A Soldier's Honour Box Set 1 (Sgt Major Crane Crime Thrillers Box Set)

by Wendy Cartmell

  “You say Padre Symonds asked you to come,” she said. “May I ask why he didn’t come himself?”

  Realising Mrs Morrison didn’t know what had happened, Crane decided to tell her, in the hope of eliciting some sympathy and assistance. Luckily it worked.

  “Oh dear, how dreadful,” her expression softened, but not her posture, which was as rigid as ever. “Why do you need the diary though?”

  So once again Crane had to go through explanations. He kept his reasons as vague as possible, telling her he was investigating a murder suicide on the garrison and that it appeared the young man in question had been attending the Church of Jesus is King.

  “So, Mrs Morrison,” he concluded, “we’re trying to find out why a young soldier would have done such a thing. Trying to trace people he may have met, listened to, or been influenced by.”

  “Yes, yes, I see. Wait one moment please, Sergeant Major.”

  Mrs Morrison disappeared into another room and came back with several pamphlets in her hand. “These are for the past year or so. I hope they help. Although I do hope no one from our church was involved.”

  Standing Crane took them from her outstretched hand and made to leave. Turning to face her once he reached the door he said, “Forgive me for saying so, Mrs Morrison, but you don’t look ready for assisted living just yet.”

  “Well, thank you for the compliment, Sergeant Major,” she smiled for the first time since Crane entered the flat. “Just a bit of forward planning.”

  As he drove home that night, he pondered Mrs Morrison’s words. Perhaps he needed to do a bit of forward planning as well, but first he needed to check into the past.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Checking dates against the church diary and those in Lance Corporal Crooks’ service record was the type of job Crane would normally give to a junior member of staff. But not this time. Working from when Solomon arrived back from Afghanistan (around May) he looked through the pamphlets carefully. Checking for themed study groups or visiting preachers with the name of Zechariah. He eventually found what he was looking for. Zechariah had preached at Jesus is King on the 2nd June and then hosted the first meeting of ‘How to walk the steps to Heaven’ later that week.

  After that, though, Crane could find no mention of any other similarly entitled meetings. But, the dates fitted and the timing fitted. Solomon would have had exposure to Zechariah for just over two months, before he turned on his family and then killed himself.

  Crane wanted to do a high five with someone to celebrate, but he was on his own, in his small office at home, Tina having already gone to bed. Instead he decided to ring Sergeant Major Brown in Colchester and Sergeant Harris in Catterick. Neither man was particularly pleased at being woken by Crane after midnight, although Harris, being of a lesser rank, had to be rather more deferential. Crane managed to elicit a promise from both men that they would do a similar check at their respective ends, first thing in the morning.

  ***

  Crane’s own mission, first thing the next morning, was to phone Anderson and bring him up to date.

  “Well done, Crane.”

  “It was nothing really, just standard detective work.”

  “No, Crane, I mean well done for not antagonising Mrs Morrison.”

  Ignoring the sarcasm, Crane asked Anderson if Elias had ever given them a description of Zechariah.

  “No. Apparently, when there are visiting preachers at the church, the standard practice is for the preacher from the host church to go and preach at the other one. A sort of religious tit for tat. You scratch my back and I’ll scratch yours, kind of thing. So they’ve never met.”

  “No problem,” said Crane.

  “No problem, of course it’s a problem. We don’t have a reliable witness with a description. You know what that lot are like, carried away with the service, off their heads most of the time. And we can’t get anyone to admit to attending a course or study group with Zechariah.”

  “As I said no problem. Not with this member of the congregation,” Crane replied and put down the receiver.

  ***

  Mrs Morrison didn’t ask to see his identification this time, offering him a seat, but still no cup of tea.

  “Did the information I gave you yesterday help, Sergeant Major?” she asked, settling herself on the settee opposite Crane’s easy chair.

  “Yes, it did, thank you. I hope you don’t mind but I wanted to ask for your help again.”

