‘You are a police officer, are you not?’

‘You say it’s still in your sacristy cupboard?’

He nodded.

‘I suggest you leave it there for the present.’ She stood up. ‘Don’t let anyone else touch it.’

‘Am I to assume this money is stolen?’

‘I’m like you, Father,’ Lucy said. ‘I’m at sixes and sevens. Just because this is an unusual event, it doesn’t mean these gifts are the proceeds of crime. But at present we just don’t know.’

He sighed again.

‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘As far as you’re concerned, it’s now been reported. So, no one at St Clement’s is in any kind of trouble.’

He nodded. Clearly, this was some consolation to him, but only a minor one. He wouldn’t have been human not to prefer to have been told that he could keep the money.

Lucy walked down the aisle. ‘I’ll make further enquiries and get back to you.’

‘Detective Clayburn!’ he called, as she reached the church door.

She glanced back.

He’d stood up and was leaning on his cane. ‘We could do a lot of good with that money.’

‘I understand, Father. I’ll look into it as quickly as I can.’

‘Couldn’t this be legitimate?’ he wondered aloud. ‘The world hasn’t completely gone to hell in a handbasket yet. Isn’t it possible that some wealthy person who wishes to remain nameless has finally decided to give something back to society? That happens, doesn’t it?’

‘Yes, it happens,’ she said. ‘But we need to be certain.’

He nodded again, somewhat disconsolately.

‘I’m sure it happens,’ Lucy added to no one in particular, as she strode down the church path. ‘Though not in my personal experience.’

Chapter 28

The Astarte was a typical none-too-showy hotel located in central Manchester.

Like many city-centre buildings, it wasn’t much to look at from the outside. A huge square block of a thing, standing twelve storeys in height and dominating its own particular corner of skyline. Despite the rather handsome salt-and-pepper granite from which it was constructed, its even rows of tinted windows, and the indigo floodlights that under-lit its soaring outline once evening descended, it lacked any real embellishment or ornamentation, and its owners, Ent-Tech Ltd, preferred it that way.

In their eyes, it was good that the Astarte drew little attention and was mainly regarded as a businessman’s stopover, a place where nothing special ever happened – apart from the board meetings of course, but no one outside the Crew knew about those, and anyway, they only occurred on the top floor. To all intents and purposes, this was the penthouse suite, though in reality no ordinary person had access to it.

It was exceedingly comfortable up there. Not just a business pad comprising an office and boardroom; in addition, there was a bar and hostess lounge, and several ultra-plush bedrooms.