Cut to the Chase (37 page)

‘For Christ's sake, don't hang around waiting for me like a dog, they're looking for two men in company.'

‘Oh get stuffed!' Wallace retorted angrily, his anger was more directed at himself than at McKay because he knew he was right.

They walked briskly down the next street, McKay overtook and was walking a few yards ahead but found that another police car was parked at the other end.

‘Through here,' snapped McKay and led the way into a churchyard. They walked up the pathway up to the church and entered it. Wallace risked a backward glance, the police car was still there; he could just see its roof over the top of the churchyard wall.

‘What now?'

‘We could always pray,' was McKay's cynical comment.

‘How does the Almighty view murderers and burglars?'

‘He looks kindly on all, so I've been told,' McKay grinned broadly. ‘But I don't know how he'd view Kalim and Rivera.'

They made their exit through a side door at the end side of the church. Another police car was outside.

‘Bugger it!' McKay muttered and uttered a few more choice expletives as they sidled along the side of the building. Wallace looked uneasily over his shoulder at the imposing building behind; he had had enough indoctrination as a child to fear that if anyone up there heard McKay's profanity on hallowed ground a thunder-bolt may strike them down. There was another door further down the building away from the police car, they scuttled down the path between some gravestones and tried the door. It opened.

They found themselves in a passageway with several doors opening from it. McKay peered cautiously into one of them and beckoned. They entered the room, there was a very large desk, a high backed chair that was well upholstered, and there was light oak decoration all around the walls which had several cupboards. McKay opened a wardrobe and found there was a surplice hanging in there.

‘Somebody's coming,' Wallace hissed. They looked desperately around for escape. There was another door on the other side of the room. They tried it and it opened, McKay passed through it and Wallace followed him. Some steps led upwards, they climbed them after Wallace had stealthily closed the door. He caught a glimpse of a tubby man in a dog collar entering the room as he eased the door shut.

On the next level there were three more rooms, they tried the first one and found themselves in a storeroom, it was full of candlesticks, bibles, hymn books and choirboys' gowns. In the corner was a broken pew, with a hammer and chisel lying beside it together with a lathe and some uncut wood. There was also an old arm chair with the stuffing coming out of it. McKay sat down on it with a sigh.

‘We can't stay here,' Wallace said irritably.

‘Why not, can you think of a better place?'

A better place did occur to Wallace, he thought of Liz's house, preferably with her in it. As he ran the thought around in his mind he felt his groin twitch, and hastily diverted his thoughts elsewhere. He sat down sulkily on a cushion and as he did so realised how tired he was with the incessant walking, running, worry and fearful tension.

Wallace awoke with a start, there was a shaft of reddish sunlight and his bladder was full. McKay was still sleeping in the armchair, from his tousled appearance he had also been sleeping.

‘There's a toilet further down the passage,' he said. Wallace acknowledged and headed for it, peering nervously from side to side before creeping furtively down the passageway. As he returned to the box-room he realised he was ravenous, and mentioned it to McKay.

‘That makes two of us, we'll have to scavenge…listen!'

Wallace cocked his ears and listened, he could hear the sound of singing coming from below.

‘That must be coming from the main church.'

‘Probably the morning service,' commented McKay.

‘They're a bit early aren't they?' Wallace said. ‘What time is it?'

‘About half past eight,' grinned McKay. ‘It may be early for you, but not for them.'

‘But the choirboys' gowns are still here.'

‘These are either throw outs, or here for repair,' grunted McKay. ‘Look at the rents and holes in them.'

‘I saw worse holes than these in the choirboys' gear at my wedding.'

McKay grinned broadly.

‘Ah yes, but that was an Australian wedding, you probably saw the choir boys after the fight.' They both chortled gleefully.

