“Have you interviewed Mrs Fisher?” Crane pointed a finger at Keane, although he knew full well what the answer would be.
“Not personally, no,” Keane had to admit, seeming to shrink, as he hunched down into his chair.
“So you didn’t ask her what her son and husband got up to on Sunday mornings?”
“Obviously not.” Keane put his head in his hands, unable to face either Crane or Brown.
Taking a deep breath, Crane continued with his attack. “What about forensics?”
“What about them?” Keane mumbled.
“Have you done forensic tests on his clothes?”
“No, I didn’t think it was necessary.” Keane’s failure was now complete.
“Jesus Christ man, that’s standard procedure. I ought to bust you from here to kingdom come,” said Crane, moving to lean his hands against the chair he had just vacated.
“Crane,” warned Brown.
“Bloody pathetic.”
“This isn’t getting us anywhere, Crane,” said Brown as he stood. “Let’s take a break and then start again, eh?”
Crane looked at both men and stalked out of the room, intent on finding a quiet corner outside where he could have a smoke.
The nicotine, fresh air and movement calmed him. The day had turned bright and sunny and was one of those typical English Indian summer days, when you want to stay outside for as long as possible, as it could be your only chance until next year. Crane turned his face to the sun and closed his eyes. When a cloud obscured the warming beams, he went back inside. He found Keane gone, replaced by the young Sergeant who had escorted them to the crime scene yesterday.
“It seems Sergeant Major Keane is indisposed at the moment,” murmured Brown, “so Sergeant Harris here has stepped in.”
“Very well, let’s get on with it then.” Crane sat down and picked up his file.
For the next few hours the three men went backwards and forwards through each case, with only a short break for lunch.
***
Before leaving the garrison the next morning, Brown and Crane took one last opportunity to see Mrs Fisher, with Sergeant Harris deciding to go along and observe.
They found Mrs Fisher once more ensconced on the settee in her friend’s house, watching morning television. She refused to turn it off, but after some persuasion turned the volume down. As soon as the three men sat, she started on again about how badly the army was treating her. After letting off some steam, Mrs Fisher began to calm down.
As she did, Brown turned the conversation to the relationship between husband and wife. “How well did you get on?” he wanted to know.
“Okay I suppose,” was the dull response.
“Is that a good okay, or a bad okay?”
“Just okay,” Mrs Fisher replied with a shrug of her shoulders.
“Was it difficult when Peter was away?”
“Not really no. To be honest it was more difficult when he was here. Ryan and I tended to have our routine, you know? And Peter kind of disrupted it when he came back. So it took a bit of adjustment that’s all.” Mrs Fisher began a minute examination of her badly painted nails.
“Was it harder this time, after he came back from Afghanistan?”
“I guess, but no not really. He was a bit quieter this time maybe, wandering around, lost somehow. Got under my feet he did. Wouldn’t talk much, just sat staring at the TV but not really watching it, you know?” she lifted her head to look at Brown.
“Mmm…did it get any better?”
“Well I don’t know about better. He got religion. Was always off at that Church on the other side of town, couldn’t be doing with it myself. Not that I was invited,” she concluded, resentment making her stiffen and fold her arms.
“Did he ever say what happened there?” Crane asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.
Turning to look at him she said, “I asked, but he wouldn’t talk about it, said it was none of my business.”
“How often did he go?”
“Let me see,” Mrs Fisher looked up at the ceiling, “once a week on a Wednesday night and then all of Sunday morning. He took Ryan with him then. Insisted he had to go every Sunday, but Ryan was keen enough.” Talking about her son, Mrs Fisher’s eyes filled with tears and she scrabbled through the mess on the settee for tissues.
Despite further probing Mrs Fisher knew nothing more, other than the Church was called Christ our Savour and that services were held in a disused school. As the three men left the house Crane asked Sergeant Harris to see what he could find out about the Church and specifically what happened there on a Wednesday night and to keep him informed.
***
Crane drove home later that morning, mentally comparing and contrasting each case. The cases from Aldershot and Colchester were both deemed premeditated. Forensic evidence in both cases showed the knives were recently sharpened, with residue steel and stone on the men’s clothing. Also both houses had been secured. All windows and doors closed and locked.
The other link was definitely religious and at least this time they had a more substantial lead, thanks to the information provided by Mrs Fisher. He resolved to try to find out more about his own local church link, with the help of the Padre.
As far as other information went, Brown said that John Sergeant took out money each week for the household expenses, the same amount each time. When John was not there, if he had gone on exercise for a couple of weeks say, Mrs Sergeant continued with this habit and they found extra money stashed in the house, presumably because it was left over each week, as John had not been there to spend it.
The only similarity with his case was that Solomon drew out £50 each Sunday, from the same cash machine and at around the same time. Their leap of thinking leading to the deduction that this money could be a donation for the churches, but again there was no hard evidence to support it.
All three soldiers served in Afghanistan and each had been back in the UK about three or four months. Interviews with fellow combatants and officers told how each soldier had been withdrawn on their return to England, as though badly affected by their tour of duty, but everyone was loath to talk about it. In fact, everyone seemed reticent to talk about the possible effects on the men of a tour of duty in Afghanistan.
