by David Blake
As his words came out, so did Father Thomas, a large set of keys held jangling in his hand.
Seeing the two detectives suddenly loom up in front of him, the priest jumped with a start.
‘Goodness!’ he yelped, clutching at his chest. ‘You scared the life out of me!’
‘Sorry, Father,’ Tanner said. ‘We were just hoping to catch you before you left for the day.’
Smiling at them both, Father Thomas said, ‘You know, I was just thinking about the two of you.’
‘You were?’ asked Tanner, desperately hoping that he wasn’t going to say anything about them getting married again, especially as they’d barely got back together.
‘It may come as a surprise to you,’ the priest said, ‘but I am allowed to think about more than just our Lord God on high all day.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘I’m just ribbing you, Inspector,’ said the priest, seeing the embarrassed look on Tanner’s face. ‘Naturally, I do spend all day thinking about God.’
Unable to see the slightest hint of amusement in the priest’s face, Tanner was unsure whether he was joking or not, but remembering the humour he’d displayed the last time they’d met, he was about to come back with, ‘At least, that’s what you tell the Cardinal!’ when thankfully fortune intervened, and the priest turned to Jenny to say, ‘I found something at home that I thought might be of interest to you. I was going to drive it over to Wroxham Police Station later on this evening, but as you’re here… Hold on, let me just pop back inside and get it.’
As he disappeared, Tanner turned to raise an eyebrow at Jenny.
‘It’s probably a bible,’ she whispered over to him.
‘One each, do you think?’
‘Maybe a grown-up one for me, and a children’s version for you.’
‘As long as it has pictures, I’ll be happy.’
‘No pictures, I’m afraid,’ said the priest, re-appearing through the gap in the door.
With both Tanner and Jenny hoping to god that he’d not overheard their entire conversation, Father Thomas handed Jenny a hefty looking A3 sized book.
‘It belonged to my predecessor, Father Jeffrey,’ he explained. ‘When he passed away, with no family, all his belongings remained with the parish. I found this in amongst his personal effects a few years back. At the time, I can’t say I gave it much thought, but what you were asking about when you were last here reminded me of it. I thought it might help with your enquiries.’
As Jenny opened it to the first page, she said, ‘It’s a scrapbook!’
‘That’s right. When he took over from Martin Isaac, he must have developed an interest into what had happened to that girl who was so sadly killed here. Judging by the contents, he clearly spent some considerable time cutting out all the relevant articles.’
Motioning for Tanner to take a look, Jenny said, ‘This is really useful.’
‘I think he may have even been trying to figure out who really murdered the girl.’
‘What makes you say that?’ asked Jenny, as she began turning over the many pages, each one thick with yellowing newspaper cuttings.
‘He seems to have underlined some of the names, and has made a few notes in the margins. And one of the articles has a big circle around it, with a large note to the side.’
‘I think I’ve found it,’ said Jenny, staring down at the highlighted article. ‘It’s a bit of a scrawl, but I think it says, Who was Claire going to meet?’
‘That’s the one. According to one of the articles, her friends said that she’d gone to the top of the tower to meet a boy, one who was a lot older than her. But none of them knew who he was, and despite the police making a public appeal for the person to come forward, he never did.’
‘I can’t say I’m surprised,’ said Tanner. ‘If she was up there to meet a man, even if he had nothing to do with what happened to her, it’s unlikely he’d have stepped forward, not when she was only fifteen.’
‘There’s more,’ said the priest. ‘Take a look at the last page.’
There they found another cutting, but judging by the crisp white colour of the paper, it had been glued in far more recently.
‘It doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Martin Isaac, or the murder trial,’ noted Jenny, as she began speedreading her way through it.
‘Which is interesting, don’t you think?’
Struggling to read the text from where he was, Tanner eventually asked, ‘What’s it about?’
‘Just some local property developer, trying to get permission to knock down a pub in order to build a block of flats.’
‘And that’s him, is it?’ asked Tanner, squinting at the picture of a man standing in front of a pub, his hands held aloft as if he was trying to placate the group of placard-carrying protestors before him.
‘Gary Mitchell, yes.’
‘After you’d been here,’ Father Thomas explained, ‘asking about Claire Judson, and who it was who’d been tending to her grave, it dawned on me where I’d seen him before.’
‘You mean, that’s him?’ questioned Jenny, pointing down at the picture. ‘Gary Mitchell?’
‘An older version, but I believe it is, yes. My predecessor must have somehow worked out who he was, or possibly was told in the sanctity of confession, and as he would have been unable to tell anyone, he must have pasted the article into the scrapbook as a sort of a clue.’
Catching his eye, Tanner asked, ‘Have you shown this to anyone else?’
‘Not a soul, no.’
‘And when was the last time you saw him - the man tending to her grave?’
‘It was just before your previous visit.’
‘Not since then?’
‘Not that I’ve seen, no, but I suppose he may have done. I’ve certainly seen him often enough. He probably comes about once a week, and he’s been doing that since I first took over the parish.’
Carefully closing the book, Jenny asked, ‘May we borrow this?’
