Murder at Maddleskirk Abbey (4 page)

‘I understand. You’ll keep me informed? Help me to deal with things?’

‘Of course. Ask if you need help.’

He didn’t speak for a moment or two, and then said, ‘A missing boy, and now this. Are they connected? Murder
investigations
are out of our league, aren’t they?’

‘They are, but our services might be called upon, Father Will. At the moment, the crypt is locked because it’s a crime scene. Father Prior has the keys. The sculptor will not be allowed access and neither will anyone else. I know you keep a crypt key here that you share with reception but don’t let anyone have it whatever reason they give. Perhaps notices on all three doors until the police give the all-clear?’

‘We’ve got some “No Entry” signs, I’ll use those. One of the estate workers can place them.’

‘That sounds sensible. Now I’ll call the CID but they’ll also want to find that missing boy … in their books, he’ll be either a suspect or another victim.’

‘Dear God, this gets worse.’

I telephoned the CID and asked to speak to Detective Chief Superintendent Napier whose name I knew from his regular
appearances in newspapers and TV broadcasts. I had never met him – I retired before he transferred from the Northumbria Constabulary to the North Yorkshire Police. I must admit I was surprised when I found myself speaking directly to him as I had expected an introductory conversation with a secretary or his deputy.

‘Napier,’ a strong voice answered.

‘My name is Rhea,’ I responded. ‘Former Inspector Nicholas Rhea, I used to be the press officer for North Yorkshire Police. I’m retired now.’

‘Right, Mr Rhea. I’ve come across your name in our files; so what can I do for you? I hope you don’t want me to speak to a group of sleepy pensioners?’

‘No,’ I assured him. ‘I have a murder – or at least a suspected murder – to report.’

‘Have you, by jove! Tell me what’s happened but keep it brief.’

‘I’m ringing from Maddleskirk Abbey and College. There’s a male body lying in an ancient stone coffin in the undercroft beneath the abbey church—’

‘You’re making this up! Is it a modern male body?’

‘Yes, he’s not just a pile of old bones, nor is he made of stone. I know it sounds like a crime novel, but it’s true. It looks as if he has a head wound, and furthermore, we don’t know who he is.’

‘Been confirmed dead, has he?’

‘Yes, by a doctor.’

‘Is the killer still around?’

‘I don’t think so, we searched the crypt—’

‘The what?’ he interrupted.

‘The crypt, it’s under the abbey church. A very old place. That’s where he was found. Some call it the undercroft. There’s more.’

‘You’re not going to tell me a monk has seen the Virgin Mary, are you?’

‘No, but I am going to tell you that I’ve just learned that a
schoolboy is also missing from the college, it adjoins the abbey, We’re just about to begin a search for him in the grounds and buildings.’

‘Are you saying he’s a suspect?’

‘I’m just saying he’s missing, Mr Napier.’

‘Another victim then?’

‘Clearly we can’t rule it out.’

‘You said “we” are going to begin a search for the lad. Who are “we”?

‘The abbey has its own private police force. They know their way around the place; they’ll be conducting the search.’

‘Well, that’ll keep your own cops busy, but make sure they keep away from the murder scene. I don’t have to tell you why. Right, I’m not one for believing in coincidences so leave the suspected murder to me. Don’t foul up the murder scene. I’ll get my DS from Scarborough to come along and make a preliminary investigation but before I do that, can I ask what all this has got to do with you, a retired copper?’

‘I helped to create and train Maddleskirk Abbey’s private police force of monks – monkstables, we call them. The prior called me when the body was found as they didn’t know what to do about it. They had no idea it was a murder. I learned of the schoolboy’s absence when I arrived.’

‘You have been busy, haven’t you? Right, well, I hope you and your pious police haven’t messed up any of the evidence at the scene.’

‘We haven’t, apart from being there when we examined the body. I’ve sealed the crypt, Mr Napier. It’s locked and the keys will be at reception or at the cop shop.’

‘Cop shop?’

‘The abbey’s own police office, it was a tuck shop before its current use.’

‘Good for you. My sergeant will be with you in a few minutes, he’s just been to a burglary not far from Ashfordly and is on his way back to his station. I’ll divert him directly to you. His name is Sullivan, Jim Sullivan. A useful chap.’

‘Thanks. Ask him to report to the police office in the
reception
area of the abbey. I’ll be there. Is there anything I can be doing in the meantime?’

