The Three Locks by Bonnie MacBird (learn to read books txt) 📕

‘Church histories are a special hobby of mine,’ offered Holmes. ‘They reflect so much about the changing populations and customs of our towns. And this one is particularly colourful.’

His thoroughness never failed to impress me.

‘Yes, there was a flood,’ said Father Lamb. ‘But we have taken precautions. There is a drainage system in the crypt, somewhat complex. The workmen are attending to that.’

Holmes turned to me with a smile. ‘Watson, the Cam regularly runs over her banks during a heavy rainfall. You have noticed the broad fields which line the river, where cattle and sheep graze? They are floodplains, and that is where the water spreads harmlessly. Most buildings are set back from the river for this reason. But not this church.’

I wondered at this seemingly irrelevant disclosure.

‘Yes, flooding has been a problem,’ the priest replied.

‘Hmm,’ said Holmes. ‘Some records survived, then?’

‘The floods are a matter of town history.’

‘You should be secure then, I suppose, though not from human disaster. I believe I read that this church has been touched by scandal. Just after the flood, was it?’

Lamb smiled thinly. ‘You are well informed, Mr Holmes. But I still wonder why you are here.’

‘Something about the previous priest,’ Holmes continued. ‘What was his name, Watson?’

I said nothing but Holmes turned to me as though I had. ‘It’s true – a terrible scandal! It reached all the way to London, Father Lamb, did you know?’

The priest’s face slowly coloured, and he stiffened. ‘Yes, of course I am aware. That, however, had nothing to do with us.’

‘Dr Watson and I were just discussing this on the way here. What a scandal indeed! No one would have expected Father – what was his name? – well, he was quite the roué, I understand. Before the – before the terrible event.’

We had discussed no such thing. However, I nodded my head and made a mental note to ask him to catch me up a bit more in advance of these meetings.

Holmes regarded Father Lamb, who sat unmoving, his face now a mask of guarded but extreme displeasure. I became aware of a dripping sound. It seemed to come from underneath us.

Lamb cleared his throat and forced a smile back upon his face.

‘We are trying to put that all behind us, sir. Father Menenius was ill; he contracted brain fever, during the flood you mentioned … and it affected his thinking. He had many, many years of devoted service to the Church with no hint of misbehaviour. But then suddenly—’

‘A sad tale. The girl was found drowned in the crypt, Watson! After she had been horribly – well, never mind. Has there been more flooding since?’

‘No. Mr Holmes, we are taking contributions to the reparations fund, if you would consider a small donation?’ The man’s face, previously so benign had now shut as tight as a pub at breakfast time.

‘Certainly! Watson? Have you any cash on hand?’

I dug into my pockets, although resentfully. I had a couple of five-pound notes, as I usually set out with Holmes well prepared for possible needs. Holmes snatched the one I retrieved and gave it to Father Lamb.

‘No use dwelling on the negative, then, Father,’ Holmes said cheerfully.

‘We begin anew. It is up to me – and to Deacon Buttons – to rebuild trust, to re-establish our glorious church in this small corner of the world.’

‘And Rome? They support you?’

‘We are at present … on our own. But not for long, I expect. We will be brought back into the fold, I am sure.’

‘Your young deacon is charming,’ said Holmes. ‘But with apologies, Father, I need to confirm that it was not Deacon Buttons who placed Odelia Wyndham’s doll in the Jesus Lock, thus terrifying her family, alarming her friends, and causing me to come all this way to investigate her disappearance.’ He paused. ‘Which is what he wanted me to do a day or so ago.’

‘For Mr Holmes to come, that is,’ I said, feeling the need to clarify.

Father Lamb stood firm. ‘Has the young lady been harmed in any way?’

‘No. But that is not to say she is out of danger.’

The priest stared at Holmes. ‘But why is your attention turned to young Buttons? I cannot imagine he would be so devious. He is simply looking after a troubled young person.’

‘He is barely older than she, Father,’ said Holmes.

‘You begin to disturb me with your questions, sir.’

From inside the nave, I could see a workman conferring with others and gesticulating urgently to Lamb. But the priest’s back was to them and they evidently did not want to interrupt.

‘You say there has been no murder, no abduction. What are you inferring? A relationship of any type at all outside of confessor and advisor would – well, I would not believe it of him. Deacon Buttons is a paragon of virtue.’

‘So that my time in Cambridge is not wasted, may I please inspect Deacon Buttons’ rooms? I would like to content myself with what I know we all believe to be true – that this exemplary young man had nothing to do with the doll found in the lock.’

Pastor Lamb smiled thinly and acceded. ‘If it will put an end to this, then certainly,’ he said.

CHAPTER 18

Buttons Unbuttoned

We were led to the rectory, an adjoining small building, more recent in construction, which held a meeting room and the private sleeping quarters of both churchmen. Buttons’ small room was spartan in the extreme, with few places to hide anything. Lamb left us there on our own.

Holmes’s initial examination was rapidly done. A narrow single bed, a desk and a plain armoire crowded into a small space gave the room the look of a gaol cell. A window draped by a single panel of stained linen opened out to an unused part of the garden, and beyond that, the river. The barren, tight quarters were not dissimilar to Holmes’s own ascetic bedroom in Baker Street, minus the smoking paraphernalia, the maps and the portraits of