by David Blake
‘Oh yes, do tell.’
‘She survived the fall from the tower.’
‘She survived? But I thought…’
‘She was left in a coma, a condition from which she never recovered.’
‘I didn’t know that.’
‘There was something else we discovered as well. When she was taken into care, she was pregnant.’
With a look of astonishment, Father Thomas repeated, ‘Pregnant?’
‘And the father of the baby was believed to be the person who’d attacked her. Furthermore, Claire lived long enough to give birth, to a boy. We believe it may be Claire Judson’s son who’s been visiting her grave, and is subsequently behind the attacks against you and the other priests.’
‘But, surely, if such a child existed, it would have been reported in the papers?’
‘The powers that be decided to keep it out of the media which, at the time at least, was probably a sensible decision.’
‘Do you know who the child is?’
‘Not yet, no. The person we thought might know has unfortunately been -’ Tanner was about to say killed, but not wishing to alarm Father Thomas any more than was necessary, instead said, ‘- has passed away.’
‘I’m very sorry to hear that.’
‘But don’t worry,’ added Tanner. ‘I’m not going to stop until I’ve found him.’
‘No, I can see that.’
‘We’ve already reached out to the Norfolk Diocese, hoping that they may have some answers for us.’
‘What makes you think they’d know anything about it?’
‘We believe Claire’s son was taken into care by the Church, so we’re hoping they’ll have a record of his name; possibly where we’ll be able to find him as well. However, in the meantime, you need to make sure you stay close to the officers who’ve been assigned to keep an eye on you.’
‘Of course, yes, although I must admit that I was hoping to be able to bring you over a little something this evening, by way of a thank you.’
‘That’s very kind of you, Father, but I’m not sure that would be a good idea. Not yet, at any rate. Maybe it would be better if I was to pop by to pick it up from you?’
Looking a little aggrieved, Father Thomas said, ‘I am allowed out, aren’t I?’
‘Well, yes, but…’
‘Tell you what. How about if I was to bring it over to you under police escort?’ He looked over at the uniformed constable, who had returned to propping up the church wall.
Tanner said, ‘I suppose that would be all right.’
‘Good. Now, whereabouts do you live?’
‘Actually, I live on board a boat.’
‘A boat?’
‘A floating one, yes,’ he said, with an embarrassed smile.
‘How on earth did you end up living on board a boat?’
‘It’s a long story, one which I’ll gladly tell when you come around.’
‘Well, I’m intrigued.’
‘It’s nothing fancy, the boat that is. Just an old Norfolk cruising yacht. It’s called Seascape. You’ll be able to find it opposite the marina in Ranworth.’
‘OK, well, I still have to finish up here, and then I’ve a few other things I need to attend to. Sunday’s obviously my busiest day, but I’ll try to pop around with it later this evening, if that’s convenient?’
‘I look forward to it,’ Tanner assured him. ‘Anyway, we’d better be off. But remember; make sure to stay close to the two constables at all times.’
‘I will.’
‘And you’ve still got my number?’
Tapping his hand against his breast pocket, with an appreciative smile he replied, ‘I’ve got your card, and my phone’s right here.’
‘Good. Well, goodbye for now, Father.’
With that, Tanner and Jenny turned to make their way out of the church.
CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN
ONCE THEY’D STEPPED outside, and had passed the constable still standing beside the entrance, Jenny said quietly, ‘I thought I was taking you back to Wroxham Medical Centre; and yet there you were, planning your evening’s social engagements.’
‘Well, yes, but I really am feeling much better now.’
‘But even so…?’
‘Besides,’ continued Tanner, ‘I’ll sleep better in my own bed.’ Seeing the concerned look on her face, he added, ‘Look, if my head starts spinning again, or if any part of my body begins to hurt any more than it already is, I’ll give you a call and you can drive me over. How does that sound?’
As they entered the cemetery, heading for the car, she said, ‘And what about Father Thomas?’