‘Come on, let's have a recce,' said McKay. They crept out of the door; the doors to the other rooms on the upper level were locked. They headed down the stairs and after a cautious peep through the doorway, after opening it by a mere crack, re-entered the office. They peered into all the cupboards but didn't find any food. McKay rifled the desk drawers and gave a growl of triumph. There was a packet of custard cream biscuits, with only two gone from it, and some butterscotch sweets. They wolfed down the biscuits, there was an odd number and they solemnly divided the odd one down the middle. There was a carafe of water on the buffet; they washed them down with that then they had a butterscotch sweet apiece. McKay scooped up the remainder and placed them in his pocket.

‘There's some keys here,' Wallace produced them from a drawer in the desk. McKay examined them with some interest.

‘They could be for the rooms upstairs.'

‘Let's have a try.'

They did, and they were. They seemed to have gained access to two more storerooms, though in these rooms the stock and the gowns were in better condition. Maybe they were kept locked to stop the choir boys gaining access to them before the fight. McKay found a cupboard full of black surplices and he tried one on.

‘How do I look?'

‘Ridiculous,' Wallace snapped. ‘Look, we've got to get out of here, not start dressing up in drag.'

McKay handed what looked like a monks' cowl to Wallace.

‘Put that on,' he said. ‘No, I'm not fooling about, I mean it.'

He gave Wallace a hand to put it on which he did suspiciously, still not sure if he was playing the fool. Wallace surveyed himself in the mirror by the door.

‘Looks good,' McKay commented. ‘Have you ever considered the cloth as a living?'

‘No!' Wallace replied coldly, he thought he looked like a damned fool in a dressing gown.

‘Well, consider it now,' said McKay. ‘These could be our passports out of here.'

‘These look like monks cowls,' Wallace protested. ‘We can't walk down the streets in these.'

‘Why not?' McKay said. ‘Churchmen do, and if they're kept here somebody does, besides, it is a Sunday.'

Wallace considered it for a moment then gave a grudging nod. He had to admit that as a plan it did have possibilities, would the police give a second glance at two churchmen strolling down the street on a Sunday? Would Rivera, Kalim and their men give a second glance? Well, possibly, but if McKay and Wallace walked out dressed normally they definitely would. The gown also felt very warm, it was the first time Wallace had felt really warm for a couple of days.

‘Hey, look at this! What have we here?' McKay held up a bottle, Wallace must have given a double take.

‘It's port!'

‘Only for the faithful, of course,' McKay said cynically. ‘But what the hell is it doing up here?'

‘Only the vicar can answer that,' Wallace said. ‘I reckon we've found a secret tippler.'

‘Well, it's our duty to save him from himself, agreed?' McKay opened the bottle and took a swig. ‘Have you been confirmed?'

‘As a drinker, yes I have.'

‘Then what the hell are we waiting for? Here, it's your turn.'

Later in the day they descended the stairs once more, Wallace peered through a crack in the door and saw the tubby churchman sitting at his desk. Wallace moved his eyes round to the other side of the desk and received a nasty shock, there were two obvious plainclothes policemen sitting on the opposite side of the desk, they had their backs to the door. Wallace withdrew and thumbed excitedly at the aperture. McKay knelt down and tried another crack in the woodwork of the door at knee height. Wallace returned to his own crack and pressed his ear to it.

‘…seen anyone out of the ordinary? They were last seen in the vicinity of the church, you say?'

‘In the neighbourhood, we are searching around the churchyard area right now, but they were last seen about twelve hours ago now.'

‘Who are they?'

‘We suspect one of them is a man we are seeking for questioning about a murder in London. We have no idea who the other one is at present.'

‘Well, I'm sorry gentlemen, we've certainly seen nobody around here.'

‘All right, thank you, sir. If you do see anyone, you have my number. We'll see ourselves out.'

Wallace heard the creaking of chairs and hastily applied his eye to the crack. But they were heading for the other door; the churchman saw them out and returned to his desk. He sat down and opened one of the drawers. Wallace felt a thrill of fear as he rummaged around and then looked puzzled. He hunted around and looked to be deep in thought; then he rummaged further back and produced another unopened packet of biscuits. He munched one thoughtfully and then replaced the packet in the drawer.

