Murder at Maddleskirk Abbey (21 page)

‘I must go.’ Claire ran towards the waiting vehicle as the stretcher-bearers eased their unconscious patient into the ambulance.

As Claire leapt into the rear to be at the side of Simon Houghton, Father Raymund followed, then the doors closed and the ambulance swept away with its blue light flashing. I now realized there really was some kind of relationship between Simon and Claire. I wondered if it was puppy love or something more serious. But it was truly no concern of mine.

As the ambulance sped smoothly across the valley towards the campus, Father Mutch and Harvey emerged carrying between them the mud-covered statue of a handsome youth. They received a mighty cheer too as we all crowded around to look at it.

‘Who is it?’ I asked. ‘It’s not St Luke, is it?’

‘No, it’s St Valentine,’ said Prior Tuck. ‘See, he is depicted with an invalid child at his feet, one of the many saints called
Valentine. The old chapel near the holy well was dedicated to one of them and the site used to attract young lovers on pilgrimages. Who does he belong to now?’

‘Probably the owner of Ashwell Priory,’ I smiled. ‘But I think the abbey should care for him until the matter is resolved.’

With the drama over, the bystanders drifted away. Elaine and her dogs left the scene after a hearty round of applause. I remained with Prior Tuck as his monkstables assembled to be formally dismissed. He thanked them all for their work and announced they could return to their normal duties, adding that he would organize a celebratory feast once this was all over.

‘I’ll pencil it in my diary,’ he promised us all. ‘I’ll aim for 26 October which is the feast day of two local saints, Chad and Cedd. Two for the price of one,’ he laughed. ‘That might mean an extra bottle of wine or two.’

Whilst he was attending to his own tasks, we heard that Claire was paying very close attention to the patient now partially under her care. She remained at his side that evening, not wishing to claim she was working overtime but merely tending a friend. When Simon opened his eyes, they settled upon Claire and she took his hand. He mouthed the word, ‘Hello, Claire’, and she smiled as she repeated his name with tears in her eyes.

‘He’s fine. He’s a fit, strong young man, well able to cope with all this,’ Father Raymund announced, after carrying out a detailed examination. ‘He has a lot of bruises and abrasions but nothing broken. It’s nothing that some good food, warmth, a relaxed sleep and some loving care and attention won’t cure. I’ll keep him in here for a few days to recuperate.’

And so the day’s excitements drew to a close and I found myself the owner of a statue of St Valentine which, I felt, should rightly stand near the shores of the pond in the woods. Maybe I could rebuild the chapel and encourage pilgrims to return to the holy well? Not knowing of my intentions, Father Mutch and Harvey said they would carry it into the crypt
where it could stand until it was cleaned and a decision made about its future. I wondered if the crypt had been reopened yet – I doubted it. Forensic examination of the scene of a crime always took a long time.

As I walked back to my car, I heard a voice behind me. ‘Nick.’ It was the abbot. ‘I’ve been looking for you. I just wanted to thank you for today’s efforts. It’s been quite exciting and your monkstables acquitted themselves very well. I think we may also have a budding romance – and you are the proud owner of a statue of St Valentine. How very symbolic!’

‘In view of what’s happened today, Father Abbot, I think he should stand in the hallway of the infirmary! There’s ample room. He’d be better placed there than shut away in the crypt.’

‘Now that is a good idea. In art, you know, Valentine is shown with disabled children and is also invoked against various illness and fainting attacks. Not only that, he is the patron saint of young people and engaged couples. So, yes, I will have him cleaned and positioned in the infirmary. We could dedicate the infirmary to him. Unless you want to rebuild the chapel on the hill near the holy well?’

‘I can’t see that happening in the foreseeable future, Father. The infirmary is the right place.’

‘I agree, and I hope Claire and Simon recognize the symbolism in the gesture. And, you know, I wonder what would happen if they remained together as a couple, and he fulfils his destiny? Could she be a future Queen of Poland?’

‘That’s a question I can’t – and daren’t – answer, Father. But one thing does strike me: we haven’t found the lost statues of St Luke and his winged ox. Who or what are they?’

‘I’ll tell you one day when we have some free time, perhaps at an assembly of the monkstables. The missing statues might be buried in Ashwell Priory and after all today’s excavations and activity, our monkstables might care to look for them. And there is another question, Nick.’

