Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey

by Nicholas Rhea

  ‘He must have trusted you. Did you get the impression he was not guilty?’

  ‘Certainly! There’s stuff in that box that I’m sure could prove his innocence. He’s not a bitter man, Nick, just very disappointed with British justice.’

  ‘Then we need to help him all we can. How did you come into contact with him?’ asked Nick.

  ‘Just a chat in the grounds one day, not long after he joined the monastery. He didn’t know anyone, didn’t have friends here, and quite often we found ourselves walking together across the valley in our private times. Eventually, as the days passed, we grew more friendly and he discussed his past with me. I was shocked to say the least but he demanded my silence until he decided to make more people aware of events that led to his trial. Whenever I had the time, I helped him to sort through all these papers and notes. I helped him to record all the facts and information. I showed him how to use a computer to make things easier, even to downloading newspaper reports from old newspapers, then checking and indexing their contents.’

  ‘Was the computer record downloaded into this box, or is it still in his computer’s memory?’

  ‘Both, he’s a belt-and-braces man, Nick. Even though we managed to assemble the information on his computer, he insisted on paper records as well. Maybe it is easier to read them on paper, as he suggests. But everything’s available. I hope it helps to prove his innocence.’

  ‘Before that happens, Father Will, we’ll need him to explain things in person. He was there, remember. We weren’t.’

  ‘I just hope we find him before anyone else does. I’ll be pleased to help. I’m familiar with that material and I know his system. It’s a bit quiet in the cop shop at the moment – everything seems to be happening elsewhere!’

  ‘I’ll talk to Mr Napier,’ said Nick. He picked up the phone and dialled Napier’s number, then explained the situation.

  ‘That’s brilliant. Get Father Will to help as much he can. I know he’ll be discreet. Can you both work out of sight in the cop shop? It’s not exactly crowded in there, is it? Lock the door and put a closed sign up! Don’t let all and sundry read Father John’s files.’ Napier rang off.

  Nick and Father Will returned to the cop shop to scrutinize Father John’s records.

  Meanwhile, Detective Inspector Lindsey and his officers were trying to locate people called Goddard who lived in the York area, or in York city itself. They knew that would not be the name they’d be using now but they had to start somewhere. The first point of reference was the local telephone directory but there were more than two dozen references, three listed as M. Goddard and one as G. Goddard. Lindsey rang them all. Two of the M. Goddards were at home but none was Michael. G. Goddard was a woman but her name was Grace. None of them knew of a family Goddard who had moved from Manchester.

  As his officers worked, DI Lindsey decided to seek assistance from the BT Criminal Investigation Branch. His office and the BTCIB were in regular contact about crimes and offences that impacted upon both organizations.

  He rang a dedicated number. A voice answered: ‘Temperley.’

  ‘Good morning, Joe, it’s Lindsey, North Yorkshire CID.’

  ‘Hi there, Brian. How’s things in that great wilderness called Yorkshire?’

  ‘Busy as ever. Criminal investigation is endless! Sorry to trouble you but we’ve a tricky murder investigation ongoing at the moment. I could do with your expertise.’

  ‘Always willing to help the constabulary. What can I do?’

  Without releasing too much sensitive detail, Brian explained he was trying to trace some Goddards who had moved to the York area from Manchester, probably to establish a small family business. He wanted to know if such people had recruited the assistance of BT for their telephone, internet or any other service. Brian explained that he could not be certain about the date of their arrival but it could have been several years ago.

  ‘Things are changing all the time, Brian. Our technology has moved on and our older files are obsolete. Mind, we have kept some which we can still access. I’ll run all your local Goddards through the computer which will highlight the dates when their BT phones or any other devices and services were connected. We can take things from there. Give me a couple of hours then I’ll email you with the result.’

  ‘That’s a good start, thanks.’

  ‘You realize, don’t you, that an ever-increasing number of people and businesses are no longer using our network? For one thing, they’re turning to mobile phones, and that includes businesses, not just individuals. There are other servers so you’ve a lot of digging to do if you’re to find those people, especially if their business is not under the proprietor’s name. Most are probably under the company name or names.’

  ‘I realize that. If it’s any help, I’ve been told my target has ventured into the world of waterproof and shockproof cases for portable items, cases that would bear an elephant standing on them in ten fathoms. Indestructible by all accounts. Good stuff!’

  ‘You say he was called Goddard from Manchester? Our technical branch does get bags of publicity material, spam most of it, but now and again something more interesting pops up. He might have tried to interest us in his products. Having said that, individuals are getting more difficult to trace. Everyone moves around a lot these days and there are people and businesses with more than one mobile phone and no landline, some operating from different venues, some overseas. Anyway, leave it with me. I’ll see what our computer wizardry can turn up. We’re not known as the Investigation Branch for nothing!’

  ‘Thanks, and if I can return the favour, just let me know.’

  ‘There’s no doubt I will sooner or later. See you, Brian.’ And he ended the call.

