“But the church has been pretty much closedsince the tragedy on Monday,” Mavis was explaining. “Even the bellhasn’t been rung.”
“That means the only way the robber couldagot in is through the back door of the vicarage, like we did.”
“That’s right, constable. Even so, how couldhe get the box open without a key?”
“There’s no damage to the lock or the hingeson the lid here. But this is a simple lock. It could be jimmiedquite easy. Somebody may’ve left the vicarage door unbarred lastnight an’ even filched a key to the box.”
“To help the thief, you mean?” Constancesaid, then added ruefully, “Honest servants are hard to come by, Iknow. I’ve had to dismiss three since October. But I must insistthat you consult Mrs. Hungerford before approaching any of herhired help.”
“Consult me about what?”
The lady herself had arrived.
FOURTEEN
Constance suggested that Mavis go back to thevicarage and have a cup of tea while she sorted matters out withthe constable. Mavis looked much relieved. Cobb felt otherwise.
Cobb began by going over the points that heand Mavis had just raised between them.
“Of course it wasn’t Missy or Myrtle. I willnot have you badgering them. If you insist, I’ll ask themdiscreetly whether they checked the back door before going to bed.But I know they did. They are punctilious to a fault. Moreover,they are handsomely paid and would have no reason to steal or abeta criminal.”
“Perhaps a penniless boy friend?”
“Don’t be absurd! Myrtle Welsh is amiddle-aged spinster and Missy Prue is too young to consort withmen. We don’t permit it.”
“Then I’m afraid I ain’t got any leads tofollow up,” Cobb said. “All I c’n do is have my snitches keep theirears to the ground.”
“You do realize, constable, that thistheft could prove an embarrassment to a man about to be made abishop and to another man about to take a leadership role in theTory party? Mrs. McDowell has been placed in a very delicate andfragile position. She feels responsible.”
“So she told me.”
Constance glanced back up the nave, thenmotioned for Cobb to sit down. She sat next to him with an ominousrustling of skirts. “I’m going to give you a ‘lead,’ as you termit. I want it pursued vigorously but with tact and with a constanteye towards any ill effects your inquiries might have upon St.James and the Archdeacon.”
“You know who done this?”
“I do, though it will be up to you to findthe proof.”
“If it’s there, I’ll find it.”
“I’m telling you this in strictestconfidence,” she said in a voice that transparently suggested theopposite. “The Reverend Chalmers has money problems. His mother andsisters down in Windsor are destitute, and one of them requiresexpensive medicines. The Archdeacon – saintly soul that he is – haslent him money, as has my husband. But it seems never to be enough.A few weeks back, ten dollars was embezzled from the church bazaar.Chalmers was the only person who could have taken it, but he denieddoing so, and the Archdeacon like a good Christian chose to believehim. Now he has done it again. He has a key to this box. Theentrance to the walkway is across the hall from his rooms.”
“But he’ll be sure to deny it,” Cobb said,stating the obvious. “And I can’t very well go in an’ ransack theplace.”
“Well, sir, you must think ofsomething. If Chalmers is to be involved in a scandal, itmust be exposed and dealt with before the bish – theArchdeacon leaves for England.”
Cobb tried to think of something that hemight do. “Ya figure he’ll do this again?” he said.
Constance smiled, sending a chill down Cobb’sspine. “I know he will. The poor wretch is desperate.”
“Then I think there’s somethin’ we cantry.”
“Such as?”
Cobb pulled a crumpled banknote out of hispocket. “I got a Halifax dollar here. I’ll just fold an’ tear off alittle corner – like this – an’ put the rest of it in the box.” Heset the container back on its stand. “You c’n lock this up rightaway?”
“Mrs. McDowell can. And I see what you’re upto. You think Chalmers will strike after the two services on Sundaywhen this box is full.”
“I do. And if it is Reverend Chalmers,I’ll get you to let me search his rooms when he’s out on a call tosee if I can match up the two pieces of the Halifax dollar.” Cobbdidn’t mention that the torn-off part of the Melton Bond had givenhim this inspired stratagem. Nor did he think it politic to mentionthat its actual purpose was to clear David Chalmers of anyblame – unless Constance Hungerford was even more devious anddesperate than he now thought.
“I’ll send for you as soon as another attemptis made,” she said, raising her opinion of Cobb a quarter-notch.“And should you end up losing your dollar, I will replace itmyself.”
“I’ll be waitin’,” Cobb said evenly.
She gave him a puzzled look, then turned andwalked back down the nave with the confident air of a woman who has- as was her birthright – gotten what she wanted.
***
The silversmith’s shop was only a block east on Kingnear Jarvis. Cobb tried to put the silly business of the Poor Boxbehind him. While the clerics and their spouses seemed quitecapable of Machiavellian plotting and character assassination, hehad to admit, reluctantly, that among that crew only the verger wascapable of cold-blooded killing or of being involved in itsincitement and execution. He would check out Everett Stoneham’salibi later, but in reality he had whittled their prime suspectsdown to one: Bartholomew Burchill, whose hatred of Dougherty hadbeen put on public view in the Gazette. Cobb pushed open theshop-door to the jangle of bells. Burchill came out from behind hiswork-desk, wiping his hands on his apron and slipping off hiseyeshade.
“Good afternoon, constable,” he said withoutthe usual overlay of false bonhomie endemic to retail merchants.“Lookin’ for a gift for your good wife?”
Cobb surveyed the exquisite array of teapots,saltcellars and serving-trays in the display case. Burchill mightbe considered a misanthrope and a skinflint, but he was undeniablya craftsman in silver. He was also a bear of a man – barrel-chestedand thick-boned, with an unfashionable full beard and a bushel ofeyebrow that made him resemble an Old Testament prophet more than amoulder of intricate metal doodads.
“Maybe one of them milk pitchers,” Cobb saidwith a chuckle. “If I c’n save half my salary between now an’Christmas.”
“Somethin’ need repairin’, then?”
“My temper-mint, accordin’ to MissusCobb.”
Burchill did not smile at this witticism. Hestared hard at Cobb and said with deliberate slowness, “You’re nothere because of what I wrote about that pederast?”
“As a matter of fact, I am. We think someoneput Epp up to the stabbin’ an’ paid him good money to boot.”
“I’m glad the bugger’s dead,” Burchill said,unfazed by Cobb’s remark. “And if my letter in the Gazettehelped convince Reuben Epp to carry out the Lord’s will, then I ameven more pleased. Surely you aren’t about to charge me with bein’an accomplice on those grounds?”
“Well, now – ”
“If you did, then you’d have to arrest theArchdeacon, wouldn’t you?” This thought seemed to give Burchill aperverse pleasure, for he almost smiled.
“All the same, I’m askin’ you – with SirGeorge’s blessin’ – whether you knew Reuben Epp?”
“Of course I did. I’m a – ”
“I mean, did you talk to him, man to man? Orhave him do odd jobs fer you?”
“I did not know him in that way, nor has heworked for me. I have a healthy and obedient son to assist me atall times. We don’t need anybody else.”
Realizing that tact was a word in the samecategory as humour for Bartholomew Burchill, Cobb said, “Do you getmuch American paper money in yer business here?”