Murder at Maddleskirk Abbey (9 page)

‘That’s in hand. So are we still pursuing the line that the two enquiries are quite separate?’

‘According to Chief Super Napier, they are separate but he admits he can’t ignore the possibility of links. He wants your monkstables to be usefully deployed tracing Simon because if they do that, they might turn up some snippet of information that’s vital to the murder investigation – like Thorpe! It could be anything – strangers wandering around the site, vehicles seen in the campus, screams of pain … anything.’

‘We don’t want to muscle in on this investigation, Brian. I’m not in the force now and the monkstables are private
constables
.’

‘But you and your men are all police officers and they’re proving helpful to us, Nick, surprisingly so. More important is
the fact that Mr Napier is very pleased with them. We’re all surprised he has taken to them like he has. He must be mellowing in his old age!’

I decided to go to the monkstables’ incident room next because I wanted an update from Prior Tuck. As I was striding towards the Postgate Room, someone hailed me and I turned to see it was DS Sullivan.

‘Hi, Nick, glad I caught you. We’ve just received a
preliminary
opinion from the pathologist about the time of death of the man in the coffin. I thought you might be interested bearing in mind the disappearance of Simon Houghton.’

‘Does this sound ominous?’

‘I’m not sure that’s the right word but it opens the need for further enquiries.’

‘That
does
sound ominous!’

‘It’s not all that bad! Let me remind you. Simon Houghton was seen on Sunday – yesterday – behaving quite normally. He attended mass which finished at eleven thirty, and he collected his packed lunch from the kitchens, by which time he had acquired a bike. This was around noon when it seems he rode through the grounds to the rear entrance, and left it in those old barns. It would have taken only three or four minutes to get there. Would you agree?’

‘Yes, that fits with what we know.’

‘Right. This information has just arrived by email. The pathologist’s report confirms murder. He has no doubt about that. The victim was found dead about eight o’clock today, Monday. Although it is not possible to be precise about the time of death, he has taken into account statements from the people who attended the deceased. He believes he died
sometime
before eight on
Sunday
morning.’

‘Sunday? It’s possible. The crypt opens at five every day,’ I reminded him.

‘Yes, I know, but who would go there at that time of day? And would they venture behind the curtain? If so, why? We’re checking to ascertain who opened the doors on Sunday
morning and whether he or she noticed anything unusual. The point is that Simon Houghton was on the site on Sunday until around midday. The man was probably lying dead during that time. Simon is known to have ridden away about twelve noon and has not been seen since.’

‘Are you saying Simon could have committed the murder?’

‘He booked his lunch on Saturday – that was the routine. He knew he would be leaving the college on Sunday around noon. The murder victim would be lying dead as Simon cycled away.’

‘I can understand why you consider him a suspect.’

‘We would phrase it to suggest he might have something to tell us. He could have been in that crypt—’

‘But surely Simon isn’t capable of delivering a blow that would kill a fully grown man?’

‘We don’t know that, do we? And we don’t know whether he was provoked in some way. Or could it be self-defence? Remember a range of weapons was readily available and the victim is not a very big man.’

‘I still believe the two incidents are quite separate.’ Even though I made that statement, I knew I had no evidence to support it.

Sullivan continued, ‘Did the two meet in the crypt for some sexual purpose? What do we know about the sex life of either person? Is Thorpe married, for example? What is Simon’s sexual orientation? There’s a lot we don’t know, Nick.’

‘And that means we must find out!’

‘Exactly. And your monkstables can help, asking around, being delicate in their questioning….’

‘I realize that and I know the way that murder enquiries are conducted. The sex life of suspects and victims is always an important factor.’

‘It is. We’ve drawn time charts. Those of Simon and the deceased overlap considerably. There might be further
overlapping
once we get our teeth into the enquiry. The reason I am telling you, is that we may have to merge the two
investigations
– even to prove Simon is
not
guilty.’

‘Well, if that’s necessary, I’ll go along with your plans and will ask Prior Tuck and his monkstables to do likewise.’

‘Mr Napier will talk to you to explain his thinking. I’m sure he will want your officers to continue searching, even extending it beyond the boundaries of the campus. The fact that Simon has not been found dead or alive and left a bike behind, suggests he fled the scene hurriedly. If he killed Thorpe, even in self-defence, say on Saturday night – and one blow from a heavy mallet would have been enough – he could have ordered his lunch before the Sunday deadline and ridden off to make good his escape. It’s a scenario we must develop. Mr Napier felt you should be aware of our thoughts. And, Nick, we must be objective about this: we can’t avoid the fact that the evidence is pointing in Simon’s direction.’