As Crane sat nursing an overpriced coffee during one of his breaks, he felt it was as if it couldn’t be acknowledged that a soldier couldn’t cope with war. After all, wasn’t going to war the whole purpose of an army? An army couldn’t function if the soldiers couldn’t cope with the after affects. So the consensus seemed to be, best sweep it all under the carpet and pretend that everything was alright and nothing was wrong.
Crane knew how hard it was to cope with harsh conditions when serving overseas and missing family and friends back home. But somehow you had to cope. Put an invisible shield around your emotions and see it as a job. Maybe Crooks, Sergeant and Fisher hadn’t been able to do that. They weren’t the first and most certainly wouldn’t be the last, Crane decided. The question was, had they turned to a local church to find the answers? Crane was determined to find out, clearing his table and picking up his keys, ready for the remainder of the journey home.
Chapter Eighteen
It was a beautiful October morning, the skies light blue and the sun’s rays bright if not warm, as Crane drove to work the next day. Light flooded across the playing fields and turned the dull grey granite of Provost Barrack’s walls, which were usually dark and foreboding, into an inviting building that sparkled in the sun’s rays. Even the kids walking to the local secondary school at the top of North Camp larked about instead of slouching. Everywhere Crane looked, people seemed to have a bit more hope about them. A sense of yes, I could make today count. Unusual for Aldershot, he thought.
Crane breezed into the office and called a meeting in 30 minutes for an update on his weekend in Catterick. They met in Crane’s office, after he had returned from his briefing with Captain Edwards. Kim looked smart, but as uptig
ht as ever and Billy seemed relaxed after his weekend off, obviously having spent as much time in the sun as possible, from the fresh crop of freckles on his face.
Crane told them of his findings in Catterick and advised that as a result of these, Captain Edwards had authorised further investigation of the case. Crane wanted to focus their efforts on the Church of Jesus is King.
“What are we going to do then, boss?” Billy wanted to know.
“Well, it’s a bit tricky that one. We can’t do much, so I want to enlist the help of the Padre again.”
“Anything I can do, sir?” asked Kim.
“I want you to go out and about on the garrison, visit the NAFFI, talk to the wives, pop into welfare and ask if anyone knows anything about this Church. See if you can find anyone who attends it. Also I want to know if Solomon ever went to see anyone about his mental health. In Afghanistan, we deploy highly skilled and experienced mental health nurses, to provide the necessary in-theatre care and treatment for all our personnel. See if you could find out if he saw anyone whilst in Afghanistan. Also talk to the local Department of Community Mental Health here.”
“Yes, sir,” Kim smiled and looked pleased with her assignment. “I’m sure I can come up with something.” She began scribbling notes on the pad she kept ready on her lap.
“Yeah right, but you’ll have to be a bit friendlier if you want the women to confide in you,” sneered Billy.
“I can be perfectly friendly when I want to Staff Sergeant Williams,” countered Kim, pausing in her note taking to fix Billy with an icy stare.
“See, that’s just what I mean, colder than an arctic wind.”
“Oh for God’s sake, shut up you two,” Crane snapped. “Now, Billy, I want you to get as much background information as you can on the church. How long it’s been established, what affiliations it may have, that sort of thing.”
“Oh right. Shall I contact the Church Commissioners or whatever organisation looks after evangelic churches, that sort of thing?”
“Contact whoever you like, just not the actual Church, alright?”
“Understood, sir.”
“There’s an article in the local paper.”
Crane and Billy looked at Kim.
“And the relevance of that is?” Billy was quick to ask.
Shaking his head at Billy, Crane said, “Ignore him, Kim. What article?”
“About the Church of Jesus is King. I just thought Billy might want to look at it if he’s doing background. It was written by that woman.”
“What woman?” Crane asked.
“The one that kept pestering us about Solomon. Diane Chambers.”
“Interesting,” mused Crane. “Kim, get a copy for Billy and also one for me. Right then, off you both go. I’m going over to see Padre Symonds.” Crane got up from behind his desk.
“Do you want me to phone him, sir. Let him know you’re coming?” asked Kim, as they all left Crane’s office.
“No thanks, Kim. Appointments aren’t really my style,” smiled Crane.
***
Crane was banking on finding the Padre somewhere in the church or in its vicinity and he wasn’t disappointed. As Crane walked into the small office, located at the back of the Church, it seemed that tidiness wasn’t the Padre’s style. This time there was even more paper strewn across the desk, spreading across the small office like large pieces of confetti.
“I see you’re hard at it then, sir,” said Crane.
“Ah, Sergeant Major Crane, just the person. Come in and sit down. Oh maybe not, standing would be good.” The Padre was sitting behind his desk and the other two chairs in the room held towers of papers and books, which were threatening to topple over.
“Sir,” agreed Crane suppressing a smile and remaining standing.
“This is all really rather exciting, you know,” said the Padre, spreading his hands out to encompass the papers on his desk. “I’ve learned so much about cults and their ways. There are large organised religious movements, sects and those we would more appropriately describe as cults. Cults are where everyone lives on a commune and works for the good of the organisation.”
