'And what is this clergyman's name?'
'The Reverend Godfrey Knurr,' Percy said. 'That's K-n-u-r-r.'
The Bishop nodded and pulled his phone towards him.
He dialled a three-digit number and waited. Then:
'Timmy? Would you see if you can find a file on 315
Godfrey Knurr? That's K-n-u-r-r,' he rumbled, then hung up. Speaking to us again, he announced with solemnity,
'Unfortunately this is not a unique situation. But I must tell you that frequently the minister involved is entirely innocent. A young woman misinterprets sympathy and understanding. When the pastor tries to convince her that his interest is spiritual she becomes hysterical. In her disturbed state, she makes all kinds of wild accusations.'
'Yes, sir,' Stilton said, 'I can imagine. But a complaint has been made and I've got to check it out.'
'Dear me, of course! In any event I'm glad you came to me before pursuing the matter further. It's possible the clergyman in question is not a clergyman at all, but a con man acting the role and preying on lonely women.'
But such was not to be the case. The Bishop had hardly ceased speaking when there was a light tap on the office door, it was opened, and a young man entered with a manila folder. He placed it carefully on Oxman's desk and turned to leave.
'Thank you, Timmy,' the Bishop called. Then he picked up the folder and read the label on the tab. Then he looked at us. 'Oh dear,' he said dolefully, 'I'm afraid he's one of ours. Godfrey Mark Knurr. Well, let's see what we've g o t. . '
He began to scan the documents in the folder. We sat in silence, watching him. One of the things he looked at was a glossy photograph.
'Handsome man,' he said.
We waited patiently while the Bishop went through all the papers. Then he shut the folder. 'Oh dear, oh dear,' he said with a thin smile, 'it appears that Mr Knurr has been a naughty boy again.'
'Again?' Stilton said.
Bishop Oxman sighed. 'Sometimes,' he said, 'I feel there should be limits to Christian charity. The Reverend Knurr came to us from Chicago where he served as assistant pastor. He seems to have been very popular with the congregation. It appears that he became, ah, intimate with the twenty-two-year-old daughter of one of the vestrymen.
When her pregnancy could no longer be concealed, she named Mr Knurr, claiming he had promised to marry her.
In addition, she said, she had made several substantial loans to him. Loans which were never repaid, needless to say. The affair seems to have been hushed up. Knurr, who continued to protest his innocence despite some rather damming evidence against him, was banished from Chicago and sent here.'
'Can they do that, sir?' I asked curiously. 'Can the church of another city stick New York with one of their problems?'
'Well,' the Bishop said, 'Knurr may have been part of, ah, an exchange programme, so to speak. One of their bad apples for one of ours. Of course there was no possibility of Knurr getting a church here. We are already burdened with a worrisome over-supply of clergymen, and their numbers are increasing every year. But I assure you that the great majority of our pastors are honourable, Godfearing men, deeply conscious of their duties and responsibilities.'
'So what did you do with Knurr?' Stilton asked.
'He retained his collar,' Oxman said, 'and was allowed to make his own way, with the understanding that because of his record, assignment to a parish was out of the question. According to these records, our last communication from the Reverend Godfrey Knurr was a letter from him requesting permission to open a sort of social club for underprivileged youngsters in Greenwich Village. He felt he could raise the required funds on his own. Permission was granted. But there is nothing in his file to indicate if he actually followed through on his proposal. And, I am sorry to say, there is no current address or telephone number listed.'
'Where was the letter sent from?' Detective Stilton asked.
'The one that asked permission to open the social club?'
'Oh dear,' he said. 'No address given.'
'How about next-of-kin?' Stilton asked. 'Have you got that?'
'Yes, that I know we have,' the Bishop said, digging through the papers. 'Here it is. A sister, Goldie Knurr, living in Athens, Indiana. Would you like the address?'
'Please,' the detective said.
Percy and I were the only ones in the elevator going down. 'You did fine,' Stilton said.
'Thank you.'
'But I knew you would,' he went on, 'or I'd have made you rehearse. The scam was necessary, Josh, because if I had just waltzed in there and asked to see the file on Knurr, without a warrant or anything, the Bishop would have told me to go peddle my fish. He looks sleepy, but he's no dummy.'
In the lobby, Stilton paused to light a cigarette.
'Perce,' I said, 'how did you get on to this office? I didn't even know which sect Knurr belongs to.'
'I looked him up in the telephone book and got the address of that boys' club of his in Greenwich Village.
Then I called Municipal Records downtown and got the name of the owner of the building. Then I went to see him and got a look at Knurr's lease for that storefront. Like I figured, when he signed the lease he had to give a permanent or former address. It was the headquarters of his church. I called them and they referred me to Bishop Oxman's personnel offices. So I called him.'
I shook my head in wonderment.
'It's a lot easier,' the detective assured me, 'when you can flash your potsy.' He looked at his watch. 'I've got maybe a half-hour. You have something to tell me?
There's a bar around the corner. Let's have a beer and I'll listen.'
In the corner of a small bar on East 48th Street I asked,
'Perce, that story you dreamed up about Knurr swindling a girl in New York was almost word for word what he actually pulled out in Chicago. How did you know?'
He shrugged. 'I didn't,' he said. 'Josh, the bad guys don't have all the luck. Sometimes we get lucky, too. I figured if we were right about him, that con about your client would be right in character. Now I'm wondering if we got enough on the guy for me to go to my lieutenant and ask that the Kipper case be reopened.' He pondered a moment. 'No, I guess not,' he said finally. 'What happened in Chicago a couple of years ago is just background. It's got fuck-all to do with how Sol Kipper died. You got things to tell me?'
I told him about the reward posters and the calls that had come in, and how I had obtained copies of the chemical analyses of Professor Stonehouse's brandy.
'Mmm,' Stilton grunted. 'Good. More paper.'
I told him I had obtained a photograph of Glynis Stonehouse and the name of the clinic where she presently did volunteer work and the medical laboratory where she had been employed a year ago.
'I checked out the clinic on the phone,' I said, 'and they claim they don't stock poisons. It sounds logical; it's an eye, ear, nose and throat clinic for children. I got nowhere with the medical lab.'
'Give me the name and address,' the detective said. 'I'll pay them a call.'
He copied the information into his elegant little notebook.
Finally I told him about following Glynis Stonehouse to her rendezvous with Godfrey Knurr, and then tailing the two of them to the 79th Street boat basin.
'That's interesting,' Stilton said thoughtfully. 'You're doing fine, Josh.'
'Thank you,' I said. 'I've saved the best till last. I think I know how he killed Sol Kipper.'
The detective stared at me for a moment.
'Let's have another beer,' he said.
'There's an old gentleman who lives in the apartment across the hall from me,' I said. 'He's confined in a wheelchair and he's been rather lonely. Sometimes when I come home from work, he's waiting for me in his chair on the landing. Just to talk, you know. Well, a few times in the past month I've gotten home early, and he didn't know I was already in my apartment, and when I came out later, there he was on the landing, waiting for me.'