‘I can understand that, Jim. I’ve worked in many murder rooms and they never fail to produce surprises. I’ll go and talk to Prior Tuck. Can I tell him all this?’

‘I think you should.’

But, as I was preparing to leave DS Sullivan, his boss arrived in something of a fluster.

‘Sarge.’ Chief Superintendent Napier was panting heavily. ‘And Nick. Glad I caught you. We’ve had a reply from Sunderland Police about James Thorpe. The address he gave is not known in Sunderland and his name does not appear on any Sunderland references – phone book, voters’ lists, banks, utility accounts … It means the victim booked onto his course here at Maddleskirk Abbey by using a false name and address. I find that very curious indeed. So we must ask ourselves why he would do that? Why book onto a course under a false name? Was there something going on between him and young Simon? Something very unsavoury…?’

‘So we’re no further forward?’ I felt I had to say something.

‘I think we’ve taken several steps backwards,’ admitted Napier.

‘H
E HAD SOMETHING
to hide, that’s obvious,’ Napier commented after a brief silence. ‘Is he a sex offender? Chasing lads? Right, Sarge,’ he turned to Sullivan, ‘we’ll have to wait and see what his fingerprint check tells us and be sure to arrange samples from his body for a DNA test. We should soon have his real name sorted out.’

‘If
James Thorpe
has a record, we’ll get a result soon; we took his fingerprints before he went to the morgue,’ Sullivan reminded us.

‘So we’re on course. Now, Nick, what can I do for you? You’ve got some more news about young Houghton so I’ve heard. Let’s hear it.’

‘It’s not a lot,’ I admitted, ‘but I have something,’ and I explained about the archaeologist and his team. ‘I just wanted to say Houghton’s not there, I searched all the vehicles and they’ve not seen him.’

‘What are they looking for?’

‘Ruins, Roman or otherwise. They’ve got permission from the abbot. The leader is John Wayne Rawdon who says he’s from Middlesbrough.’ I took a slip of paper from my wallet and passed it to him. ‘This is his name and address, and the
registration
number of his friend’s camper-van which he borrowed while working here. His students come in daily from York. Their names and addresses are there too. Rawdon is a
freelance
, by the way, he’s not part of a university research team.’

‘So are there Roman ruins hereabouts?’

‘He said an aerial survey showed unidentified ruins under the cricket field and I understand there was a network of Roman highways not far away. Some experts believe there are also Roman remains under the crypt – that coffin could be Roman.’

‘All very historic! Well, I hope he finds what he wants. Thanks for this, Nick, it’s useful. Sarge here will task a team to check him out – and his students. We’re doing the same with those builders, but they’ve got dozens of workers coming and going, different ones every day. It won’t be easy tracking those who work for cash and give false names. I don’t know how the tax man copes with such dodgers … here today and gone tomorrow, midnight flitters … but probably not killers. Now, there’s something else you can help me with before you continue your hunt for that lad. Do you know the lady who runs the retreat?’

‘Mrs Morley.’

‘Right, and the lad’s housemaster?’

‘Yes, he’s John Haxby.’

‘Then lead me to them. I know you’ve been dealing with them but I want to check the handwriting on that note left in the cop shop. I know there were spelling mistakes but it’s the handwriting that interests me. Who wrote it and when? If Simon Houghton wrote it, did he deliberately misspell certain words to disguise his authorship? That’s something you can bear in mind. And by the way, Nick, if you don’t find Simon and concern grows that he could still be here on site
somewhere
, don’t be afraid to request a dog team to extend your search. I can justify it as part of the murder enquiry.’

‘Thanks, Mr Napier.’

‘Right, off we go, we’ll collect that note first, and then we must deposit it in our own files for safekeeping.’

At the cop shop, the note had been slipped into a clear plastic cover to protect it. Father Will handed it over.

‘We’ll retain this,’ Napier told him. ‘It’s going for tests and then it will go into our evidence files.’

‘My prints will be on it,’ Father Will pointed out.

‘Then we’ll come and take yours for elimination purposes, Reverend. Any more news for us while we’re here?’

‘Sorry, nothing. Things are settling down after the first rush of activity.’

