Day of Vengeance Read online

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  The Dorothy Martin Mysteries from Jeanne M. Dams

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Foreword

  Author’s Note

  Principal Characters

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The Dorothy Martin Mysteries from Jeanne M. Dams

  THE BODY IN THE TRANSEPT

  TROUBLE IN THE TOWN HALL

  HOLY TERROR IN THE HEBRIDES

  MALICE IN MINIATURE

  THE VICTIM IN VICTORIA STATION

  KILLING CASSIDY

  TO PERISH IN PENZANCE

  SINS OUT OF SCHOOL

  WINTER OF DISCONTENT

  A DARK AND STORMY NIGHT *

  THE EVIL THAT MEN DO *

  THE CORPSE OF ST JAMES’S *

  MURDER AT THE CASTLE *

  SHADOWS OF DEATH *

  DAY OF VENGEANCE *

  * available from Severn House

  DAY OF VENGEANCE

  A Dorothy Martin Mystery

  Jeanne M. Dams

  This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.

  First published in Great Britain and the USA 2014 by

  SEVERN HOUSE PUBLISHERS LTD of

  19 Cedar Road, Sutton, Surrey, England, SM2 5DA.

  eBook edition first published in 2014 by Severn House Digital

  an imprint of Severn House Publishers Limited

  Copyright © 2014 by Jeanne M. Dams.

  The right of Jeanne M. Dams to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988.

  British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data

  Dams, Jeanne M. author.

  Day of vengeance. – (A Dorothy Martin mystery)

  1. Martin, Dorothy (Fictitious character)–Fiction.

  2. Murder–Investigation–Fiction. 3. Women private

  investigators–England–Fiction. 4. Americans–England–

  Fiction. 5. Detective and mystery stories.

  I. Title II. Series

  813.5'4-dc23

  ISBN-13: 978-0-72788-397-1 (cased)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-84751-517-9 (trade paper)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-78010-544-4 (ePub)

  Except where actual historical events and characters are being described for the storyline of this novel, all situations in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to living persons is purely coincidental.

  This ebook produced by

  Palimpsest Book Production Limited,

  Falkirk, Stirlingshire, Scotland.

  FOREWORD

  The selection of a new bishop in the Church of England is a complex procedure, and although I have done a good deal of research, with the help of several clergy in both England and America, I may have made mistakes, and may indeed have contravened canon law in some instances. I can say only that the mistakes are mine alone, and (in mitigation) plead that I am, after all, writing fiction. I owe great thanks especially to two bishops: the Very Reverend Edward S. Little in my own diocese of Northern Indiana, and the Very Reverend Stephen Venner, who has retired but is still serving as an honorary Assistant Bishop in the Diocese of St Alban’s, England. Both have been generous with their time and have answered innumerable foolish questions.

  All of the churches mentioned in the book are of my own invention, as are all of the characters, with the obvious exceptions of the Archbishops of Canterbury and York, their secretary, and the Prime Minister’s secretary, all of whose roles are minor and offstage. There may be clergy with the same names as those I have given my characters; if so, I apologize, and stress that I did not have them in mind.

  The title is taken from a passage in the book of Isaiah, used as part of the ordination service in the Church of England: ‘The Lord hath sent me … to proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord, and the day of vengeance of our God.’

  At the time this book was written, there were no female Anglican bishops in England, though there was at least one in both Scotland and Wales. The situation was changing rapidly, however, and by the time you read this there may well be women wearing the mitre in England.

  AUTHOR’S NOTE

  A group of churches led and served by a bishop is called a diocese. The bishop’s home church, called a cathedral, houses the ‘cathedra’, or bishop’s seat. The principal clergyman in a cathedral is the dean, who is also the senior priest in the diocese. A cathedral will also have on its staff a number of priests called canons. A parish church (any church other than a cathedral) is served and led by a priest who may be called a rector or a vicar, and who may have an assistant called a curate.

  The terms High Church and Low Church refer to diverse traditions within the Church of England, High Churchmen preferring practices that are more similar to those used in the Roman Catholic Church, and Low Churchmen being more Protestant and less ritualistic in their customs.

  PRINCIPAL CHARACTERS

  The Very Reverend Andrew Brading, deceased, late Dean of Chelton Cathedral

  Dorothy Martin, ex-pat American living in the cathedral city of Sherebury, in the county of Belleshire, somewhere in the southeast of England

