Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey (6 page)

Then the door opened and in walked Father Alban. He had been visiting some college buildings to ask about missing men. He had returned to update the records and helped himself to a cup of coffee, chattering as he made the drink.

‘I’ve finished in the accommodation blocks and buildings around St Peter’s House. I’ve talked to housemasters, teachers, cleaners and students, but to their knowledge no one’s missing. And all denied there was a drug problem on site.’

‘No luck with his identification then?’ Nick asked.

‘Nothing. No one can help with identifying him. I asked them to cast their minds back to Friday or Saturday but the
answer was the same. Nothing. They’ve seen nothing unusual and know nothing.’

‘Well, you can update the records so we are all aware of that, then what are you doing next?’

‘I thought I would conduct a similar exercise at the sports centre just behind St Peter’s. I couldn’t remember whether or not I was allocated it earlier. If someone’s already been, I can find somewhere else to ask my questions. But I’m dying for a coffee – I’m parched! I’m not accustomed to talking so much and asking all these questions!’

‘Well, take the weight off your feet for a few minutes and enjoy the coffee. While we’re alone, I must say I’m rather worried about Father Will Redman. He’s doing a stint in the cop shop now. It was something he said to me not many minutes ago that caused my concern.’

‘Will it help to tell me?’

‘Yes, it will. I was telling him about the murder victim and he asked if he’d been stabbed. The minute the words were out of his mouth, he became all embarrassed and worried and said he shouldn’t have mentioned that. I asked why he’d mentioned stabbing but he wouldn’t tell me; he wouldn’t say another word about it and asked me to forget he’d ever spoken that word. I don’t want to pry and I don’t want to cause him unnecessary upset but it is all very odd. I must say it has bothered me. Now can I ask you not to repeat this to him?’

‘Of course. The only thing I can think is that he had to stand in at confessions on Saturday night for Father John Attwood, who had a medical appointment. I saw Will afterwards and I could see he was far from happy even then. Something was troubling him deeply and I wondered if it was something he’d heard under the seal of confession. If so, he can never talk about it. Not to anyone, not even to his abbot. Not ever. If it is a burden he heard in confession, he must bear that burden alone. That’s how things are. It’s one of the difficulties of being a priest. All I can say is that he needs our prayers.’

‘Are you saying that if someone confessed to stabbing another person, even to the point of killing them, the priest couldn’t inform the police?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m saying, Nick. The seal of confession is absolute.’

‘It makes me wonder how many murderers have convinced priests of their future good conduct merely to gain absolution!’

‘We will never know. But if it is possible that Father Will did hear something along those lines during a confession, I must ask you not to press him about it.’

‘I understand. So what should I do?’

‘Nothing, Nick. Absolutely nothing. And don’t mention it again, especially not to Father Will or the police. It is best forgotten entirely because there is nothing you or anyone else can do. It’s over. Finished.’

‘So if the post-mortem reveals that our murder victim died from a stab wound, I cannot ask Father Will to reveal the identity of the person who confessed? I don’t know how to respond to that.’

‘Say nothing and do nothing, Nick. Don’t worry about Father Will – he’s part of our community and we’ll care for him. He’ll not be the first priest to undergo such soul-searching, and he’ll not be the last. Now I must go.’

Nick tried to settle down to some updating of his clerical work but found it difficult to concentrate. Then the phone rang. It was Detective Inspector Lindsey.

‘Ah, Nick, glad I caught you. We’ve got the result of the postmortem. First things first. A detailed search of the victim’s clothing and body confirm that he had no form of identification upon him. No wallet, credit cards, driving licence, tattoos, operation scars, nothing. Nothing left at the scene either but one thing was overlooked by his killer. His jeans have a designer label whose origins we’ll trace. We’ve still no idea who he is, but we are re-checking his fingerprints and DNA as well as circulating a description through police networks.’

‘And the cause of death? Has that been determined?’

‘Yes, it has. He had a neck wound but he also had bone breakages that were consistent with him falling from a height after death – thrown down perhaps, or perhaps he fell. However, he was stabbed at the back of his head, close to where the skull absorbs the spinal column. It’s called the cerebellum. A slim long-bladed dagger, a stiletto, was probably used. It damaged the vertebrae and severed the blood vessels in his neck. He would have died almost instantly. It’s a trademark execution by some drugs cartels – and it’s not restricted to other drug dealers. Anyone who angers them might get the treatment. We believe many of their murders remain undiscovered because they dispose of the body and other evidence.’