‘Which is?’

‘Who’s going to tell Simon’s mother about all this?’

‘I think that might be a job for you, Father Abbot, while I visit the murder room to tell the detectives about Simon’s rescue and find out what’s happening in the murder
investigation
. Harvey did a good job today. I wonder if he is still in the frame?’

‘T
HERE HAS BEEN
an important development, Nick,’ DCS Napier told me as I entered the murder room, so busy with detectives and monkstables. ‘Our circulars have produced a brilliant response from surrounding police forces. I’ve just been told by Northumbria that the dead man’s fingerprints have produced a result. And guess what – he’s got a criminal record and his name’s not Thorpe. He has convictions under the Treasure Act for offences relating to buried gold and silver. He was renowned – or infamous is perhaps the word – for locating treasure with his metal detector, and not declaring it. He sold his finds through antique shops or auctions and avoided sharing any proceeds with landowners. He often used false names for his activities. Quite simply he earned himself a
tax-free
fortune, but we can’t trace any of it. Is it buried? We’ve also learned that he is – or was – detested by other treasure hunters who obeyed the law and who haven’t had the good luck he seemed to generate. Certainly he had an uncanny instinct for locating hidden treasure.

‘He was fifty-one years of age and recorded his occupation as a freelance archaeologist. The fingerprint check showed a match with those on the glass in his bedroom at the retreat and he’s been identified as Leonard John Larkfield with an address in Newcastle-on-Tyne. He owned the camper-van used by Rawdon; they travelled here together with Rawdon driving, probably to get accustomed to the vehicle. Local CID went to the flat and when they showed a photo of his face, taken in the
coffin, a neighbour confirmed his identity. We’ll need more than that for legal purposes, of course, but it’s a great
breakthrough
.

‘Is that why Thorpe attended the course?’ I asked. ‘Did he expect it to reveal hidden wealth or was he – or the pair of them – really chasing the legendary treasure under the coffin in the crypt.

DI Lindsey joined in. ‘I reckon they used both the course and the dig as cover for their intentions. They wanted to find a way of getting their hands on that treasure, if it exists. In other words, their trip was an early recce.’

‘Do you think Thorpe found a way in but was killed to prevent him revealing it?’ I asked.

‘Perhaps killed to prevent him reaching the treasure so that someone else could get their hands on it, that’s a more feasible scenario,’ said Napier, who added, ‘And it also provided us with a motive.’

‘Is it really feasible that Rawdon would kill to get his hands on it?’ I asked.

‘It’s possible, people have killed for less,’ added DI Lindsey. ‘That Thorpe was gifted and clever is not in doubt – the problem was he used his skills in very unpleasant ways. The pair of them were a good match for each other but unlikely allies. I’m sure he would have double-crossed Rawdon given half a chance.

‘Yet Thorpe loaned Rawdon his van?’

Napier continued, ‘They weren’t friends, according to my contacts in Newcastle. Rawdon was a clever con man; he persuaded Larkfield/Thorpe into lending him the van and in return promised to show him where a massive treasure lay concealed. It doesn’t take much imagination to realize both wanted to get their hands on it – to the exclusion of each other and everyone else. Rawdon has done this sort of thing before – pretended to be an archaeologist on a site identified by aerial photo whilst getting another man to hunt treasure nearby – then going for the treasure himself.’

I wanted further clarification and asked, ‘I don’t understand why Rawdon persuaded Thorpe to get involved in such an unlikely partnership?’

‘As Rawdon made his plans, he realized Thorpe’s specialist knowledge could help him achieve his objectives – and the van was useful for Rawdon to establish a feasible base on the site.’

‘Thanks, you’ve all been very busy!’

‘I’ve had the benefit of computers and many contacts within the police service,’ beamed Napier, ‘all of which produced a lot of useful information.’

But I continued my efforts to understand. ‘If they visited the treasure’s hiding place, surely they realized they’d never be able to retrieve it? The idea was doomed from the start. That coffin and black curtain form the mythical raven that’s guarded it for centuries! And still doing a good job.’

‘It wasn’t impossible in their minds,’ said Napier, as if it explained everything. ‘But Thorpe alias Larkfield is dead and Rawdon has vanished. The students have all packed up and returned to the university with their equipment. That suggests they’re not coming back. I’ve checked at the university but Rawdon is not with them.

