Murder at Maddleskirk Abbey (3 page)

N
EITHER OF US
spoke for a few moments, not really
comprehending
what we were looking at, then I said somewhat inanely, ‘This is just what we didn’t want, Father Prior.’ I
indicated
the bloodstained hat and the pool of thick blood in the head-well. The blood had apparently oozed from beneath the recumbent head. ‘We are probably looking at a murder victim.’

He peered into the coffin and said, ‘He couldn’t have
clambered
up here and tripped, could he? Fallen in, banged his head in the process?’

‘And then lain down to fold his arms neatly across his chest?’ I issued a long and heavy sigh. ‘No, Father, I’m afraid we have a suspicious death on our hands. This looks like a very serious head wound and there are no weapons here to suggest it was self-inflicted. Didn’t Father Bowman notice the blood?’

‘No, he can’t have done, otherwise he’d have told me. It was a very cursory examination, Nick, merely to determine whether he was alive or dead. A trained police doctor wouldn’t have missed something as obvious as that.’

‘Probably not, but I must say doctors have been known to miss such things. I recall one who failed to spot that a man had been shot in the back! It was pure chance I spotted this. A
self-inflicted
fatal wound at the back of the head would be impossible to achieve, except perhaps with a pistol shot. If that had happened, the weapon would be here. With a blunt
instrument
I doubt if you could kill yourself with a blow like this – and there’s no weapon. It’s clearly a vicious attack – in other
words, it’s murder. We must close the crypt and call in the CID. This is now a crime scene.’

As we were walking from the coffin, ensuring the curtain was closed behind us, the prior sounding worried, said, ‘It’s a good thing you came here, Nick. This is dreadful. It shows how inexperienced we are.’

‘It’s all part of the learning process, Father Prior. Everyone makes mistakes, that’s how we learn. Every police officer has to start somewhere.’

‘Well, this is going to be a new experience. Does it mean the abbey will be crawling with detectives, journalists and morbid sightseers? It will surely disrupt our routine….’

‘That’s bound to happen, but any disruption will be kept to a minimum, especially where the monks’ divine office and the college routines are concerned, it means it’s in our interest to control events. Anyway I must now call the local CID to get things moving. We’ve no time to waste.’

‘Shall I inform the abbot and headmaster now?’ he asked.

‘Yes, that’s important. Then we need to ask that sculptor to keep away until the initial investigation is over and the body has been removed. He’ll be able to return once examination of the crime scene is complete, but I’m afraid we can’t let him remove any of his tools.’

‘You’re saying they could be murder weapons?’

‘There are some useful-looking hammers and chisels among them, but I’m not suggesting Harvey used one of them! But someone else could have done. We need to secure the entire crypt immediately, but before we leave we must search it in case the killer is still hiding here, or there are more bodies. Or a murder weapon that has been thrown into a dark corner.’

‘Is that likely?’ He sounded even more worried at the thought.

‘It’s not impossible,’ was my response.

We carried out the search, working together for safety reasons as we examined every possible hiding place for people and weapons, checking all the chapels, cupboards and dark
spaces. It took half-an-hour but we were both satisfied that the killer was not concealed within the crypt and that no more bodies awaited discovery. Similarly, we did not find anything cast away that might have been the murder weapon, but a more thorough search would have to be undertaken by the police, perhaps with dogs. Our tour of the crypt led us back to Harvey’s work bench, now deserted with its tools scattered haphazardly about it. Not far from the coffin curtain, we stood briefly to admire his unfinished work. When finished, it would be fitted into a wall of the Lady Chapel; its measurements had been determined and the abbey’s estate workers had created a space by removing several courses of stones to create an upright trough which would house this beautiful work.

‘He works in wood and stone,’ Prior Tuck told me. ‘His work appears in several churches and cathedrals. Apart from creating works of art he carries out repairs to damaged statues. I don’t know how he’ll react to this disruption, though, he’s very touchy. He’s left already.’

‘I’m sure the detectives will do their best to let him continue working,’ I assured the prior. ‘All I can say is that if the killer is quickly identified and caught, normal services will be restored as soon as possible.’