Lindsey paused to allow Nick to write a summary on a scrap of paper before he asked, ‘So a simple stiletto dagger could cause that kind of serious wound?’

‘It could. A bayonet can’t be ruled out. And the killer would be very strong. And determined. He’s sliced the main blood vessels in the throat and neck, the carotids. The weapon has not been found so further searches will be undertaken.’

‘You’ll be arranging those?’ asked Nick.

‘Leave it to me. If the weapon is not found, the killer may still have it in his or her possession and it will bear traces of the victim’s blood even if an attempt’s been made to clean it. The fact the killer still has the weapon makes him or her very dangerous, and it might have been used for previous killings although many killers like to get rid of the murder weapon. Will you warn your monkstables to be constantly alert, especially when they are interviewing people?’

‘I will.’ Nick felt sure the man’s injuries could be described as a stabbing. ‘Just one other thing, Brian. This appears to be the work of a major criminal so do we still believe it’s a gangland killing?’

‘We might have to revise that thinking, Nick. It could be a copy-cat killing. We have an open mind at the moment.’

‘But we think the victim was dead before he hit the ground?’

‘Almost certainly. We have a SOCO team examining the ground at the top of that cliff; they might find blood up there. The stab wound would have been enough to kill him.’

‘So his “fall” was really a means of disposing of the body?’ suggested Nick, thinking of Father Will in that confessional.

‘Yes, it was. If it hadn’t been for Barnaby, his remains might never have been found.’

A
LONE IN THE
Postgate Room, Nick found himself deeply troubled by the unexplained absence of Father John and could not prevent his thoughts returning to Father Will. Whatever had happened after he’d swapped duties with Father John was obviously preying on his conscience – so Nick decided to visit the confessional, not to confess any sins but to examine it. He would try to visualize it as it would have been on Saturday night. Could those penitents be traced? If so, could they have noticed anything out of the ordinary that evening?

Could one of them have confessed to Father Will that he or she had stabbed a man? Or worse, had someone confessed to
murder
? A stabbing was not necessarily murder; it included wounding, even slightly. But was it feasible that Father Will could have heard a confession of murder? If he had, was the penitent one of those who had queued on Saturday night from six o’clock until seven? That was around the time Father John would be at Scarborough Beach Hospital awaiting the result of his blood analysis or cancer readings. It was an awful thought, but could Father John have killed the man before vanishing on a fictitious trip?

The question was whether the victim was alive on Saturday, the day the confessions were heard? He had not been
found
dead until Monday morning – this morning – but his time of death
had not been determined. Is that what was troubling Father Will? A penitent confessing to murder by stabbing? And then seeking absolution?

Nick had heard that this was the most difficult of confessions a priest might ever hear. During their training for the priesthood, they were taught the necessary response and advice they should give but nonetheless all dreaded having to listen as someone actually confessed to murder, particularly one that remained unsolved. A killer confessing to murder once he or she had been convicted created less of a problem for a priest.

As Nick headed for the south transept where the confessional was located he was considering ways of identifying the people who had been there on Saturday night. If a small gathering had assembled between 6 p.m. and 7 p.m., either to queue to go to confession or simply to sit quietly in prayer, then each would have been aware of the others. The chances were that most were local people known to one another, or to the staff or brethren of the abbey. Already, it seemed Nick’s task was feasible. If a stranger had been noticed among them, he or she was likely to be regarded as a suspect.

The route from the Postgate Room into the abbey church led through long wide corridors of highly polished marble, many with drawings, photographs or paintings along their walls. They depicted the history and development of the abbey.

This was a modern abbey built in the early 1960s although it had been constructed over the ruins of an earlier priory that now formed the crypt and undercroft beneath the present church. Although it was a Catholic abbey, it lacked much of the splendour and highly coloured décor of its contemporaries, especially those overseas, although it exuded a strong spiritual atmosphere that suggested silence and respect.

In that silence, and with due respect, Nick made his way along the deserted corridors into the south transept, genuflecting before the high altar as sacred organ music filled the church.

The confessional, duly soundproofed, was built into a corner of that transept. Alone in this quiet place, he moved into a pew that provided a view of the complete transept and knelt down to make it appear he was in private prayer. He tried to imagine this area busy with people, as indeed it had been on Saturday night. They had been sitting or kneeling here, possibly with a murderer amongst them.

