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

no one could have known for sure that the ring was going to be produced in the first place.’
    ‘How do you think it was stolen?’
    Johnny smiled enigmatically. ‘You’d have to ask my Dad that.’
    ‘You must have ideas of your own?’
    Johnny took a sip of his Coca-Cola. ‘It would have to be taken quickly. And then hidden – perhaps in a place that could be explained if it was discovered later. A place of safe-keeping.’
    ‘And who are you suggesting?’
    ‘No one, Sidney. I don’t make accusations. Let’s just say it might be someone who knew the room well.’
    ‘But it would have to have been done by sleight of hand.’
    ‘The port glass and the handkerchief, I suppose. You drop the ring in your glass of port. Drain the glass, dab your lips with a handkerchief, spit the ring into it, and put the two back together in your pocket.’
    ‘And why do you think someone took it?’
    ‘There’s the need for money, of course. But if you ask me about last night I’d say it might also be about getting one over on people. Amanda Kendall has everything, doesn’t she? Good looks, a career, plenty of boyfriends, I imagine – although the one she is with now is a disgrace – and so I’d say, since you’re asking, that the person who stole her ring wanted to take her down a peg or two. It wasn’t so much about stealing, it was about the satisfaction of the taking.’
    ‘Intriguing.’
    ‘I might be completely wrong. But I’d also say it was a woman. Guy’s the fiancé, the MP’s the host, you are a priest, and the publisher was drunk. Would you like another drink?’
    ‘No thank you. I should leave. But go on.’
    ‘Stay if you like. We’ve got a great quartet later and Johnny Dankworth’s looking in. Your sister will be here in a minute.’
    ‘To tell you the truth I’m rather anxious to get back to my job, the one I was called to do.’
    ‘I can tell that they’ve bullied you into this, Sidney. I suppose it’s because they think you can get more out of people. People will sometimes say more to a priest whereas if any of that lot asked me anything I’d keep my mouth shut. I only hope they’re not using you.’
    ‘Can I buy you a drink before I go?’ Sidney offered.
    ‘You don’t need to worry about that.’
    Sidney waited and met Johnny’s eye. ‘I would just like to say that I really don’t think you had anything to do with this. I do want you to know that.’
    ‘I appreciate it, Sidney.’ Johnny smiled as he stubbed out his cigarette. ‘I was just thinking that it would be quite funny if you found out that you were better at being a detective than you were at being a priest.’
    ‘I like to think I have a sense of humour but I can tell you that I wouldn’t find that amusing at all.’
    ‘Jen and I might.’
    Sidney was swept by a wave of insecurity. ‘To tell you the truth, Johnny, at this precise moment, I can honestly say that I don’t think I am very good at anything at all.’
    ‘Nonsense. You are very good at being a decent human being.’ He held out his hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you. Any time you want to come to the club, or need a flat, or require a bit of female company, I can arrange it.’
    ‘Thank you, but I rather feel that it’s time for me to take charge of my own life. It’s been getting out of hand recently. God bless you, Johnny.’
    ‘And God bless you , Sidney.’
    As he spoke Sidney realised that Johnny was the first person, since his ordination, ever to have given him that reply.
     
    It was after midnight by the time he returned to Grantchester. Although he had sketched out his sermon before he had left for London, Sidney knew that he would have to rise at six in the morning in order to finish it. It was ironic that the need to preach on the subject of Epiphany, the revelation of Christ to the Wise Men, should leave him so short of wisdom on the subject himself.
    He knelt down by the side of his bed and said his prayers, ending with a plea that he knew that neither he, nor his Maker, would ever be able to fulfil.
    ‘Grant Lord, that I may not, for one moment, admit willingly into my soul any thought contrary to thy love.’
    He was hopelessly restless and, after a night broken by insomnia and uneasy dreams, most of which involved a crime of some kind, Sidney made himself a pot of tea and began to think on what he might say later that morning. He would talk about Christmas presents, he decided, comparing the gifts brought by the Wise