‘I suppose you and your pals could be asking around to see who the victim is, that would be a good start. There’ll have to be a thorough search of the entire campus to see if the villain is hiding anywhere or has topped himself, so if you’re looking for that missing lad, you and your monkstables can carry out a dual search.’

‘I’ll inform the prior.’

‘I’m not used to working with monks and priests but you could also ask whether anyone has recently noticed anything out of the ordinary. In a quiet place like your abbey, I would imagine someone must have seen the killer moving around.’

‘It’s not a quiet place, believe me. But I’ll get them started straight away.’

‘That’s what I like to hear. I think your constables could prove very useful but don’t let them get into a dangerous
situation
. Hunting murderers can be dangerous. And we need to know where that schoolboy has got to and whether he’s responsible. Or whether he’s another victim. We’ll need a suitable room we can use as a murder room – maybe you can find one for us? You know the drill. It means your officers are going to be very busy, Mr Rhea. I’ll join you as soon as I get a
situation
report from my DS.’

As I settled on a bench in reception to await the return of Prior Tuck, probably accompanied by the abbot and other
officials
, I realized it would be a good idea to summon all the monkstables to a meeting to explain what was going to happen, and to encourage their co-operation. I had no doubt they would be an asset to both investigations and so asked Father Stutely if he would contact them. I suggested they assembled in the Postgate Conference Room (named in honour of a local martyr) where I could address them pending the arrival of Detective Sergeant Sullivan. I had used that room during their training and it was ideal for such a meeting. Then I must get
them to search the entire campus as soon as possible. Having got things moving I settled down to await Abbot Merryman. He soon arrived together with Prior Tuck, Father Bede Templeton, the headmaster, and Father Sixtus Gold, the
procurator
, an ancient name for the financial director.

‘I’ve called on the monkstables to assemble in the Postgate Room,’ I advised them. ‘They’re all expected anytime now.’

‘Then let’s join them as this affects us all.’ Business-like and brisk, Abbot Merryman set off at a fast walk with the rest of us trying to keep pace. I asked Father Stutely to inform the
detective
sergeant of my whereabouts when he arrived. The monkstables responded very quickly, all dressed in their uniforms and within twenty minutes everyone was seated. The room was quietly located in the basement below the main entrance to the abbey church but it was too small to serve as the police murder room.

The abbot said, ‘Prior Tuck, you’re in charge of our police officers, perhaps you can tell us what’s going on?’

‘Thank you, Father Abbot.’

Prior Tuck provided a brief but lucid account of the discovery of the man’s body and the action we had already taken, and then asked me to inform the group about events since that time. I told them about the missing Simon Houghton, adding that his housemaster was arranging a search of his room and other likely places, and if the boy was not quickly found, the monkstables would be required to search the entire abbey and college campus. I ended by saying I had called the county CID, adding that a detective sergeant would arrive at any moment and that our part in searching for Simon had been welcomed by the detective chief superintendent.

Detective Sergeant Sullivan arrived during my address, accompanied by Father Stutely who introduced him. For the sergeant’s benefit, I was asked to outline events, but before inviting the sergeant to visit the crypt, I took the opportunity to ask Father Stutely whether there was any news about Simon Houghton.

‘Nothing.’ He gestured with his hands to illustrate his words. ‘His room has not been used overnight, his bed is made, he did not attend breakfast this morning and it seems he was away from here all day yesterday in that terrible storm. We’re continuing to search for him, but I fear it is more than just a boy missing a lesson. Once the monkstables have finished here, perhaps they could join me in the cop shop and we can issue plans and maps for them to broaden their searches.’

‘Consider it done,’ said Father Prior.

‘Thank you,’ said the abbot. ‘And now, Sergeant Sullivan, you will want to hear our story?’

‘Can I do that in the crypt together with the monk who found the body, and also ex-Inspector Rhea? My boss mentioned a head wound. It will help if I am looking at the scene as the story unfolds.’

‘I’m sure it will,’ I added my own opinion.

The abbot said, ‘Whilst you are doing that essential task, Sergeant, I will return to my office. No doubt Mr Rhea will keep me and my colleagues informed.’

‘Of course,’ I agreed, and so the headmaster and procurator followed him out.

‘One thing before you go, Father Abbot,’ said Sullivan. ‘Is this missing lad causing great concern or is such an event rather normal here?’

‘At this stage, it seems to be nothing more than a pupil
skipping
Monday morning lessons. It happens all the time, except that this pupil isn’t the sort to dodge lessons. We’ve no reports of anyone else missing.’

