Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey (11 page)

‘There is a kneeler, Mr Napier, fairly low, in fact. Some people have to move that to get settled, especially a large person following a smaller one who’d probably shift it around a little.’

‘I am leading up to that. So did that woman, your first customer on that occasion, appear to have trouble getting settled? On her knees with a large brolly to battle with? In the darkness?’

‘I’ll be honest with you, Mr Napier. She did appear to have
difficulty settling down. I attributed it to the darkness and perhaps because she was a stranger. I wondered if she was carrying shopping or something.’

‘Could you recognize any of the sounds she was making?’

‘No, I couldn’t see what she was carrying either: one cannot see much from the other side of the grille in those boxes.’

‘But she was struggling to settle down?’

‘I’d say so, yes, just a little. And I am not breaking the seal of confession by telling you that. She had not begun at that stage.’

‘When she finished, Father, she emerged and took the umbrella with her. But we have reason to believe she left something behind, quite deliberately. The stiletto dagger that had been concealed and smuggled inside within the folds of her umbrella.’

‘Oh dear God, whatever next! I cannot comment. I know nothing about that. I never saw her do such a thing. She never mentioned it. Could she have lost it? Slipped out of the umbrella without her knowing? The stiletto, I mean?’ Father Will now appeared to be extremely nervous, licking his lips and avoiding eye contact with Napier.

‘We don’t think so. We think she deliberately disposed of it because it was the weapon used to kill the man in the wood. Did it belong to her, or had she found it?’

Father Will paused and issued a huge sigh with almost a sobbing sound, ‘Mr Napier, I know nothing of that. Absolutely nothing. Truly I do not.’

‘I believe you. That has settled one small matter so let’s continue our normal routine. It’s time to attend the conference.’

A
FTER WELCOMING HIS
newly arrived officers and introducing Nick and the monkstables, Detective Chief Superintendent Napier dealt with minor details such as hours of work, expenses, overtime and murder room discipline. Then he outlined the key facts of the murder. Quite deliberately, he concealed the name and profession of the victim. That was for later.

‘You’ll be allocated your actions by Detective Sergeant Salkeld. She is standing in for Detective Inspector Lindsey who is making enquiries in Lancashire. He is following what could be a strong line of inquiry that may or may not be associated with this murder. That’s for me to decide. More about that in due course. Our immediate concern is to get the murder victim identified and establish sightings of him. His details are displayed on the blackboard and there are colour photographs of the body at the scene of the murder. Take a good look then get out there to get him identified, trace his movements and establish his contacts. Somebody will know him, somebody must have seen him around. Has he a car? A motorbike? A pedal bike? Is there such a vehicle abandoned nearby? In one of the local villages? Where has he been staying? Does he have friends and contacts here? A woman friend? A backpack abandoned?

‘Two women might be involved. The first is shown on a CCTV security film of the church interior – have a word with
Detective Constable Sheila Trowbridge over there.’ He pointed to her. ‘She’ll show you extracts from the film, as many as you want, and she can arrange prints – they’re always useful if you find a witness who may have seen her. We believe that woman concealed a stiletto dagger in the confessional and we’re sure it’s the murder weapon. Bear that in mind.

‘But did she kill that man in the wood or is she merely an accessory? Whatever role she played, we need to find her. We know she was on this campus around six o’clock on Saturday evening in the abbey church, the cameras tell us that. She was carrying a large folded blue and white umbrella. On a warm sunny day with not a spot of rain. Who is she? How did she get here? Someone must have seen her. Someone might have spoken to her. Was she sighted together with the murder victim anywhere near those woods? That’s an important point – I don’t believe his body was carried up into those woods and dumped, that would be impossible due to the location. It suggests he was killed close to where he was found. Probably with a stiletto type of dagger. Where did it come from? The PM revealed a lot of broken bones, probably happening after death. So was his body thrown from the cliff? If so, who by? You need to find out if anyone else was in those woods at the time. Don’t ignore the victim but do concentrate on that woman. Has she been staying locally with friends, in digs or a hotel? Has she been seen in that wood? We need to identify her and bring her in for questioning. Any questions so far?’

There were no questions but he knew they would arise as their enquiries generated more evidence and more puzzles. He allowed them a few moments to consider his words then said, ‘Let me remind you – this murder has several key elements. First, who is the deceased and who killed him? Second, who is that woman and what role did she play? Third – what is the motive? If we can answer those, we shall be on the way to resolving this case. Now, I’m going to introduce the prior of Maddleskirk Abbey to explain something which may or may
not be associated with this murder. If you ask my opinion about a probable connection, I will say I have an open mind. Friar Tuck, the floor is yours.’

Prior Tuck, a rounded, cheerful monk of some fifty years, stood up, smiling at Napier’s continued reference to him as Friar Tuck.