‘Of course,’ replied the priest. ‘Although I’d like to have it back at some stage.’
‘I’m sure that won’t be a problem. We only need to scan the newspaper articles, then I can return it to you.’
‘That would be appreciated.’
With a grateful smile, and the book in both hands, Jenny said, ‘Thank you again, Father.’
‘No problem at all.’
As they turned to leave, as if remembering something, the priest called after them, ‘You know, I’ve seen the newspapers, about what’s happened to Father Richard and Father Michael.’
Turning back to face him, Tanner said, ‘It’s all most unfortunate, I know.’
‘It’s just that…’ began the priest, colouring a little. ‘I was thinking…I mean, obviously the stories about monks rising from the grave are stuff and nonsense, but I was wondering if - well - if you thought that whoever’s responsible…’ He stopped and stared down at the scrapbook. ‘Do you think he’s deliberately targeting parish priests?’
It was evident that the man was concerned for his life, and with the possibility that he might have just identified the murderer, Tanner realised that he could have good reason to be.
Taking a step towards him, Tanner asked in a low voice, ‘Are you sure you’ve not shown that book to anyone else?’
‘Well, no, but…’
‘But what?’
‘I think someone may have been inside my house last night.’
‘May have?’
‘Well, I’m fairly sure someone was.’
‘Did you report it?’
‘I couldn’t see any reason to. Nothing was taken, and besides, it was my fault. I forgot to lock the patio doors when I went to bed.’
‘So, if nothing was taken, what made you think someone had been inside?’
‘Because I left the scrapbook on the kitchen table before I turned in for the night, as a reminder for me to bring it in for you today.’
‘And it wasn’t there when you woke
up?’
‘I found it at the end of my bed, open to the last page.’
A cold silence fell over them, before Tanner eventually said, ‘Are you sure you didn’t leave it there when you were going to bed?’
‘No. I definitely left it on the kitchen table. I’d even placed another book on top of it, to hide it from view.’
Thumbing through it, Jenny said, ‘But if someone broke into your house, looking for this, then why didn’t they just take it, instead of leaving it on the end of your bed?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘I do,’ said Tanner. ‘At least, I think I do.’
Looking first at Jenny, then back at the priest, he continued by saying, ‘Father, I think it may be sensible if we were to put you up in a safe house, at least until this matter is resolved.’
‘You think he left it there as a warning, don’t you?’
That was exactly what he was thinking, but as he’d no wish to alarm the priest any more than was necessary, he said, ‘I think Jenny might be right. The logical thing to have done would have been to have taken it.’
Letting out a sigh of fateful acceptance, Father Thomas said, ‘Well, anyway, it’s too late. I’ve given it to you now.’
‘We can put you up in a hotel,’ Tanner said. ‘Somewhere secure. It won’t be a problem.’
The priest took a moment to take in his surroundings, drawing the summer evening’s cool fresh country air deep into his lungs. As he did, he muttered softly to himself, ‘I sought the Lord, and he answered me; he delivered me from all my fears.’
Turning back to see the questioning looks in the faces of the two detectives, by way of explanation, he said, ‘It’s from the 34th Psalm.’
Returning his gaze to the horizon, he added, ‘I appreciate the offer, but this is my home. I can’t spend my days hiding away in some hotel room, cowering in fear. Besides, I have to believe that God will protect me, as he has always done.’
Unable to stop himself, Tanner said, ‘You mean, in the same way he protected Father Richard and Father Michael?’
The priest smiled. ‘When you know perfect Love, you’ll neither fear this life, nor the next.’
‘Sorry, Father, I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m just concerned for your safety.’
‘Well, there’s no need to be. I have all the protection I could ever ask for.’
‘Can you at least allow us to post a police car outside your house, just to keep an eye out for you?’
Father Thomas thought about that for a moment. ‘I suppose that would be sensible. Thank you.’
‘And let me give you one of my cards,’ Tanner added, pulling out his wallet and sliding one out.
Handing it over to him, he said, ‘If you change your mind about staying here, or if you see Gary Mitchell again, please call me on my mobile.’
Taking the card, the priest gave him a warm smile. ‘Thank you, Inspector. And if I see him again, I promise I’ll call.’
CHAPTER THIRTY ONE
AN OPPRESSIVE SILENCE followed as they made their way back to the car.
He knew from Jenny’s pursed lips and flushed cheeks that she was upset with him.
He also had a good idea as to why.
Desperate to avoid any further animosity developing between them, he blurted out, ‘I’m sorry about what I said to Father Thomas earlier; about how God hadn’t been much help to the other priests.’
‘It’s fine,’ she responded, but in a way that made it clear that it wasn’t.
‘I only said it because I’m worried about him, and I was frustrated that he turned down the offer of the safe house.’
Stopping to glare up at him, Jenny said, ‘Why do I get the feeling that you’ve got something against Catholicism?’
‘I haven’t,’ he replied. ‘I just wasn’t brought up believing in it, that’s all. To be honest, I’m not sure I was brought up to believe in much of anything. My father wasn’t exactly the spiritual type. Spending half his life working for the Met probably didn’t help.’
‘How about your mother? What did she do?’
