by L M Krier
‘He’s gone to the church, boss,’ Charlie told him. ‘We can see him come and go well enough from here. I don’t know much about vicars but perhaps he goes in for a chat with his Big Boss before he goes to work at the prison.’
‘I don’t either. But I think vicars are Church of England and he’s a parish priest because he’s a Catholic. Either way, you could well be right. We should go and see. Although if it comes to an arrest, I’d prefer not to do it inside the church. Can you two wait here for now, just in case?’
‘I thought you were an atheist, boss,’ Virgil said as the two of them walked the short distance to the church entrance, up the steps and through the graveyard to the front door.
‘I am. I just don’t think it would be very good PR to arrest a priest in his own church. And I’m trying to avoid any more bad press, if I can.’
He tried the latch on the heavy studded oak door, which opened immediately.
‘He’s not afraid of getting murdered in his own cathedral, then, leaving the door unlocked while he’s in there alone,’ Virgil observed.
Ted smiled at the literary reference. ‘Wasn’t that an archbishop? And I don’t think we’re quite knights in armour, acting on the king’s presumed orders.’
It was dim inside the church, and chilly. Not many lights on, the heating clearly turned down low to save costs. They could see a figure, kneeling at the communion rail in front of the high altar, deep in prayer.
Ted and Virgil approached quietly, not wanting to startle the person they took to be the prison chaplain. As they got nearer, Ted asked, ‘Father Archer?’
The priest jumped up so abruptly he didn’t cross himself. He had clearly been absorbed in his prayers and hadn’t heard them coming.
‘Sorry to startle you, sir. Are you Father Archer? DCI Darling and DC Tibbs, from Stockport Police. We wondered if we could have a word with you, please?’
Ted may have been a non-believer but he was polite enough to afford the man the courtesy of his religious title.
The chaplain looked at them calmly. His expression was more one of relief than anything Ted would have expected to see there.
‘Good morning, officers. You’ve actually saved me a journey. I was about to go to the nearest police station and hand myself in. I’ve just been talking to my boss,’ he pointed towards the high vaulted ceiling of the church, ‘and it seems to be the only honourable thing I can do.
‘I have been a very stupid and weak man. I’ve allowed myself to be blackmailed into doing something which I thought was for the greater good. It’s all gone horribly wrong and has ended in the tragic death of an innocent man.
‘I imagine you want me to come with you to the station? Would you allow me first to lock the side doors, please? I can lock the main one on our way out. It’s terrible to say, but otherwise people will come in and try to steal anything they can carry away.’
Ted nodded and Archer moved first to a door opening off to the side of the pulpit. Ted and Virgil had him in their sights at all times.
‘This is the vestry,’ he explained, producing a large bunch of keys and locking the door. Then he moved towards another one further down the church, closer to the main entrance. ‘And this is just a storage area, for anything and everything.’
He was walking down the side of the nave, Ted and Virgil moving parallel to him in the centre aisle. He still had the bunch of keys in his hand but when he got to the door, he yanked it open, shot through and slammed it shut behind him.
Chapter Thirty-four
‘I don’t know about you, mate, but I could murder a bacon banjo.’
Graham Winters looked at Charlie Eccles and asked, ‘What’s a banjo?’
Eccles chuckled. ‘Army-speak for a bacon butty with a fried egg. Nice crispy bacon. Egg fried so it’s still runny. So you get the yolk dribbling down your chin when you bite into it ...’
Graham was no longer listening to him. He was leaning forward in his seat, looking up through the top of the windscreen as he said, ‘Bloody hell!’
Then he was wrenching his door open and starting to run. Charlie saw what he was looking at and all thought of his breakfast deserted him.
‘Shall I call back-up?’ he shouted after Graham as he started to follow him.
‘Charlie, we are the back-up.’