‘What about him?’
‘Do you really think it’s safe for him to come round to see you?’
‘As long as he has the police escort, I can’t see it being a problem.’
‘But he can still identify the man who tried to kill him.’
‘Yes, but we’d need to catch whoever it is before he’d be able to do that.’
Stopping dead in her tracks, Jenny grabbed hold of Tanner’s arm and glared at him. ‘I sincerely hope you’re not thinking about using Father Thomas as bait?’
‘Look, if the man wants to bring me round a gift, who am I to say no?’
‘You are, aren’t you?’
‘OK, I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind, but he’ll be coming with police protection, and will be on board my boat with me. Whoever’s doing this would be mad to try anything.’
‘Without wanting to state the obvious, whoever’s doing this is a psychotic serial killer. By definition, he is mad!’
Hearing his phone ring, he dug it out to see Forrester’s name.
‘Bugger! He must have found out I’m not back under medical supervision.’
‘Or maybe he has news on the investigation?’
He hesitated for a moment, but decided that he’d better take the call.
‘Tanner speaking!’
‘Tanner, it’s Forrester.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I assume you’ve checked yourself back into Wroxham Medical Centre?’
‘Just about, sir, yes.’
‘What do you mean, just about?’
‘Er…we had to make a slight detour, but Jenny’s about to drive me over there now.’
Overhearing the conversation, Jenny scowled at Tanner for telling such a blatant lie to their superior officer.
‘Well, fair enough,’ continued Forrester. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that I had a call from Superintendent Whitaker again. I’m afraid the bishop’s been back in touch.’
‘Not about that email, surely?’
‘Unfortunately, yes.’
‘What did he say?’
‘He wanted to make another official complaint: that you, personally, were harassing him.’
‘Seriously?’
‘I’m afraid so. But don’t worry. I told Whitaker that I’d both approved and authorised the enquiry.’
‘Did the bishop say anything about Martin Isaac’s trial documents, or if they knew the identity of Claire Judson’s son?’
‘Apparently, he said they had no such records, and if they had, they would have been thrown away years ago.’
‘That sounds to me like they didn’t even bother to look.’
‘Who knows, but it does mean that that particular avenue is closed.’
‘It also means that we’re back to square one again.’
‘Not quite. Cooper and Gilbert have just arrived back from Head Office. They managed to dig out Miss Judson’s old case files from storage. Hopefully they’re going to find something in there that may shed some light on all of this.’
‘Well, that’s something, I suppose. Can you ask Cooper to keep me posted?’
‘Will do, but only if I feel it’s important. For now I want you to get all the rest you can.’
With the call ending, Tanner turned to Jenny to ask, ‘Did you hear that?’
‘Someth
ing about the Bishop of Norfolk not being too happy about our enquiry.’
‘He called Superintendent Whitaker to make another complaint. Can you believe that? Fortunately, Forrester’s backing me up this time, but honestly, I’ve got no idea why the man’s being so deliberately unhelpful. It’s almost as if he’s…’
‘…got something to hide,’ finished Jenny, as the two of them stared at each other. ‘You don’t think…?’ she continued.
Tanner cast his mind back to his first attempt to question the bishop, just after Martin Isaac’s funeral. ‘If it is Claire Judson’s son who’s behind all this, then we’re looking for someone who’s forty-three years old.’
‘Nearer Forty-two,’ corrected Jenny.
‘Either way, the Bishop of Norfolk is far older than that; or at least he looks it.’
‘Maybe we should do a quick background check on him?’
Tanner laughed. ‘That’s hilarious, Jen. Nice one!’
‘What?’
‘One minute you’re telling me to steer well clear of the guy, and the next you’re saying we should do a background check on him.’
Shrugging her shoulders, Jenny replied, ‘He’s behaving suspiciously, so why not? He wouldn’t have to know. It’s not as if we need his permission.’
