Murder at Maddleskirk Abbey (18 page)

‘Or kills somebody,’ said Brother George in his slow and calculated voice.

‘Is that what you think?’ I was quite shocked to hear the old gentleman suggest such a thing, especially as he was now a monk, albeit not ordained.

‘Greed is one of the oldest motives in the world, Nick. It’s one of the seven deadly sins – covetousness.’

‘You’ve been thinking hard about this, haven’t you?’

‘Aye, I have.’

‘Right, you’re sure you saw a man leave the van and go into the retreat?’

‘I am, I was working in the garden like I said.’

‘Would you recognize him?’

‘I thought it was that chap in the stone coffin, Nick. Not very tall, with a beard, but when he arrived he was wearing smart clothes. In his coffin he looked like a hiker, but his face on the photos was the same, I’m sure about that.’

Brother George’s story supported that of Mrs Morley but required immediate investigation. Clearly there was more he wanted to tell me but at that point, I noticed DCS Napier heading in our direction.

‘Brother George,’ I said. ‘You must tell Mr Napier everything you’ve just told me. He’s on his way.’

‘OK, I’ll do that, I need to get it off my chest,’ was all he said.

‘Is this a private conference or can anyone join in?’ asked Napier as he drew closer. ‘I’ve come for my car, Nick. I’m returning to the murder room. I came over to see what’s going on just in case there’s anything that might be linked to my murder enquiry. I must say I can’t link that missing lad with the dead man in the crypt even though we think Simon had been in there looking at a pretty face on the triptych.’

‘That’s something of a relief, I can tell you!’ I issued a long sigh of exhaled breath.

‘I’m also inclined to discount his disappearance as being in any way associated with the murder. And, thanks to the monkstables we know Simon is genuinely missing and on the point of being rescued – I can concentrate on other matters now. I hope he gets out alive. Keep in touch.’

‘While you’re here, Mr Napier, Brother George has
something
very important to tell us which I think is highly relevant. But before you speak to him, did you know Harvey is among the searchers?’

‘Yes, and we’ve talked. In fact, he called at the murder room on his way here and wanted to explain why he ran off like he did. He does it whenever he feels pressured. He’s done it before. I interviewed him at length and there is no way I can arrest him or charge him with the murder. He apologized for
running off which I accepted and, because this is a Catholic abbey, I gave him a penance and suggested he came here and helped in the rescue operation. That’s his penance.’

‘He’s quite a character,’ I admitted.

‘He’s a one-off, Nick. He was a young violent tearaway but he’s reformed. I know him well enough to believe him. I’ve no evidence against him except he was in the crypt twice during the time the victim was lying there and there’s no scientific evidence against him. Now, Brother George, what do you want to tell me?’

For the second time, Brother George gave a full account of his researches to which Napier listened intently without
interrupting
the narrative. George told the story just as he had explained it to me and it was interesting to hear Napier ask questions very similar to those I had asked.

Then Napier said, ‘One of our teams interviewed the
archaeologist
and his students earlier today. Their stories have been checked and are true. They come from York University, studying archaeology, and their stories tally with what the university authorities have told us. They arrive daily in a university mini-bus and leave at five each day.’

‘They ended their stint on Friday afternoon about three, then returned this morning,’ I told him. ‘None of them was on this campus at the time of the murder, we’re sure of that, but their leader was – he camps in his van and remained here alone over the weekend, working to complete a section that he considered important. Have your men checked his background?’

‘His full name and address have been checked, Nick, and they match the information in the correspondence between him and the abbot when he was seeking permission. We checked with the Institute for Archaeologists and he’s listed as a member even though some people describe him as a treasure hunter. The van belongs to a friend called Larkfield. It hasn’t been reported stolen and Rawdon has no criminal record so we can’t check his fingerprints against CRO records, nor have we taken any DNA samples as he has not come into the frame as a
suspect. In short, Brother George, we have no reason to suspect the archaeologist of any illegality.’

‘It still seems very odd to me, Mr Napier. How do we account for Rawdon’s presence with a fake map? He must have known it wasn’t the right one,’ Brother George stood his ground. ‘So what’s he up to?’

