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

imagine. To go to them would be the worst thing I could have done. Claudette told me that I just had to wait until she was eighteen and then we could do what we liked. It was only going to be another six months but I didn’t believe her. I thought there would always be pressure from her father and his friends.’
    Sidney was thinking about the events of 7 May. ‘I still don’t understand why you went to the club that night. You could have sent her a message and arranged to meet elsewhere. You must have known her father and all his friends would be there.’
    ‘I didn’t think it through. I was with my friends. I thought it would be all right, and I wanted to see Claudette. But, of course, as soon as I arrived I knew it was a mistake. She asked me what on earth I was doing there.’
    ‘I thought she just said “Hello”.’
    ‘No. I bumped into her again a bit later.’
    ‘And when was that?’
    ‘When I was on the way back from the Gents.’
    Sidney thought it was incredible that this boy could neither tell his story clearly nor realise the potential trouble that he might be in. ‘Did anyone see you talking together?’
    ‘I don’t know. I was only looking at Claudette. The barman called her over.’
    ‘So he must have seen you?’
    ‘I suppose so.’
    Sidney was momentarily infuriated. There was no suppose about it. How could this boy be so hapless?
    ‘I’m sorry, Canon Chambers, I’m scared. I am just a student who wants to become a doctor. I never intended to get mixed up in all this.’
    ‘I can see that.’
    Sidney was exasperated. How could Sam Morris be so aware of the trouble that he might be in but remain so ignorant of the implications of his behaviour? What had he been thinking in going to the club that night, seeing Claudette once more and then lying to the police?
    As a priest Sidney’s first instinct was to listen hard and trust what he had been told, but after they had said their goodbyes and Sam had left, a number of anxieties remained. Had the boy given a clear account of everything that had happened or was he still hiding information? Sidney sensed that Sam was trustworthy and hardly likely to be responsible for Claudette’s death, but he had also been extraordinarily naive. He might have charm and intelligence, but he was undoubtedly weak, and he had given up on love too easily. Sidney puzzled over whether he might have done things differently if he had been the same age, and what he could do to help a boy who had got himself into such a mess.
     
    When informed of the conversation with Sam at their regular Thursday night session of backgammon in The Eagle, Inspector Keating responded with a burst of anger Sidney had never seen before. ‘Tell that bloody boy to come and see me and make a statement. We can’t have him blabbering away to a clergyman even if it’s you. There’s a procedure to these matters.’
    ‘I only thought it might be helpful.’
    ‘Of course it’s not helpful. It’s bloody unhelpful. Tommy Jackson was in the jazz club with all his mates. He was sitting at a table by the front of the stage for the entire bloody drum solo. He couldn’t have done it.’
    ‘I’m not saying he did.’
    ‘None of them could, as far as I can tell. For all I know this could be a double-bluff – your boy getting his story in early, shifting the blame elsewhere before we get to him; a pre-emptive strike. Does he have an alibi?’
    ‘Not really.’
    ‘What do you mean “not really”. Honestly, Sidney . . .’
    ‘And he went to the Gents about half an hour before the murder.’
    ‘So he could have done it?’
    ‘Half an hour before, Geordie.’
    ‘He could have murdered the girl then and moved the body later.’
    ‘But why would he tell me all this?’
    ‘I’ve said: a double-bluff.’
    ‘He’s not that kind of boy.’
    ‘What kind of boy is he, then?’
    ‘I meant that he doesn’t seem the murdering type.’
    ‘No one seems the murdering type. That’s the whole point, Sidney. If the murdering type made himself known to us then crimes would be solved a hell of a lot quicker.’
    The inspector took another sip of his pint. Their game of backgammon had been abandoned. ‘Have you got any other ideas? Williams doesn’t seem to be getting very far and if I tell him anything about Sam Morris he’ll pull him in.’
    Sidney wondered whether to offer his friend another drink. This meeting was not going as well as he had hoped. In fact he was troubled by