by David Blake
‘What’s that, sir?’
‘Isaac had severe atherosclerosis. All his major arteries were completely clogged up. Johnstone estimates that he probably only had a few months to live anyway. Six at most.’
‘Does he think Isaac would have known about it?’
‘Even if he wasn’t diagnosed, he would have been suffering from severe chest pains, so he must have known something was up. It doesn’t seem like much of a stretch to conclude that once he knew, he decided to take matters into his own hands. Anyway, we’ll await the full medical examiner’s report before going any further, but assuming nothing else comes to light, hopefully we’ll be able to leave this one in the coroner’s hands.’
CHAPTER EIGHT
‘WHAT’S THE VERDICT?’ asked Jenny, as Tanner put away his phone.
‘Looks like you were right. According to Johnstone, he was a heart attack just waiting to happen, and there’s no evidence of foul play.’
‘And forensics?’
‘The knife’s clean of prints, apart from Isaac’s. It’s the same story with his boat.’
‘So we’re going with suicide?’
‘Well, Forrester’s going to have to hand it over to the coroner’s office. If they think the ritual element plays a significant role, it may end up being classed as death by misadventure; but either way, it doesn’t look like there’s a criminal element to it, so as far as we’re concerned, the investigation is over.’
As he placed his hand under the XJS’s chrome door handle, he stopped, staring off into space.
Seeing the distant look on his face, Jenny said, ‘Are you OK?’
‘It’s probably nothing,’ he said, ‘but didn’t Birch say that they were at St. Benet’s last night for what they called the Blood Moon Sacrifice?’
‘He did, yes. Why?’
‘The knife Isaacs allegedly used on himself - did you get to see it?’
‘To be honest, I wasn’t too keen.’
‘I don’t suppose you’d be able to pull up a picture of it from the database?’
‘Only if they’ve loaded the pictures up,’ she replied, retrieving her phone from out of her handbag. ‘Any particular reason?’
‘I’m not sure, but before we head off, I’d like to ask our bookshop owner one more thing.’
Back inside the shop, with no sign of the owner, Tanner called out, ‘Mr Birch? It’s Detective Inspector Tanner again.’
‘Hold on!’ came the familiar voice from towards the back.
While they waited, Tanner asked Jenny, ‘Any luck?’
‘It’s here, yes.’ She passed her phone over to him, just as Birch emerged from the rear of the shop holding a steaming mug.
‘Sorry about that. I was making myself a coffee.’
‘And I’m sorry to bother you again, but I have just one more question.’
‘OK, fire away!’
‘It concerns the ritual you said you were taking part in: the Blood Moon Sacrifice.’
‘Yes? What about it?’
‘Judging by its name, I assume you did actually sacrifice something?’
Birch hesitated for a moment, before saying, ‘It was a chicken. It belonged to one of our members. But we’ve checked, and there’s nothing illegal about doing so.’
Holding out the image on Jenny’s phone, he said, ‘May I ask if that’s the knife you used?’
Placing his mug down on the counter, he put on a pair of reading glasses before leaning forward to take a closer look.
The picture Jenny had found was a close-up of the knife taken at the scene, when it was still resting on the fingers of Isaac’s blood-splattered hand.
Seeing the image, Birch wrenched his face away from the screen, pulling his glasses off as he did.
‘Is that the knife?’ Tanner repeated.
‘It is,’ came the stilted response. ‘But you could have warned me first!’
‘Who would have used it, to make the sacrifice?’
‘That would have been Martin. He always acted as our High Priest.’
‘And nobody else would have touched it?’
‘We’d have all held it, as part of the ritual, both before and afterwards. Doing so signifies that the sacrifice is made by all in attendance, not just the person doing it.’
‘And is this the only one?’
‘The only knife? I think so.’
‘And who looks after it?’
‘It’s Martin’s, as far as I know.’
Tanner studied Birch’s face for some moments before handing the phone back to Jenny, saying, ‘Anyway, I was just curious. Thanks again for your time. We’d better be on our way.’
As soon as they were back outside the shop, Jenny asked, ‘What was all that about?’
‘I just wanted to find out if anyone else had touched the knife that night.’
‘And the fact that they all had…?’
‘…means that it’s odd that the only prints we found on it belonged to Isaac.’
‘Doesn’t that just suggest he must have cleaned it before using it on himself? To be honest, I think I’d have done the same thing. I mean, as mentally imbalanced as you’d have to be to want to cut open your own throat, you’d want to clean some poor chicken’s blood off before doing so.’
‘Off the blade, yes. But would you clean the handle as well?’
Jenny thought about that for a moment. It was a fair point. It certainly didn’t sound like that was something someone would have done, not unless they had a good reason to.
‘And there’s something else as well,’ said Tanner. ‘Let me see that picture again?’
Jenny brought up the image, and held it out for them both to see.
‘It struck me at the scene,’ he said, pointing. ‘You see the way it’s resting in his hand?’
‘What about it?’
‘Wouldn’t the knife have fallen out as he’d gone over backwards? Here it looks more like it’s been placed there, after the fact.’