Ted reached the door first, grabbing at the handle, hoping the chaplain hadn’t had time to turn the key. It opened easily but Ted’s heart sank when he saw the spiral stone steps, heading upwards. He couldn’t have read the situation more wrongly if he’d tried and he felt like kicking himself. Instead he put his head down and sprinted for all he was worth up the steep staircase.
Archer was tall, with long legs, and he clearly knew this flight well. Ted was hampered by his shorter legs and not knowing the feel of the ancient treads, with their varying height and depth. He stumbled a few times. Nearly went down on his knees. He could hear Virgil behind him, swearing and puffing. Clearly not a runner.
The door at the top of the steps was wide open, giving access to roof space at the foot of a spire. It was enclosed by a stone balustrade. Disconcertingly low.
Ted stopped abruptly. Archer was standing right by it, the low barrier barely reaching above his knees. He was holding out one arm, the hand raised, in a warning gesture.
‘When I told you I had planned to give myself up, I’m afraid I wasn’t being quite truthful, officer. In a sense, I am giving myself up. But to God. It’s up to him to decide what my just punishment should be for what I’ve done.’
As he spoke, he was feeling behind him with his free hand to locate the top of the stone wall. He lowered himself cautiously until he was sitting on it. As he started to swing his legs over it, his attention was distracted for a split second.
Ted took advantage of it. Moving as fast as he could, he dived towards him and grabbed hold of whatever was accessible. One hand closed on an arm. The other grabbed a fistful of trouser leg.
Ted was short and slight. Archer, although not heavily-built, was a good eight inches taller. The additional weight, combined with the force of gravity, was slowly pulling the two of them over the edge.
Then Virgil was beside them, still cursing, grabbing each man with a powerful hand. Flexing his knees and hauling.
Virgil regularly worked out with weights. In the gym, warmed up, he could bench press close to his own bodyweight. Standing up, perilously close to a long drop, and hampered by his work suit presented far from ideal conditions.
He dragged the boss back from danger first so he could then concentrate on pulling the priest back up. Ted safe, Virgil used all of his strength on slowly hauling Archer up higher. Ted grabbed one of the flailing legs until, between them, they dragged him over the wall onto the floor where he curled into a miserable ball, sobbing.
It was the chaplain’s legs pedalling frantically in the void which Graham had seen and which had brought him and Charlie running as fast as they could.
Virgil glared at Ted then recited, ‘Matthew Archer, I am arresting you on four counts of arson and for the murder of Leonard Baines. You do not have to say anything. But, it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’
‘Bloody hell, you two,’ Charlie paused to catch his breath, leaning forward to put his hands on his thighs. He was another one not used to running. ‘You scared the shit out of us, from down there. I thought you were a goner for sure, boss.’
‘Sorry, everyone. That was irresponsible of me.’
‘There’s worse news, boss,’ Graham warned him. ‘In the shape of passers-by with mobile phones. I reckon your little adventure will be all over social media already.’
Ted put a hand to his brow. Lowered his head. Said ‘Shit’ quite distinctly.
Virgil took charge. ‘Right, Mr Archer, on your feet, please. We’re going to take you to Stockport police station now, where you’ll be interviewed about the offenc
es I’ve already put to you. You’ll be able to call a solicitor, if you have one. If not, one will be found for you.’
Virgil got his cuffs out. The priest was already holding out his arms in a meek gesture.
‘I’m going to admit everything. Plead guilty. Whatever it is I have to do. This is all new to me. But it was me who set those fires. I don’t deny anything. And please accept my sincere apologies for putting you both in danger. It was wrong of me. Thank you both for your efforts to save me. Clearly God decided that I was taking the coward’s way out and that I should instead face my punishment through a court of law.’
‘You shouldn’t say anything more now, Mr Archer. Not until we’ve got back to the station and you’ve had the chance to take legal advice.’
They were starting to make their way back down the steps now, Charlie and Graham in front, to prevent the chaplain from making a break for it, and to ward off any onlookers who might have gathered to see what was happening.
