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

Men and the tokens exchanged by friends and family. He would improvise a few thoughts on the spirit of giving, and he would use the carol ‘In the Bleak Mid-Winter’ with the line: ‘What can I give him, poor as I am?’ He would speak about the importance of giving with your heart, something he remembered, involuntarily, and with a sinking feeling, that Guy Hopkins had singularly failed to do.
    He lost himself for a moment in the memory of New Year’s Eve, and then felt annoyed by his inability to concentrate. He wished he could stop mulling over the crime and meditate on the meaning of Christ’s incarnation. It was so much more important than the theft of a ring at a dinner party.
    It was an appropriately bleak morning and Sidney was further dispirited by the fact that his congregation was half the size that it had been on Christmas Day. This, however, was no excuse for putting in a performance that was below par, particularly as, to Sidney’s surprise, Inspector Keating had brought his family.
    ‘We never got to church on Christmas Day because our youngest had chickenpox,’ he explained afterwards. ‘And we felt like a change. Our own vicar can go on too long and we wanted to see if you lived up to expectations.’
    ‘I was not at my best.’
    ‘You made us think and you made us feel guilty. Isn’t that what you are supposed to do?’
    ‘We come to the table in good charity and in penitence . . .’
    ‘You do, however, appear to be tired, Sidney. Is it the exhaustion of Christmas?’
    ‘It is a little more than that, I am afraid.’
    ‘Ominous . . .’
    ‘I fear so. What are you doing this evening? We had to suspend our routine over the festive season and I feel in need of it now . . .’
    ‘It can’t wait until Thursday?’
    ‘I fear not.’
    ‘Then what about a quick pint in The Eagle at eight? Would you like to give me something to chew on over lunch?’
    ‘I can see your wife and children are waiting. It involves a group of friends, a stolen engagement ring and my own sister.’
    ‘Not as victim or thief?’
    ‘No, but bad enough. I can’t sleep, Geordie.’
    ‘Well, we can’t have that. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so low.’
    ‘I think it is the New Year. I always find it a dark time. Another year gone.’
    ‘A good pint of beer will sort you out.’
    That evening, a thick mist descended over Cambridge and the lights of cars and bicycles glowed dimly through the gloom of the wet streets. The rain had passed but the air was damp and it still felt like the end of an old year rather than the beginning of something new. Sidney wondered where he really belonged these days, working as he did, halfway between a parish and a college, making trips to London and involving himself with the police. He was constantly between places and never at rest; but perhaps it was a priest’s duty, he thought, to be a pilgrim, out in the world, a man of good courage, travelling wherever the Lord decided to take him.
    Despite the consolation of faith, the religious life still contained its doubts and its loneliness; and on this dank winter evening Sidney needed the companionship of a friend.
    Inspector Keating had already bought the drinks by the time he arrived and it was clear they were going to need a second round as it took nearly all of the first for Sidney to go through the salient facts of the case. He finished by asking if people sometimes collaborated to point the finger of suspicion at one man.
    ‘That is more in the nature of fiction than reality,’ Inspector Keating replied. ‘Although it does happen.’
    ‘There seem to be a number of possibilities but, apart from my sister, they all appear to think Johnny Johnson did it.’
    ‘Then either they are correct, or they are all in it together, or they are hiding something.’
    ‘I don’t find that very helpful.’
    ‘Then you have to start again, examine all the evidence as if you are doing so for the first time and without prejudice. In other words, you need a detective.’
    ‘They don’t want the police involved. The host is an ambitious MP who wants to keep this out of the newspapers.’
    ‘Well, that is evidence in itself, Sidney. If they were all so certain that Johnny Johnson is guilty then they would call us in. The fact that they haven’t done so might mean that they know the evidence against him will not stand up; or that they suspect someone else and are not telling you. Can you trust them? They sound a slippery