Death at the Cafe (13 page)

Authors: Alison Golden

BOOK: Death at the Cafe

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The comment instigated another, larger fit of laughter from the Bishop.

“Stop! Stop it! Haha!” he wailed, struggling to calm his loud uproar into controllable giggles. “Annabelle! Ten million is less than I spend on travel in a year! I had two women killed in cold blood for these things! I pulled in favors with a respected detective. I got myself involved with suspected criminals! I risked my own neck! You think all that is worth a measly ten million? Ha! Why, I’m almost insulted!”

“Twenty million?” Annabelle blurted.

“Ha!” the Bishop cried. “I’ll give you fifteen million and a piece of advice – get somebody better to do your negotiating in future.”

“Fifty! Fifty million!” yelled Annabelle, as the door burst open with a loud crash.

Bishop Murphy leaped out of his chair and onto the balls of his feet with the agility of a cat as DI Cutcliffe and PC Montgomery ran into the study. They each took a side of the room and cornered him behind his desk, where PC Montgomery grabbed his hands and placed him in cuffs.

“What’s going on here?!” Bishop Murphy cried.

“You’re being arrested under charges of murder and theft, Bishop,” Cutcliffe said, grimly.

“You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you fail to mention when questioned anything which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence,” added PC Montgomery, almost gleefully.

“Surely not one hundred million?” Annabelle said, still caught up in her bidding war.

“Cutcliffe!” the Bishop shouted. “You’re not going to let this happen, are you?”

“Unlike you, Bishop, I’m compelled to act when I hear a confession.”

Bishop Murphy turned his head toward Annabelle, his eyes snake-like with their ferocity.

“You! You tricked me!”

“Come on, Bishop, we’ve got a lot to talk about down at the station.”

PC Montgomery dragged Bishop Murphy away as he snarled and squirmed under his grip, leaving DI Cutcliffe and Annabelle alone in his study.

The Inspector sighed before patting Annabelle respectfully on the shoulder.

“You did a fantastic job, Reverend. The Bishop is a hell of a slippery customer. Too slippery for his own good, some would say.”

“Thank you, Inspector,” Annabelle said, dizzy from excitement and adrenaline. “I’m just glad it’s all done.”

“I’ll put a call through to release Mary from custody. Do you want to come back to the station to meet her?”

“That would be good, Inspector. I need to pick my things up as well.”

“Of course,” the Inspector said, beginning to leave.

“One more thing, Inspector,” Annabelle said, causing him to turn and raise his eyebrow. “You didn’t throw away the rest of Teresa’s cake, did you?

EPILOGUE

“’FURTHER THEFTS REVEALED in ongoing Bishop Murphy case’
. Ooh! Look at this, Cecilia, there’s an entire two-page spread of all the things that man has stolen over the years.”

Annabelle spread the paper over the kitchen table as Cecilia turned away from the steaming Beef Wellington she was carefully slicing.

“Oh my! There’s more gold there than in the Tower of London!” she said, as she saw the wide variety of shiny trinkets and ancient artifacts. “Whatever did he want with so much jewellery? To wear it?”

Annabelle giggled gently before continuing to read. “‘The Bishop’s closest accomplice is still unnamed and refuses to talk. It is believed, however, that he has been involved in at least four other thefts on the orders of the Bishop.’ Isn’t that astonishing?”

Before Cecilia could answer, the heavy clomping of Father John’s boots sounded in the church hall way. He entered the kitchen, inhaled deeply, and smiled at Cecilia. “The church’s best kept secret strikes again! This smells delicious, Cecilia.”

Mary entered close behind Father John and uttered her agreement. “It smells utterly splendid! Hello, Cecilia, Annabelle.”

“Mary! I was just reading the day’s report on the case, have you seen this?” Annabelle said, holding up the paper as Mary and Father John took their seats.

“Oh Annabelle, I’ve had just about all I can handle regarding the entire affair,” Mary replied.

Father John shot her a quick look of confusion. “Have you not heard the news, Mary?”

Mary’s nonplussed gaze told the Father she hadn’t.