‘Well, like most detectives, I don’t believe in coincidences. I think we should treat his absence with genuine concern.’

‘We’ll do all in our power to help,’ smiled the Abbot but I detected just a hint of a frown on his face.

Whilst the prior and I accompanied Detective Sergeant Sullivan to the crypt, I suggested that Father Bowman should be in temporary charge of the monkstables as a search plan was organized. He agreed. As Father Prior led the way to the
internal entrance from the reception area, collecting the key
en route
, Abbot Merryman hailed me.

‘The minute you’ve finished with that policeman, Nick, I need an urgent and very confidential word with you. In my office. It’s about Simon Houghton. It’s vital we speak at the earliest opportunity.’

O
NCE INSIDE THE
crypt, I walked behind Detective Sergeant Sullivan as Prior Tuck led the way and switched on the dim lights. He had also brought his torch. There was no one else with us and no one spoke as the detective looked around. I found myself wondering if I had encountered Sullivan during my service but decided I hadn’t. He struck me as very
business-like
, smartly dressed in a well-cut sports jacket which was predominantly green, along with chinos, a pale-cream shirt, green tie and brown shoes. He reminded me of some estate owners I knew and I wondered if he was from that kind of rural background. Not particularly tall, and certainly not overweight, he had a good head of fair hair, was clean-shaven and did not wear spectacles. He carried a brown leather briefcase and I thought he looked like a rural general practitioner, racehorse owner or perhaps a vet.

‘This is like descending into the Black Hole of Calcutta,’ he commented. ‘What happens down here? Is this supposed to represent Hell?’

‘No,’ I told him. ‘Hell is the staff car park at going-home time!’

Prior Tuck, who was leading the way, responded, ‘This is what’s left of an old abbey that used to occupy the site,’ he explained. ‘Our abbey church has been constructed over the top of it, a form of protection I suppose, but we make use of the crypt for occasional masses – there are thirty-six chapels, some with national associations and others dedicated to certain saints.
We use them for baptisms and weddings and such. Also, at the moment, we have a sculptor working down here in the Lady Chapel. I’ll show you.’

‘He’s not still there, is he?’ Sullivan sounded shocked.

‘No, he’s been and gone. He has a studio somewhere,’ said Prior Tuck. ‘I locked all the doors after searching the place for the villain or other victims.’

‘That’s a good start. Now head wounds are rarely if ever deliberately self-inflicted except by firearms. And if it is murder, your sculptor will be in the frame as a suspect. Meanwhile he’ll have to find somewhere else to work. Does he work in stone, or wood? Or metal?’

‘Wood and stone, I understand.’

‘So he’ll have plenty of hammers and other tools that could inflict a nasty wound on someone’s skull. We need to talk to him – and seize his tools for forensic analysis. Unless he’s taken any with him. Or thrown them away. Now show me the body and be careful where you put your feet. Use the approach route that you did when you found him. It was you who found him, wasn’t it, Prior Tuck?’

‘I was advised where to look,’ affirmed the prior as he led us on the approach to the coffin curtain. In the near darkness, Prior Tuck told him about the curious note that had been left in the police office. ‘Because of it, I came and found the body.’

‘Well, you seem to have done all the right things….’

‘I used to be a police officer,’ Prior Tuck told him. ‘I didn’t last long as it didn’t take me many months to realize police work wasn’t for me, so I left.’

‘And became a monk?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, that’s an unusual career change! A lot of our senior officers should do the same, preferably joining a silent order. Which force were you in?’

‘Northumbria.’

‘Same as my boss. He was a DS in Northumbria and then transferred down here to the DI’s job.’

‘I might know him.’

‘You can’t miss him! He’s been with us in North Yorkshire ever since and was eventually promoted to the top CID job.’

‘What’s his name?’

‘Napier. Detective Chief Superintendent Roderick Napier, a big man in all respects, loud and forceful. He has the biggest feet in Christendom, I reckon. His shoes and boots have to be specially made. Size 16 or something like that.’

‘Now I do remember him,’ smiled Prior Tuck. ‘When I was a probationer constable at Hexham, I think he was DS in Whitley Bay. Our paths never crossed, but I remember the lads talking about the size of his feet.’

‘The whole force talks about the size of his feet – in fact, so did the whole of the Northumbrian population! Some of his regular customers called him Bigfoot or the Abominable Yeti. We just called him Large Sarge. Now he’s Super Large.’

