Deadly Silence

by OMJ Ryan

  As the parishioners began to file out, she remained seated, watching closely as each one passed her position accompanied by a soundtrack of whispers and clanking walking sticks. Midweek mass was clearly an advocacy of the older parishioners. When the last of the attendees had left, she followed them through the main door before ducking down the side of the church to the main house.

  Maguire answered her knock promptly. He was wearing his usual garb of black shoes, trousers and white-collared shirt.

  He greeted her with a warm smile. ‘Inspector Phillips. Back so soon?’

  ‘Sorry to bother you, Father, but I wondered if I could pick your brain with something?’

  ‘Of course, do come in. I’ll break out the cafetière again.’

  A few minutes later, she found herself back in the familiar surroundings of the kitchen on one of the rock-hard chairs, drinking surprisingly good coffee. Maguire noticed her appreciation.

  ‘I tried a different blend, Colombian. Do you like it?’

  ‘I do, actually. Best cup I’ve had in a while. And I drink a lot of coffee.’

  ‘I must confess, I was never really bothered by it. More of a tea man, but this new contraption—’ He tapped the cafetière lid. ‘—has really changed my view. I think I’m a convert.’

  Phillips flashed a smile. ‘Interesting choice of words, Father.’

  ‘Ha, yes. Indeed.’

  ‘I was surprised there were no hymns at the service today. Is that normal?’

  ‘Yes, no hymns at the weekday masses unless it’s a festival, like Ash Wednesday or Good Friday. Organists cost money and we’re a bit strapped for cash, so we save the hymns for prime-time on Sundays.’ Maguire chuckled. ‘But I’m guessing you’re not here for insights into the logistics of running a Catholic Church, are you, Inspector?’

  Phillips rested her cup on the table and pulled her notepad from her jacket pocket. ‘No. I guess I’m not.’

  ‘So, how can I help the Greater Manchester Police today?’

  ‘Do you know a man named Richard, or Ricky, Murray?’

  ‘Little Ricky? I do. How is he?’

  ‘I’m afraid he’s dead, Father.’

  The priest’s face dropped. ‘Oh dear Lord, no. What happened?’

  ‘We think he may have been murdered by the same person that killed Susan, Deidre and Betty.’

  ‘Little Ricky? That makes no sense, but then I guess none of it does.’

  ‘What was he like?’

  Maguire took a long swig of coffee before replying, still looking shaken. ‘Well, he was quite small – hence the nickname – and a little overweight, as I recall. The other children used to tease him about that, actually, as if his nickname were accurate in regard to his height and ironic in terms of his weight.’

  ‘What kind of person was he?’

  ‘He was a bit of a mixture, really. I remember when he was old enough to take his first Holy Communion – which is around seven years of age – and he was a cheeky wee scamp. Always running around the church grounds after mass and very involved in the kids’ church group. But a few years later he changed. I often wondered if he’d maybe started puberty early. He seemed to adopt the traits of a teenager overnight, you know – moody, introverted and withdrawn, that type of thing. And that’s how he stayed, for at least a couple of years, anyway. Ironically, when he did become a teenager, he opened up a little more, though never with quite the same zest as when he was little. But you could at least get him to make eye-contact and have some semblance of conversation.’

  ‘Do you know if he was friends with Matt Logan?’

  ‘I wouldn’t say best friends, but I occasionally saw them hanging around together at church discos and things like that when they were both still quite young. As I said, once Ricky got to a certain age he wasn’t interested in other people. Neither was Matt, come to think of it.’

  ‘What were his parents like?’

  ‘Parent, Inspector. His mum brought him and his younger brother up on her own after his father left her for another woman. Ricky and Aaron were very young at the time.’

  ‘Was she ever abusive towards him?’

  ‘Eileen? Heavens no. She was a wonderful mother to Ricky. Did her very best for both the boys in difficult circumstances. She must be devastated. I’ll make sure I call round and see her this week.’

  ‘I’m sure that would help. Sadly, she was the one who found his body.’

  ‘Oh, dear God in heaven! Poor Eileen. He was the absolute apple of her eye. Even now.’

