scroll. “If there were no betrayal then there would have been no trial, therefore no crucifixion, and no resurrection. Is it possible that Judas did only what he had to, or there would have been no fulfilment of the great plan?”
Monty was speechless, his mind whirling, his thoughts out of control.
“But that would spoil the simplicity of the damnation that Christendom has always placed on Judas,” Hank went on. “It would all suddenly become terribly real, and fearfully complex, much too much to be shared with the whole world, most of whom like their religion very simple. Good and evil. Black and white. No difficult decisions to be made. We don’t like difficult decisions. For two thousand years we have been told what to think, and we’ve grown used to it. And make no mistakes, Monty, if this goes to anyone except the Prince of the Church, it will be on the Internet the day after, and everyone will know.”
“The Churchman is obvious,” Monty agreed. “Anyone can see why he wants it, and I can’t entirely disagree. And I can see why the scholar wants it, regardless of what it destroys or who it hurts. But who is the old man? Why does he want it, and how did any of them know it exists, and that I have it?”
“What did you say his name was?” Hank asked. “He was the only one who gave you a name, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. Judson Garrett.”
Hank stood motionless. “Judson Garrett? Say it again, Monty, aloud. Could it possibly be …?” He stared at the scroll. “Lock it up, Monty. I don’t know if it will do any good, but at least try to keep it safe.”
Quite early the next morning Monty received a phone call from the police to tell him that it was now beyond question that Roger Williams had been murdered. They asked him if he would come down to the local station at his earliest convenience, preferably this morning. There were several issues with which he could help them.
“Of course,” he replied. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
He was met by a very pleasant policewoman, no more than in her mid-thirties. She introduced herself as Sergeant Tobias.
“Sorry about this, Mr. Danforth,” she apologized straight away. “Coffee?”
“Er … yes, please.” It seemed discourteous to refuse, and he would welcome something to do with his hands. It might make him appear less nervous. Had she seen how tense he was, how undecided as to what to tell her?
“You said Roger was murdered,” he began as soon as they were sitting down in her small office. If that were so, why was a mere sergeant dealing with it, and a young woman? It did not sound as if they regarded it as important.
“Yes,” she said gravely. “There is no question that the fire was deliberately set. And Mr. Williams was struck on the head before the fire started. I thought you’d like to know that because it means he almost certainly didn’t suffer.”
For a moment Monty found it difficult to speak. He had refused even to think of what Roger might have felt.
“Thank you,” he said awkwardly. “Why? I mean … do you know why anyone would kill him?”
“We were hoping that you could help us with that. We have found no indication of any personal reason at all. And the fact that the house was pretty carefully searched, but many very attractive ornaments left, some of considerable value, not to mention all the cutlery, which incidentally is silver and quite old, suggests it was not robbery. All the electronic things were left too, even a couple of very expensive mobile phones and ipods, very easily portable.”
Monty shook his head, as if trying to get rid of the idea. “Nobody could have hated Roger like that. Maybe it was people high on something?”
“Maybe,” she agreed. “But it was very methodical and well done. The search was meticulous, and nothing was broken or tossed around.”
“Then how do you know?”
She smiled a little bleakly. “Marks in the dust,” she answered. “Not just here and there, as
Monty was speechless, his mind whirling, his thoughts out of control.
“But that would spoil the simplicity of the damnation that Christendom has always placed on Judas,” Hank went on. “It would all suddenly become terribly real, and fearfully complex, much too much to be shared with the whole world, most of whom like their religion very simple. Good and evil. Black and white. No difficult decisions to be made. We don’t like difficult decisions. For two thousand years we have been told what to think, and we’ve grown used to it. And make no mistakes, Monty, if this goes to anyone except the Prince of the Church, it will be on the Internet the day after, and everyone will know.”
“The Churchman is obvious,” Monty agreed. “Anyone can see why he wants it, and I can’t entirely disagree. And I can see why the scholar wants it, regardless of what it destroys or who it hurts. But who is the old man? Why does he want it, and how did any of them know it exists, and that I have it?”
“What did you say his name was?” Hank asked. “He was the only one who gave you a name, wasn’t he?”
“Yes. Judson Garrett.”
Hank stood motionless. “Judson Garrett? Say it again, Monty, aloud. Could it possibly be …?” He stared at the scroll. “Lock it up, Monty. I don’t know if it will do any good, but at least try to keep it safe.”
Quite early the next morning Monty received a phone call from the police to tell him that it was now beyond question that Roger Williams had been murdered. They asked him if he would come down to the local station at his earliest convenience, preferably this morning. There were several issues with which he could help them.
“Of course,” he replied. “I’ll be there in a couple of hours.”
He was met by a very pleasant policewoman, no more than in her mid-thirties. She introduced herself as Sergeant Tobias.
“Sorry about this, Mr. Danforth,” she apologized straight away. “Coffee?”
“Er … yes, please.” It seemed discourteous to refuse, and he would welcome something to do with his hands. It might make him appear less nervous. Had she seen how tense he was, how undecided as to what to tell her?
“You said Roger was murdered,” he began as soon as they were sitting down in her small office. If that were so, why was a mere sergeant dealing with it, and a young woman? It did not sound as if they regarded it as important.
“Yes,” she said gravely. “There is no question that the fire was deliberately set. And Mr. Williams was struck on the head before the fire started. I thought you’d like to know that because it means he almost certainly didn’t suffer.”
For a moment Monty found it difficult to speak. He had refused even to think of what Roger might have felt.
“Thank you,” he said awkwardly. “Why? I mean … do you know why anyone would kill him?”
“We were hoping that you could help us with that. We have found no indication of any personal reason at all. And the fact that the house was pretty carefully searched, but many very attractive ornaments left, some of considerable value, not to mention all the cutlery, which incidentally is silver and quite old, suggests it was not robbery. All the electronic things were left too, even a couple of very expensive mobile phones and ipods, very easily portable.”
Monty shook his head, as if trying to get rid of the idea. “Nobody could have hated Roger like that. Maybe it was people high on something?”
“Maybe,” she agreed. “But it was very methodical and well done. The search was meticulous, and nothing was broken or tossed around.”
“Then how do you know?”
She smiled a little bleakly. “Marks in the dust,” she answered. “Not just here and there, as
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