McKay and Wallace crept back up the stairs, Wallace relieved him self once more and felt much better.

‘
That
was bloody lucky,' McKay said feelingly. ‘If he'd found all his biscuits missing that could have started alarm bells ringing.'

‘Or church bells.' Wallace said and shook his head. ‘Just as well we never found that second packet.'

‘Well we'd better put that bottle back where we found it, he'll be looking for that next.'

Wallace nodded, reached for it, had a swig and passed it to McKay. He drank sparingly and then went back to the second storeroom and put the bottle back where he'd found it.

‘What about the keys?'

‘We're stuck with them for the present. We'll drop them back in his drawer on the way out.'

They crept down about an hour later and the room was empty. They replaced the keys where they had found them, had a last rummage through the drawer. They helped themselves to another biscuit apiece and then inched the office door open. The passageway was clear and in darkness. McKay led the way and they emerged into the churchyard once more. They made their way furtively around the church and in the gathering dusk ran straight into a police constable. McKay was leading and gave a squawk of shock and for once was completely at a loss. He seemed completely paralysed while the constable grasped his arm and hung on.

Wallace walked in front of the constable and flashed his teeth in a broad grin, there was a light just over the churchyard wall and he was able to see the constable's face. He hoped the constable could see his and his broad smile. Both McKay and Wallace had the hoods over their heads.

‘Good evening, constable,' Wallace said in what he hoped were reverend like tones and wrung his hands together, as he had seen his local vicar do in his young days when the vicar had called upon his mother. ‘Isn't it a beautiful evening?'

The constable released McKay, looked bashful and saluted.

‘Sorry sir,' he said apologetically. ‘We're looking for two men and when you came out of the dark like that…!'

‘Ah yes,' Wallace nodded. ‘The Dean told us about that, you haven't caught them yet, I gather?'

‘No sir,' said the policeman. ‘We don't know if we shall now, not around here anyway. They could be miles away by now.'

‘Very likely,' Wallace agreed and hoped he wasn't conversant with the rank of the local churchmen. If the man in the office was a bishop, rector or vicar they could be in trouble.

‘Well be careful sir, and you sir,' the constable again saluted Wallace and then saluted McKay, who bowed his head and made some supplicatory gesture. Wallace felt McKay could be overdoing it. ‘Keep away from any dark alleyways.'

‘Indeed we shall, come on Brother William,' Wallace said and rubbed his hands together again. He rested his hand upon Brother William's shoulder who muttered something to himself, and they walked slowly away from the policeman down the path. When they were out of earshot Wallace was about to make some sarcastic remark to McKay about him jumping like a startled gazelle, but McKay forestalled him.

‘Well done!' he said. ‘I was just speechless when he appeared like that out of the blue.' Wallace bit back the comment that he was about to launch.

They made their way into the street and commenced walking along the pavement. It was not long before Wallace began to realise there were deficiencies to the disguise, those who passed them on the way looked at them curiously. What was a convincing mode of dress within the confines of church property was not so commonplace in the main streets of the town. Presumably churchmen, like zoo keepers or hotel door-keepers, divested themselves of their regalia as soon as they left their places of work, and monks pacing the streets of Kidderminster were not a common sight. Walking down the footpath towards and in the town centre dressed like a couple of monks could rebound.

The same thought must have hit McKay after some small boys on bicycles began catcalling as they sped past, and they then had some comments made after them when they walked past a pub. As they passed it Wallace had been tempted to enter it, they were both ravenous despite the inroads into the churchman's custard creams, hardly a substantive diet and Wallace was thinking longingly of a sandwich and a beer. But the thought of two devout churchmen in monks' cowls bellying up to the bar in spit and sawdust surroundings and knocking back pints was, he felt, likely to draw some unwelcome attention.

‘We'll have to get rid of these things,' announced McKay as they looked over their shoulders and saw four teenage cyclists following. ‘They'll be pelting us with eggs in a minute.'