The Reaper

George shot him a rebellious look. 'I don't think so.'

Somerville sighed and glanced up at the clock. 'Listen. What have we got on this jerk? He calls himself Otis Joy, and it may not be his real name. So what? People are allowed to change their names.'

'But the real Otis Joy died in a car accident in Canada and the rector claims he was at the same college, Milton Davidson Memorial. It's here.' George picked up the copy of the Wiltshire Times report.

'So he borrowed the name to buff up his image. He's a cool clergyman.'

'The point is, they don't recognise his picture at Milton Davidson.'

'So?'

'I don't think he studied there. He's a fraud. He took over the identity of a theological student who died and used his papers to get into a British college.'

'To become a vicar?'

'Yes.'

'Why?'

'Who can say?' said George. 'Something in his past? They wouldn't take someone with a prison record, would they?'

'You're guessing now, George.'

'If he really wanted to enter the church, and if he had a … what's the word?'

'Vocation?'

'Right. It's not like other jobs. It's a call from God, or that's what they believe. Nothing is going to stand in his way.'

'You can't have it both ways. If he's that committed to religion, he's not going to murder people.'

'I thought the same as you until I found out these things,' said George. 'I've had time to think about him. I reckon I know what makes him tick, and it isn't faith in God. It's the attraction of being a priest. He gets his, kick from stanqing up in the pulpit telling us hdw to live our lives. Doesn't mattfer if he doesn't practise what he preaches. It's power. Respect. It's the best job in the world to him, and he's going to keep it. He got it by trickery and he's going to hang on to it, come what may.'

Somerville was still unmoved. 'It's not the profile of your average serial killer.'

'He's not average in any way.'

'I don't buy it, George.'

'Are you saying we just ignore all these deaths?'

'They're unrelated.'

George was stung by this sweeping dismissal of everything he'd said. Personally he bore no malice against Joy; in fact, he got on well with the man. With a sense of duty he'd put friendship aside and tipped off CID, and now he was being treated like a time-waster. 'When they mount up like this, they ought to be taken seriously,' he said. 'I know I haven't got a lot of evidence, but the man hasn't been investigated. We could easily turn something up.'

'Where's the link?' demanded Somerville.

'It's him. He's the link.'

'What's the MO, then? You've got a sexton who disappeared into thin air, a Frenchwoman stung by a bee, a bishop who jumps, or was pushed, into a quarry, a church treasurer who swallows amylobarbitone and a jazz freak with a heart attack. Serial killers don't keep changing their MO.'

'Maybe this one is the exception. He's clever.'

'He'd need to be.'

'When every murder is different, you don't connect them.'

'You're telling me. And even if you could link Otis Joy to each of them-'

'Which I can,' put in George.

'Even if these were unlawful killings with his fingerprints all over them, you've still got to work out why. What's his motive?'

'I couldn't tell you that.' admitted George, and added sarcastically. 'I'm not in CID.'

Somerville's eyes narrowed.

George added rapidly, 'But if I was, I'd also be interested in Cynthia Haydenhall's death.' It was his last card and not a trump, but worth playing. 'She's the woman I identified last night. Missing since a week before Christmas. Went off without telling anyone and didn't turn up for the carol-singing round the village, which she'd told people she'd do. This was Joy's day off. He missed the carol-singing, too. Got back to the village late.'

'And her body turns up in the sea?'

'Washed up at Milford early yesterday.'

'Signs of violence?'

'Nothing obvious.'

'Who was she? A church-goer?'

'Very much so. A regular. Organised the harvest supper. Divorced, with money. Nice cottage. Bit of a busybody, but not unpopular.'

'Suicidal?'

'Not the type.'

For the first time, Somerville seemed to be wavering. He picked up the little bottle of tablets and stood it where it had been on the desk. 'It's another sudden death, I grant you. We'll get nowhere with this woman if no marks are showing.'

George remained silent, willing to let the process happen in its own time.

Somerville rubbed the side of his face as if checking whether he'd shaved. 'Joy got back late on the day the woman disappeared, you say?'

'Between ten and eleven. It's his day off from his church duties.'

'That's all you've got on him? I don't buy it.'

'Her car was abandoned in Bournemouth. We can check it for prints.'

'His prints? If he's as smart as you say, he won't have left any.'

Even George's patience was over-stretched. 'Basically, sir, are you saying don't bother?'

'I'm saying if we want to make a case against Joy, we pick a stronger one than this. Is she the only body we have?'

'Most of them disappeared, or were disposed of.'

'Cremated?'

'There's the jazz man, Gary Jansen. He was buried.'

'The heart case?'

'Supposedly heart. It was diagnosed by a GP who should have retired five years ago.'

'What was the link with Joy?'

'Gary Jansen was the husband of the new treasurer, the one who replaced Stanley Burrows-after he died suddenly. Gary visited the rectory on the afternoon of his death. It's possible Joy slipped him something that induced the heart attack.'

'Why?'

George held out his hands in appeal. 'I can't answer that. Jansen may have found something out. I told you there are suspicions that Joy fiddles the books.'

'It's a big jump from embezzlement to murder.'

'His living was at stake. He wouldn't survive in the church if he was caught.'

'I thought you said Jansen was just back from New Orleans. Have you ever flown the Atlantic, George? On your first day back you're in no shape to check account books.'

'Some other thing triggered it, then. He could have heard the rumours that Joy slept with his wife.'

'For crying out loud. So this rector is a fornicator, as well as an embezzler and a killer?' Sarcasm returned, with interest.

'Rumours, I said. Jansen comes back from the States to find his wife is treasurer when she hasn't any experience of bookkeeping.' George could almost hear Burton prompting him.

'So Jansen goes up to the rectory to sort out Joy and dies of a heart attack the same night?'