A Crowded Coffin(68)

‘What have you got there?’ He tweaked the plastic folder out of Harriet’s hand and frowned. ‘Something else I ought to have destroyed, or at least taken with me,’ he said fretfully. ‘I should have checked what Brendan had done with it, he was quite careless. Another minus point to chalk up to working with other people.

‘I don’t know.’ He paced to and fro across the gallery, always watchful, looking first at the exhausted Rory, slumped in his chair, looking only half-conscious, and then at Harriet, with a calculating expression.

‘Maybe we should pool information?’ he began. ‘I know your cousin, Canon Hathaway, was poking his nose into my affairs. I suppose he told you everything he discovered?’

She shook her head, feeling hopeless. It was ten, fifteen minutes ago that she had spoken to the inspector. How long would they take? Any time now, if he had despatched someone at once, but who knew? She shivered. John Forrester was surprisingly cool for now, but that surely couldn’t last.

‘I’ll tell you what I’ve been researching,’ he said. ‘Then maybe you can come up with some answers, you never know. I’m aware that you’re well up with the family legends, so you may know something I’ve missed.’ He sat down and chewed at his thumbnail.

‘It all started,’ he said, ‘when I was at Cambridge and there was a little local difficulty with a girl. I paid her off and it was over as far as I was concerned. I graduated, went to theological college, was ordained and started climbing the ladder to fame and fortune – in so far as it’s possible in the Church of England.’ He grinned at her. ‘And it is possible, you know, if you’re good-looking, can turn on the charm and have plenty of money, which I have, courtesy of my wife, who, sadly, turned out to be a drag on my ambitions and not the stepping stone I’d bargained for. Still, more of that later.

‘Last summer I was having a drink in the Wykeham Arms when that little tick, Colin Price, tapped me on the arm and said, “Remember me?” How could I forget? He’d been at Cambridge with me; he was a fresher when I was in my final year. He knew all about the wretched girl so of course he thought it would be worth my while to keep his mouth shut. It wasn’t actually too bad; he was working in the Stanton Resingham archive and one evening when he’d had too much to drink, he bragged about the valuable stuff there was, that nobody had a clue about. So we did a deal. I financed his trips abroad and we split the proceeds fifty-fifty, with him always insisting on cash payment from the auctioneers or buyers. That went straight into two European bank accounts, under assumed names, of course.’

Harriet listened in silence, no need to feign interest, it was fascinating. And utterly terrifying. Besides – she nourished a faint hope – the longer she kept him talking, the sooner the police ought to arrive.

‘One of the letters Colin found mentioned something called “Aelfryth’s Tears”, which was said to contain tears shed by the Virgin Mary. Soon afterwards a couple of other references turned up. We narrowed it down to King Alfred’s time; I used to nip into the archive room and work with Colin; nobody ever bothered me. Another clue led me to Alfred’s mistress, and all the indications are that it was a fabulous piece of jewellery, along the lines of the famous Anglo-Saxon Jewel, or the Middleham one.’

Harriet glanced furtively at Rory and for a moment thought he had passed out but he caught her eye and gave the ghost of a wink. She breathed again, just in time as John Forrester gave him a pitying look and continued his story.

‘I went into the business of selling archive items because Gillian was being very difficult about money at that time. Up until her breakdown she was always very generous, proud of her high-flying husband and looking to be an archdeacon’s wife within a few years, but suddenly she turned very tight-fisted and tried to limit my allowance. I decided it would look good if I took a year out, to try to cope with my poor, neurotic wife; you wouldn’t believe the outpouring of sympathy I got about it. So I put in my request for a country parish. It suited me very well, less scrutiny, lots of “Ah, poor dear vicar”, while my wife’s health worsened visibly. It didn’t take long for people to realize Gillian was an addict and the levels of sympathy rose even higher, encouraged by a few manly tears, judiciously rationed. Oh yes, nobody would be surprised if the poor, addled creature had an accident.’

Harriet caught her breath but she continued to sit in silence, nervously watching his every move with narrowed eyes.

‘Where was I? Oh, yes, Colin Price. I had no idea the jewel was said to be connected with the farm here until he spotted a letter stuffed into the spine of some account books, dating back to Queen Anne’s time. It referred to a hiding place, known only to the Attlin family, where they always stashed their treasures in times of trouble. The letter was written in 1642 and was obviously overlooked when the ledgers found their way into the Resingham collection. That’s the last page you had there.’ He waved a hand at the plastic wallet. His face darkened. ‘It should still be safely in my study, but I suspect Brendan’s been doing a spot of breaking and entering on his own account.’