  Next, Brian Lindsey made a similar call to a friend and colleague who worked from York Police Station as a detective inspector. He was DI Malcolm Ainsley. After the usual introductory chat, he said, ‘We’ve received circulars about your murder inquiry, Brian. Sounds like a tricky one.’

  ‘It is,’ Brian stressed, adding a brief summary. ‘We’ve managed to keep it under wraps without any media interest. That’s one of the benefits of working in a massive rural area but in any case, our local reporters are very co-operative when the need is there. One line of inquiry is that drugs might be involved. We need to trace the Goddards without them being aware of our interest.’

  ‘Mum’s the word, as they say,’ promised Ainsley. ‘My team knows what’s going on, nothing much gets past them. We have some fairly new business and industrial parks on the outskirts and in any case I’ll run a check through our local intelligence files to check the drugs situation. I’ll call you if we turn up anything.’

  And so Detective Inspector Lindsey, knowing these activities would soon reach the ears of the local criminal fraternity, worked steadily through all his reliable contacts as he resorted to the old-fashioned way of crime investigation – you told as many detectives and police officers as possible and so recruited dozens of pairs of extra ears and eyes to help in your work. In so doing, pressure was exerted on the criminal fraternity. He had no doubt that the newspapers, local radio and television stations could also help but at this juncture Napier would not agree to that. He had not informed PA or any other press agency and there was no guarantee how they would treat the facts if they were alerted. Indeed, widespread publicity might cause the targets to run for cover. Napier did not want that – he wanted to flush out the villains so that they scuttled about like startled rabbits, to be led eventually into his trap.

  DI Lindsey knew that if the Goddards had moved to live and work in or near York, someone must have encountered them or done business with them; in short, they would be traced. In view of their past notoriety, some of those encounters could have been with police officers.

  As the well-oiled machinery of the wider investigation got into its stride, masses of information flowed into the murder room from officers busy with external enquiries. Working in the Postgate Room, Nick was also aware
of the valuable input from the monkstables, whose area of operations had now spread to local villages. As the wealth of information steadily accumulated without producing a much-needed breakthrough, Nick decided to get some fresh air.

  He needed some thinking time and so, in the bright sunshine of that September day, he excused himself temporarily from Father Will and the box of papers. Will said he would take a break too – too much close concentration gave him headaches. As Father Will relaxed by standing near the cop shop counter to deal with any customers, Nick went outside.

  For ten minutes or so he walked around the grounds, because he found one matter increasingly worrying. That concern had been intensified by his brief scrutiny of Father John’s papers. There was no doubt that Father John had been cleverly framed for the Jacobson murders, and consequently strong contradictory evidence was needed. Father John’s handwritten notes had been compiled long after the trail. Too late for the jury to consider them.

  John’s notes were, in reality, a gathering of very small matters that had escaped the notice of his defence counsel. Those flaws seemed trivial against the might of the accusation levelled against him and the cross he’d had to bear. However, one area for examination was the precise timing and locations of John’s movements in the house when Michael Goddard swore he was at the off licence. There was the matter of rain falling heavily but when Michael returned from the off licence his hair and clothing were dry. John claimed he had heard noises in the house, such as movements in the loft and the ground floor toilet being flushed, when the house was supposedly empty apart from the girls who were upstairs in bed. But how could he prove that? And what was the design of the house? It could be a factor.

  According to Father John, Michael Goddard had been to the off licence – that was not in doubt - but the file indicated that the counter assistant had thought it was some time earlier than Michael had stated. She couldn’t be sure but the time had never been analyzed.

  Michael was a regular customer whose visiting times varied considerably. Michael had insisted his timing was accurate – after all, he had used their own special message system by tapping on the window to signal John’s presence was needed as a child-sitter. John would know what time those tapping noises had occurred. But that was not all that troubled Nick.

  As he pondered the tumble of events, he felt that not enough was currently being done to search for the missing monk. For one thing, there was no publicity. That could be done without any reference to the murder inquiry – they would be portrayed as quite separate incidents. In fact, a monk not returning from hospital was not really newsworthy, and at this stage the murder could be billed as nothing more than an unidentified body found in woodland. With no police cars and ambulances with flashing blue lights, public interest would not yet have been ignited.

  It could be said that on Saturday night no one had found cause for alarm, even though Father John had not returned to the monastery. The truth was that no one had expected him back until later that night, especially if he used the public bus service, and the campus was sufficiently large for such a return, however late, to go unnoticed. Indeed, it was very likely he may have been required to remain overnight, the hospital providing the necessary attire and toilet requisites. Sunday had passed without any cause for alarm and it was not until yesterday, Monday, that any kind of concern had surfaced. So had anyone rung the hospital to check these events? Nick had an uneasy feeling that his colleagues in the murder room were not exerting sufficient effort to find the missing monk. Did they simply believe he had run off with a woman after a rendezvous at the hospital gates, and then vanished in a hired car? Hardly matters for the police!

  But none of this musing provided any clue to Father John’s whereabouts or indeed his present state of health. Even more important, was he in any danger? If so, from whom? The Goddards? Were they closing in on him? Indeed, had they found him and removed him from circulation by their own simple deception?