‘Now I must break the bad news to the abbot and
headmaster
, and I’d better include the procurator. They might want a chat with you, Nick, to outline exactly what we might expect.’

‘I’ll be happy to do that.’

‘The actual murder enquiry – if it turns out to be murder – won’t really involve us, will it? By
us
, I mean the monkstables, as I’m beginning to call them!’

‘We might be allocated some modest local enquiries, Father Prior, bearing in mind that we have been sworn-in as local constables and we know a lot about the establishment, its routine, personnel and so forth.’

‘It would be fascinating to be involved….’

‘It would, but a lot depends upon who’s in charge of the investigation. Now we must leave and lock the crypt. While
you inform the abbot and the others, I’ll call the CID. I’ll use phone in the cop shop.’

‘I hope the sculptor doesn’t return – he won’t be able to get in.’

‘Then that’s one security problem solved! Next we need to know the sculptor’s full name, Father Prior. The murder team will definitely want to interview him, if only for elimination purposes.’

‘I know him as Harvey, but don’t know his other name or where he comes from. The procurator should know. I
understand
his work is being paid for by a wealthy benefactor, so both his name and that of the sculptor will surely be on some sort of contract.’

‘Good. So we’ve already made a start to our own
investigation
. I see no reason why we can’t carry out our own enquiries quite independently of the police, especially if the CID doesn’t want us to join them. But there’s another matter to think about. The detectives will require secure accommodation they can use as their murder room – it’ll need desks, a blackboard, computer terminals, telephones, seating, space for
refreshment
breaks and probably more besides. They’ll provide all their own equipment. A lecture theatre or conference room would be ideal – there’ll be regular conferences of detectives throughout the enquiry when lots of tea and coffee will be consumed. And it will need to be made secure when they’re not using it. This enquiry could last for several days, or be over in just one.’

‘That won’t be a problem, we’ve plenty of suitable venues. Leave it with me, Nick, I’ll check after I’ve locked the crypt. Where shall we rendezvous?’

‘How about the cop shop?’ It was called that because it had previously been the school tuck shop – some said it was named in honour of Prior Tuck, not only because of his name but also because he had been a frequent customer to buy Mars Bars. ‘I’ll wait there for you, then I can brief the monk constable on duty. He’s going to be very busy.’

‘It’ll take a few minutes to explain things to the abbot and others. Will you be remaining? Perhaps working with us?’

‘I don’t think the detectives will want me, a retired police officer, hanging around, but with our combined and
specialized
knowledge, the murder team might find the monkstables useful for local enquiries. I’ll be happy for us to help. It’s a case of waiting to see what the CID need. I’m not going home just yet.’

I called Mary on my mobile to say I would not be home for some time and would probably have lunch in one of the
refectories
. Father Prior and I went our separate ways as I headed for the cop shop. Its normal times of opening were listed outside the door. When the duty monkstable was not in the police office, he would be patrolling the grounds and buildings in uniform to deal with whatever occurred – litter dropping, foul language, lost and found property, trespassing in secure areas, inconsiderate car-parking, noisy motor bikes roaring past the abbey during mass, or any other nuisance or problem. There was a
POLICE
sign complete with an illuminated blue lamp above the doorway and, as I arrived to make my call, a woman rushed to the counter. I stood back to allow her to complete her business for I had no wish to have my call
overheard
at this stage. I recognized the woman as Miss Dawson, one of the teaching staff.

It was already approaching nine o’clock and the enquiry desk was staffed by Constable Will Stutely – Father Will Stutely – whose shoulder number was 14. At Maddleskirk, each of the constables’ shoulder numbers began with figure 1 because they were the first of Britain’s monastic constables. As duty officer, Monkstable Stutely would spend his scheduled time behind the desk dealing with queries and problems and, in between times, he would patrol the buildings and grounds.

‘Good morning, Miss Dawson,’ he greeted his visitor.

‘I never know whether to address you as Father or Constable….’ she began.

‘As part monk and part constable, I answer to anything, but
a lot of people call us monkstables. You could always call me One-Four. That’s how they used to address police constables. Numbers instead of names. Anyway, how can I help?’