‘No, but somehow I don’t think Forrester will see it that way. Besides, even if he does have something to hide, in all fairness, who doesn’t? Whatever it is will probably involve something like tax evasion, or having an unnatural interest in children.’
‘Or it could be that he’s a forty-two year old serial killer who just happens to look twenty years older than he actually is.’
‘Yes, but highly unlikely.’
Seeing Jenny pouting rather obviously, Tanner thought it best to add, ‘Look, if he was younger, then it would make more sense, but he’s not even close. I really think we need to be concentrating on suspects who are at least the right sort of age.’
‘Like who? Everyone on our original list is dead!’
‘Kevin Griffiths isn’t.’
‘The reporter?’
‘Could be.’
‘But he’s far too young, surely?’
‘Maybe he looks younger than he is, in the same way that the bishop might look older? Anyway, with Alan Birch dead, and the Norfolk Diocese not being particularly helpful, we’re going to have to think of another way to approach this.’
They walked in silence for a while, until they came to the end of the graveyard. As they stepped onto the path that led down to the road where they’d parked, Jenny announced, ‘I’ve got an idea.’
Before Tanner had a chance to ask her what it was, she turned around and started to jog back up the path, calling back, ‘I’ll meet you at the car. I won’t be long.’
A few minutes later, as Tanner rested up against the passenger door of the Golf, Jenny re-appeared at the end of the path, her handbag in one hand, a plastic bag in the other, and a particularly smug expression stamped all over her face.
‘What’s in the bag?’ called out Tanner, as she reached the road.
Crossing over, she pulled out her car keys to say, ‘A hunch!’
‘Your lunch?’ queried Tanner, raising an eyebrow.
‘I said a hunch! Now, am I taking you back to your boat, or have you changed your mind and are looking for a lift back to the medical centre?’
‘Boat please!’ requested Tanner, and slid with some relief into the passenger seat.
CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT
LYING PROPPED UP in his yacht’s small but cosy cabin bed, immersed in the latest John Grisham novel, Tanner was about to get up to turn the oil lamp on to counteract the diminishing light from a fast setting sun, when he heard a familiar voice calling from outside.
‘Hello? Is anyone home?’
It was Father Thomas.
Glancing at his watch to see that it was gone half past nine, surprised he’d come so late, Tanner called back, ‘Just coming!’ and rolled himself off the bed.
‘Sorry about the time,’ came the priest’s voice again, as Tanner ducked out into the cockpit. ‘One of my more elderly church members popped round for a bit of a chat, which went on a little longer than I’d hoped.’
Lifting the canvas awning covering the entrance, Tanner looked out at Father Thomas. He was standing on the grass bank wearing a nondescript dark grey waterproof jacket and carrying what appeared to be two bottles of homemade beer, one in his hand, the other tucked under his arm.
‘It’s not too late, is it?’ asked the priest, with a concerned frown.
‘Not at all!’ said Tanner. ‘It’s not as if I was halfway through watching a film, or anything. No TV.’
As he rolled up the canvas flap to create a doorway, he added, ‘No electricity either, for that matter.’
‘How on earth do you survive?’
Standing back to allow the priest to climb on board, Tanner said, ‘I’ve found books make a good substitute for television, and you get used to the rest. The hardest part is not being able to charge things up, like my phone, for example. So I try to turn it off every now and again to save the battery; which reminds me.’ With that, he ducked back inside the cabin to return a moment later, phone in hand, as its familiar start-up tune chimed out.
‘Well, this is certainly cosy!’ exclaimed the priest, with a pleasant smile.
Casting an eye over Tanner’s various bandages, he asked, ‘How are your hands?’
‘Oh, fine. How’s your neck?’
‘Much better, thank you.’
An awkward silence followed, before Father Thomas said, ‘Here, I bought you this,’ and handed Tanner the bottle of beer he’d been holding in his hand. ‘Nothing special. Just something by way of a thank you.’
