and a Jack Russell approached Dickens on arrival, scattering a group of chickens that had been pecking in the shadows. An outside tap dripped lazily on to the flagstones.

It was early afternoon. Agatha Redmond had been baking and she offered her guest a cup of tea and a slice of Victoria sponge cake. She explained that her husband was away at the dairy and Abigail was out seeing her Cousin Annie. Sidney was informed that it was hard to keep track of her these days and he wondered if ‘seeing Annie’ was an excuse for something else.

‘She’s going to agricultural college but I can’t see too much point in that. She could teach them all a thing or two. She knows how a farm works.’

‘I suppose there is more to it all than meets the eye.’

‘She could do with finding out about the financial side of things. But she’s got a good head on her shoulders, I’ll say that for her.’

‘So you imagine she will end up working on the farm?’

‘I can’t think of her doing anything else.’

‘She hasn’t talked to you of anything different?’

‘What are you getting at, Canon Chambers?’

Sidney took up his slice of cake. It was a Victoria sponge as he had never experienced before: light, melting and moist. He supposed it was the freshness of the eggs. ‘I don’t know. So many girls these days are becoming secretaries or hairdressers; even models.’

‘I can’t see our Abi doing that kind of thing. She’s an outdoor type.’

Sidney tried to sound as innocent as he could. ‘Are you having to deal with the troublesome business of boyfriends yet?’

‘I know Gary Bell is sweet on her but she can do better than that. I think she fancies his car more than him. It makes a change from the tractor.’

‘I imagine she likes a bit of glamour.’

Sidney was rather proud of the way he was directing the conversation towards photography but Agatha Redmond failed to take him up. ‘I don’t know about that.’

‘Modelling is very popular these days. I understand that Daniel Morden, the unfortunate photographer . . .’

‘The one whose house burned down?’

‘He was very keen on the whole business of . . .’

‘A lot too keen, if you ask me. There’s nothing unfortunate about
him
.’

‘So you know the man?’

‘Him and his friend Benson. They’re a bit too interested in young girls, if you catch my drift. Harding had to go over and have a word with him; so did Abi’s Uncle Andrew. They told him that if he ever went near our Abi he’d blow his brains out. Benson too. I’m not surprised someone burnt the photographer’s place down. That taxidermist, or whatever he calls himself, will probably be next.’

‘You suspect it was arson then?’

‘That’s what people are saying.’

‘I don’t think the police have made any announcement . . .’

‘They don’t need to. I think someone got wind of what those men were up to and took the law into their own hands.’

‘And that someone wouldn’t have been your husband, by any chance?’

‘We’re not criminals, Canon Chambers.’

‘No. Although I don’t think it’s a good idea to go round threatening people.’

‘What else are we supposed to do?’

‘Call the police, I would have thought.’

‘You think they can do anything about it? Those men can just say they’re enjoying the fresh air.’

‘And Abigail never encouraged them or let them take her photograph?’

‘Don’t be daft. Of course she didn’t. She would have had her father to answer for if she had.’

‘And she wouldn’t go against her father’s wishes?’ Sidney asked.

‘Never, Canon Chambers. She’s a real daddy’s girl. If there’s one thing I know for certain about my daughter, it’s that.’

While Sidney was out on his rounds Mrs Maguire discovered the copy of
Sultry
magazine in the vicarage and took the rest of the day off to consider her future. Leonard Graham was left to do the explaining. On entering the kitchen to pour a medicinal glass of whisky, Sidney found his curate waiting. He had his hands behind his back and his facial features were in movement, unable to settle on an appropriately concerned look.

‘Mrs Maguire is rather upset,’ he began.

Sidney added water to his whisky. ‘That is, if I may say, her natural condition.’

‘She has discovered something amongst your possessions that seems rather out of character.’

‘And when did she do this?’

‘As she was dusting.’

‘It is a miracle that Mrs Maguire was doing any dusting. I presume she has put everything back in the wrong place. What did she find?’

Leonard Graham brought his hands out from behind his back and revealed the copy of
Sultry
that he had been holding.

‘Oh,’ said Sidney. ‘Is that all?’

‘Mrs Maguire is disappointed in you. The magazine looks well thumbed. I presume it belongs to you.’

‘Of course it is mine. I bought it for research purposes.’

‘I think Mrs Maguire would regard any descent into the pornographic, even for the purposes of research, unconvincing. Surely, in a criminal case, one can use one’s imagination?’

‘You might assume so, Leonard, but there are times when one needs to look for hard facts.’

‘And look closely, it seems.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You have even placed an asterisk by one of the magazine’s “naughtiest newcomers”. I assume it is your pen that has made the mark?’

‘It is.’

Leonard began to read with an increasing dryness of tone. ‘ “This luscious lollipop could sugar any man’s tea. Cuddly Candy Sweet loves the outdoors even when it’s chilly. But don’t worry, readers! She’s certainly hot enough for us!” ’

Sidney cut off his curate. ‘I agree that the prose is not up to Dostoevsky’s standard. Do you not think that the girl looks familiar?’

Leonard was unimpressed. ‘It’s not a habit of mine to look closely at seventeen-year-old girls.’

‘Nor of mine, but surely you can tell that Candy Sweet is a pseudonym?’

‘That much is obvious.’

‘The girl is Abigail Redmond. Agatha Redmond’s daughter.’

‘Agatha? From the flower guild? Labrador breeder to the clergy? I suppose you think the photographer is Daniel Morden?’

‘I do indeed.’

‘Which might mean that anyone seeing this photograph, particularly if they were enamoured of Candy, or rather Abigail, wouldn’t want her “sweetening another man’s tea”?’

‘Exactly. Now perhaps you understand why I needed to buy the magazine.’

Leonard paused for a moment. ‘But how did you know, when you were buying this particular copy of
Sultry
, that you would find a photograph of Abigail within its pages?’

‘A hunch, Leonard, merely a hunch.’

‘And how many copies of the magazine would you have been prepared to buy in order to satisfy that hunch?’

‘Who knows, Leonard? But I can assure you the study of such a bevy of beauties delights not me.’

‘I am glad to hear it. Will you tell Mrs Maguire or shall I?’

‘You tell her, Leonard. Although . . .’

‘You think it might be amusing to keep her suspicions up?’

Sidney hesitated. ‘No. I don’t think so, tempting though that might be. Mrs Maguire’s ideas are dangerous enough already. We can’t have her spreading rumours all over the village.’

‘I think she’s already started,’ his curate replied. ‘You have been tarred with the same brush as Morden and Benson. They assume you are all in a ring. You need to be careful. And talking of rings, Amanda telephoned. She asked if you would care to return her call?’

Amanda was asking Sidney to a concert (Isaac Stern was beginning the autumn orchestral season with concertos by Prokofiev and Mendelssohn at the Festival Hall) but the invitation was little more than a pretext to question him about an academic called Anthony Cartwright. He was a Professor of Physics in London and although she was sure that Sidney would not have heard of him, she asked him to make some enquiries amongst his colleagues at Corpus. He was, she told him, ‘promising’.

‘He’s certainly got a lot more potential than that Morden chap. I was thinking about him only the other day. Are you getting anywhere on the case? I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a jealous husband lurking in the background. That’s where I’d start. Look to the ladies, Sidney. You’ll enjoy that.’