forty-five minutes after Gilmore’s collapse . If Gilmore’s death was suspicious, and it was a big if, then it was certainly possible for the killer to have had time to get from here to Horsea Marina. Yet how could someone have killed the vicar in full view of the congregation without anyone seeing him?
‘I believe you saw a man called Tom Brundall talking to the Reverend—’
‘Yeah, and that’s another thing, why did his boat catch fire the day he visited the vicar?’
Gutner might be elderly, but there was no fooling him.
Horton said, ‘It could be a coincidence.’
‘Since when have the cops believed in coincidence?’ Gutner scoffed.
He was right. With admiration for the man’s intellect, which hadn’t diminished with age, Horton said, ‘OK, tell me what happened.’
Gutner settled back in his seat. He paused. Horton could tell it wasn’t for effect but that he was marshalling his thoughts to give as accurate and concise an account as possible. He would have made a good copper.
‘St Agnes’s is a great big barn of a church, as you can see.
The lights were on; it was a grey, miserable Tuesday, with a heavy blanket of cloud closing in on you. Even with the lights on though there are places in this church that are still dim; it has a hundred nooks and crannies. I came up here to practise the organ and heard the door open and footsteps below—’
‘The time?’
Gutner puffed out his cheeks and thought. ‘About three thirty, give or take a minute. I thought it was the vicar at first but then realized it didn’t sound like his tread. I looked in my mirror, here above the organ, and saw a man walk towards the nativity.
It was that man whose picture was on the television, Brundall you said his name was. Then the vicar came out of the vestry.
I didn’t even know he was in the church. I came in that way, and didn’t see him, there’s a door that leads up from there to here. He saw this stranger and looked as if he’d seen a ghost.’
‘Was he pleased or afraid?’ Horton asked sharply.
‘Afraid,’ Gutner replied instantly. ‘Vicar went white and staggered back. Brundall moved forward as though to help the vicar, but he waved him away. “I’m all right,” the vicar said, then, “What are you doing here? We swore never to see one another again. I’ve made my peace with the Lord and tried to put right what we did wrong all those years ago.”’
Horton felt a thrill run down his spine. What had they done wrong? Did this have anything to do with Brundall’s death?
Horton wouldn’t mind betting on it.
‘Go on,’ he encouraged, not that he really needed to; Gutner was enjoying this despite mourning his vicar.
‘Brundall said, “I’m dying, cancer. I haven’t got long. I want to confess and I want you to hear my confession.” Vicar went even paler, he said something but I couldn’t hear what it was because he spoke so softly. Then I heard Brundall say, “Did you know that Jennifer Horton’s boy’s a policeman, a detective inspector here in Portsmouth?” Hey, that’s you, I bet it is.’
Horton tensed. He felt the breath being sucked from his body. First Gilmore and now Brundall, and now they were both dead. Jesus! What the hell was going on? Desperately he tried to keep his face expressionless but his head was swimming with this information, and his heart was pounding as though he’d just run a marathon. He hoped he sounded neutral when he asked, ‘What else did he say?’
Gutner didn’t seem to notice anything untoward with him.
Easily, the old man continued. ‘The vicar said, “Leave it, Tom.
It’s over, done with.” Brundall replied, “Not until I make my confession. If you won’t hear it, Rowley, then I will have to find another priest,” and then they moved out of earshot and sight. Brundall followed the vicar into the vestry.’
‘Do you know if the vicar heard his confession?’
‘No. I waited for a while before starting to play the organ.
I
‘I believe you saw a man called Tom Brundall talking to the Reverend—’
‘Yeah, and that’s another thing, why did his boat catch fire the day he visited the vicar?’
Gutner might be elderly, but there was no fooling him.
Horton said, ‘It could be a coincidence.’
‘Since when have the cops believed in coincidence?’ Gutner scoffed.
He was right. With admiration for the man’s intellect, which hadn’t diminished with age, Horton said, ‘OK, tell me what happened.’
Gutner settled back in his seat. He paused. Horton could tell it wasn’t for effect but that he was marshalling his thoughts to give as accurate and concise an account as possible. He would have made a good copper.
‘St Agnes’s is a great big barn of a church, as you can see.
The lights were on; it was a grey, miserable Tuesday, with a heavy blanket of cloud closing in on you. Even with the lights on though there are places in this church that are still dim; it has a hundred nooks and crannies. I came up here to practise the organ and heard the door open and footsteps below—’
‘The time?’
Gutner puffed out his cheeks and thought. ‘About three thirty, give or take a minute. I thought it was the vicar at first but then realized it didn’t sound like his tread. I looked in my mirror, here above the organ, and saw a man walk towards the nativity.
It was that man whose picture was on the television, Brundall you said his name was. Then the vicar came out of the vestry.
I didn’t even know he was in the church. I came in that way, and didn’t see him, there’s a door that leads up from there to here. He saw this stranger and looked as if he’d seen a ghost.’
‘Was he pleased or afraid?’ Horton asked sharply.
‘Afraid,’ Gutner replied instantly. ‘Vicar went white and staggered back. Brundall moved forward as though to help the vicar, but he waved him away. “I’m all right,” the vicar said, then, “What are you doing here? We swore never to see one another again. I’ve made my peace with the Lord and tried to put right what we did wrong all those years ago.”’
Horton felt a thrill run down his spine. What had they done wrong? Did this have anything to do with Brundall’s death?
Horton wouldn’t mind betting on it.
‘Go on,’ he encouraged, not that he really needed to; Gutner was enjoying this despite mourning his vicar.
‘Brundall said, “I’m dying, cancer. I haven’t got long. I want to confess and I want you to hear my confession.” Vicar went even paler, he said something but I couldn’t hear what it was because he spoke so softly. Then I heard Brundall say, “Did you know that Jennifer Horton’s boy’s a policeman, a detective inspector here in Portsmouth?” Hey, that’s you, I bet it is.’
Horton tensed. He felt the breath being sucked from his body. First Gilmore and now Brundall, and now they were both dead. Jesus! What the hell was going on? Desperately he tried to keep his face expressionless but his head was swimming with this information, and his heart was pounding as though he’d just run a marathon. He hoped he sounded neutral when he asked, ‘What else did he say?’
Gutner didn’t seem to notice anything untoward with him.
Easily, the old man continued. ‘The vicar said, “Leave it, Tom.
It’s over, done with.” Brundall replied, “Not until I make my confession. If you won’t hear it, Rowley, then I will have to find another priest,” and then they moved out of earshot and sight. Brundall followed the vicar into the vestry.’
‘Do you know if the vicar heard his confession?’
‘No. I waited for a while before starting to play the organ.
I
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