“Is that so?” Miller said.
She turned to Father da Costa. “Do you mind if we start, Uncle? I know Mr.. Fallon’s time is limited.”
“We’ll go into the sacristy, if that’s all right with you, Superintendent,” Father da Costa said. “Or up to the house if you prefer.”
“Actually, I’d rather like to hang on here for a few minutes,” Miller told him. “I’m a pianist myself, but I’ve always been rather partial to a bit of organ music. If Mr. Fallon has no objection.”
Fallon gave him an easy smile. “Sure and there’s nothing like an audience, Superintendent, for bringing out the best in all of us,” and he took Anna by the arm and led her up through the choir stalls.
From the darkness at the rear of the little chapel to St. Martin de Porres, Meehan watched, fascinated. Billy whis-pered, “I said he was a nutter, didn’t I? So how in the hell is he going to talk his way out of this one?”
“With his fingers, Billy, with his fingers/ Meehan said. Td put a grand on it.” There was sincere admiration in his voice when he added. “You know something. I’m enjoying every bleeding minute of this. It’s always nice to see a real pro in action.” He sighed. “There aren’t many of us left,”
Fallon took off his trench coat and draped it over the back of a convenient choir stall. He sat down and adjusted the stool so that he could reach the pedals easily. Anna stood at his right hand.
“Have you tried leaving the trumpet in as I suggested?3 he asked.
She nodded. “It made quite a difference.”
“Good. I’ll play something pretty solid and well see what else we can find wrong. What about the Bach Prelude and Fugue in D Major?”
“”I only have it in Braille.”
“That’s all right. I know it by heart.” He turned and looked down at Father da Costa, and the two policemen on the other side of the altar rail. If you’re interested, this is reputed to have been Albert Schweitzer’s favourite piece,”
No one said a word. They stood there, waiting, and Fallon swung round to face the organ. It had been a long time – a hell of a long time and yet, quite suddenly and in some strange, incomprehensible way, it was only yesterday.
He prepared the swell organ, hands moving expertly – all stops except the Vox Humana and the Celeste and on the Great Organ, Diapasons and a four foot Principal
He looked up at Anna gravely. “As regards the Pedal Organ, I’d be disinclined to use any reed stops on this instrument. Only the sixteen-foot Diapason and the Bourdon and maybe a thirty-two-foot stop to give a good, solid tone. What do you think?”
She could not see the corner of his mouth lifted in a slight, sardonic smile and yet something of that smile was in his voice. She put a hand on his shoulder and said clearly, “An interesting beginning, anyway.”
To her horror he said very softly, “Why did you inter-fere?”
“Isn’t that obvious?” she answered in a low voice. “For Superintendent Miller and his inspector’s sake. Now play.”
“God forgive you, but you’re a terrible liar,” Fallon told her, and started.
He opened with a rising scale, not too fast, allowing each note to be heard, heeling and toeing with his left foot in a clear, bold, loud statement, playing with such astonishing power that Miller’s wild surmise died on the instant for it was a masterly performance by any standard.
Father da Costa stood at the altar rail as if turned to stone, caught by the brilliance of Fallon’s playing as he answered the opening statement with the chords of both hands on the sparkling Great Organ. He repeated, feet, then hands again, manual answering pedals until his left toe sounded the long four bar bottom A and his hands traced the brilliant passages announced by the pedals.
Miller tapped Father da Costa on the shoulder and ùwhis-pered in his ear, “Brilliant, but I’m running out of time, Father. Can we have our chat now?”
Father da Costa nodded reluctantly and led the way across to the sacristy. Fitzgerald was the last in and the door banged behind him in a sudden gust of wind.