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

blank pages about to be filled.’
    ‘I wouldn’t put it quite like that.’ Sidney could tell that the inspector was trying to turn this into a conversation about Amanda but he wasn’t having it. ‘I am only relieved that the marriage between Isabel and the doctor can go ahead.’
    ‘When is the great day?’
    ‘A week on Saturday.’
    The inspector lit up a cigarette. ‘It’s a curious thing the way the mind works, Sidney. The doctor probably thought he was acting out of love by bumping off his fiancée’s mother.’
    ‘He didn’t “bump her off”.’
    ‘We both know he did. But he’s got away with it by disguising it as compassion.’ The inspector threw a double six. ‘Do you think the coroner was in on it?’
    ‘I don’t think so.’
    ‘I’m still not so sure. It would be an easy thing to sort out amongst themselves. They could have been in it together and the coroner was only drawing attention to the incident as a double bluff. He was getting in first and making sure he was the one doing the investigating rather than any other coroner.’
    ‘That sounds a bit far-fetched.’
    ‘Nothing in crime is ever far-fetched, Sidney. You should know that by now. Anything is possible; and the most unlikely and unbelievable stories are often the truest. I wouldn’t mind looking at the wills of the old people who’ve died. If the doctor’s been left anything . . .’
    ‘You can always check, but I think you’ll find the coroner is a good man.’
    ‘I’ve not doubted it in the past, Sidney. You were the one who had reservations.’
    ‘I’ve rather warmed to him.’
    ‘Have you now?’
    ‘He came to the vicarage with a bottle of wine.’
    ‘Wine? You’re easily bought. I thought you were a beer man?’
    ‘It was a Château-Latour 1937. Smooth on the palate and long on the finish.’
    ‘I’ll wager he said it was. But wine’s a very expensive hobby for a clergyman. I’m not sure you should be developing a taste for something you cannot afford.’
    ‘Corpus does have a very fine cellar . . .’
    ‘It sends out the wrong signals too. You know for a fact that nothing beats a good pub. That’s where real people go: not your dons or your rich fancy types. Besides, I thought you didn’t like going to your old college?’
    ‘I wouldn’t put it as strongly as that.’
    ‘I don’t know, man. You seem to have changed character. First you get a dog, and then you develop a taste for wine. God knows what might happen next.’
    ‘I am sure God does know, Inspector. It’s just as well we don’t.’
    ‘And I’m right glad we don’t.’
    ‘Another round?’
    ‘A third pint?’ Inspector Keating asked with affectionate surprise. ‘Are you sure you can take it, man?’
    ‘Lent is no more,’ Sidney reaffirmed. ‘You, my good friend, are here. We are talking about wine and crime and love. Sometimes I think there is nothing we cannot say to each other.’
    ‘I suppose that’s right.’
    ‘The fire is lit. A dog is by my side. The mood, if I may say so, is jovial. And furthermore,’ Sidney continued, ‘I am looking forward to some very unsteady bicycling on the way home.’
     
    The following week the air softened and spring came at last. Primroses, violets and coltsfoot bloomed; woodlarks hung suspended in the air all day and sang all night. Lapwings haunted the downs, the stone-curlew returned from the uplands down to the meadows and banks, blackbirds and thrushes laid their eggs.
    So late the spring, and yet so welcome. It had come to fruition in perfect time for Isabel’s wedding. Sidney was delighted to see the new fashions amongst the female guests: the full skirts, soft shoulders and pinched waists, the figure-hugging dresses and glorious hats with their floral blooms and swirls of organza. The women of Grantchester had cast off their winter darkness and were showing summer colour at last.
    Sidney greeted the doctor as he arrived with his best man. ‘A happy day,’ he said. ‘I do hope you enjoy it.’
    ‘I intend to. And I should thank you, of course.’
    ‘I don’t think I did anything.’
    ‘You did what you had to do and said what you had to say.’
    ‘That was my duty.’
    ‘It would take a brave man to disagree with you.’
    ‘Alas, Dr Robinson, many do.’
    ‘That’s as may be. But you were fair-minded and you said the right things. You made me think differently about the world and its ways. We are both very grateful.’
    ‘I suppose that is a clergyman’s