  Alan Nesbitt, her husband, retired Chief Constable of Belleshire

  Kenneth Allenby, Dean of Sherebury Cathedral

  Margaret Allenby, his wife

  Jane Langland, Dorothy’s oldest friend in England and her next-door neighbour

  Lynn and Tom Anderson, Americans living in London, friends of Dorothy and Alan

  Walter Tubbs, Jane’s grandson

  Sue, Walter’s fiancée

  The Reverend Geoffrey Lovelace, Rector of St Barnabas’, London

  Mrs Steele, his secretary

  Akbar and Saida, his parishioners

  Jed, his sexton

  The Reverend William Robinson, Rector of St Matthias’, Birmingham

  Jenny, his wife

  Becca Bradley and Brian Rawles, his parishioners

  The Very Reverend James Smith, Dean of Rotherford Cathedral

  Emily, his wife

  Mr and Mrs Stewart, Mr Cho and Mrs Loften, his parishioners

  Jonathan Quinn, friend of Dorothy and Alan, policeman-turned-private-detective

  Ahmed, friend of Walter Tubbs, employee of British Museum

  Jack Everidge, acquaintance of Walter and Ahmed

  Jeremy Sayers, organist at Sherebury Cathedral

  Christopher Lewis, his partner

  Ruth Stevens, Martha Rudge, Archie Pringle, Caroline White, com
municants at Chelton Cathedral

  ONE

  ‘Oh, no!’

  My cry brought Alan from the kitchen, where he was tidying up after breakfast. Mutely, I handed him the Telegraph.

  The Very Rev. Andrew Stephen Owen Brading, dean of Chelton Cathedral, was found dead late Wednesday night in the cathedral, victim of an apparent assault. His wife, concerned that he had not returned from a meeting in London, asked a neighbour, one of the cathedral staff, to accompany her to the church to look for him when he did not answer his mobile phone. They found a side door open, and when lights were turned on, found the dean lying on the floor of one of the side chapels, dead of an apparent blunt trauma injury to the head. There is a possibility of foul play, and police are investigating.

  Dean Brading was named on Tuesday as one of four men on the shortlist for the episcopate of the diocese of Sherebury (see p. 3).

  The peace of the gorgeous spring day was shattered. Alan sat down abruptly. The phone shrilled; I went to answer it.

  Dean Allenby’s secretary was on the line. ‘You’ve heard the news.’

  ‘Just this minute. Alan’s still reading the paper.’

  ‘Then will you give him a message? The dean has asked that no one speak to the media, not just yet. The diocesan information officer will issue a brief statement, and he would like everyone from the diocese who’s on the Appointments Commission to meet in his office this afternoon. Two o’clock, unless someone simply can’t make it then. I’ll let you know. Thank you, Dorothy.’

  ‘That was Allison,’ I said to Alan. ‘Nobody’s to talk to the press, and you’re to go to a meeting at two this afternoon. Dean’s office. She said the information officer will put out a statement.’

  Alan sighed. ‘Yes, the usual thing, I suppose. Shock and sorrow, no one knows anything, cooperating with the police, et cetera. And speaking of the police, they’ll want to interview every one of us on the commission, sooner or later. I’d better put in a call to Derek.’

  Detective Chief Inspector Derek Morrison had been Alan’s right-hand man when he was in the Sherebury constabulary, and later, as chief constable, Alan had relied greatly on Derek’s talents and good sense. He was a good friend and would, I was sure, help all he could.

  ‘Won’t he call you?’

  ‘I don’t think we’ll be answering the phone, love.’

  Two of them began ringing at that point. Alan turned his mobile off. I waited until the home phone stopped ringing and then took it off the hook, and turned off my own mobile.

  I took a deep breath. ‘We knew this bishop business would be a terrible strain, with all the contention, but this …’

  ‘No. Vicious as church politics can be, one doesn’t expect murder.’

  We had been embroiled for months in the wearisome business of selecting a new bishop to replace Bishop Hardie, who was retiring. First, the dormant Vacancy in See Committee, on which Alan had sat for years, was called into action. After weeks of surveys and consultations, of contention over hot-button issues such as High versus Low Church, gay marriage, women as bishops – whatever concerns had exercised any individual or group – they had come up with a document detailing the needs of the diocese and spelling out what kind of bishop they were looking for. Then several members of the committee, including Alan and Dean Allenby, were elected to serve on the formidably named Crown Appointments Commission, which would actually choose the bishop. That body had met for a day and a half of confidential discussions at Lambeth Palace at the beginning of the week and had come up with a list of four candidates for the job.

  One of them was now out of the running.

  ‘Murders have been committed in the name of religion before now.’ I looked at the headline again. MURDER IN THE CATHEDRAL. ‘“Will no one rid me of this troublesome priest?” Alan, this is frightful!’

  He sighed heavily. ‘It is. You have realized, haven’t you, that every member of the commission, with the probable exception of the two Archbishops and the two secretaries, is a potential suspect in Brading’s murder? Not to mention a rich source of information about the man. We’ve been looking into the candidates’ backgrounds and qualifications for weeks, and everyone and his aunt has been lobbying us. We probably know more about Brading, and who loved and hated him, than anyone else in the kingdom.’

  I rolled my eyes to heaven. ‘I think I need some more coffee.’

  Alan followed me into the kitchen. We sat brooding while the coffeemaker did its thing. When we had sat down at the kitchen table, I said, ‘All right. Remind me again of who’s on the commission. I know their names were published, but I didn’t pay much attention.’

  ‘The dean and I and four others, two lay, two clergy, represent the diocese. There are six representatives from the General Synod, three clergy and three lay persons. One of the latter, incidentally, is our MP.’