  “I will if I can.”

  Crane then told Mrs Morrison about the dates matching for Solomon’s return to Aldershot and the visiting Preacher Zechariah.

  “So, I wondered if you remembered him.”

  “Who, your dead soldier? I’m sorry but I don’t.”

  “No, Mrs Morrison, you misunderstood me. Do you remember the visiting preacher?”

  “Oh yes, very well indeed.”

  Crane stopped himself from falling down on his knees in front of the glacial Mrs Morrison in grovelling thanks. Instead he cleared his throat and asked, “Do you think you may be able to give us a detailed description?”

  “Most certainly. I welcomed him into the church in the absence of our Elder and stayed with him until he took the service.”

  A swift phone call to Derek Anderson confirmed that he could be with them in 15 minutes, with a police artist, if they didn’t mind waiting - at which point Crane got his cup of tea.

  It turned out that Mrs Morrison was a retired head teacher (no surprise there then) and that she had been a leading member of the Church of Jesus is King since its inception several years ago (a big surprise). She wanted to know if Crane had ever joined them for a Sunday service and he said he was there last Sunday.

  “I don’t remember seeing you, but then we are lucky enough to get a large but fluctuating congregation. What did you think of the service?” she asked, putting her cup and saucer on the coffee table in between them.

  “Well, shall we say it’s rather different than I’m used to? Army church services aren’t normally that expressive.”

  “No, I suspect not. I expect you think it’s strange that I like it.”

  “No, not at all,” Crane lied, hiding his face behind his cup of tea.

  “Now, Sergeant Major, stop being polite. I can let my hair down too, you know. I suspect I still retain some of that childlike wonder of the world that I used to see so much of in my pupils. To be a good teacher, you know, you have to have a childlike view of the world yourself at times. I just get so much pleasure from experiencing the exuberance of people who love expressing their faith.”

  Crane was relieved when Anderson arrived saving him from further religious or educational conversation.

  The session with the police artist went well and in the end they had a reasonable likeness, according to Mrs Morrison. The picture she painted in words was one of a black man, of medium height put at just under six feet (she even got Crane, Anderson and the police artist to stand up against her to judge it), with flared nostrils and bulging cheeks. He had long Rastafarian type hair although no woolly hat holding it in place. In complete contrast to Elias, Zechariah wore green and gold robes with a long matching stole, making him a very striking figure when on stage. His voice was deep and musical with a Jamaican twang. Mrs Morrison accompanied him while he was chatting with members of the congregation before the service, but not afterwards. She said she’d looked for him after the service to give her thanks for his uplifting sermon, but had been unable to get near him for the crush of people surrounding him. All in all, the visit seemed to have been very popular.

  Crane wanted to know about the meeting called ‘Steps to Heaven’ but Mrs Morrison was unable to help on that one. Apparently Elias asked her to include it in the diary but she hadn’t attended herself.

  “To be honest, Sergeant Major,” she said, “I don’t really know who did attend or what it was about. Obviously I don’t go to every group otherwise I’d never get anything else done and anyway some aren’t s
uitable.”

  “Suitable?”

  “Yes, those for alcoholics or drug users. I’m sure you understand why I don’t go to those,” she said smiling. “Also, there are other groups for families with children, so I don’t go to them either.”

  “And you say you don’t have any contact details for the elusive Zechariah?”

  “No, sorry, Sergeant Major. Elias made all the arrangements and the only thing I had to do was to include him in the church diary and welcome him on his arrival.”

  “How did he arrive?” Anderson asked.

  “Do you know, I have no idea.” Mrs Morrison frowned in concentration. “He simply seemed to appear at the front door of the church. And I can’t tell you how he left either. I was tidying up after the service and suddenly noticed he was gone. I’m so sorry.”

  “No need to apologise, Mrs Morrison. You’ve helped us tremendously already. Just one last question if you don’t mind?”

