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past few days than in my entire life.’

‘Amen to that,’ said the sergeant.

Chapter nineteen

The detectives sat in the office at the hostel and surveyed a distressed Glenda Rutherford and a scowling Edgar Rose-Harvey.

‘You have something to tell us, I think,’ said Blizzard.

Glenda nodded, struggling for the composure needed to tell her story.

‘I have not been straight with you,’ she said.

‘You’d not be the first to have misled us at St John’s.’

Rose-Harvey glared at him but said nothing.

‘So, what do you want to tell us?’ asked the inspector.

‘I didn’t want to say anything earlier because it looks bad for Henry,’ Glenda said. She dabbed her tear-filled eyes with a tissue. ‘However, I understand you know that money has gone missing.’

‘And how come you know about it?’ asked Blizzard.

‘Jacob told me.’

‘And how did he know?’

‘One of his jobs was to do the accounts for the church,’ said Glenda. ‘He told me on the night he was injured that he had just discovered that twenty-eight thousand pounds was missing after the bank had queried the signature on a document. Jacob discovered that someone had been taking money and he suspected it was Henry.’

‘God knows why he did not tell me,’ said Rose-Harvey, who had been listening with increasing frustration. ‘I mean, why did I have to find out in a letter sent by the bank? It’s my bloody church, after all!’

‘And there was me thinking it belonged to the risen Lord,’ said Blizzard. ‘But it’s a good question, Glenda. How come Jacob did not tell the people who run the church?’

‘He wanted to be sure. It’s a big thing to accuse a vicar of stealing.’

‘Is that why Sanders came to see him here that night?’ asked Colley.

‘It was, yes. Jacob told him that he needed to discuss an important matter with him. Henry must have guessed what it was about.’

‘And now Jacob is lying seriously ill in a hospital bed and the vicar has disappeared,’ said Blizzard.

‘And with our money,’ said Rose-Harvey. ‘I just cannot believe that he would do this after we gave him another chance…’

‘Another chance?’ asked Blizzard. He looked sharply at Rose-Harvey. ‘What do you mean another chance?’

Rose-Harvey sighed.

‘I suppose you had to find out sometime,’ he said. ‘The vicar is a sinner.’

‘Frankly, the whole lot of you seem to specialise in it,’ said Blizzard.

‘Indeed,’ replied Rose-Harvey with a wan smile. ‘But Henry more than most, Chief Inspector. You see, after we took over the church, we became suspicious about money going missing. Only small amounts. We thought it might be Henry.’

‘Did you call the police?’

‘No. Henry denied it and we wanted to avoid a scandal. We’d only just taken over here and there’s precious few people coming to church without frightening them off with the thought that their collection money is going into the vicar’s holiday fund.’

‘How come you let him stay in his job?’ asked the inspector.

‘He assured us that he was innocent. We weren’t convinced – he was an accountant before being ordained. If anyone knew how to conceal theft, it was Henry.’

‘So, if you had suspicions, why did you not sack him?’ asked Colley. He was unable to keep the sense of disbelief out of his voice.

‘Ah, Sergeant, Sergeant, if only you truly understood the power of forgiveness. You see, our risen Lord sees a thousand times more reward in one sinner who repents than in a hundred who do not.’ Rose-Harvey’s face assumed a familiar dreamy expression. ‘Henry Sanders was an opportunity for us to demonstrate the truth of that belief.’

‘And how did that go?’ asked Blizzard sourly.

‘Henry was a work in progress, Chief Inspector. Repentance does not happen overnight. You see, as Christians, we have to take risks for what we believe. We have to reach out and touch the very essence of–’

‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ exclaimed Blizzard.

‘There,’ beamed Rose-Harvey, ‘you’re getting the idea!’

Chapter twenty

‘This is hopeless,’ said Danny Rowan as he stood in the middle of a patch of brick-strewn wasteland on the edge of the city centre. He looked at his fellow constable in exasperation. ‘We’ll never find the old girl.’

‘Agreed,’ said Keith Leighton. ‘It’s a needle in a haystack job. God knows what Blizzard thinks we can achieve after all this time.’

It was early afternoon and the two officers had spent hours searching for Martha Raine. It had been a dispiriting experience and, as the rain started to fall, neither officer was in a good mood.

‘I mean,’ continued Leighton. ‘Who’s to say that she came this way anyway? She could just as easily have headed towards the river. Taken a header and ended up in the sea. She could have been carried over to Holland for all we know. She may never be found.’

Rowan nodded gloomily and the constables headed back to the street where an elderly man had been standing watching them with interest for several minutes.

‘Can I help you?’ asked Rowan.

‘Just wondering what you were doing,’ said the old man.

‘We’re from Abbey Road. We’re looking for an elderly woman who went missing last year.’

‘Not Martha Raine, by any chance?’

‘You know her?’

‘We used to go to the same church. St John’s.’ The old man shook his head sadly.

‘I don’t suppose you have any idea where she might have gone?’ said Leighton.

‘I am afraid not,’ said the old man. ‘There was a big search at the time, you know. Helicopters. Divers in the canal. They searched all these places. How come you’re looking for her now? Has something happened?’

‘Our DCI wants to make sure that we didn’t miss anything.’

‘Well, I hope you do find her,’ said the old man. He turned to go. ‘What they did to Martha at that church was unforgivable.’

‘What did they do to her?’

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