  I groaned. Our Member of Parliament, Archibald Newsome, is an extremely conservative Tory whom I have always disliked. As an expat American, I can’t vote, of course, but if I could, it wouldn’t be for him. He is a very wealthy and influential man who has been re-elected for years because so many of his constituents owe him favours. Whenever an election comes up, I always think of Chicago, and Tammany Hall, and reflect that politics all over the world are very much the same. Even in the Church. ‘I suppose he’s been throwing his weight around.’

  ‘What would you expect? As a matter of interest, Dean Brading is – was – a close friend of Newsome’s.’

  ‘Then that takes him off the suspect list.’ I must have sounded disappointed, because Alan uttered what was almost a laugh.

  ‘Not necessarily. I’d like to see him left on, if only because he’s an almighty nuisance. I don’t know any of the rest well. The other four diocesan representatives are from far-flung parishes, and as they never happened to be involved in a crime I investigated, I’d never met them until we all assembled at Lambeth.’

  ‘Well, they’re involved in one now, aren’t they? Is that everybody, then? Six from the diocese, six from the Church at large, and the Archbishops of Canterbury and York?’

  ‘And the Archbishops’ appointments secretary, and the Prime Minister’s appointments secretary.’

  ‘Oh, I always forget about the Prime Minister getting in on the act. That seems so odd to an American.’

  ‘It must do. Dorothy, why are we talking about the bureaucratic details?’

  ‘To keep from thinking about what’s going to happen. At least, that’s my reason. Are you serious about the whole commission being under suspicion?’

  ‘If I were in charge of the case, which I am not, praise God, that’s where I’d direct my attention.’

  ‘Who will be in charge? What’s the drill?’

  ‘The crime happened in Chelton, so it falls to the Gloucestershire chaps. However, a dean is a major national figure, not to mention the fact that this one was a potential bishop. This is high-profile stuff, Dorothy. The Met will get involved, since the commission met in London. Then Church lawyers will be heavily involved, perhaps even the ecclesiastical courts, though that’s highly uncertain.’

  ‘In short, it’s going to be a huge mess. With you right in the middle.’

  That produced a slight smile. ‘Slightly off to one side – at least at the moment. I wish I were out of it altogether. Give me your phone for a moment, will you? It’s slightly less likely to ring before I can get in a call to Derek.’

  It didn’t ring, but the doorbell did. Already in siege mode, I peeked nervously around the curtain before opening the door to the dean and his wife, Margaret. ‘Come in quick before some journalist spots you,’ I said.

  ‘I’m afraid we did rather slink on our way here,’ said Margaret. ‘Dorothy, this is a dreadful thing!’

  ‘It certainly is, for all concerned,’ I agreed. ‘But come into the kitchen and let me get you some coffee.’ The English often think tea is the cure for all ills. I enjoy tea, but in a real crisis I feel the strength of coffee is requi
red.

  ‘We may not have much time before the authorities arrive,’ said Alan when he had finished his quick call to Derek, and we had sat down with steaming cups of comfort. ‘We need to compare notes and work out how much we can tell them, given our vows of secrecy.’

  ‘So soon?’ asked the dean. ‘I’d have thought they’d have other people to talk to first.’

  ‘They’ll want to interview everyone who might be concerned, as soon as possible.’

  ‘But why?’ asked Margaret.

  ‘So that we won’t have time to compare notes and work out what we’re going to say,’ I said. ‘Has neither of you ever read a detective novel nor watched a cop show?’

  ‘Of course we have,’ said Margaret, ‘but it’s always the suspects who want to get their story straight before the police get there.’

  ‘Precisely,’ said Alan, and paused to let that sink in.

  The dean was the first to speak. ‘Oh, dear. I hadn’t quite realized … that is, I was thinking of the vast damage this could do to the Church at large, and never thought about the danger to us – you and me, Alan. But, of course, they’ll have to question us, won’t they? There’s been enough publicity about the controversies that they might think …’

  ‘They certainly might. So, Dean, they’ll ask where you were and what you did between the end of the meeting on Tuesday and last evening.’

  ‘I … Really, I haven’t the slightest idea. That is, I came home after the meeting. The train was very slow, owing to the construction delays. I missed Evensong, I know. Then … Margaret, did we do anything in the evening?’

  ‘We’d planned to have dinner with Peggy and Howard and the children, but you were too tired and upset. I scrambled some eggs and sent you to bed with a hot toddy.’

  ‘Ah, yes, so you did. I felt badly about it. We don’t see our grandchildren often enough. But I was too tired to be good company. What did you do, Alan? I looked for you on the train, but didn’t see you. We’d got separated at Lambeth.’

  ‘I had driven in. The last time Dorothy and I went to London the delays were infuriating, so I decided to drive, expensive as that is. Then, after the meeting – well, you know how contentious it was. I was feeling fury and exhaustion in equal parts, and decided I was far too tired to drive home. In any case, the traffic was horrendous. So I phoned Dorothy and told her I was having dinner in town. I didn’t get home until quite late. Dorothy was asleep when I came up to bed.’