As they neared the door at the bottom, still standing open, Virgil took off his jacket and made to drape it over Archer’s head to conceal his identity. The priest brushed away the gesture, saying he was prepared to own up to his crimes.
‘It’s a legal thing, Mr Archer. Letting your identity be made public could interfere with any trial process. And that seems to be what you want, so this is the best way.’
There were some onlookers, though not many, and mercifully no signs yet of any press photographers. They walked the chaplain the short distance back to the vehicles, then Graham and Charlie went off in search of their breakfast.
Virgil saw Archer installed in the back seat and shut the door, then turned to Ted, still angry.
‘Boss, I have to say, while it’s just the two of us. That was the most bloody stupid thing I’ve ever seen you do. If any of us had done it, you’d have kicked us halfway round your office and back again, then put us straight on risk assessment update training.
‘Imagine what would have happened if you’d been with someone who doesn’t work out with weights. Someone the size of Amelie, for instance. You and the vicar would both have gone over the edge. The other person too, most likely. And how the hell would I have explained that to Big Jim and the Ice Queen? Let alone to your Trev.’
Ted let him finish his rant. He stood there and took it in silence. He didn’t even pull Virgil up on his use of nicknames for the two Supers, as he would usually have done. He deserved it. He’d acted purely on instinct, not based on any analysis of the dangers. The only thing which had been going through his mind was not to let Archer take the easy way out after what he’d done. Whatever his motives had been.
‘You’re absolutely right, Virgil, and I can only apologise. And thank you for stopping me falling. Right, so shall we get Mr Archer back to the station? Get him booked in and see what he has to say for himself? With any luck, we might get enough forensic results in today to charge Tam Lee with Byrne’s murder as well. That should be cause for a few celebratory drinks, I think.’
Ted was hoping the video hadn’t made it to social media. Or if it had, that it wouldn’t show him clearly enough for anyone to have recognised him. He was trying to convince himself that because of camera angles it would have all been just a vague blur of indistinguishable figures.
He left Virgil to book Archer in and made to go back to the office to find out what was happening. He’d barely gone up two steps before the Ice Queen appeared from her office, looking at her most officious.
As soon as she said, ‘Chief Inspector. A word, please,’ he knew he was out of luck.
At least she didn’t leave him standing in front of her desk like a naughty schoolboy, as she’d been known to do in the past. And she did offer him coffee, which he accepted gratefully.
‘So we have a suspect under arrest for the arsons?’
‘We do, and he’s admitting everything. We had to keep advising him to say nothing without legal advice, but he wanted to talk. Basically, he admits to having an unfortunate habit of putting what’s meant to be a comforting hand on the leg of men he talks to. Warren got wind of this and has been using it to blackmail him into setting fires in a bid to get his own case reopened.
‘He’d probably have got out early for good behaviour anyway, but he was hell bent on clearing his name. Although it’s fairly obvious he was guilty all along.
‘Duncan Dooley, who shared a cell with Warren, has been helping out by finding suitable sites for the chaplain to start fires in. Archer was insistent there should never be any risk to life. We’ll bring Dooley in shortly and see what he has to say.
‘Whether Leonard Baines’ death was a tragic accident, or whether it was malice on Warren’s part to put the pressure on, I don’t yet know.’
‘And from what you do know so far, you definitely think Warren was guilty of the original crime?’
‘Without a doubt, I would say. The case against him was weak but it looks certain it was him. And that his ring of fire was an attempt to implicate the geography teacher, who was lucky enough to be handed an unforeseen alibi at the last moment.
‘Warren seems like a nasty, dangerous piece of work without a conscience. He spots weakness and exploits it to his own ends. I’d like us to go after him for conspiracy to murder and hope he gets a consecutive sentence so he stays out of harm’s way for a very long time. I think the chaplain would testify against him now, after what happened with the last fire. Dooley might, too, if there was a sniff of a lower sentence for him if he did.’