‘It could be the result of human error,’ suggested Napier. ‘I haven’t asked about that as I had no idea it was a fake until you suggested it. I guess he was supplied with it and came here not realizing it wasn’t actually the map of the cricket field. Clearly he has reason to believe there are hidden remains and equally clearly, he has obtained permission to search the field for them. He’s done all the right things and is no more under suspicion than any workman on the construction site. And if you think he is the killer, Brother George, why hasn’t he disappeared? Fled the scene?’

‘To make it appear he is entirely innocent?’ suggested Brother George.

‘That would require extraordinary nerve! So you think he’s guilty?’ Napier pressed.

‘It’s not impossible if greed is the motive.’ Brother George spoke quietly and with some conviction.

‘What evidence have you for thinking that?’

‘The treasure hidden beneath the stone coffin,’ replied Brother George. ‘It’s said to be worth millions. It’s not just a legend protected by a raven – it’s genuine.’

‘Nobody has said anything about that to me! Anyway, no human power can move the coffin and you can’t get machinery into the crypt to do the job, there’s no access. How can you be sure it’s not merely a spot of ancient folklore? Remember, Brother George, we are professional detectives and must base our results on hard and proven evidence, not theories or fairy stories. However in view of your concern, and the fact you’ve raised some valid questions, along with the fake photo, we’ll investigate him further. He needs to be eliminated from our enquiries. He’s a noted treasure hunter, not an archaeologist?’

‘That’s right,’ said Brother George. ‘Thank you for saying
you’ll investigate him. But don’t forget all those tunnels that run under parts of the Abbey and crypt; some of them give access to both the church and the crypt. I think both those chaps were up to summat, then one of ‘em got killed.’

‘All right, Brother George, I’m getting the message! This needs more work. Now I must return to see if my teams have uncovered anything of interest, so leave the archaeologist to me. Pop into the Murder Room any time, both of you, we value your input.’ And he left.

‘What do you make of that?’ I asked Brother George when Napier had left.

‘I think I’ve got him interested in my story so I hope he’ll do something.’ He smiled. ‘If he doesn’t, I’ll dig deeper and produce the evidence myself!’

As we concluded our conversation, Oscar Blaketon returned with the stretcher and used Napier’s empty parking space as more sightseers’ vehicles had arrived. Happily, the duty monkstables were in control and the high wire fence was keeping most visitors at bay. We returned to the scene, helping Oscar to carry the stretcher and we placed it close to the centre of operations. Then we sought Prior Tuck. He was standing not far away but near enough to observe all the action.

‘We’ve got a stretcher,’ I told him. ‘Narrow with wheels; ideal for this. The ambulance will follow. So, have there been any more developments?’

‘Not really,’ he sounded just a little unsure of both himself and the merits of this exercise. The men had been working a long time without any result, and his posse of monkstables had also been on duty a long time. Neither group was accustomed to this kind of pressure when at work. I felt they all needed a fillip or a breakthrough of some kind.

‘Things are going well?’ I suggested, having noted
considerable
progress. From my amateur viewpoint, it seemed that most of the recent landslide had been removed and deposited at a safe distance, but there was still no sign of a passage or ancient cell walls.

And then, as if on cue, there came an almighty roar of voices with cheers and shouts. ‘Hello,’ said Prior Tuck. ‘Methinks we have a breakthrough!’

As the workmen relaxed their efforts, the rest of the search party – including me and Oscar – were allowed into their inner circle to inspect the result of their efforts. The protective ring of monkstables remained in place as the crowd of onlookers was clearly wishing to see what had caused the cheering, but they were all held at bay. As we approached, we could see the results. The workmen went off for a well-earned break and their boss, Joe Sampson, remained to explain things.

‘Quite literally,’ – he indicated with his waving arms and hands – ‘the lads have skimmed off the top of the old priory cell block at this point. Thanks to some wizard workmen operating our machines, we have removed and dispersed all the recent debris and a good deal more without causing any more damage or danger. It’s only a small patch that we’ve cleared, and there is much more debris on other parts of the old priory, but if you follow the direction I’m pointing, the important thing is that we have exposed one of the ancient corridors. Thanks to the monastery librarian we have a ground plan and that open corridor gives access to a passage that in turn leads to other cells and surviving parts of the structure. We can go in now!’

