“We are gathered here,” the vicar said, “not just to mourn the death, but to celebrate the life of Veronica Chastaigne… a wife who enjoyed the love and protection of a good man… an art-lover who lived all her life surrounded by beautiful things. In honour of which, we will now sing Veronica Chastaigne’s favourite hymn ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’.”
As the organ rumbled out its intro and hymn books were raised, Mrs Pargeter could not resist a sly look across the aisle to the pew on the other side. Toby Chastaigne wore an expression of considerable disgruntlement. And it wasn’t only caused by the presence of Inspector Craig Wilkinson next to him. The bewildering list of charges that he and Palings Price faced had something to do with his mood as well.
The moment Wilkinson raised his hymn book, Toby lifted his hands too. He had little alternative. Handcuffs, by their very design, demand a degree of synchronization.
On Detective Inspector Craig Wilkinson’s face was an expression of enormous satisfaction. The presentation of his dossier had been a stunning success. In spite of assertions from Sergeant Hughes that it was all nonsense and didn’t tally with the facts, Wilkinson’s Superintendent had been very impressed by his Inspector’s detailed case study.
It was a pity that so many of the named villains had died before justice could catch up with them, but at least there were six surviving defendants to throw the book at. Wilkinson’s unravelling of the complex connections in the network of criminals had been recognized as masterly. The Superintendent even apologized for having underestimated his long-serving officer in the past, and not recognizing the genius that lay beneath an apparently plodding exterior. He recommended Wilkinson for immediate promotion to the rank of chief inspector.
Most importantly, thanks to the exhaustive, tenacious work of one dedicated detective, the outstanding file on the late Mr Pargeter could be finally closed.
Oh yes, thought Wilkinson, running his tongue along the luxuriance of his curly moustache, I’ve certainly made my mark in the Police Force.
The hymn singing from the assembled congregation in the little church of Chastaigne Upton was full-bodied and surprisingly tuneful.
All things bright and beautiful,
All creatures great and small,
All things wise and wonderful.
The Lord God made them all.
And Mrs Pargeter, who didn’t believe in God, thought indulgently that if it wasn’t Him who’d made them, then it was someone else. And whoever it was had good reason to be proud of His or Her creation.