“Hand me that paper, would you, Annabelle. Now, let me see,” he said, noisily turning pages. “Ah! Here it is.
‘Albert Trujillo, who lives in São Paulo, Brazil with his family, was astonished to discover that following the death of Teresa Nortega’s niece, his sister Lauren Trujillo, he was the next in line to inherit her incredible collection of jewels, including the Cats-Eye Emeralds. In a statement given to journalists two days ago, Albert Trujillo announced that he believed that it had been his aunt’s intention that the emeralds be sold. He further stated he would be heeding the calls to follow her wishes and put the jewels up for auction at Sotheby’s in London. The funds will be donated in their entirety to the Saint Baptiste hospital of West Africa, where one of the nuns involved in Bishop Murphy’s capture and arrest currently works.’
”

Mary gasped, her hand shooting to her mouth.

“Why, that’s wonderful!” Annabelle said delightedly.

“You’ll be a hero when you go back to Africa,” Cecilia added, as she brought the plates of sliced meat and vegetables to the table.

“I don’t… That’s incredible… Is it really true?” Mary stuttered.

“Says so right here,” Father John added, handing the newspaper back into Annabelle’s eager hands. “Come on, plenty of time for talk, let’s eat now.”

Cecilia sat and, with everyone silent, Father John blessed the food. A rapturous chorus of cutlery and happy hums began as the delicious first bites were taken.

“Expected to go for one hundred and fifty-seven million pounds!” Annabelle shouted, suddenly. The others looked up. “I was going to sell them for ten!”

Mary, Father John, and Cecilia exchanged confused glances, before turning their attention back to Annabelle.

“Oh, never mind,” she said, tossing the paper aside and tucking in to the juicy meat and gravy.

They ate heartily, satisfying not just their appetite for wonderful food, but also for pleasant company and comfortable chatter. The warmth and fragrance of the meat course was followed by the sweet, fruity aroma of Cecilia’s juicy jam turnovers. Not a single person at the table wasn’t enraptured.

Even Mary, who found herself in a state of shock at the wonderful news of finally receiving more than she could ever have hoped for regarding the funding, allowed her attention to be taken by Father John’s intelligent humor and Cecilia’s down-to-earth warmth and companionship.

Once their hunger had disappeared and the atmosphere had settled into satisfied afterglow, Annabelle took a long sip of water and addressed Father John.

“Father, I have something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

“Oh? Well, of course. What is it?”

“Well,” Annabelle began, taking time to think about her words, “this is a truly wonderful church. And you are undoubtedly the best person I could have had to help me during my first assignment as vicar. I’ve loved every moment of our work here, and despite all the fuss and difficulties, I would not exchange these experiences for anything.”

Father John sighed deeply. He was old enough and wise enough to know what was coming.

“But I find myself yearning for the green fields and the seasonal changes of life in the country,” Annabelle continued. “When I thought about what it would be like to practice, I always envisaged serving a small, rural community. Though I grew up here, in East London, I feel somewhat misplaced now, as a Reverend.”

“Annabelle,” Father John said, “I thought you would be misplaced here too, honestly. When I first saw you, I thought the work would eat you alive! Having worked with you as much as I have, I can say without a doubt, however, that I can think of nobody finer, nobody more accomplished, with whom I’d rather work. You’ve performed miracles in your parish. You’ve reached people many of your predecessors had given up on. You’ve grown the congregation at a time when every other church in London is struggling just to maintain their numbers. Why, I believe I’ve learned from you more than I’ve helped you.”

“Thank you Father, I appreciate the kind words,” Annabelle smiled. “I’m sorry to be saying this, as I will dearly miss you and Cecilia and indeed the community. But –”

“Say no more,” Father John interjected, raising his hand. “I understand, Annabelle. Let me talk with the Archbishop, and I’ll see what I can do. I can’t guarantee anything, and almost certainly not soon, but I’ll do my best.”

Annabelle felt touched by Father John’s kindness and smiled with gratitude.

“Annabelle, are you really thinking about leaving?” Cecilia said, the sorrow of the idea clear in her eyes.

Annabelle shrugged apologetically.

Father John raised his glass of red wine, prompting the others to do the same.

“Let’s not think of this as cause to be sad, but rather, cause to be glad that we had Annabelle for as long as we did,” he said. “Let’s take this chance to be grateful for this breath of fresh air in the smog of London and wish Annabelle a pleasant journey through her inevitable adventures, wherever she goes!”

The others needed no cue to affirm the sentiment. “Cheers!” they shouted in unison, over the clinking of their glasses.

REVERENTIAL RECIPES