As he looked around, Nick noticed the name-board above the door of the confessional; it continued to bear the name of Father John Attwood as the confessor. Although he was a recent addition to the monks of this abbey, he was not a monkstable. Nick’s eyes ranged around this place through which he had regularly passed without having had any reason to pause and reflect. Now he noticed various interesting gadgets on the walls and suspended from the ceiling. A fire alarm, a loud speaker linked to the lectern on the high altar, a system for lowering the lights for replacement bulbs and repairs – and several security cameras. They were now essential in churches due to thefts of valuables ranging from silver candlesticks to furnishings via statues and offertory boxes. They were also installed on the exterior, to deter thieves, especially those who stole lead from the roofs.

Would those cameras have been activated on Saturday night? If so, would they have captured the images of those people awaiting their turn for confession? There was absolutely no way cameras or listening devices would be installed
inside
the confessionals. He wondered whose job it was to monitor the footage?

If the cameras had been operating would the images be sufficiently clear for a viewer to identify faces? But whatever their capabilities, the cameras offered hope. But was such an enquiry within Nick’s area of responsibility or should he suggest it to Prior Tuck or a monkstable? Or to Napier’s team?

As he continued to kneel, he decided he must not initiate these enquiries. It would be an abuse of trust in this hallowed place; he was fully aware of the sanctity of the confessional. On the other hand as a former police officer and now security
adviser to the abbey, he could not ignore the fact that valuable images may be present in the security system. They may be highly important in establishing creditable witnesses to recent events – and could unmask a killer.

The answer was to inform Detective Chief Superintendent Napier. This piece of information must be considered part of the murder investigation. It was not a task for the monkstables even though it might help to trace Father John. Nick left his pew, genuflected and made his way out of the south door and down the steps onto the road that would take him to St Alban’s Lecture Theatre. Three minutes later he was entering the murder room, which was now noisy and busy as more detectives had arrived and were being briefed by DI Lindsey.

During a lull, he noticed Nick and called, ‘Anything I can do, Nick?’

‘I’d like a word with Mr Napier if that’s possible.’

‘Just knock on his door, the green one. That’s what he tells us to do.’

‘Thanks.’

He did so and a voice called, ‘Don’t hang about out there, come in, I won’t bite,’ and so he walked in. Napier had managed to squeeze his desk and a computer into a tiny ante room that was full of stored easels, blackboards and other lecturing necessities.

‘So what brings you here, Nick? Sit down if you can find a seat.’

He found a stool and began. ‘You might think what I’m going to say now is off limits, Mr Napier, but maybe you’re not familiar with churches, religion, monks and so forth?’

‘I’m not a God botherer, Nick, but doing my job among the great English public has taught me a little about the Catholic faith. Even so, I’m still puzzled that folks come to your church and voluntarily confess to all manner of things to a priest. I wish my job was so simple! I need to know something about everything otherwise I’d get no detecting done! So don’t hold back,
tell me what’s troubling you.’

‘It centres upon the sacrament of confession,’ he began.

‘I was taught about that on my CID training course, Nick. I know that if chummy confesses something to a Catholic priest, the priest can never reveal it to anyone, never. But that is not English law, Nick. Our laws recognize that the priest is governed by his Church and in practice we and our legal friends would not demand that a priest broke the seal of confession. But in law, the priest cannot claim that legal privilege as a right – but it is a privilege that’s widely accepted. It is, and always will be, a difficult area within our laws of evidence. How’s that? See, I remembered my lectures from training school days.’

‘I’m impressed!’

‘So what’s all this got to do with what you want to tell me?’

Nick explained his concerns about Father Will, relating the words he had used and trying to replicate his physical appearance of shock. ‘It was his reference to stabbing, Mr Napier. When I mentioned the body in the woods, he asked if the victim had been stabbed, then immediately withdrew his comments. It made me wonder if he knew something about it. It was one of the other monks who wondered if Will had heard a worrying sort of confession. Priests must be affected by what they hear. …’

‘Aye, lad, they must but if we try to extract that information, they will not reveal it. It’s happened before with other crimes, Nick, and there’s nothing we can do. I know. I’ve tried. Were you going to suggest something?’

He explained about the security cameras in the south transept, and how that particular session of confession had occurred between 6 p.m. and 7 p.m. on Saturday, with Father Will standing in at short notice when Father Attwood had been called away to hospital.

