Free Sidney Chambers and The Problem of Evil (The Grantchester Mysteries) by James Runcie

revelation, inspiration, creativity and madness. How can we know which is which? It’s a theme that obsessed Dostoevsky, of course . . .’
    ‘Yes, I am sure it did. Who were his tutors; can you remember?’
    ‘Well, of course Philip Agnew was there at the time, and, oh my, of course, Isaiah Shaw came in and gave a series of meditations on suffering in the Easter of 1957. He was on the examining body too. Oh, Sidney, you don’t think . . .? Patrick Harland may have been a bit zealous but he’s not behind all this, is he? Benson’s our man, surely; and if not him, then Mr Jay. I can’t imagine a Christian committing all these crimes.’
    ‘I know. But we may have to. I think I will go and see him.’
    ‘Then I should come with you. After supper, perhaps?’
     
    Sidney wondered about the nature of inspiration and revenge. Could God be blamed for putting an idea into someone’s head; whether it was the desire to become a priest or its perverse opposite? Could Harland have changed his passion and impetuosity from good to evil? Had there been voices in his head and, if there had, what had they been saying?
    Would a man such as Patrick Harland argue that he was fulfilling some supernatural instruction? Was evil, such as murder, a choice or could it be excused by possession, madness? How responsible are we for our actions? How far can we use reason to understand the irrational? Is to understand all to forgive all?
    By no means, thought Sidney. We cannot excuse our actions, however evil or possessed, if we have free will; and even if God knows what choices might be made from that free will, his knowledge does not impinge upon our actions.
    Leonard left to visit old Mrs Royston who, at the age of ninety-eight, was considering a last minute conversion to Catholicism, and Sidney was just going to telephone Keating and make his suspicions clear when the vicarage doorbell rang. It was Helena Randall. She wanted him to join her immediately. When Sidney asked her why, she pulled a map from her bag and pointed out that the location of each crime scene conformed to a pattern that must have been deliberately designed by the killer.
    ‘There is a straight line down from where Isaiah Shaw was found on Jesus Green to the place where Jimmy Benson was discovered in Christ’s Lane. If you then take another line from the Round Church where Philip Agnew was killed and bisect the previous vertical, as if you were drawing a cross, you will notice that the fourth point of the crucifix is Westcott House. Your friend Simon Opie will be next: unless we can stop it.’
    ‘Have you told Geordie?’
    ‘He’s still at the Benson crime scene. He’s in a panic and won’t listen to anything I say. We have to get to Westcott House immediately. I’ve got my car.’
    ‘But why do you need me?’
    ‘Because you’re the only man who understands what’s going on and, if we’re not too late, you can talk the killer down.’
    ‘You may have too much faith in my abilities.’
    ‘You’re the one with the faith,’ Helena snapped, before leaning over and opening the car door. ‘Get in.’
     
    Even though they drove with the windows open, the air in Helena’s Morris Minor was uncomfortably oppressive. Sidney didn’t know whether it was the heat of the Cambridge summer or his own fear in the face of evil. Were they about to intercept a murder and, if so, who was the killer: Harland, Jay, Jerome Benson, or somebody they hadn’t yet contemplated? Sidney’s thoughts had become so confused that he had started to suspect everyone.
    Helena’s driving was aggressive and she used her horn at every corner, overtaking a tractor on a bend and narrowly missing a cyclist outside Queens’. ‘We’ve been several steps behind all along. I don’t know what Geordie’s been up to.’
    ‘We pursued Jimmy Benson for too long.’
    ‘You know who’s behind this, don’t you?’ Helena asked.
    ‘I have an idea but it’s so perverse I can’t be