‘Science teacher, I’m afraid.’
‘Well, fair enough, I suppose, but it wouldn’t do you any harm to start showing a little more respect for the beliefs of others.’
‘I know. Sorry.’
After holding his gaze for another moment, Jenny turned away to resume her march towards the car, forcing Tanner to hurry after her.
As he caught up, he said, ‘I must admit that I’d have been far happier if he’d taken us up on our offer.’
‘I know what you mean,’ Jenny conceded. ‘If what he’d described had happened to me, that someone crept into my house in the middle of the night to leave a book open at the end of my bed, I’d have been on the phone to the police, ambulance, fire service, and anyone else I had a number for. I’d have probably even called the AA, just in case one of their vans was nearby.’
Relieved to hear her sounding more like her normal self, Tanner said, ‘I’m not sure the Automobile Association would have been much help.’
‘Well, they call themselves the fourth emergency service; and waking up to find that some complete stranger had been staring at me while I slept would have definitely counted as an emergency to me.’
Stopping beside the car, she asked, ‘So, what’s next?’
‘I think we’re going to have to postpone our dinner engagement. I need to get that scrapbook back to the station to sign it in as evidence, and to let Forrester know about it. I also have to arrange for a couple of PCs to keep an eye on Father Thomas’s house.’
‘So you think Gary Mitchell is our man?’
‘Well, if he’s been visiting Clare Judson’s grave every week for the last few years, like Father Thomas says he has, then the chances are that he must have been very much in love with her. I can only assume that somehow he must have found out about that letter sent to the Cardinal, asking for Martin Isaac to be excommunicated. He must have thought like we did; that it meant Isaac had been guilty after all, and that the Church had stepped in to cover it up.’
‘So he killed Martin Isaac for what he’d done to Claire Judson, and the two priests because they helped him to be acquitted?’
‘It would seem like the most plausible explanation.’
‘OK, but why would he go to all the trouble of taking Isaac’s body from his tomb and planting his DNA on the priests, all to make it look like he’d raised himself from the dead in order to execute them?’
‘Probably in an effort to divert suspicion.’
‘And the girl, at the cemetery?’
‘I suspect she simply found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time. She probably saw his face. Anyway, whatever his motivation, we have to find him as a matter of urgency.’
As they heaved open the Jag’s heavy doors, Jenny said, ‘I think I’d better come back to the station with you.’
Tanner checked his watch. It was gone half eight, and they still hadn’t eaten.
‘Tell you what,’ he began. ‘How about we grab something to eat on the way?’
‘You’re still paying, I assume?’
‘Of course.’
‘Well, OK, but don’t think that means you’ve wriggled your way out of taking me to an actual restaurant.’
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
Saturday, 6th July
IT WASN’T UNTIL gone twelve o’clock on Friday night that Tanner was finally able to roll himself into his cramped but cosy cabin bed; but despite being both mentally and physically exhausted, he had a real struggle getting off to sleep.
After Father Thomas had given them the scrapbook, they’d sped back to the station, stopping only at a garage to pick up some sandwiches. Once there, Jenny had signed the book into the secure evidence room, leaving Tanner to update DCI Forrester with the new information they’d uncovered. At the same time he’d asked permission to have a squad car parked outside Father Thomas’s house, just until they were able to locate the person Tanner n
ow believed to be their prime suspect, the man Claire Judson had been planning on meeting that fateful day at the top of St. Andrew’s church: Gary Mitchell.
Joining Jenny back in the main office, with the squad car arranged, it had soon become clear that tracking Mitchell down wasn’t going to be as straightforward as they’d hoped. There were over twenty listed as living in the Norfolk area, and that was working on the assumption that he still lived there, and wasn’t driving in from somewhere else to tend to his old girlfriend’s grave. Once they’d removed those who were either too old or too young, their only means of identifying the right one was physically, by comparing each with the black and white photograph that had been published in the Norfolk Herald in 2006.
Reaching the reluctant conclusion that it was going to take longer than a few hours, Tanner had briefed a couple more constables on night shift to keep sifting through the names, and to call him if they had a result. After checking that Alan Birch was still happy to remain in a holding cell, he’d decided to call it a night.
Having dropped Jenny off at her flat where she’d left her car earlier that evening, before driving back to his boat, he’d made a slight detour via Father Thomas’s house. He’d wanted to check that the car he’d requested had positioned itself where he’d asked, directly outside. Whilst there, he’d had a chat with the two constables, making sure they were both fully awake and understood their orders; to keep a close eye on the house at all times, and to make regular but discreet patrols of the property’s boundaries.
Only when he himself had picked his way around the exterior, noting the most likely points of entry and relaying that information back to the PCs, did he allow himself to finally head for home. However, despite having done all that, it didn’t stop him from worrying. If Gary Mitchell was someone who was psychologically imbalanced enough to nail one priest up to a cross and impale another, he couldn’t help but worry what he might do to Father Thomas, were he to find out that he’d told the police what he’d learned, despite the warning that had been left for him.
At some stage he must have fallen asleep, because the alarm on his phone woke him from some unremembered dream.