  ‘Even now, Father?’

  Maguire took a moment to answer. ‘I’m sure I won’t win any awards for political correctness, Inspector, but when Ricky admitted he was gay, she took it very badly at first; cried for months. She prayed for his soul constantly, and hoped he would see sense and realise it was just a phase.’

  ‘Because the church doesn’t agree with homosexuality, right?’

  ‘No. It considers it sinful and against God.’

  ‘Like priests molesting innocent children?’ The words spilled from her mouth before she could stop them.

  Maguire forced a smile before responding. ‘In all walks of life there are bad apples, Inspector. It doesn’t mean the whole church is rotten. As you saw with your own colleagues a few years back, no organisation is beyond reproach.’

  Phillips’s mind flashed back to Chief Constable Blake. She had to admit, he had a point. ‘I’m sorry, Father, we seem to be veering off point here. If we can get back to Ricky?’

  ‘Of course. What else can I tell you?’

  ‘Had you seen him recently?’

  ‘He was a regular at mass with his mum every Sunday, and in the summer he’d often help out with the Cubs and Scout troops that meet in the church hall on Wednesday nights. He sometimes acted as a chaperone on trips away.’

  ‘Do the Scouts not meet in the winter, then?’

  ‘They do, but Ricky wasn’t not a fan of the cold, and the church hall is freezing during the winter months. He preferred to get involved when it’s shorts and T-shirts weather.’

  Phillips made a note in her pad before pulling out her phone and bringing up the picture of the Lourdes group. ‘Did Ricky attend this trip, like the other victims?’

  Maguire took the phone and examined the image once more. ‘No. I’m pretty sure he missed that one. If I remember rightly, he was due to go, but pulled out at the last minute.’

  ‘Do you know why?’

  ‘It was a very long time ago, Inspector.’ Maguire tapped his temple, the smile returning. ‘I’m afraid my memory isn’t quite as sharp as I’d like it to be.’ He topped up Phillips’s mug with coffee.

  She took another sip, then, placing the mug back on the table, turned her attention back to her notes. ‘I can’t recall if I asked you this already, but did you go on that trip?’

  Maguire stared at the image again. ‘I’m pretty sure I didn’t.’

  ‘Did you not want to go?’

  ‘Actually, I did. If I remember it rightly, I think my first visit to Lourdes came the following year. It was very expensive, and the church couldn’t afford to pay for the children to make the trip, so it was funded by the parents and parishioners. We ran special events and collections throughout the year. We only ever sent the most promising kids over – those that scored top grades in R.E. and who we believed would continue as part of the church in the future.’

  ‘So why send middle-aged Betty Clarke then?’

  ‘Ah yes, wonderful Betty. For a very good reason, actually. Whenever girls went away overnight with the church, a female chaperone was required – particularly on that trip, as I recall, since some of the group were approaching puberty. Far too tricky for a couple of awkward priests to deal with, if you get my meaning.’

  ‘Right, I see. So, who took Ricky’s place when he pulled out?’

  ‘I don’t think anyone did, to be honest. It was the very last minute when he dropped out, so I think it was too short-notice to change the tickets.
’

  ‘You must have been disappointed.’

  ‘I was. Not just for me but for the parish as a whole. A lot of money wasted. Still, knowing his mother Eileen, I’m sure it had to be a valid reason for Ricky not to go.’

  Phillips shifted her weight in the chair, attempting in vain to get comfortable. ‘Can we go back to Susan Gillespie?’

  ‘Of course, but before we do, can I ask when the body will be released?’

  ‘It’s still with the coroner at this stage, so I’m afraid I can’t say. As soon as he’s completed his verdict, her undertakers will be notified.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll wait for them to call. Sorry. Back to Susie, Inspector.’

  ‘The night she was killed, you said she was here, organising a cleaning party. Was that a normal event for her to be involved with?’

  Maguire nodded. ‘She was active in all events regarding the church, Inspector, so yes, she cleaned the church with the other ladies once a month. Although, that evening was an additional session because of the repair work we’d had done to the office after the break-in.’