‘Well, here we are,’ announced the prior as he approached the curtain. ‘We call this the Coffin Curtain because there’s a stone coffin on the plinth behind it. That curtain is always closed, as it is now. During the period of this abbey, I don’t think the room has ever been used for any other purpose although we’ve never locked it against visitors. If they look behind, they’ll see only an empty stone coffin on a stone block. There’s no chance of it being stolen.’

‘Except that now it’s occupied? Show me and mind where you put your feet.’

The prior drew aside the heavy curtain to reveal the coffin with its occupant lying there peacefully. From this angle, there was no sign of his injury. Detective Sergeant Sullivan stood silently with his chin cupped in his right hand as he studied the scene before him. He spent some time observing but not taking notes. No one interrupted; no one moved. Then he stepped forward carefully, peered into the head section of the coffin, and retreated.

‘There’s a fair bit of congealed blood about so I think you’re right about the head wound. And he didn’t get into that coffin
by himself, did he? Somebody must have put him there. But doesn’t he look peaceful? That’s the influence of this place…. So where does that sculptor operate?’

He turned to leave and Prior Tuck allowed the curtain to fall back into its normal position. We led him towards Harvey’s work area near the Lady Chapel, and showed him the images that would eventually form the triptych.

‘What’s this chap’s name?’ he asked.

‘We don’t know, except that he calls himself Harvey.’

‘Harvey what?’

‘Sorry, I don’t know. Nobody knows.’

‘I’ve heard our boss tell tales about a villain called Harvey. I wonder if it’s the same chap? Anyway, he’s got a nice looking face for the Virgin Mary,’ commented Sullivan. ‘And I see he leaves some tools on the bench, so where does he keep the others?’

‘In there.’ Prior Tuck indicated a cupboard at the rear of the chapel.

‘Locked, is it? That cupboard?’

‘No. So far as I know, it’s never locked.’

‘Everyone here is very trusting, it’s not like this in most places. But it will be locked until further notice. You say the entire place can be secured?’

‘It can,’ nodded Prior Tuck. ‘The two outer doors can be secured from the inside with bolts as they are now and there are no windows. The only other entrance is the one we used, the stairs down from reception. And that door can be locked and the key made available only to nominated users – it will be kept either in reception or in the cop shop.’

‘Good. So as from now, this is a crime scene. I’m going to treat it as suspected murder until we get the result of the
post-mortem
. I’ll secure the crypt and retain the keys in the murder room. No one must be admitted until further notice, I can’t stress that too much. If there is a duplicate key, it needs to be removed from circulation. Immediately. Keep it in your cop shop and don’t let anyone have it.’

‘I understand,’ said Prior Tuck. ‘I’ll attend to it.’

‘Right. So that you are aware of what’s going to happen, listen to me. I’ll arrange for our official police photographer to come along as soon as she can and record the entire scene and I’ll ask a forensic pathologist to examine the body
in situ
before it is taken away for a post-mortem. The scene will be examined by our experts too, all as soon as possible. In the meantime I need an office from where I can make secure phone calls. When the teams of detectives start arriving, we’ll need a suitable room that will be transformed into a murder room. And we’ll need a big car-park. The room needs to be private and secure to accommodate about fifty officers and a load of equipment like computers, scanners and so forth. We have a mobile canteen so it’ll need to park somewhere.’

‘We’ve already identified a room you can use,’ smiled Prior Tuck.

‘Show it to me, but before we begin the heavy stuff, who is our victim?’

‘We have no idea,’ admitted Prior Tuck.

‘You mean he’s not known to anyone?’

‘Not to my knowledge. We haven’t made widespread enquiries at this stage but none of my personal contacts knows him. Somebody on the campus might know who he is once we start looking for witnesses.’

‘Well, when we get him into the morgue we’ll strip him and I’d be surprised if he doesn’t have a wallet or a diary. Or there’s always fingerprints and DNA. Leave that with us. Now, before things start to warm up, I could do with a nice cup of tea. Does an abbey like this treat guests to a cup of tea?’

‘We treat all our guests as if they are Christ,’ said Prior Tuck, gently.

‘Does that mean you can turn water into wine?’

‘No, but I can arrange for it to be turned into a cup of tea. Follow me.’

‘The abbot wants to see me,’ I told them. ‘I must leave you for the moment.’

‘We’ll be in the Postgate Room,’ Prior Tuck told me. ‘Shall I arrange a cup of tea for you, Nick?’