‘Were the students in league with him?’

‘No; he would never share anything. They were dupes who provided him with a reason for being here; raw recruits learning to be archaeologists. I’m sure he taught them
something
and I don’t believe they were aware of his real activities. Right now, there’s a nationwide alert for Rawdon and the vehicle.’

‘You really think he is the killer?’ I wanted to be sure.

‘We’re as certain as we can be, Nick. He had the motive and the means to commit the crime. And he was here at the
material
time. No matter what he does or where he goes, he will be found and I can guess there’ll be scientific evidence on him and his belongings, however small, that will be enough to secure his conviction. Some of his clothing might bear traces of his victim’s blood and if we find the weapon that killed him, it’s
handle might bear his prints, even if it’s been thrown into a river or pond. Our team are searching every patch of water in the locality.’

‘Including the cricket field?’

‘Yes, we’re looking at George’s Field in case Rawdon buried it there. If he has we’ll find it with a deep search metal detector. When we do, I’m sure forensics will show that it corresponds to the fatal wound at the back of the victim’s head. If we find the mallet, I’d guess the personal belongings of the dead man will also be buried nearby. Now we can understand why Rawdon remained here alone at weekends to carry out his own excavations! A dodge that almost worked.’

‘So how did you discover the secret of the hidden treasure?’ I asked.

‘I’d heard the legend, but the truth came via one of your monkstables, Father Will Redman. He told us and it provided the motive.’

‘Do we know where the actual cellar is?’

Prior Tuck explained, ‘It’s more of a vault than a cellar, Nick. One entrance is immediately beneath the stone coffin. The coffin room’s stone floor forms the roof of the vault directly beneath but there are suggestions of a secret entrance at the end of the underground maze, wherever that is! The treasure will remain beneath that old stone coffin, probably for ever – if it really exists!’

‘So, in spite of knowing all that,’ I put to Napier, ‘can it be proved now that Rawdon was the killer?’

‘Not unless we find him. You can now understand that a lot has been going on behind the scenes and the tempo builds up as we discover more. It’s a bit like building bricks being moved from a carelessly built pile and then being slotted into their correct place when building a house … after a time it all begins to make sense.’

‘What caused you to suspect Rawdon?’ I asked Napier.

‘He was associated with Thorpe and that put him in the frame almost from the beginning, but it was Brother George
and the fake photo that clinched it. We’re checking relevant timings to be sure the killer and his victim could have entered the crypt without anyone seeing them. We’ve not found anyone who saw them there, not even Harvey, but the crypt opens very early and closes late – and neither Harvey nor anyone else is there the whole time. And there are plenty of hiding places.’

‘Did Brother George come up with more information?’

‘Yes he did. He reckons Thorpe and Rawdon went down to the crypt early on Sunday morning, before the hectic part of the day began for the monks—’

‘Sunday morning?’

‘The pathologist agrees with Brother George. His opinion is based on the state of the body when it was found, but, of course, he cannot be absolutely sure. That day was probably one time in the week when neither monks nor anyone else would be in the crypt early, apart from the monk who opens it at five. The others would all be occupied, at least for most of the morning, with matins and Sunday masses in the abbey church and at the parishes they serve in the vicinity.’

‘Even so, it would be easy and indeed normal for a person on a retreat course to rise early, even venturing into the abbey church or one of the chapels in the crypt for a few moments of prayerful silence,’ I reminded them.

Prior Tuck added, ‘Who would think anything suspicious about a person in there as early as five o’clock? Especially if he was dressed in a monk’s black habit? Rawdon could easily have borrowed one; they hang in unlocked wardrobes on the
corridors
leading into the church. It has been known for visitors to help themselves to a habit, usually for nothing more than an atmospheric photo! They’re not counted. One could be removed temporarily without anyone noticing. Some real monks could have been in there from five but not later than six. They have matins then in the abbey church with a busy day to follow.’

‘How would the killer know his victim was in there at that time?’

Napier spoke. ‘Because Rawdon had seen Harvey’s tools on open display during an earlier recce, then arranged a joint visit away from crowds and witnesses at a time when the monks were at matins. We believe Rawdon convinced Thorpe that he would reveal the secret hiding place, ostensibly to a friend, but in reality to his rival. And in that callous way, he planned the disposal of the man he regarded as a threat to his own future.’