‘Well, that’s good work, from you and all the team. However, I should just warn you about that video.’
‘Ahh,’ Ted said. ‘I was hoping it wouldn’t be possible to make much out, from the angle.’
‘I’m afraid you’re out of luck there. It’s perfectly possible, for anyone who knows you, to recognise who it is who dives in to try to stop Archer going over the edge. And that it’s DC Tibbs who saves both of you. I think you probably owe him more drinks than anyone else when you celebrate the arrest. But I doubt you’ve heard the end of it. And I shall look forward to your written report with full details of your risk assessment of the situation.’
It was late afternoon and Warren was still mopping the chapel. A couple of times a prison officer had looked in to see what was taking him so long. He’d been lucky that it hadn’t been the same one both times or he’d have been ordered out and back to his cell.
The second time, he made a great show of scrubbing at an invisible stain on the floor with his mop, and said, ‘I don’t know what they’ve been up to in here, Ms Weaver. I think someone’s been tap dancing in clogs or something.’
‘Time to go, Warren. Move it.’
‘I was just hoping for a quick word with the chaplain. Listener business I need his advice about. But I haven’t seen him yet.’
‘You won’t be seeing him, either,’ she told him. ‘You’ll hear about it soon enough, so I might as well tell you. Chaplain’s been arrested. I don’t know what for yet. But just think. With a bit of luck, he might even finish up being your future cell mate. Then you’ll have all the time you need to talk to him.’
She laughed at her own joke.
Warren stood frozen for a moment, staring at her in disbelief. Then he opened his mouth to let out a howl of anguish. He only had time to fling the mop at her before she dived for the alarm button and the strident siren rang out, bringing officers sprinting from anywhere nearby.
The bucket full of dirty water was next, hurled at the altar. Warren was screaming by now, froth flying from his lips as he turned his attention to the tradescantia plant, flinging it towards the door, through which officers were streaming. Chairs followed, as he kicked and flung anything near enough to himself, his mouth wide open, making almost inhuman sounds.
Everything happened very fast. As soon as the first reinforcements arrived, Gemma and two others leaped for Warren. Gemma grabbed the nearest flailing arm, announcing ‘Lock on’ to the others, indicating a blocking moveme
nt in place, pressing on nerves which would cause Warren intense pain if he struggled.
Another went to control his head to avoid him butting them, barking a, ‘Head down, Warren,’ order at him. When Warren failed to comply instantly, the three officers took him down to the floor so hard and fast his breath whooshed out of him audibly.
‘He totally lost the plot when I told him about the chaplain,’ Gemma told her colleagues.
They would now transfer the safely restrained Warren from the chapel to the Segregation Unit, where he’d be given a medical assessment and no doubt sedated.
‘Quite a downfall for the model prisoner,’ she went on, then added, with an ironic smile, ‘I guess the chapel is going to need a new Red Band now, not just another chaplain.’
For once, Ted was dreading going home. He’d delayed it as long as possible. He’d also spent the day avoiding phone calls. The number he’d missed from Trev left him in no doubt that he’d seen the incriminating video. He knew he should call him, to put his mind at rest. He also knew Trev would have called at least one of the team members, quite probably Virgil, to find out exactly what had gone on.
There were a couple of calls from Big Jim with no message left, which didn’t bode well. Most worryingly of all, one from the ACC. Ted was clearly going to get it in the neck from so many quarters when they finally caught up with him. He preferred to keep a low profile for now.
It had been a good day for results, though. The chaplain hadn’t stopped talking since he’d arrived at the station and his testimony gave them plenty on which to go and arrest Duncan Dooley. Ted had phoned the prison about another visit to Warren but had heard the news that he was currently in their infirmary, heavily sedated.
‘I shouldn’t tell you this, but I will,’ Katie Pilling, the liaison officer told him, after he’d given her a brief outline. ‘From what we know of our Mr Warren, this is him building up to an unfit to plead, if you’re looking at charging him with anything.’