‘There could be something there for us. Do you think my teams might turn up something useful from the cameras?’

‘I thought if we searched the images that show people
queuing for confession on Saturday evening, we might find our killer among them. I know it’s a shot in the dark and I have no firm evidence of what the priest heard from the killer, but if we can identify him, it would be a good beginning.’

‘Him? Why do you think it’s a man?’

‘I just thought—’

‘Never pre-judge, Nick. Killers can be male or female. If we search that security film, we’ll be looking for a man or a woman. Although our victim was stabbed, deeply stabbed – would a woman have the strength to do that? And extract the dagger afterwards? Sometimes knives cannot be hauled out of stab wounds due to the suction.’

‘I thought his neck had been cut—’

‘Cut, yes, and stabbed down to the vertebrae. I’ve seen it on the computer screen direct from the slab in the morgue. A deep thrust, Nick. Entry at the back of the neck. With a very sharp and short tapering blade. Like a stiletto. Stilettos are still around, Nick, even if they are out of fashion. So if – and I stress
if
– your monk heard someone confess to a stabbing, whatever the weapon used, it is of interest to us.’

‘There’s no way of knowing whether he heard a confession to murder, Mr Napier.’

‘There isn’t but this is a very interesting development, Nick, and something I might have overlooked, so thank you. Neither you nor I want to lose favour with the brethren in this place so leave this to me. I’ll keep you out of it. I’ll obtain that security film as part of our overall inquiry and when it comes to searching, I’ll get one of the monkstables to identify those who were queuing for confession. I suspect most will be regulars, local people known to the priests, but it will be a good start. I accept there may have been strangers among them. I hope we can trace them and have words. Who knows, we might also obtain a confession to a stabbing! How does that sound?’

‘You’ve put my mind at rest, thanks.’

‘This could be the breakthrough we need. I appreciate your
efforts, Nick. Now show me that confessional box? If it’s going to be an integral part of our enquiries, I need to have a look at it.’

During the short walk, Nick asked Napier, ‘Have we an identity for our victim?’

‘Nothing, no. We’re having his fingerprints checked as I speak; we got some good images from the body. DNA samples have been taken as well but DNA analysis takes longer. If he hasn’t any convictions, his fingerprints won’t be much help. Failing that, we’ve now got details of who made his shoes, jeans and T-shirt, so we might be able to trace them to a local retailer who can remember him buying them. If he used a credit card, we can trace him. In other words, there’s a long way to go, always slow and time-consuming. But we usually get there. And a motive? At this stage I haven’t a clue except we might have got ourselves into something big so we must put a name to him. Now, have your monkstables discovered anything I should know about?’

‘Only the stabbing question. They’ve not had reports of anyone missing from their places of work or their usual haunts – apart from Father John – and we’ve no leads on identification of the victim, no sightings in this area. Ah, here we are, this is the entrance to the south transept.’

Nick led him up the steps and into the transept. A monk was in the organ loft practising and the entire abbey church was filled with his sacred music, the composer of which was unknown to Nick but he thought it was the music of one of the Gregorian chants.

‘Nice,’ whispered Napier. ‘Music like that always pleases me.’

‘This is the confessional.’ Nick showed him the door in the wall on the north side; it was a solid oak door with small opaque glass panels near the top to permit entry of a modicum of light. Beside it was an identical panel which was not a door and on the wall nearby was a name-board still showing ‘Father John Attwood’.

‘So where are the cameras?’

Nick pointed to sites on the ceiling and around the walls, adding that some of the equipment consisted of loud speakers linked to the lectern and even the organ loft.

‘So who looks after the cameras, Nick? Any idea?’

‘Sorry, no. The prior will tell you.’

‘I don’t want to involve you in this, Nick. We might be talking delicate and confidential stuff here. So how does this confessional function?’

Nick explained how the penitents awaited their turns in the pews of the south transept and when the previous person emerged from the confessional box, the next entered via the door that faced the pews. He explained that the interior comprised of two soundproofed cubicles, one used by the priest who entered via a door to the rear, out of sight from the transept, with the other being used by the penitent.

‘So he sits there out of sight but in verbal contact as folks confess all their sins to him, is that how it works?’

‘Basically that’s it.’

‘It’s a rum do if you ask me and I bet he gets some wonderful stories. Do you get thieves confessing to shoplifting, rioters admitting criminal damage and sex offenders explaining why they do such things?’