  “Not at all,” Mrs Morrison inclined her head in a regal gesture.

  “Do you think you would recognise him if you saw him again?”

  “Oh certainly, Inspector,” came the confident reply.

  “Even without his robes?” Crane asked.

  “Even without his robes.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  After collecting several copies of the artist’s impression from Anderson at the police station, Crane was anxious to get back to the barracks, to find out if Harris and Brown had come up with anything and to email them a copy of the picture of Zechariah.

  Once there he called in Kim and Billy.

  “So what do you think?” he asked them with obvious satisfaction in his voice.

  “Very good work, sir!” enthused Kim. “I’m sure we’ll get somewhere now we have this.”

  “Billy?”

  Billy was staring at the pictures in his hand. One was a full length version of Zechariah in his robes and the other an enlarged one of his head and shoulders.

  “Sergeant!”

  “Sir?” Billy came out of his daze and slowly met Crane’s eyes.

  “What do you think?”

  “Think? About what?”

  “About the description?”

  Swallowing, Billy replied, “Well it’s certainly detailed,” and threw the picture down onto Crane’s desk.

  “Isn’t it just,” Crane agreed. “Good old Mrs Morrison.”

  “Do you think it’s accurate?”

  “Sorry?”

  “Well, she is getting on a bit, sir.”

  Crane stared at Billy, “If you’d met her, which you would have, if you hadn’t been ‘unavailable’ at the time, then you would know that her age is totally irrelevant. I’ve never had a more reliable witness.”

  If anything those words seem to make Billy blanch more than ever.

  “Oh, sorry, sir.”

  “Are you alright, Staff Sergeant?” asked Kim.

  Whirling around, Billy snapped, “Of course, what’s it to you anyway?”

  Kim recoiled from his anger, pressing herself back into her chair.

  “Tell you what, Billy, why don’t you scan those pictures into the computer and then email them to Harris and Brown for me,” the authority in Crane’s voice was clear.

  Standing Billy mumbled, “Yes, sir, of course, sir,” and left the office.

  Kim made to follow, but Crane held her back with a shake of his head. Once Billy had closed the office door behind him, Crane asked, “How many times has Billy been out of the office lately on other investigations?”

  Still startled by the force of Billy’s attack, she said vaguely, “Oh I’m not sure sir.”

  “Well, look in the office log will you please and give me a list of the dates and times he was off on his own. Go back, let’s say two months.”

  “Sir?” Kim looked at Crane and then out through Crane’s office window to where Billy was busy with the scanner and back again.

  “Just do it please, Kim, but don’t tell anyone. Okay?”

  “Yes, sir. Of course, sir.”

  “Thank you, Kim, dismissed.”

  Pushing Billy’s strange attitude out of his head for the time being, Crane grabbed the phone and called Harris and Brown. He soon had the three of them on a conference call, so they could hear each other.

  Crane firstly wanted to know about the timing of Zechariah’s visit to both Catterick and Colchester but neither man had any answers for him.

  “Sorry, sir,” said Harris. “We’ve looked again through all the information we have but there’s nothing in there that gives dates of events or preachers. I’ve contacted the local Church Elder and arranged to meet him at 14:00 hours today to pick up copies of all the church notices.”

  “Okay, what about you, Brown?”

  “Similar story here, Crane, but I can’t see our Church Elder until tomorrow morning at 10:00 hours.”

  Hiding his frustration, Crane pressed on, “Well I suppose that’s not too bad under the circumstances,” and told them about the sketches Billy was emailing over. “So take them with you and see if you can get a witness who might be able to confirm that was the Preacher they know as Zechariah.”

  Crane urged both men to get back to him as soon as they had any news.

  Grabbing a copy of the pictures, Crane then drove to the hospital to see the Padre, who was sitting up in bed when he arrived.

  “It’s good to see you looking so well, sir.” Crane smiled.