Crane frowned at this piece of information. “I’m not sure that’s what we’ve got here, Padre,” he said.
“No, quite,” agreed the Padre, leaning back in his swivel chair. “But there’s one interesting fact I came across. Did you know that a cult could comprise just a handful of people? It doesn’t need to be a large recognised movement, more of a one-man band, as it were.”
“Really, sir?” asked Crane, not awfully sure where this was going.
“Oh yes, just one man with a big idea who persuades vulnerable people to his way of thinking. And that’s what I think we might have here,” the Padre banged his hands down on his desk to accentuate his point.
“You do?” Crane replied, moving backwards to lean against the stone doorway and putting his hands in his trouser pockets. If this was going to take some time, he might as well make himself a bit more comfortable.
“Absolutely.” The Padre was becoming more agitated in his enthusiasm, jiggling up and down in his chair and Crane believed he would roam around the office if there was enough space. “You see there’s no evidence to suggest that the Church of Jesus is King is behind these killings. Especially as they’re spread around the country. So I was wondering if it was one man travelling around but using the different churches as a front.” By now the Padre was swinging around in his chair like an excited child.
But Crane simply stared at the Padre, a chill creeping across his shoulders, making him shiver.
“Are you alright, Sergeant Major?” the Padre asked, falling still.
“Oh, what? Yes, sir. Sorry. Could you just say that bit again please?”
“What bit?” asked the confused Padre, rifling through the papers on his desk. “Oh you mean the one man travelling around but using the different churches as a front?”
“Exactly, you know you could have hit upon something there, Padre. Although there’s no evidence to suggest that yet.”
“I know,” agreed the Padre. “So I thought I could help with that bit. But the trouble is I don’t know how or what I could do,” he finished.
“Don’t worry, sir.” Crane smiled. “I’ve got an idea about that.”
Deciding Crane really needed to sit down, they cleared one of the chairs and, surrounded by books and papers, Crane outlined his idea to the Padre. By the end of the meeting they had a plan. The Padre would instigate an Army Liaison Scheme, aiming to foster relations between all the different churches in Aldershot. This would involve the Padre attending the church services and various groups run by each church and of course he would start with Jesus is King.
Whilst attending these, the hope was that the Padre would come across some information about a visiting preacher, or another Church Elder who only attended occasionally. Also he would have an opportunity to see what regular meetings were held, such as Bible Studies. Crane was mindful of the fact that John Sergeant attended some sort of meeting once a week and wondered if that might have been the case in Aldershot with Corporal Crooks.
The two men agreed that the Padre would set this in motion as soon as possible and Crane again urged caution.
“I can’t see any problems with this,” said the Padre. “It’s just normal ecclesiastical practice, fostering good relations with the local community etc etc,” he waved his hand around in a foppish gesture. “Let’s just hope something good comes out of it.”
“My thoughts exactly,” said Crane, not sounding as happy as the Padre, as he was fervently hoping that nothing bad would come of it.
***
Billy wasn’t happy about it either, Crane could tell, when he got a chance to talk to him about the plan. They were sitting in the open office area, Billy lounging in a spare chair and Crane sitting on the edge of a desk.
“I’m not so sure about this, with respect, sir.” Billy leaned forward his arms on his knees. “What does
the Padre know about investigations?”
“Nothing, but then he’s not really investigating, just information gathering.”
“Exactly, and I think we should be investigating,” he pushed a thumb onto his chest to make his point, the tone in his voice bordering on insubordination.
“Do you indeed?” Crane couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “You know we’ve got nothing on the Church and absolutely no jurisdiction either.”
“Sorry, sir,” Billy mumbled, but then rallied. “It’s just that I’ve had a thought about an undercover type operation,” he blurted sounding like a recalcitrant adolescent.
“Okay, let’s hear it,” Crane said after a pause, deciding not to dampen all the boy’s enthusiasm or willingness to go that extra mile. “In my office.”
Crane settled back in his chair while he listened to Billy outline his plan to infiltrate the Church of Jesus is King. His theory was that as the three cases had involved a father and young son, Billy would attend the church with his young nephew posing as his son and see where things went from there.
“There must be some sort of programme or study group focused on fathers. If I can find one and join it, then maybe we’ll get somewhere.” Billy leaned forward in his chair to emphasise his keenness. “What do you think, sir?” the eagerness shone from Billy’s eyes like a beacon.
Pausing for a moment, Crane came out from behind his desk and paced around his office, settling on the corner of the desk, close to Billy.
“That is probably one of the worst and yet best ideas you’ve ever had, Billy.”
“Thank you, sir, I think. Um, which is which? I mean, which is good and which is bad?”
“The infiltration part was good but using your nephew was bad. So because of that, I can’t authorise it.”
“But, sir!” Billy started to rise in protest.
“Sergeant!” warned Crane.
Billy subsided into his chair, once more mumbling, “Sorry, sir.”
“Look, let’s be realistic. You can’t do anything that would put a civilian at risk, particularly not your nephew. You’d never forgive yourself if anything happened to him and come to that neither would your sister.”
A Soldier's Honour Box Set 1 (Sgt Major Crane Crime Thrillers Box Set) Page 10