‘Well, my teams and yours are all hard at work
somewhere
, asking questions, observing, trying to find solutions to puzzles … that’s detective work, Reverend. You’re welcome to visit my murder room as I regard you and your mates as professional coppers and trustworthy too. Feel free. Don’t be frightened to point out things you think we’ve
overlooked
, or which might interest us. You know this place better than we do. However, I want my officers to interview all the monks.’

‘The abbot’s secretary will help to organize that.’

‘Good. Now Nick, off to the retreat.’

As we walked briskly through the campus leaving the monks’ choir rehearsing another Gregorian chant, Napier asked questions about life here. He was keen to understand the daily routine, but also how the work-force of men and women, teachers, estate workers, administrative staff and others fitted into a work-place that was based on religion. He said he had always thought an abbey was a place of quiet contemplation and prayer, but now he thought it was more like a busy
university
or business complex.

The retreat was an old but handsome house, that had formerly belonged to a wealthy family, standing on the edge of the abbey grounds. For a while after their deaths, it had become a country house hotel but then the trustees had bought it for use as a residential retreat. The abbey boundaries had been extended to include it, adding a chapel and reception area, a library, conference room and quiet room. It was always busy, but, fortunately today the delegates had gone to Rievaulx Abbey on a field trip. When we arrived, it was suitably quiet bearing in mind one of their guests had suffered a terrible death. I noticed a vase of lilies on a plinth before a crucifix in
the reception area. Prayers would have been said for the dead man in the chapel and he would be remembered by the monks at masses in the abbey church.

Mrs Morley’s office had a bar-style counter which opened into the reception area.

‘Good morning, Nick.’ Her smile was rather subdued. ‘Can I help?’

‘Yes, Mrs Morley. I know a monkstable has already talked to you but this is Detective Chief Superintendent Napier. He’d like to talk to you and so would I.’

‘Everyone is talking about it. It’s such a shock for us with him staying here. Poor Mr Thorpe. He was such a nice man. Who on earth would do a thing like that?’

‘That what’s we intend to find out, Mrs Morley. And we’ll have to interview all your recent guests. Now, before we begin, can we visit his room?’ asked Napier. ‘I know it has already been examined, but I need to look at it.’

‘Your officers locked it and took away the keys,’ she reminded him.

‘I am merely being polite by asking!’ Clearly the atmosphere of this place had affected him. ‘You’ll have a master key? Ours is in the murder room.’

‘I’ve respected your officers’ wishes by keeping the room locked. We have not touched it since he left. I’ll take you there now.’

‘Thanks.’

I guessed he was testing her honesty but she unlocked a drawer then led the way up the carpeted staircase and along to Room 5. Napier took the keys and opened the door, but did not step inside. He merely stared into the clinically bare room, noting a simple single bed, a curtained rail behind which to hang clothing, a small dressing table bearing a pile of books but little else. It was very tidy with the bed neatly made and clothing hanging on the rail. He did not open any drawers. ‘A full search will be done by our Scenes of Crime team,’ he explained to her. ‘I don’t want to contaminate the scene any
more than necessary. I see there are books on the dressing table. Are they his own or from your library?’

‘They will be his. We ask our guests not to take our library books to their rooms as that’s how they get lost.’

‘Or stolen,’ he muttered. ‘And such rules depend upon a degree of honesty. So, if they are his, I would like to know what their subjects are. However, what I am seeking now, Mrs Morley, is something bearing his handwriting. Would he have made notes during the course?’

‘It’s very possible. Our visitors make lots of notes even though we issue fact sheets galore … but I thought you had come because you might want to clear his room….’

‘That won’t happen for some time. We need to let our Scenes of Crime experts examine it first and afterwards there will be the question of whether he has family and, if so, will they want to come and claim his belongings. We will go through
everything
in that room, forensically I mean. My dilemma – and it is a dilemma, Mrs Morley – is how much contamination I will create if I start looking for necessary evidence now.’

‘Can I help you find what you are looking for?’

‘Perhaps. So is it likely he would invite someone to his room?’

‘We don’t encourage it, there’s plenty of private space
downstairs
for discussions.’

‘But it can’t be ruled out? People do disobey rules, so I find….’

‘You’re right, of course. But I don’t know whether anyone visited him in this room.’

‘Right, so my next question: has it been tidied by your staff?’

‘I can assure you we’ve not touched it this morning, neither have we cleaned his bathroom.’

‘He seems to have been a tidy chap. Where will I find
something
with his writing on? I can’t see any notebooks lying around and I don’t want to examine his bags or drawers at this stage … and I can’t see any postcards waiting to be posted home.’

