“It says here that you argued with Reverend Potts. You wanted to pay Meldrew his protection money, whereas Reverend Potts wanted to report Meldrew’s crimes to the authorities in another county, and tell the Bishop. It says here that you told Potts that Hemsley was a dangerous place to live in.” Hugo scowled almost theatrically. “What could you mean by that? I mean, Hemsley is a rather quiet backwater that almost nobody has ever heard of.”
“Hemsley is the biggest village closest to Derby,” Snetterton dismissed.
“Rubbish,” Hugo snorted. “It is nothing. The people in it are nothing. You are nothing but a verger who nobody has ever heard of; nobody likes, and nobody trusts. Not now, anyway. Once your association with Meldrew becomes news, you will be hounded out of the village, and that’s before the Bishop decides what to do with you.”
“I am not associated with Meldrew,” Snetterton argued. For the first time since his removal from the
rectory, he began to look doubtful. “The man is the magistrate, and a good one at that.”
“I take it that you have paid him the protection money then? After all,” Hugo turned, and picked up the accounts ledger, which he turned around so Snetterton could see. “It says here that some money is missing. Quite a sizeable amount too.” He picked up Potts’ diary. “It says here that Reverend Potts has doubts about your honesty. He thought that you had been appropriating church funds while his back was turned.”
Hugo slammed both books down on the table beside him. The sudden bang made Hetty jump nervously. Although Charlie was calm and relaxed beside her, the tension within the room was so thick that she was certain she could feel it across her shoulders. It was horrible.
“I don’t know where you are getting that nonsense from, but it is highly inaccurate, and slanderous.”
“It’s Reverend Potts’ diary. His last entry was written the day before he was murdered,” Hugo challenged. “It says that he was determined to challenge you over the missing funds before he took the whole sorry mess to the Bishop. He was going to get you forced out of office, and charged with theft of Church funds, but was going to push you to admit it first.”
“I -”
“Shut up!” Barnaby bellowed.
“It is odd that the following morning, the morning after he wrote this, Potts was found dead from an apparent head wound, in the middle of a path, with nothing about him that he could have hit his head on. Not only that but you – the guilty party, as it were – just happened to be the one to find him.”
Charlie shifted, and thought about the spot he had seen where his friend had died. He mentally applauded Hugo for his skill in throwing enough evidence at Snetterton to leave the man in no doubt about how much trouble was in.
“So, let me see now. Church funds have been stolen. You are the prime suspect. The man who suspects you as being the guilty party writes his suspicions in his diary, but is found dead before he could go to the authorities.” Hugo looked the captive square in the eye. “Now; do you really expect me to believe, for one moment, that you had nothing to do with it? Are you going to assure me that if I go to that Rectory, and search through the entire contents of the study, that I won’t find any other incriminating evidence?”
Snetterton glared balefully at him, but didn’t answer.
Hugo took advantage of the man’s silence. “If I go to the Bishop, and ask him why he has allowed the verger to move into the rectory, will he give me an adequate reason why he has not sent a new vicar to the parish of Hemsley? Am I to be assured that he has known about Reverend Potts’ death for several weeks, but hasn’t gotten around to finding a replacement?” He bent down until his nose almost touched Snetterton's. His voice dropped to a deathly snarl. “Do I take it that if I contact Rupert Potts, Lord Upton to you and me, to discuss his son’s death, he will know that he has been buried in this quiet backwater rather than in the family crypt where he belongs?”
Snetterton’s gulp was loud in the silence of the room.
Nobody moved or spoke for several long, drawn out minutes.
Hugo gave the man several minutes to think about just how deeply he was stuck.
“I think that you had better tell me why you paid Meldrew the other night,” Hugo growled.
“I didn’t pa -” Snetterton paused, and threw a worried look at Barnaby.
“We saw you.” Barnaby declared coldly.
“Who are you?” Snetterton challenged. “What authority do you have to keep me captive like this? I demand to be released this instant. I demand to see my solicitor.”
“You will get the chance for proper legal representation in due course. Assuming that you can afford some out of your own purse, of course. However, that will be after you have reimbursed the church for your thefts, and paid appropriate rents for the use of the rectory in the absence of a proper vicar.”
“Who are you?” Snetterton snapped, clearly determined to be defiant at any given opportunity.
“I am Sir Hugo Dunnicliffe, from the War Office. I work as a representative of His Majesty’s government, and have been sent here to send Meldrew and his associates to jail. By associates, I mean anyone who has been culpable in assisting him by way of paying him, taking advantage of his crimes, and working with him, or for him, in any capacity. However, your problem is that you are now under arrest for the murder of Reverend Potts, and for the theft of Church funds.”
Snetterton’s mouth opened and closed as he struggled to find a suitable answer.
“Now, Snetterton, I want details from you, and I warn you now that if I have to transfer you to the Tower of London to question you more formally, then that is what I shall do.”
“The Tower of London?” Snetterton gasped with a frown. “You can’t do that.”
“I can do what the bloody hell I want to do, Snetterton. I work with full authority of the Lord Chief Justice. Nobody questions me. If I decide to take you to the Tower, then that is where you shall go.” Hugo nodded to Barnaby who also made a show of rolling up his sleeves before he slowly removed his knife from his belt.