  Undecided about his response to this, Nick wondered whether he could or should seek to energize what he regarded as a very low-key search. He could do that by reverting to his earlier role as a police press officer and contacting the local media. Getting the press involved would put the proverbial cat among the pigeons, but it would result in a lot of people looking for Father John, whatever he had done or not done.

  Nick knew that if he surreptitiously approached the press it would anger Detective Chief Superintendent Napier. So was there a reason for Napier’s low-key approach? Perhaps he had very deep reasons for not seeking to involve the media?

  Was Napier deliberately concealing information? If so, why?

  Nick began to ponder the trustworthiness of Detective Chief Superintendent ‘Nabber’ Napier.

  Chapter 14

  UNSETTLED BY HIS thoughts, Nick diverted from his route back to the cop shop and headed for the murder room. It was as busy as ever with the noise of people talking on telephones above the clatter of keyboards and printers, and there was the persistent buzz of a very active operations centre. Detective Sergeant Salkeld noticed his arrival and called, ‘Over here, Nick.’ She was sitting at the desk normally occupied by DI Lindsey. ‘Can I help?’

  ‘I’ve been walking in the grounds to get some fresh air and marshal my thoughts. I must admit I’m concerned about the lack of effort in the search for Father John. I wondered whether the media could help by alerting the public?’

  ‘The boss has ordered us not to talk to the press, Nick. If they do call us, he will deal with them. And that’s final.’

  ‘Well, I can’t argue with that even if I don’t understand the reasons, so have there been any developments?’

  ‘We’ve traced the hire car at Scarborough but it wasn’t used by our targets. It was another man and woman, quite legitimate. However, Nick, we have traced a taxi that was used by Father John and his lady companion. Her description matched our target and her companion was a clergyman with a dog collar. They were picked up at the hospital and dropped near the railway station, and from that point onwards we’ve had no reports. They’ve disappeared into thin air. The taxi driver thought they’d gone to catch a train but he didn’t ask any questions. The woman paid the taxi fare, by the way.’

  ‘Deliberately evasive, do you think?’

  ‘It does smack of a deliberate ploy to lose anyone who might be showing too much interest!’

  ‘But why would anyone go to all this trouble to spirit him away? There’s always an element of risk in this kind of thing.’

  ‘We’re not sure why such an operation was necessary, Nick, but it raises another question. Was it masterminded by Father John himself? Remember the hospital has no record of him arriving or even being called in to discuss his condition. There are lots of loopholes, a lot of unanswered questions and much to consider.’

  ‘Is Father John being strongly linked to the murder victim? As a suspect, I mean?’

  ‘That can’t be avoided, can it? We can’t avoid the fact that there is a connection so it’s vital we find him, if only to eliminate him from suspicion.’

  ‘I can understand the team thinking along those lines, so is there any further progress with the murder inquiry? And I must say I think it is also very low key. …’

  ‘There are reasons, Nick.’ Her voice suggested she was quietly warning him not to rush things, not to push his luck. ‘Don’t try to organize things. I will say, though, that I’m allowed to tell you that the murder victim was a serving police officer and his parent force – the London Met – has been informed. They confirmed his home address and we’ve notified his relatives but the Met has not revealed what he was doing in this locality. All they would say is that he was on duty and engaged on a covert mission generated by important criminal intelligence that had emanated from the Crime Intelligence Bureau. Mr Napier has not informed the media yet and we’ve restricted news of the murder by saying it appears to be the sudden death of a visitor, as yet unidentified. The press was happy with that – for th
e time being.’

  ‘A police officer, you say? Murdered? This mystery gets deeper and deeper and definitely more complex and unnerving.’

  ‘Now you know why Napier doesn’t want to involve the press!’

  ‘I’m pleased you’ve told me. I was going to suggest a news conference to create public interest if we’re to find Father John.’

  ‘No chance! Just give us time, Nick. Mr Napier is in charge, remember, and he does know what he is doing. Our activities must be kept as low key as possible for a while longer. I can tell you, though, that the press is aware that something’s going on. We’ve had a call from a local freelance.’

  ‘So what did you tell him?’

  ‘Just what I’ve told you. Mr Napier said we were investigating the sudden death of an unknown man whose body was found in woodland. For a quote, he said, “At the moment, his identity is unknown and we are trying to establish his personal background. We do not suspect foul play but all the circumstances are being thoroughly investigated.”’

  ‘A good noncommittal quote!’

  ‘It is. Even I don’t know the whole story and I’m supposed to be running the murder room – but it’s easy to do as I’m told!’

  ‘Even with some kind of undercover work going on, we mustn’t dispense with the need to use our initiative! OK, I get the message. I’ll get back to Father John’s box of papers.’

  ‘That’s very important to this inquiry, Nick – you might turn up something!’

  Now feeling slightly isolated on the periphery of the inquiry, Nick left the murder room with a disturbing feeling that he was involved in something he failed to understand. He returned to Father Will.

  He found the bespectacled monk busy in the back room of the cop shop, with neatly arranged piles of paper on the floor around the small desk he was using.