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

couldn’t see anything at all. Why was this woman telling him all this? He wondered if she had got married in church, if she had ever considered her marital vows and how well she got on with her children. ‘What would you like me to do?’ he asked.
    ‘I can’t go to the police and tell them this.’
    ‘No, of course not.’
    ‘I can’t trust them to keep it a secret. My husband is bound to find out and I don’t want to stir things up.’
    ‘But surely this is a private matter? It is no concern for the police.’
    ‘It has to be, Canon Chambers.’
    ‘But why?’
    ‘Can you not guess? I can’t believe Stephen killed himself. It is totally out of character. We were going to run away together.’
    ‘So what are you suggesting?’
    Pamela Morton sat up and straightened her back. ‘Murder, Canon Chambers. I mean murder.’ She fought to find a handkerchief from her handbag.
    ‘But who would want to do such a thing?’
    ‘I don’t know.’
    Sidney was out of his depth. It was all very well for someone to come to him and confess their sins but an accusation of murder was a different business altogether. ‘This is quite a dangerous thing to suggest, Mrs Morton. Are you sure that you really think this?’
    ‘I am certain.’
    ‘And you have told no one else?’
    ‘You are the first. When I heard you speak in the service about death and loss I felt sure that I could trust you. You have a reassuring voice. I am sorry I don’t attend church more often. After my brother was killed in the war I found it hard to have faith.’
    ‘It is difficult, I know.’
    Pamela Morton spoke as if she had said all that she had to say. ‘What I have said is the truth, Canon Chambers.’
    Sidney imagined his guest sitting through the funeral service, restraining her grief. He wondered if she had looked around the congregation for suspects. But why would anyone have wanted to kill Stephen Staunton?
    Pamela Morton recognised that Sidney needed to be convinced. ‘The idea that he took his own life is absurd. We had so much to look forward to. It was as if we were going to be young once more and we could be whoever we wanted to be. We would start again. We were going to live as we have never lived. Those were the last words he spoke to me. “We will live as we have never lived.” Those are not the words of a man who is going to shoot himself, are they?’
    ‘No, they are not.’
    ‘And now it’s gone. All that hope. All that wasted love.’ Pamela Morton took up her handkerchief. ‘I can’t bear it. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to cry.’
    Sidney walked over to the window. What on earth was he supposed to do about this? It was none of his business; but then he remembered that, as a priest, everything was his business. There was no part of the human heart that was not his responsibility. Furthermore, if Pamela Morton was correct, and Stephen Staunton had not committed what many people still believed to be the sin of suicide, then an innocent man had been unjustly killed and his murderer was still at large.
    ‘What would you like me to do?’ he asked.
    ‘Talk to people,’ Pamela Morton answered. ‘Informally if you can. I don’t want anyone to know about my involvement in all this.’
    ‘But who shall I speak to?’
    ‘The people who knew him.’
    ‘I’m not sure what I can ask them.’
    ‘You are a priest. People tell you things, don’t they?’
    ‘They do.’
    ‘And you can ask almost any question, no matter how private?’
    ‘One has to be careful.’
    ‘But you know what I mean . . .’
    ‘I do,’ Sidney replied, as cautiously as he could.
    ‘Then you could keep what I have said in mind and, if the moment comes, perhaps you might ask a question that you might not otherwise have asked?’
    ‘I am not sure that I can make any promises. I am not a detective.’
    ‘But you know people, Canon Chambers. You understand them.’
    ‘Not all the time.’
    ‘Well, I hope you understand me.’
    ‘Yes,’ Sidney replied. ‘You have been very clear. I imagine this must have been terrible. To bear it alone . . .’
    Pamela Morton put her handkerchief away. ‘It is. But I have said what I came to say. Are you sure I can rely on your discretion?’ she asked, looking up at him, vulnerable once more. ‘You won’t mention my name?’
    ‘Of course not.’ Sidney answered, already worrying how long he could keep this secret.
    ‘I’m so sorry about all of this,’ Mrs Morton continued. ‘I’m ashamed,