  Philipps frowned. ‘Break-in? When was that?’

  ‘Now you’re testing me. Forgive me for asking, but what day did Susan die?’

  ‘Monday the twenty-eighth of January.’

  ‘Right, in that case, the workmen were here on the Friday before, and the break-in was about three weeks earlier.’

  ‘How did they get in?’

  ‘They came through a window straight into the office at the back of the house, during evening mass on a Sunday.’

  ‘Was anything taken?’

  Maguire rubbed his chin with one hand. ‘Not really. I think they must have been disturbed.’

  ‘Why do you stay that?’

  ‘Because they took the top drawer of the bureau with them – the entire thing – then dumped it in the grounds. It was empty when we found it.’

  ‘And what was missing?’

  ‘Some files, a bit of petty cash. Nothing of value.’

  ‘How much cash?’

  ‘Twenty pounds max. Hardly the crime of the century.’

  ‘Do you remember what the files contained?’

  ‘Just some tax information for the accountant.’

  ‘And who is your accountant?’

  ‘Noel Gillespie.’

  Phillips raised an eyebrow. ‘How long has he been doing your books, Father?’

  ‘Well, his family have been looking after St Patrick’s for many, many years. It started with his dad and Father Donnelly – long before my time – then Noel took over when he retired. I saw no reason to switch when I became parish priest.’

  ‘Was there anything in the stolen files that would be of value?’

  ‘No. It was just a record of the collections for the last twelve months. You know, the names of those who made donations. We need to keep track of that.’

  ‘Did it include their addresses too?’

  Maguire nodded.

  Phillip’s pulse quickened. ‘I don’t suppose you kept copies, did you?’

  Maguire smiled. ‘Indeed, I did. I have digital copies on the computer in the office. Would you like to see them?’

  ‘Yes, that would be very helpful.’

  Maguire pulled back his chair and stood up. ‘Follow me.’

  As Maguire opened the office door, she was struck by the strong scent of air-freshener that hung thick in the air. It reminded her of her grandma’s house, like an old lady’s perfume.

  Maguire took a seat at his desk and booted up the PC, and a moment later the screen buzzed into life. He was surprisingly adept, zooming through a sequence of folders until he found what he was looking for. ‘Here it is, Inspector. Last year’s cumulative totals for donations per parishioner, including their names, addresses and residential status. Apparently HMRC think even the church might not be immune to laundering money, so we have to keep records of who is giving us what. Just in case they want to audit us.’

  ‘Could you print me a couple copies?’

  ‘Already on it.’ The printer on the desk suddenly sparked into life as the rollers positioned themselves noisily. Soon the printed pages began to slowly emerge from the machine.

  Maguire grabbed a plastic A4 folder and placed the pages inside it before handing it to Phillips. ‘Three copies. One for good luck. I do hope it helps, Inspector.’

  Phillips scanned the pages. It didn’t take long to find what she was looking for. She glanced back up at Maguire and smiled. ‘Do you know, Father, this might be just what I’m looking for.’

  36

  Phillips knew Brown had yet another ‘PR management’ briefing scheduled first thing that morning. She was keen to use the time without him to debrief on the ‘off-the book’ Noel Gillespie and Kevin McNulty enquiries. Each of the team had arrived promptly and gathered in a private meeting room adjacent to the incident room. Outside, an array of freshly seconded uniformed officers had filled the desks and the incident room was humming with activity.

  ‘Ok, guys. I’ve no idea how long Brown will be in his briefing, so let’s crack on. What did you find out yesterday?’

  Jones spoke first. ‘McNulty’s alibi stacks up. Speight confirmed they’ve been having an affair.’

  ‘Do you reckon McNulty gave her the heads-up you’d be coming?’ asked Bovalino.

  ‘I don’t think so. She seemed genuinely surprised. I almost felt sorry for her. Says her marriage is a sham and she and McNulty were brought together by their shared heartache. I think she genuinely has feelings for the guy.’