‘I am Prior Gabriel Tuck which means I am the deputy abbot, and among my varied duties, I’m in charge of the monkstables gathered here. If you ask the question as to my qualification for that duty, I am a former police officer with twenty-five years’ experience and I have worked on several murder investigations. On Saturday evening, one of our senior monks, Father John Attwood, went missing.’ He then explained in considerable detail the known facts, reinforcing the mystery of Father John’s summons to hospital. ‘The question we must all ask ourselves is this – has his disappearance any connection with the murder of that man in the wood? Are we conducting two enquiries, or just one? With Mr Napier’s agreement, our efforts to trace Father John will, for the time being, run separately from the murder enquiry.’

Napier interrupted. ‘There must be a voluntary cross-fertilization of ideas and an exchange of evidence that could link both investigations. There are certain facts that must be established as separate issues and the monkstables are in an ideal situation for finding their missing monk. Once the facts are clearer, we may have to merge the two investigations. Already, as you have just heard from Friar Tuck, there are several linking pieces of evidence. Bear these in mind as you undertake your actions but don’t be afraid to explore your own ideas or ask for advice. We need hard-working brains on this.’

‘Thanks, Mr Napier,’ responded Prior Tuck. ‘One thing to consider is that I have shown to Tim Farley, the driver who took Father Attwood to hospital, several print-outs of the woman on the church CCTV film. He does not know her but expressed a view she was similar in age and appearance to the woman he
saw greet Father Attwood at Scarborough Beach Hospital but sadly she was in the shadows.”

‘Keep digging, Friar Tuck. I’m still not sure whether we’re talking about one woman or two.’

Nick Rhea, sitting quietly among the monkstables, raised his hand and reminded them, ‘We know, of course, it could not be the same woman who entered the confessional. The distance and time involved rules out that possibility. So we do need to trace and identify both. I should remind you that the woman in the CCTV film of the abbey church interior was not carrying a handbag. That’s odd, so where was it? Just outside in her car? It sounds possible so we need to find that car. Someone on the campus must have seen it – and her.’

‘Thanks, Nick, so where do we go from here?’ asked Prior Tuck. ‘Brother George?’

‘Here!’ A grey-haired monk raised his hand.

Brother George was not an ordained priest but was a monk and also one of the monkstables. A senior monk by age alone, he preferred the outdoor life and would rather spend time in this vegetable patch than sing hymns in the abbey choir.

The prior addressed him. ‘We know you keep a record of registration numbers of almost every vehicle that enters these grounds, so perhaps you noted this woman’s car? If she had one, that is. It would probably be somewhere in the grounds on Saturday afternoon, particularly just before six o’clock and until about half past or even later. Indeed it might have been parked outside the south door despite the restrictions. And did some of those other penitents arrive by car? If so, where did they park? Did they notice the woman without a handbag but carrying a blue and white rolled umbrella? We need to find them and interview them to determine whether they noticed the mystery woman, or even knew who she was.’

‘I’ll check my lists, Father Prior.’

‘Thank you. Mr Napier, back to you,’ said Prior Tuck.

‘Right, well, that’s it. Off you all go. We will have a round-up
conference here at six o’clock to pool our knowledge before we disperse. There will be late shift in the murder room until 11 p.m. and then a night duty detective inside the room until 6 a.m.’

When Detective Chief Superintendent Napier dismissed the teams to go about their enquiries, Prior Tuck reminded his monkstables to return to the Postgate Room for their full briefing and allocation of actions. He turned to Nick Rhea. ‘Coming with us, Nick? Or is your spell with us now over?’

‘I don’t want to get in the way but if I can help, I will,’ offered Nick.

‘Your help is always appreciated. We’re still amateurs at this sort of thing. I see we haven’t the pleasure of the company of Oscar Blaketon and Alf Ventress this time?’

‘I doubt if news of these events will have reached them – there’s been nothing in the news – but once that happens, I don’t think they’ll be able to keep away!’

‘We can always use their experience. Now, is there any particular line of enquiry you think we should follow?’

‘There’s one I would like to pursue in person right now, Prior Tuck, but it’s more associated with the murder inquiry than our hunt for Father John.’

‘I’ll happily go along with that but should you mention it to Mr Napier?’

‘Not immediately. I need another chat with Barnaby Crabstaff first, and he said he was heading off for a meeting with Claude Jeremiah Greengrass. I thought I might catch him at Claude’s emporium. I just want to see if Barnaby knows more than he’s told us so far, and if he does I’ll pass it on to Mr Napier’s teams.’

‘But you’ll keep in touch? To be honest, Nick, we need you here.’

‘I’ll return once I’ve talked to Barnaby.’

