Sidney Chambers and The Shadow of Death (The Grantchester Mysteries)

and a window cleaner was at work above the new bank. Both of their ladders spanned the entire pavement, so that those of a superstitious nature, who did not want to walk under ladders, swayed on to the road and into the traffic. How removed all this was from the desperate world of suicide, or, more likely, murder, Sidney thought.
    He passed Hildegard Staunton’s house and headed off across the fields to Grantchester. When he arrived home all was as he had expected. Mrs Maguire had done some of her famous tidying, moving papers that Sidney had carefully left in separate and organised stacks on the floor, and piling them all together on his desk so she could vacuum. There were sausages in a Pyrex dish in the kitchen and potatoes she had peeled and left in cold water. There was also a note:
    ‘More Vim please. And Harpic. Fish tomorrow. Not Friday.’
    Sidney found it hard to address these concerns. He turned on the wireless and listened to the news. The Queen had just arrived in Canada on her Commonwealth tour. The Piltdown Man had been exposed as a hoax; and the Salvation Army were about to open a café in Korea. Sidney listened, ate his sausages and wondered what impact any of this information would have on the people of Cambridge.
    As he cleared away his lunch and contemplated the possibility both of a cup of coffee and the second half of his Chelsea bun – there might even be a few quiet minutes in which he could listen to a bit of his beloved jazz music – there was a knock on the door.
    Sidney opened it to find Miss Morrison standing on the step. ‘I hope I am not disturbing you,’ she apologised. She was wearing an elegant dark mackintosh and her hair was wet and windswept. ‘I saw the bus to Grantchester and just stepped on to it.’
    Sidney had not noticed that it had been raining. ‘This is a surprise,’ he replied.
    ‘I hope a not unpleasant one.’
    ‘Of course not. Do come in . . .’
    ‘I won’t stay if you don’t mind, Canon Chambers. It’s only that I have something that I think you should see . . .’
    ‘What is it?’
    Miss Morrison produced a piece of paper from her handbag but appeared reluctant to hand it over. ‘I’m very sorry. It’s evidence. I should have told you about it earlier. In fact I should have given it to the police but it’s private. I hope I won’t get into trouble.’
    ‘What is it?’
    ‘A letter; or rather a note . . .’
    ‘To you?’
    ‘Yes. It’s addressed to me. From Mr Staunton.’
    ‘May I see it?’
    ‘Yes. But if you could just read it and give it back I would be very grateful. It’s rather upsetting.’
    ‘I see . . .’ Sidney took the note. ‘Where did you find it?’
    ‘Mr Staunton left it on my desk. It’s very short. But it leaves you in no doubt as to what must have happened.’
    ‘Are you sure you won’t come in?’
    ‘I’d rather not if you don’t mind.’
    Sidney stood in the doorway and began to read:
     
    A,
    I can’t tell you how sorry I am that it has come to this. I know you will find it upsetting and I wish there was something I could do to make things right. I can’t go on any more. I’m sorry – so sorry. You know how hard it has been and how impossible it is to continue.
    Forgive me
    S
     
    It had begun to rain again, and it was absurd that they were both still standing in the doorway of the vicarage, but Stephen Staunton’s secretary remained in righteous defiance.
    ‘I can see how upsetting this must be, Miss Morrison, but it would have been helpful if you had shown this to the police. I notice that he refers to you by your initial: A. Was that his usual practice?’
    ‘We both used to initial everything to show that we had read things. He’d sign a single “S” for me and a double “S” for Mr Morton’s papers – that is, until Mr Morton made a joke of it. They did not get on as well as they once had . . .’
    ‘And “A”?’
    ‘My name is Annabel, Canon Chambers.’
    She waited for Sidney to return the note. This he did not do.
    ‘Miss Morrison, there are some unusual features about your employer’s death in which the police have become interested.’
    Sidney knew that he was exaggerating Inspector Keating’s level of concern but decided that it was the only way in which Miss Morrison would grant the request he was about to make.
    ‘Are there?’ Miss Morrison looked shocked. ‘I don’t understand.’
    ‘I don’t think it is anything to worry about but I very much hope that you will