‘Thanks, but I might be some time. I’ll fix myself one as soon as I can.’

I made my way through the busy corridors and up the stairs to Abbot Merryman’s first-floor office. I had known him for some years, becoming firstly acquainted whilst he was the parish priest at Aidensfield when I arrived as the village constable. Mary had also worked at the college as a secretary which involved the abbey and the abbot. He kept fit by playing squash and taking long walks in the extensive grounds where, he had once told me, he would escape from his office to enjoy some uninterrupted time for thinking and planning. I entered his secretary’s office after knocking lightly. Mrs Sheila Grayson smiled a welcome.

‘He’s expecting you, Nick, I’ll tell him you’re here.’

I heard his response. ‘Send him in, Sheila, then no calls or callers for the next few minutes. I’m in a conference if anyone asks. I’ll let you know when I’m free.’

He offered me a chair in front of his desk as Sheila brought me a cup of coffee. I accepted it with pleasure.

‘Now, Nick, this is not a normal day by any means so perhaps, to start with, you can update me with what’s going on in the crypt?’

I explained everything and tried to inform him about the interruptions that would now bedevil both the abbey and the college.

‘Murder in the crypt, eh? It sounds like something from a crime novel or television series. Will you be able to stay to help us out? This is hardly a matter for us and I wonder if the regular police will want our input. But if they do want our monkstables to be usefully employed, we must oblige. I am sure there are ways in which we can assist. Now what I’m going to say to you is most important and confidential.’

‘You said it was about Simon Houghton?’

‘It is. So what is his situation at the moment? Can you tell me?’

‘Simon’s housemaster and the headmaster are organizing a co-ordinated search. His room is empty and it seems his bed was not slept in last night as the covers are still in place. If he is hiding or asleep somewhere on the campus, such a search seems an ideal task for them – although, Father Abbot, I fear the CID will include the missing boy as a suspect until proved otherwise. I have to say it may not be a coincidence that he has disappeared at this time. There’s also the worry that he could be a victim.’

The abbot looked worried as he said, ‘Yes, I am aware of that. Acutely aware, in fact. It’s for the latter reason that the headmaster has asked me to contact you. We may need some advice and practical help. I should add that this boy’s absence is much more serious than a pupil dodging lessons.’

‘So there’s something I should know?’

‘Yes there is, in the strictest of confidentiality.’

‘Have you called the county police? I mean officers from Ashfordly?’

‘No, we haven’t – there’s a problem, you see. Perhaps a better phrase would be “there is a matter of considerable
delicacy
” about the entire matter.’

‘That sounds ominous.’

‘It is and you’ll appreciate it is potentially extremely serious. As I am sure you know, we became aware of his absence during the first period this morning and the staff’s immediate action was to launch a search of the places he could normally be found, including his own room. We made good use of the teaching staff, his housemaster and the abbey constables, all of whom know their way around the college and also know the boy by sight. All this happened only minutes before I was told about the body in the crypt and there is still no trace of Simon. Am I right in thinking this is the current situation?’

‘That’s it, Father Abbot, but the body in the crypt is not Simon. The victim is a bearded fifty-year-old adult male, or so it would appear. The missing boy isn’t given to theatrical performances, is he? Or dressing up?’

‘On the contrary, he’s a quiet, shy individual of seventeen. Just before you came into the office, I heard that the search for Simon by our staff is on-going and has been extended over the whole campus – college and abbey combined, indoors and out, with no result as yet.’

‘I’m sure the monkstables will do a good job.’

‘I don’t doubt it. You’ll be pleased that Simon’s class teacher contacted one of the monkstables right at the outset – it shows they are being taken seriously. Prior Tuck and Father Stutely got things moving very swiftly.’

‘That’s the sort of challenge they need. A range of tasks and real-life problems to keep them busy. Incidentally, the CID have now arrived.’

‘I hope our search is quite independent of their investigation, Nick. We’re speaking to friends of the boy to see if they know why he might be absent or where he might be.’

‘That’s all very positive.’ I began to think like a police officer even though I had been retired for several years and wondered just how urgent this was and whether it could be linked to the body in the crypt. As he spoke, I knew that a simple case of a pupil dodging lessons rarely warranted a search party, but in this case there was much more to consider. The fact that a boy had disappeared from the prestigious and world-famous Maddleskirk College had to be treated seriously – many came from important or wealthy backgrounds, both nationally and internationally, consequently kidnapping for a ransom demand was always a possibility.