‘Then after killing Thorpe, he calmly awaited the discovery of the body?’

‘Right. He’s clearly a cool customer because he didn’t flee the scene of his crime. If he had, that would have indicated his guilt, so he remained calm and collected, and buried the evidence as the enquiry continued around him. He was totally confident his guilt would never be discovered – the trail of false names helped.’

‘But he hadn’t bargained for Brother George and his cricket field,’ I said, adding, ‘So who left that note?’

‘Harvey, without a doubt,’ responded Napier.

‘Harvey? Why him?’

‘He’s dyslexic, Nick; he never writes things down and won’t have any truck with written contracts and so forth. He admits being in the crypt very early on Monday morning when he was looking for his missing mallet. Thorpe was lying dead in the coffin at that time. Harvey must have looked into the curtained-off area as he hunted his mallet and he must have noticed the body. He would never admit to finding it because, as a former villain, he would know that the person who reports finding a murder victim is invariably a prime suspect. Remember there was a lot of circumstantial evidence against Harvey – the place of death, the timing, his missing mallet, his own past and the opportunity. He did not want to be
questioned
so he caused someone else to “find” it. With his mis-spelt note.’

‘You’ll be interviewing him about it?’

‘No,’ said Napier. ‘I’ve decided against it. I’m satisfied that Harvey left the note, and I’ve seen Harvey’s handwriting and
spelling faults in the past … this one can remain on the file. Anyway, it is anonymous! We know who the killer is. I’ll keep the note just in case there’s a need for it in the future, which I doubt.’

‘Now it’s a case of finding Rawdon.’

‘It is.’

‘Well, I think I’ll go home now, it’s been a long day,’ I said. ‘But interesting.’

‘We’ve more to do here,’ Napier reminded me. ‘We’ll be around for some time.’

I rang Mary on my mobile and told her I was on my way home. She said she would make sure supper was ready. It was almost 10.30 that evening when DCS Napier rang me at home to say that John Wayne Rawdon had been stopped in the camper-van on the A1M in County Durham and arrested on suspicion of murdering Leonard John Larkfield alias Thorpe. He had been returned to the Maddleskirk Murder Room where he had been interviewed by Napier.

When tiny spots of blood were indentified forensically on his shoes, he made a statement in which he admitted killing the man he knew as Larkfield but he claimed they were old friends, saying Larkfield had attacked him without warning to claim the treasure for himself. He insists he hit Larkfield in
self-defence
. However, the fact the wound was at such a distinct site at the back of the victim’s head rendered that defence useless. He was arrested and placed in police cells prior to appearing before a court.

The mallet, wrapped in a monk’s habit, was quickly found buried in the excavation area of George’s Field – with Larkfield’s blood on it along with Rawdon’s DNA and
fingerprints
. There were specks of blood on the habit too. Larkfield’s personal belongings from his pockets were also discovered at the other side of the field, six feet beneath a huge slab of stone. Some items bore Rawdon’s fingerprints. All well hidden, but not well enough.

Six months later when Rawdon appeared at Crown Court
charged with murder, he was found guilty and sentenced to life imprisonment.

The Ashlea Priory Coffin, often called the Maddleskirk Coffin, remains on its traditional site with the underground maze being secured against unlawful treasure hunters. The coffin, behind its famous black curtain, is now overlooked from the outer wall of the Lady Chapel, not by a raven but by a superb triptych depicting the Crucifixion and the Virgin Mary’s sad beautiful face.

And if anyone stands quietly near the stone coffin, or in front of the triptych, they might hear monks in the abbey church above them as they practise their Gregorian chants, perhaps with the
Misereri Mei
among them. Or they might be
celebrating
Holy Mass before a congregation with yet more singing and chanted prayers. Some prayers will be for the repose of the soul of Leonard John Larkfield and his killer.

Deep below Maddleskirk Abbey Church, the centuries-old treasure remains secure as the monkstables continue their
vigilant
patrols.

I was told that when DCS Napier shut the doors of the murder room for the last time, DI Brian Lindsey had said, ‘Well, boss, the legend of the black raven can now rest in peace.’