‘And we’ll get busy around the campus.’

Claude Jeremiah Greengrass lived at Hagg Bottom, Aidensfield, and his emporium could be seen from afar, being instantly
recognizable due to its conglomeration of rusting ironware, old agricultural machinery, derelict tractors, bicycle parts and almost any other thing that had generated, or could generate, scrap metal. There was a lot of discarded woodwork too, such as old wardrobes, chests of drawers, chairs and tables.

Nick, who as the village bobby of Aidensfield had often had cause to visit this place, was familiar with the tracks through the mountain of debris and so made his way to what Claude called his office. It was an old caravan with no wheels but equipped with a stove that burned wood, coal and almost anything else Claude put inside it; there were occasions when the stench from the chimney was so strong and unpleasant that neighbours living downwind complained. Claude always blamed the coal merchant.

Nick rapped on the open door and peered inside. Claude and Barnaby were both there, seated at the table with mugs of coffee before them as they pored over what appeared to be a map.

‘Now then, Claude, can I come in?’

‘Oh my Gawd, whatever do you want, Constable Rhea? I thought I was going to have a period of peace and calm now that you’ve retired and left Aidensfield. Look, whatever it is, it wasn’t my fault, I didn’t do it and neither did my mate here. We’re innocent, both of us.’

‘We’re both innocent,’ chanted Barnaby.

‘I’m not a policeman any more, Claude.’

‘Mebbe not, but you make a good imitation of one, snooping around my yard like a tax inspector.’

Nick continued inside and pulled out a chair to settle at their table.

‘Is it a coffee you want?’

‘No, Claude, I had one before I set off, thanks.’ Nick didn’t fancy one of Claude’s dirty mugs. ‘I’m here about that body found in the woods.’

‘It was nowt to do with me, Constable Rhea.’

‘Or me,’ echoed Barnaby.

‘I realize that but I thought you might be able to help.’

‘Help the police? Me? You must be joking!’

‘I thought you might help the family of the dead man, Claude.’

‘Aye, well, that’s different. So what are you asking?’

‘First, do you know who he is?’

‘No idea,’ said Claude.

‘No idea,’ added Barnaby.

‘Did you see him around here, before he was attacked?’

‘I might have done. …’

‘He might have done. …’

‘Might you?’ Nick pulled a photo of the dead man from his pocket. It was taken on the mortuary slab, with his body covered with a white sheet to leave his facial features on show. ‘Mid thirties, white skin, dark hair, slim build, wearing a dark green T-shirt, blue jeans and white plimsolls. Not hiking gear, Claude, but casual enough to be on holiday. We need sightings of him, we need to get him named.’

‘Well, he might have been here. …’

‘If he was, Claude, we need to know whether he was here alone or whether he had anyone with him.’

‘Do I get a reward if I tell you?’

‘Do we get a reward?’ asked Barnaby.

‘Just the reward of knowing you’ve done some good service for the benefit of your fellows and the community, Claude and Barnaby. So I repeat, did either of you see him before he died?’

‘Then yes, Constable Rhea, I did see him.’

‘He saw him, Mr Rhea.’

‘When and where?’

‘Up near the pond, the old wishing well, he was up there just looking around.’

‘When was this?’

‘Middle of last week, I’d say. Wednesday or Thursday. On a morning.’

‘Can you be more precise?’

‘Elevenish, mebbe, give and take a bit.’

‘It was definitely a Wednesday, Claude,’ volunteered Barnaby.

‘It was. He’s right,’ admitted Claude.

‘Alone, was he?’

‘No, there was a woman with him. A bit older than him, not old enough to be his mother by my reckoning. Might have been an older sister or summat. Young aunt … mature girlfriend … you can make up all sorts of things out of that, can’t you?’

‘It’s always possible, Claude. Now this is good news and extremely interesting. Did you know her?’

‘No, she’s not local, I can tell you that.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Well, she didn’t speak like a local, she sounded like a foreigner from Lancashire to me.’

‘You heard her?’

‘I was hiding in the bushes, Constable. I didn’t want anybody to see me there in case they thought I was poaching. I can disappear like magic in undergrowth and bushes, become totally invisible. It’s easy when you know how.’

‘Were you poaching?’

‘No, I was not! There’s nowt in that pond anyway, no fish to speak of. …’

‘So tell me what you saw.’

‘It was just a couple going for a walk, I didn’t take much interest. You do see couples walking up there, you know, being St Valentine’s Well, all very romantic. I don’t go around spying on people, I’m not that depraved.’

‘Did they appear romantic? Holding hands? Kissing? That sort of thing.’

‘No, nothing like that. They looked like a businessman discussing business with a female colleague, not at all lovey-dovey.’

‘From your hiding place, could you hear what they were saying?’