Again, Jenny found herself in agreement with him. ‘I think you should mention this to Forrester.’
‘I’m not sure there’s much point,’ he replied, heaving open the XJS’s long heavy door. ‘There’s no physical evidence to suggest anything other than he’d done it himself. And as you said, he could have easily decided to clean the whole knife beforehand. Whether a knife would remain in someone’s hand after they cut their own throat would be a question of speculative debate more than anything else.’
Climbing inside, as they each fastened their seatbelts, Jenny said, ‘You’re going to have to tell him anyway. It would be remarkably easy for someone to make it look like he’d cut his own throat, especially if they’d read his book, and knew where he’d be that night.’
‘I’ll give it some thought,’ Tanner replied. ‘But I suggest we head back to the station first, to see if there have been any more developments.’
CHAPTER NINE
STANDING OUTSIDE DCI Forrester’s office, Tanner gave the door a rather hesitant knock.
Despite some niggling doubts concerning the nature of Martin Isaac’s death, at that stage he knew that was all they were. On their own, they didn’t amount to much, and it was unlikely that they’d warrant further investigation without some sort of physical evidence to back them up.
He also knew that had Jenny not asked him again to speak to Forrester about them as they drove into the station’s car park, he would have probably put them to one side and quietly forgotten about them. If he was to be completely honest with himself, the only reason he’d agreed was not out of professionalism, but because of his personal feelings towards her. Put simply, he didn’t want to say no to her. Their relationship was barely two months old, and was still at that delicate stage where even the slightest disagreement could have them heading in different directions.
There was another reason as well. He didn’t want her to think he was afraid of expressing his opinions to Forrester. As pathetic as that may have been, coming from a forty-something y
ear old man who should be too old to care what people thought about him, at the end of the day he was just a middle-aged divorcee attempting to maintain the affections of a woman who was not only half his age, but was attractive enough to catch the eye of just about every man she happened to walk past. He’d seen how men looked at her, some more obviously than others, and he knew he had his work cut out if he was going to be able to keep a hold of her. He’d already started to make the effort to shed a few pounds, and was becoming increasingly conscious of his grey hairs and the early signs of a receding hairline.
Hearing Forrester’s voice inviting him to enter, he stepped inside. ‘Just to let you know we’re back from speaking with Alan Birch, the bookshop owner, sir.’
‘Right, good, yes,’ responded Forrester, seemingly more interested in the file he was reading.
Hoping to garner a little more of his attention, Tanner asked, ‘I don’t suppose there’s been any more news from forensics?’
Forrester marked his place with one finger and looked up. ‘You mean, about that suicide case?’
‘The death of Mr Isaac. Yes, sir.’
‘Nothing yet, no, but I was under the impression that we’d put that one to bed?’
‘I thought we were going to wait until we had the final reports back from forensics and Dr Johnstone?’
‘Yes, but I can’t say that I was expecting anything more to come from them. So unless you’ve learnt something new…?’
‘Well, sir, since we spoke on the phone, a couple of things have come to mind which I thought I should run by you.’
‘And those are?’
‘It’s what forensics said about the knife, sir. That it only had one set of prints on it.’
‘Which belonged to Mr Isaac. Yes, I remember. What of it?’
‘Well, sir, Birch confirmed that the knife we found at the scene was the same one they used for their Blood Moon Sacrifice.’
‘And…?’
‘And that everyone who was there handled it at some point during the ceremony.’
‘What of it?’ questioned Forrester, looking back down at the report to turn the page over.
‘It just seemed odd to me that he’d go to the trouble of cleaning the knife before using it on himself.’
‘I suppose that depends on what they’d been doing with it beforehand, doesn’t it?’
‘Perhaps.’
‘Do we know what that was?’
‘They’d used it to sacrifice a chicken.’
‘Charming!’
‘Quite,’ agreed Tanner. ‘And I can certainly understand why he’d want to clean the blade, but to clean the handle as well? It just seemed like an odd thing to do.’
‘To be honest, Tanner, if it was me, and I’d just used it to kill a chicken, I’d have scrubbed the thing in bleach before running it through the dishwasher!’
‘But maybe not if you were suicidal, and were about to use it on yourself.’
‘I think that’s debateable. Now, was there anything else?’
With the sense that his concerns were being treated with flippant disregard, Tanner persisted. ‘And there’s where the knife ended up as well, sir, after the incident.’
‘What, you mean in Martin Isaac’s hand?’
Tanner could clearly hear the barely disguised sarcastic undertone to the remark.
Feeling his resentment turn to anger, he stepped all the way into the office. ‘I just feel, sir, that if you’ve gone and cut open your own throat, in the manner in which Isaac is thought to have done, you wouldn’t still be holding on to the knife afterwards. It would have dropped out of your hand as you fell.’
Forrester gave it some thought, but eventually shook his head. ‘Again, I think that would be open to interpretation, but even if we could find someone to agree with you, there’s still no physical evidence to support the theory that someone else was involved. And please don’t tell me you have a gut feeling about it. In my experience, a detective’s intuition rarely stands up in court.’
