George said, "I'm punching the air, sir. We've got him at last!"
"Can you get over here fast?"
"You bet I can."
At the main police station, Warminster's CID team was setting up an incident room and Somerville was calling himself the SIO-senior investigating officer. George was shown into an office where three senior detectives waited.
"I can tell you about monkshood," George offered. He was more of a countryman than any of these clever dicks. "The leaves look a little like parsley, except this grows at least a metre high. It grows wild in the woods round here, down by the River Wylye. Purple flowers. You don't come across it so much as when I was a lad. Farmers get rid of it as soon as it appears because it's just as deadly for animals as it is for humans. The 'monk's hood' is the shape of the flower."
"There's a garden variety," Somerville said.
"Yes, you can get it in other colours if you want. Looks nice enough in your herbaceous border if you put it in a shady position."
"Does it come with a health warning?" one of the detectives asked.
"Certainly ought to."
"George, you know what I'm going to ask next?" said Somerville.
"If it grows in the rectory garden? I couldn't tell you. It's a wilderness, that garden. The rector doesn't have time to look after it."
Somerville didn't like being so predictable. "Did I say anything about his garden? If the plant occurs locally, it doesn't have to be grown at the rectory. Come to that, he could have used pure aconitine in powder form. If that tosspot Sands is right, Joy has a fine collection of poisons."
"Where would he get the pure poison?"
"God knows."
"A pharmacy?"
"Unlikely. It says in the book it was formerly used in low concentrations as a liniment for rheumatism, but that was many years back. It went into a cure for toothache, too, applied as a tincture."
"Dodgy," said George. "Personally, I'd rather put up with the toothache."
Somerville saw no humour in the situation. "If the Crown Prosecution Service are going to take this on board we have to give them more than we've got so far."
"Proof of poisoning," George said. "You've got that."
"Big deal. And now all we have to prove is that Otis Joy administered it, and how, and why."
"Gary Jansen was seen going into the rectory on the afternoon of his death," said George. "Ann Porter was a witness to that."
One of the others asked, "How long does this stuff take to kick in?"
"Up to an hour," said Somerville. "You get the tingling and numbness in the mouth first, and the other symptoms follow on. Death can take anything up to several hours."
"Well, then."
"A sighting of the victim going into the rectory won't be enough for the CPS," said Somerville with a glare. "They want the lot, full chain of evidence. A poisoning has to go to the Central Criminal Court. There's sure to be massive public interest."
There was a moment for reflection while the senior detectives imagined the sensation of a clergyman on trial for a series of murders. Warminster had not seen anything like it since the spate of flying saucer stories in the sixties.
"When this breaks, we're going to be under siege," said Somerville.
"He's got to be questioned," one of the others pointed out.
"So do we nick him now?" said another.
Somerville vibrated his lips. He didn't want the press and television muscling in at this delicate stage of the enquiry. "George, you know the guy. Would he come in and make a voluntary statement? He won't want the media crawling all over him any more than we do."
"Are you asking my advice, Mr. Somerville, or do you want me to fetch him in?"
"Both."
"But I'm not CID."
"You're the man who visits his house for the Scrabble. Persuade him-gently. Low key, right?"
"I can try."
"You don't sound optimistic."
"With Otis, you can't be. Just when I think I'm way ahead of him, he comes up with a seven-letter word."
"Like murder?"
"That's six."
Twenty-four
George was uneasy with the assignment he'd been given. Even allowing that Otis Joy was probably a wicked and dangerous man, it was a kind of betrayal to trade on their friendship to bring him in. He wished he'd never mentioned the Scrabble evenings to Somerville. "Low key," they'd blithely told him, as if it was a routine matter to ask a man in holy orders to accompany you to the police station and make a voluntary statement.
So when he rang twice at the rectory door and got no response he was mightily relieved. He decided the rector was out in the parish somewhere doing his pastoral duties, sensible man.
He went home for lunch.
After lunch, he thought he'd better try again.
No one was there. A seed of uncertainty was sown. Had Otis done a runner?
He called at the shop and asked Davy Todd if he'd seen the rector.
Davy said, "Well, he'll be at Warminster by now, won't he?"
"Will he?" George said more cheerfully, assuming that CID had come to their senses and sent someone else to pick him up.
"That's where half the village has gone today. For the confirmation service at All Hallows."
George sighed.
"If you went to church regular, you'd know what's going on," added Todd.
"What time is the service?"
"Three. You could get there if you want."
George weighed his options. It was still down to him to round up the suspect. He couldn't interrupt a church service, but if he caught Otis coming out, it would be a short walk to the nick, which was just across the street from All Hallows. He was in duty bound to make the attempt.
He went back for the car.
The confirmation candidates stood in groups near the west door of All Hallows, the largest, though not the most attractive, church in Warminster. The old building had suffered badly from modern restorers, whose aim seemed to have been to remove all traces of the Norman origins, all the arches, scallops and mouldings, all the mellow local stone, and replace it with faced blocks the colour of margarine. However, it was roomy inside, which was why it had been chosen for today's service.
George spotted the Foxfora group-not quite half the village, but getting on for forty of them, including families. He went over and asked Ann Porter if she'd seen the rector. She said he'd arrived and gone into the church to get into his robes.
The question must have been overheard by Burton Sands, because he came over and said, "Are you going to arrest him?"
"What for?" said Ann in surprise.
George raised his chin a little and said, "That isn't the way we do things, Burton."
"You don't do anything," said Burton.
"What's this about?" demanded Ann, already hyped up for the occasion. "Has our rector been up to naughties?"
George moved away, but Burton came with him. "You know Rachel Jansen has gone? That's another one. You've got to act before he wipes out the rest of us."
"Don't push it, Burton. Things are happening," said George.
"Like what? You exhumed Gary Jansen and no one has heard a thing. That was over two weeks ago."
"We had to wait for the tests," muttered George. "Why don't you go back to the others now?"
' "Had to wait for the tests,' " Burton taunted him. "No action at all. 1 gave you enough information to put him away for the rest of his life and nothing has happened except he's claimed another victim."
"Why don't you get your mind on what you're here for?" George told him. "Think some Christian thoughts."
"How can I, when he's going to join in the service? You could arrest him now."
"I'm going to speak to him when it's over."
"Really?"
George shouldn't have said more, but it was nice to take the wind out of Burton's sails, and the temptation was great. "The test results came in this morning. They found a trace of poison in the body."