  Bovalino scoffed. ‘Doesn’t look like he feels the same way. Not if he hadn’t warned her we were coming.’

  Jones agreed. ‘I suspect, with that little toad, it was just about getting his end away.’

  Entwistle eagerly held up a sheet of paper in his hand. ‘And I have fresh information to back that up. I ran McNulty’s plates through the ANPR database for the last couple of months. I got loads of hits – and not just between home and the airport.’

  Phillips, perched at her favourite spot on the edge of her desk, was intrigued. ‘Really? Where else?’

  Jones jumped in. ‘Let me guess. Cheetham Hill?’

  Entwistle grinned. ‘Got it in one, Jonesy.’

  Jones’s didn’t return his smile. Instead, he leaned forwards at his desk. ‘That’s DS Jones to you.’

  Entwistle flushed with embarrassment. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you, I—’

  Phillips cut across him, waving her arm. ‘Pay no attention, Entwistle, he’s winding you up.’

  Jones and Bovalino burst out laughing, high-fiving each other.

  ‘Had you then, sunshine,’ said Jones, pointing at the rookie.

  Ordinarily Phillips would have allowed the banter to continue. It was good for the team morale, but they were short on time this morning. She told Entwistle to continue.

  ‘Turns out he’s been up in Cheetham Hill a lot in the last couple of months, so I ran the whole of last year. His car has been tagged in that area every couple of weeks, each time when he was supposed to be on shift at the airport. So, I checked in with his bosses and it turns out he suffers from severe migraines and is off quite regularly. That said, their view is he’s a good worker when he’s actually there. He even does overtime to make up for being off, so they let it slide. They often struggle to get people to work weekends and holidays, so he comes in handy.’

  ‘Do we think the affair with Speight is a cover, then?’ Phillips asked.

  Entwistle shook his head. ‘Looking at the logs, there is one Thursday every month where his car doesn’t appear anywhere on ANPR, regular as clockwork. Each of those days coincides with Malcolm Speight’s trips to Denmark.’

  ‘When the husband’s away…the wife will play,’ Bovalino joked.

  ‘So not only is he shagging his wife’s best mate once a month, he’s also getting it on with professionals every couple of weeks? He’s an even bigger shit than I thought,’ said Jones.r />
  Phillips was keen to move on. ‘Whatever his moral compass, McNulty’s off the list of suspects then?’

  ‘Looks that way, Guv,’ said Jones.

  Phillips turned her attention to Bovalino. ‘What about Gillespie?’

  ‘Alibi checks out, Guv. His receptionist confirms they were “working late…”’ Bovalino made inverted commas in the air with his fingers, ‘and the security log shows he set the alarm at 9 p.m. the night Murray was killed.’

  ‘The receptionist could have used his fob easily enough, though,’ Jones mused.

  ‘True, but I also checked CCTV on Cheadle High Street. You can clearly see him walking from the front of the office around to the car park at the rear just after nine. His car emerges with him at the wheel a few minutes later.’

  ‘So, Gillespie’s out too,’ said Phillips a split second before the meeting-room door burst open.

  Brown observed them suspiciously from the doorway. ‘Is this a private meeting or can anyone join in?’

  Phillips did her best to appear deferent. ‘Morning, sir. Just gathering the troops ready for you.’

  Brown looked surprised by her comment and stepped inside, leaving the door to slam behind him. He pulled up a chair and straddled it backwards – his favoured position.

  ‘Right, Phillips. So what have you got on Logan?’

  ‘Nothing major, I’m afraid sir, other than the fact he and Murray were friends.’

  ‘Friends? How?’

  ‘The church group. I called in to see Father Maguire and he was very helpful. Turns out Ricky was part of the same group in the photograph, he just didn’t go on that trip.’

  ‘So, they are all still connected?’ said Entwistle.

  Phillips nodded. ‘Yep, and the way Maguire describes Murray’s change in demeanour at a certain age mirrors the way Thomas Dempsey described Logan’s change in behaviour around the same time. I think Ricky Murray was also abused.’

  ‘Assuming Logan was actually abused,’ argued Brown.