‘He filled a form in when he applied to join the course, that will be in the file.’

‘That should help. I’ve a sample here I want to check,’ and he waved the plastic-enclosed note around. ‘I’m going to step inside to check those books as they might tell us about his
interests
, but don’t follow me.’

Immediately through the doorway, he stepped carefully to one side, trying to avoid the normal route used by an
inhabitant
and approached the dressing table from the side, not from the front. He stopped to read the book titles one by one without touching them, then grunted. All were non-fiction on the objects and adornments that could be found in or near churches, particularly those with medieval origins. There was one entitled
Treasure Trove from Churches and Churchyards.

He made notes of the titles; he’d get SOCO to check whether the owner had written his name inside any of them. Then he poked his head into the small
en suite
shower room and finally left via the same route.

‘The course he was attending is about the spirituality of medieval church ornamentations.’ Mrs Morley felt she had to add more to Napier’s knowledge. ‘The quality of church art in that period was quite astonishing and much has survived.’

‘So are they valuable, these medieval art works and
ornaments
?’

‘Some are irreplaceable, Mr Napier. They may not have a high financial value but to us they’re priceless. Lots were concealed during the Edwardine Visitations when the child king, Edward VI, ordered papist churches to be stripped. Many hid their wealth before Edward’s men arrived and there’s a legend that a huge hoard is hidden under this abbey church, guarded by a giant raven. The truth or otherwise is debated during the course.’

‘I wonder if Thorpe believed the legend? Was he here to check the facts? Make a recce of the abbey’s lay-out,’ Napier said as he made his exit, closing the door and locking it. ‘I’ll return for a more detailed search when the room has been
forensically examined. It stays locked until then. Now, before you show me that application form, Mrs Morley, can you tell me if Thorpe was alone when he arrived? And how did he arrive? Car? Bike? Taxi? Bus?’

‘He arrived alone and it was a single booking. As he signed in though, he told me he’d come with a friend.’

‘Did he say more about this friend?’

‘Only that they’d driven down together. His friend wasn’t on the course, he dropped Mr Thorpe off and drove away.’

‘Where did he go? Any idea?’

‘No, he didn’t say.’

‘Did you see what sort of a vehicle it was?’

‘I’m afraid not. I didn’t see it, but he said he’d been dropped right outside our entrance.’

‘Had he much luggage?’

‘Just a back-pack, one of those that hikers use.’

‘It was standing on the floor of his coat hanging space,’ nodded Napier. ‘We’ll have a good look at that later. OK, let’s have a look at his handwriting.’

She led the way down to her office and found the file for the current course. She quickly found the application form bearing Thorpe’s name. In the spaces for the name and address of the applicant were these details: James Thorpe, 31a, Trophy Road, Seaton, Sunderland, SR11 4XT written in hand with a
combination
of capital and small letters.

‘You know this is a false name and address?’ Napier put to her.

‘Yes, one of your officers told me earlier when I showed this to him. So far as I know, this is the only form he used. I don’t know why he would do that.’

‘Did you know him as Mr Thorpe?’

‘We all did. He told us to call him James.’

‘How did he pay?’

‘He paid in cash, Mr Napier. Ten and twenty pound notes. He said he had been saving up for years. He paid when he arrived and the bank accepted the notes. Here’s the receipt
from the bank, and we gave Mr Thorpe a receipt of his own. He seemed quite happy about it.’

‘You don’t ask for a booking fee in advance?’

‘We’ve never felt the need. He enquired by phone and booked immediately.’

‘It certainly looks as if he was determined to conceal his true identity. So why would he do that for a course of this kind?’

‘I just don’t know. He seemed such a pleasant little man, chatty and open, and keen to benefit from what we offer.’

At that point, I remembered that Harvey, the sculptor, also paid everything in cash … could there be some kind of obscure link between them?

‘That’s something for us to work on,’ said Napier. ‘Now, let’s compare this handwriting,’ and he placed the strange note beside the application form. ‘Quite different. I’d say there are no similarities between them. His writing here is strong and clear, whilst the mystery note’s writing is smaller and more delicate.’

‘I’d say they were not done by the same person,’ I added.

‘I don’t think we need an expert calligrapher to tell us that, but we’ll have them both expertly checked anyway. I’ll need that original form, Mrs Morley – can you make a copy for your files and let me have the original?’