She told the boyish-looking fair-haired monk about the non-appearance at class this morning of one of her pupils, Simon Houghton, and expressed her concern. None of his classmates had seen him and none knew of any reason for his absence.

‘You’d better hear this, Nick,’ suggested Father Stutely, beckoning me forward. I realized he must be aware of the mystery in the crypt – the note had been pushed through the cop shop letter box and he would have read it before contacting Prior Tuck. ‘Miss Dawson, this is former police inspector Nicholas Rhea, he’s the adviser to our monk-constables. He may be able to help organize a search for the boy around the campus by using our officers.’

‘Thank you. That would be a big help. I do hope he is not in any danger.’

‘So what can you tell us about him?’ asked Constable Stutely. ‘We’ll deal with his absence as low-key at this stage. Certainly it’s not yet within the realms of a missing person. He’s just one teenage lad who hasn’t turned up for lessons.’

‘I hope it’s nothing more than that. I’ve allowed him time to get here – quarter of an hour – but with him not appearing and no word, I’m concerned.’

‘Has he done this before?’ I asked.

‘No, never. It is most unlike him. He’s never late, not like some boys, and always turns up even when he’s not feeling well. If there is a problem, he sends a message.’

‘You’re sure there’s been no word from him? Could he have asked one of his pals to tell you?’

‘I’m sure. I’ve asked around. Usually if Houghton can’t turn up for any reason, he lets his tutor know. But I haven’t checked his room….’

‘Leave that to me,’ Father Stutely assured her. ‘I’ll go and check and if it’s locked, or if there’s no sign of him around the
college, I’ll contact his housemaster. We’ll find him. He can’t be far away.’

‘Thank you, that’s a relief.’

‘I’ll let you know the outcome as soon as I have news. He’s probably got his head stuck into a book in the library and forgotten the time. You go and deal with your class.’

‘Thanks. I’d better get back before they wreck the place.’

When she was out of hearing, he smiled his understanding and said, ‘I’ll set things in motion, Nick. He’s probably crashed out in his bed, fast asleep in the land of Nod after a hectic weekend. Boys do that sort of thing. Oversleeping on a Monday morning isn’t exactly a matter of great urgency. Now it’s your turn, so what can I do for you?’

‘I’d like to make a phone call to police headquarters, Father Will. But first, I need a word. I believe you received a curious note this morning?’

‘Yes, it had been pushed through the letter box before I opened up. It was on the floor. I’ve kept it—’

‘You must keep it very safe, Father,’ I said.

Taking it from a drawer, he handed it to me. On a piece of lined writing paper, I read the handwritten words in black
ballpoint
:
Look behind big curtin in cript.
I noted the mis-spellings and passed it back to him.

‘Can you make sure no one else handles it? Keep it secure as the CID will want to examine it. Do you know who sent it?’

‘No idea, sorry. I can’t tell you exactly when it was delivered, but it was here when I opened up at eight this morning, but it wasn’t here when we closed the office last night at eleven.’

‘The paper looks rather like the sort you’d find in a cheap writing pad or notebook of some kind.’

‘It does; you can see where it was torn from its spiral binding. There are some small jotting pads like this in the school shop. Here’s a ruler, Nick, you might want to measure it.’

It was 125 mm x 100 mm (5” x 4”), the sort of small notebook that a schoolboy or even a hiker might carry in a pocket or handbag.

‘Thanks, Father. This could be an important piece of evidence….’

‘Evidence? You mentioned the CID just now. What’s happened?’

‘Father Prior obeyed the instructions in that note and looked behind the curtain in the crypt. He found a dead man lying in that stone coffin.’

‘Dead?’

‘Yes, with a head wound. Almost certainly it’s murder,’ I said. ‘I’m going to call the CID and Prior Tuck is notifying the abbot, the headmaster and the procurator. As it’s murder, Father Will, things are soon going to get very hectic.’

‘So what can I do?’ The shock was evident on his face.

‘You need to remain here until further notice to deal with calls and visitors. We’ll need you to act as our focal point.’