NO AGE TO DIE: The release of a dangerous prisoner leads to murder (DCI John Blizzard Book 9)

Chief Inspector, because the hostel was Councillor Gill’s idea. We were only too willing to help him turn these lives around through the power of the Lord.’
‘Yes, well, I think Councillor Gill would be very interested to hear what has been happening here, don’t you? Where’s the vicar?’
Rose-Harvey sighed.
‘I am afraid that Henry has gone…’ he said.
‘Gone?’
‘Gone,’ said Rose-Harvey. He sighed and took the letter out of his pocket. ‘And he appears to have taken the church’s money with him!’

Chapter sixteen
Edgar Rose-Harvey sat in the office at the church with the letter from the bank lying on the desk in front of him. His irritation was growing as he watched the young woman checking through files on the desktop computer, something she had been doing for several hours.
‘How much longer are you going to be?’ he asked. ‘I can’t keep hanging around. I’m a busy man.’
‘So is Mr Blizzard,’ said Detective Constable Angie Gaylard from the Economic Crime Unit. She did not look up from her study of the church’s financial records; it was the third time that they had had the conversation. ‘He said that he’d be here by three thirty. He must have been delayed.’
Rose-Harvey glanced at the wall clock. Twenty to four. He stood up to leave.
‘I wouldn’t do that,’ said Gaylard. Finally, she looked up from her work. ‘My orders are to arrest you if you try to go.’
‘On what grounds, may I ask?’
‘Obstructing our inquiries.’
‘This is outrageous!’ exclaimed Rose-Harvey.
‘What’s outrageous?’ asked Blizzard as he entered the office. He gave Rose-Harvey a look. ‘Well?’
Rose-Harvey sighed and sat down again.
‘Nothing,’ he said.
‘Good boy.’ Blizzard also sat down and allowed himself a slight smile; no doubt who was in control now. He looked at Gaylard. ‘How much is missing?’
‘I reckon it’s at least twenty-eight thousand, sir. But that could be the tip of the iceberg. I’ll need to do an awful lot more work to be able to say for definite. It’s not an easy digital trail to follow.’
‘It’s complicated then?’ said Blizzard; he was never a man who had taken easily to mathematics or computers.
‘Very,’ said Gaylard. ‘The vicar seems to have operated a system of bogus ledgers and fake invoices for the best part of a year and he set up a string of accounts. For all I know, he’s got another twenty-eight thousand squirrelled away. Possibly more.’
Rose-Harvey shook his head in disbelief. Blizzard noticed the gesture.
‘Wasn’t someone checking up on him?’ he asked.
‘Of course,’ said Rose-Harvey. ‘Jacob was but as far as I knew, everything was above board. And Henry is a vicar. We trusted him. Clearly, he is more intelligent than I give him credit for.’
‘From what I have seen, you don’t give him credit for anything,’ said Blizzard.
‘It was an awkward relationship at times, I’ll admit that. I don’t suppose there’s any way we can hush this up, is there? Something like this would be very bad for the reputation of the church.’
‘I wouldn’t have thought so.’
Rose-Harvey scowled.
‘I knew we should have sacked him,’ he said.
‘And why would you do that?’ asked Blizzard.
‘Henry never bought into what we are trying to do.’
‘Au contraire,’ said Blizzard. ‘It seems that he bought into the tune of at least twenty-eight thousand pounds.’
Rose-Harvey gave him a dark look but said nothing. Blizzard glanced at Gaylard.
‘How much longer will you need here?’ he asked.
‘I’ve just about finished, sir. I can do the rest back in the office. I’ll need to take some stuff with me but most of it’s in the cloud.’
‘Wherever that is,’ said Blizzard.
‘Last time I checked it was in a storage unit in Norfolk,’ said Gaylard.
Blizzard and Gaylard left the church a few minutes later, the latter clutching a large box of files and the inspector carrying the desktop computer. As they did so, David Colley was on one of the nearby side streets where he spotted a bespectacled young man in a dark suit who was also carrying a cardboard box. The description was familiar to the sergeant and he approached him.
‘Phil Calvert?’ he asked.
‘Who wants to know?’
‘I am Detective Sergeant Colley from Western CID.’ The sergeant produced his warrant card.
‘What do you want?’
‘I am investigating recent events at St John’s. Several people told me that you might be able to help. That you are a friend of Edgar Rose-Harvey.’
‘I’d hardly say friend.’
‘Nevertheless.’
‘Look, I don’t really want to–’
‘I’d hate to have to make it official,’ said Colley. ‘Bring you in for questioning.’
‘On what grounds?’
‘Oh, I’d think of something. Maybe ask a few questions about your company, for starters.’
Calvert searched the stern expression on the sergeant’s face for signs of bluff. He found nothing and shot an uneasy look in the direction of the church.
‘Alright, but I don’t want to be seen talking to you in the street,’ he said. He lifted the box up. ‘Let me deliver these leaflets to the church then we can go to my office. I’ll be out in a couple of minutes.’
‘Don’t run away,’ said Colley.
‘I won’t.’
Calvert was as good as his word and, a few minutes later, they were sitting in the office from which he ran his property letting agency, which was situated halfway along a shabby row of converted terraced houses not far from St John’s. Calvert loosened his tie and threw his suit jacket over the back of his chair.
‘This is better,’ he said. He opened the filing cabinet and produced a bottle of whisky and a couple of glasses. ‘Snifter?’
‘Better not,’ said Colley. ‘Duty and all that.’
‘You don’t mind if I do?’
‘Be my guest.’
Calvert poured himself a large drink and sat down behind his desk.
‘What were the leaflets about?’ asked Colley.
‘The church lets