  “It’s good to be feeling so much better, I can tell you, Crane. It seems there was someone up there looking after me.”

  “No more than you deserve, sir,” Crane said with feeling. Changing the subject and sitting in the visitor’s chair, he brought the Padre up to date with developments.

  “So,” he finished, “I was hoping these artist’s impressions of Zechariah would jog your memory. Maybe you recognise him as the one who hit you?”

  Padre Symonds stared at the pictures for a while.

  “Sorry, Crane,” he said, putting them down on the bed covers. “I just can’t seem to remember anything.”

  “No problem, sir, it was just on the off chance.”

  “Yes, yes, I see. I’ll tell you what, leave these with me, Sergeant Major.”

  “Sir?”

  “Well, you never know, they might just jog my memory. I don’t know, there’s something there, I’m just not sure what.”

  “Don’t worry about it, sir, just concentrate on getting better.”

  As Crane left the ward, he turned to take a last look at the Padre, who was still staring at the pictures in his hand.

  ***

  The rest of the day was spent in briefings with Derek Anderson and Captain Edwards. On his return to his office he found Billy gone and Kim waiting for him.

  “What are you still doing here, Kim?”

  “I was waiting for you, sir. I wanted to hand this to you rather than just leaving it on your desk.”

  Crane glanced through the papers and saw they were details of when Billy had been out of the office on his own for the past two months.

  “Thank you, Kim, you can leave this with me now.”

  “I think you’ll find it interesting reading, sir,” she said as she gathered up her bag and coat.

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” replied Crane.

  Billy

  Standing at the door of a house in the middle of Aldershot, Billy tried to shake the fog from his brain. He was still dressed in his dark suit with his ID round his neck, having just finished work. He looked at the house with fascination, but it was just an old Victorian terrace which looked dilapidated, as did the rest of the houses on the street. The small front gardens were crammed with bins and spindly plants struggled to survive in the face of continued neglect.

  On one level he knew he shouldn’t be there, but on another couldn’t make his legs turn and walk away. There was something in his head, trying to take over. It felt like a spider was encasing him in its web. Its legs reaching and probing
into his brain as it moved deeper and deeper into his head.

  He was contacted after his first visit to the Church of Jesus is King. He’d taken his young nephew with him then and they had been going regularly every Sunday since. But for the life of him, he couldn’t remember why he went in the first place, let alone taken Shaun with him. Maybe it had just seemed a good idea at the time. Still, Shaun seemed to enjoy himself, especially the junior church sessions and his sister welcomed the break.

  Since that first Sunday, each week he got a text message to go to a meeting, sometimes once a week, sometimes twice. Always on different days of the week, at different times and different locations.

  But he couldn’t remember what happened at the meetings. Nothing at all. It was just a blank. He only knew that he went and that he couldn’t stop going. He also knew he couldn’t tell anyone about the meetings. But again didn’t know why.

  He shook his head in confusion once more. Sometimes he felt like he was going mad. At other times he knew with absolute certainty that he was doing the right thing by continuing to go to the meetings and not telling anyone about them.

  As he raised his hand to knock, the door opened as if by itself. Billy peered into the gloom but couldn’t see anyone there. Then a voice spoke.

  “Welcome. Do you want to climb the steps to Heaven?”

  “With the help of Jesus Christ the Lord,” Billy replied.

  All doubt was gone now. He knew with absolute certainty that he was in the right place and doing the right thing. He was drawn into the house by invisible hands and went to take his rightful place with the others.

  “Follow the will of the Lord,” they chanted in unison, “Follow the steps to Heaven.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The next morning Crane found time for a quiet word with Kim. After eliciting her co-operation, he met with Captain Edwards. They discussed the updated information about Zechariah and his request of the two SIB men in Catterick and Colchester. Edwards then turned his attention to the team.

  “So tell me, Sergeant Major,” he began, relaxing back in his chair. “How’s Kim working out?”