Taking the bottle, Tanner thanked him to look down and read out what the label said.
‘Thursday, 9th May.’
‘Not the most imaginative of titles,’ admitted the priest, ‘but it certainly packs quite a punch.’
Holding it up to what was left of the light, Tanner thought it looked a little cloudy for his liking, but not wishing to appear rude, he said, ‘Looks great!’ and placed both the bottle and his phone down on the table. Spinning around, he lifted up the bench seat behind him to begin rummaging inside the cabinet underneath for something to use to drink it from.
‘I don’t have any pint glasses, I’m afraid,’ he said, standing up with two tumblers in hand, ones he normally reserved for his preferred cocktail of rum and coke.
‘Not a problem,’ replied the priest, pulling the bottle out from under his arm to remove its swing-top rubber cap and begin pouring himself out a glass.
As Tanner tugged open his own bottle he glanced out of the rectangular opening in the canvas awning. ‘I assume our two constables followed you over here?’
‘I left them parking up, just outside the marina,’ the priest replied, before raising his glass to say, ‘To your good health!’
‘Cheers!’ responded Tanner, taking a cautious sip.
Pleasantly surprised to discover that it tasted far better than it looked, Tanner downed half the glass, just as his phone pinged, telling him he’d received a voicemail.
‘Excuse me for just a moment,’ he said, retrieving his phone from the table to begin accessing its messages.
Discovering that it had been left by DCI Forrester, several hours before, Tanner kicked himself for having missed it.
Continuing to drink from his glass, he sat back to listen to Forrester tell him that the old case files they’d found buried deep inside Headquarters had born fruit. Although they’d yet to discover the identity of Claire Judson’s son, they’d managed to unearth a sperm sample that had been collected from within Claire’s body at the time, on which they’d had forensics do some DNA sampling. The message finished by saying that they’d found a match, and for Tanner to call him as soon as possible.
Raising an intrigued eyebrow, Tanner removed the phone from his ear.
‘Ne
ws?’ enquired Father Thomas, as he picked up Tanner’s bottle to refill his host’s glass.
‘It’s my boss,’ replied Tanner, reaching for it with an uncoordinated hand. Remarkably, the priest’s homebrew was already having an effect. ‘Do you mind if I give him a quick call?’
‘By all means,’ replied Father Thomas, offering him a thin smile.
As he waited for Forrester to pick up, Tanner took another large drink from his glass. ‘Sir, it’s Tanner,’ he said, when he heard the familiar response, the words slurring ever so slightly.
‘Did you get my message?’
‘I did, sir, yes.’
‘You’re not going to believe what name came up from that DNA result.’
‘Try me!’
‘Fredrick Simpson!’
‘Sorry, sir, but I’m not sure that I’m familiar with the name.’
‘Otherwise known as your Grace, Tanner.’
‘You mean…the Bishop of Norfolk?’
‘The one and only!’
‘But…how?’
‘DS Gilbert ran a background check on him. He was the altar boy at St. Andrew’s, all those years ago.’
Thinking back to what old Tommy had told them, Tanner asked, ‘But didn’t his parents say that he was with them at the time of Claire Judson’s assault?’
‘Evidently they were lying. Hardly the first time misguided parents have done so in order to try and protect a child.’
‘But Martin Isaac also said that he wasn’t there.’
‘Then he must have been covering up for him as well. Furthermore, we’ve discovered that it wasn’t the only occasion he’d been suspected of rape. There were two other school girls, during the Eighties, which was why we had his DNA on file.’
‘And what happened with those?’
‘The same thing as with Martin Isaac. The Church moved in and provided him with a rock solid alibi. Neither case even made it to court.’
‘And now he’s the Bishop of Norfolk!’
‘So it would appear. It also justifies your reasons for having been suspicious of him.’
After pausing for a moment to let all that sink in, Tanner asked, ‘So, what happens now?’