‘No, sir.’
‘And it wouldn’t do any harm for there to be some sort of motive as well. From what I understand, the guy’s virtually penniless, he has no family, and the only thing he ever did that anyone may have reason to harbour a serious grudge against him for took place over forty years ago, and that was for something for which he was acquitted.’
Remembering what Jenny had said about that, Tanner pointed out, ‘But that may be exactly why someone would want him dead, sir: because they thought he’d escaped the punishment he deserved.’
‘And so they decided to wait forty-odd years before doling out their own form of vigilante justice?’
‘I know it’s unlikely, sir, but it is possible.’
‘So is winning the lottery, Tanner, but that doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, does it!’
‘But the fact that it is possible should at least give us reason to investigate the matter further.’
‘Tell you what. If you let me know what you’ve got in mind, I’ll tell you if I think it’s worth having a go.’
‘Well, sir, I think it would be worthwhile trying to find out who was at that meeting with them last night.’
‘Didn’t you ask the bookshop owner?’
‘We did, sir, yes, but he refused to tell us.’
‘Well, that’s his prerogative, I suppose. Unfortunately, we can’t make him.’
‘We could if we thought there was some sort of criminal involvement.’
‘But when we spoke on the phone, you were of the opinion that he had nothing to do with it.’
‘At the time I was, yes, sir.’
‘So you’re saying that you’ve changed your mind?’
‘Well, not really, sir, no. But I think someone else who was there may have.’
‘But based on what evidence? That for some extraordinary reason Isaac decided to give the knife a bit of a clean after he’d just used it to kill a chicken, or because he forgot to drop it having used it to slice open his own throat?’
Tanner paused, swallowing the urge to argue. ‘I take it that that’s a no, sir?’ he said, unable to keep the resentment from out of his voice.
‘Look, Tanner, I know you mean well, but I think we’re just going to have to accept the fact that the guy had some serious issues. Not only was he about three months away from having a massive heart attack, he was also the founder of some weird cult religion who seemed to be of the opinion that if he sacrificed himself to the devil, he’d be resurrected from the grave as a way of saying thank you. Bearing all that in mind, I really don’t think anyone would be too surprised to find him lying on his back having cut open his own throat. So as I said before, unless you can find some firm evidence to back up your suspicions, or at least some sort of a motive, then that’s what will be in my report to the coroner’s office.’
CHAPTER TEN
TANNER PULLED THE XJS off the country lane into St. Andrew’s church car park, the same place they’d been only the day before in happier circumstances.
Nothing more had been heard from either forensics or the medical examiner, and the investigation into the death of Martin Isaac had been handed over to the coroner’s office, allowing Tanner, Jenny and the rest of Wroxham station’s CID team to leave work at a sensible hour.
Having time on their hands, but still too early to think about food, after leaving Jenny’s car at her flat they decided to drop by her old church again.
With everything they’d learned about Martin Isaac; how he’d been acquitted of Claire Judson’s rape and murder only to be excommunicated from the Church, when Jenny and Tanner found out that the victim had been buried within the very church grounds where her life had come to an untimely end, they were both keen to see her grave for themselves.
With the sun warming their backs, they split up to search through the hundred or so headstones, many of which were so old, they’d become almost impossible to read.
It was Jenny who found it, along with a single white t
ulip resting in a thin glass vase set before the headstone on a marble plinth.
She waited for Tanner to join her before reading aloud the epitaph that had been carved on the stone.
‘In loving memory of Claire Louise Judson. Our thoughts and prayers will be forever with you.’
They stood in silence for a moment, the peaceful serenity of the setting graced by the sublime song of a distant blackbird.
‘Her parents would have been devastated,’ Tanner eventually said.
Having lost his own daughter only eleven months before, he knew exactly how difficult it must have been for them.
Jenny tucked her arm around his and gave him a comforting squeeze. He’d told her what had happened a few weeks before, when explaining the reason for his move up to the Broads. Her heart had gone out to him then, as it did now. Before he told her, she’d sensed there was something he’d been keeping to himself; that had been obvious since their first meal together. But she’d made a point of not asking him about it, hoping he’d tell her when he thought the time was right. The moment had come one night on board his boat. They’d been wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the protective comfort of the soft warm bed covers as they’d listened to the rhythmic sound of water lapping up against the boat’s hull. That was when Jenny realised that the emotional barriers she’d surrounded herself with for most of her adult life were melting away, like dew before the morning sun, and she could feel herself falling in love with him.
‘Have you seen the flower?’ she asked, gesturing down at it.
When they’d first met, Tanner had told her he thought men had a blind spot for such items of natural beauty. He’d gone on to say that even if they were placed directly in front of them, the average man would be oblivious, hence the reason for her making sure that he was aware of it.
Suspecting her mind was harking back to that conversation, Tanner smiled. ‘Surprisingly, I did. Even before you pointed at it.’
‘It means that someone’s been here recently.’
‘And on a fairly regular basis, judging by how clean the vase is.’