‘Is it safe?’ asked Prior Tuck.

‘As safe as it can be. I must say the stonework is in
surprisingly
good condition, a real tribute to the medieval builders. From here we can walk upright into several parts of the main priory. However, I’m sure that around some of the corners, and out of our vision from here, there will be blockages with tree trunks, rocks and so on. And they could represent new dangers. But the good news is that whilst our diggers take a much needed break, we can enter the complex in reasonable safety.’

‘Do we know where Simon is in relation to this point?’ asked the prior.

‘Not with a hundred per cent certainty. We can ask Elaine to get her dog to speak to us again, as he’s been doing for most of the time – he will be hoarse by now – and then we’ll need a volunteer to enter and carry out a very careful search.’

‘Father Stutely is our caving expert,’ smiled Prior Tuck. ‘He’s slimmer than Father Mutch! I’m sure he’ll volunteer. I see Elaine’s over there.’

He pointed, shouted and raised his hand, and called, ‘Elaine, can you come please?’

She and Father Will Stutely arrived at the same time. Prior Tuck updated them, then asked, ‘Elaine, can you get Sherlock to speak again? He must be absolutely sick of barking at us … If you go to that big entrance hole the workmen have produced, your voice might carry further. But before you do so, is there any news of Holmes?’

She shook her head. ‘If he was trapped he should be able to communicate with us, but if he’s been killed by a rockfall or something …’ Her voice faded away.

‘We must be positive,’ whispered the prior.

‘Yes, I know. No barks could mean he’s found a dead person or something important which he’s guarding till we find him. And he must be too far away to hear me asking him to speak. I’m not sure what he’s trying to tell me.’ She sighed. ‘But
whatever
it is, he’s guarding it. I feel sure he must have spoken without us hearing him above all the noise out here.’

‘But Sherlock will continue to speak?’

‘He will.’ She spoke with confidence.

Before Father Will entered the maze that was now partially revealed before him, he asked Joe, ‘Have you a long length of white rope or a piece of cable? I need to fix one end to my waist if I’m going in there. Then if I find Simon or the dogs someone can follow my trail, otherwise we’re going to have helpers wandering all over the place and getting lost themselves.’

Joe called one of his workmen. ‘Eddie, can you get a reel of white rope? There’s one in the van over there, the one we use when fixing and tracing deep sewers and drains.’

‘Right, boss.’

‘Now, Elaine, while he’s doing that, can you get Sherlock to speak again? We need to know precisely where Simon is if that’s possible.’

‘I might have to go inside,’ she warned us, with a slight tremor in her voice.

‘Fine, so get yourself fixed up with some white rope and a hard hat, then we’ll let you in!’

And so after the magic worked by tea and cake, the team returned to work, this time accompanied by Father Will in a hard hat instead of his white helmet, and Elaine without her police cap but with also with a hard hat. She carried a powerful torch from her police van, and had found another walkie-talkie radio. When everyone was ready, Elaine and Father Will moved as close as possible to the entrance, each with a long coil of white rope attached to their waists and anchored on reels close to the entrance.

‘Ready?’ asked Father Will.

She nodded and said, ‘I do hope we find them. Can someone stand near my van to receive calls from me over the radio? We need someone accustomed to using them.’

‘Count me in,’ smiled Oscar Blaketon. ‘Alf and I will
volunteer
for that, won’t we, Alf? We’ll become the control room for the exercise!’

‘And I will say a silent prayer or two as we go deeper inside,’ said Father Will Stutely to Elaine. ‘Can I suggest we remain as close as possible? It will get darker as we go deeper but I have a torch,’ and he produced one from the pocket of his police tunic. ‘Time to go?’

Elaine nodded.

‘Quiet, everyone,’ called Prior Tuck. ‘They’ll need silence once inside.’

As Elaine entered beside the monkstable, she called out, ‘Sherlock’, and was rewarded by a double bark that sounded a long way off and echoed slightly. But it meant Sherlock was still by the side of the boy although it did not reveal whether he
was unconscious, trapped or merely lost. Simon did not speak.