All Saints- Murder on the Mersey

by Brian L. Porter

  “I'm afraid they are, Mr. Hopkirk. Now, if you'll please step out of the way?” said Curtis, taking a step towards the chief care officer, who reluctantly stepped to one side as the two men escorted his secretary from the building. He would have been less surprised if he'd been able to see through her daily disguise and recognised his one-time lover, Poppy.

  In a final gesture before leaving, Curtis turned back to face Charles Hopkirk, showing him the search warrant. “A forensic team will be here soon, Mr. Hopkirk. This warrant grants us access to all the records at Speke Hill, past and present and in particular, Ms. Manvers' office.”

  “Oh my God, Vera, what have you done?” Hopkirk gasped.

  Vera Manvers just stared ahead, blankly, as if she hadn't heard a word he'd said.

  Vera remained silent in the car on the way to headquarters, only speaking give her name as Vera Manvers to the desk sergeant as she was booked into the building, before being led to an interview room, where she was asked to sit and wait, under the watchful eye of a uniformed female constable.

  Chapter 37

  A Question of Alibis

  Sitting in the comfortable living room of the manse at St. Luke's, Ross and Drake couldn't be aware of the events that were taking place around the city as their fellow detectives gradually began piecing together the various links that would eventually lead to the final solution of their case.

  Father Byrne had been as helpful as he could be, but remained mystified as to the reason the killings seemed to be in some way connected to his arrival back in Liverpool. Neither Ross nor Drake could shake his belief that his presence in the middle of all the mayhem surrounding the murders was nothing but a terrible and unfortunate coincidence, his time at Speke Hill somehow running parallel with whatever was taking place around him. Ross remained convinced in the priest's innocence in the matter, and tended to believe in Byrne's hypothesis. His instincts, usually reliable in such matters, told him the priest was telling the truth. Now, as Byrne left the room, he was replaced by Father David Willis.

  Ross and Drake hadn't really had much contact with the younger priest so far, and Ross couldn't help but notice the look of tiredness and dark rings under the eyes of David Willis as he sat down in the chair opposite the inspector.

  “A terrible business, Father Willis,” Ross began.

  “Indeed it is, Inspector,” Willis agreed. “I was staggered when Tom Redding came to the door with such awful news.”

  “Pardon me for saying so, Father, but is everything alright? You look tired.”

  “Oh, I'm fine, thank you. Sleep is quite elusive sometimes, Inspector. Since Father Byrne began having his nightmares, I must admit I tend to lie awake at night, almost expecting another one to strike him. I've attended to him once or twice when they've occurred in the past. He can get in quite a state with them.”

  “It's good of you to care so much for his welfare, Father.”

  “Yes, well, it goes with the calling, Inspector, doesn't it? And Father Byrne is such a nice man, he really is. Did you know he has a bad heart as well?”

  “I didn't know that, Father Willis. So you kind of keep a watchful eye on him, is that it?”

  “You could say that, yes. I was close to Father O'Hanlon, who Father Byrne replaced and was extremely upset when he passed away. I'd hate to think of something similar happening to Father Byrne. He's still a relatively young man after all.”

  Ross nodded his understanding before proceeding with his next question.

  “Tell me, Father Willis. Were you aware of the fact that an electric light was fitted in the Greasby family crypt some years ago?”

  “Of course I was, Inspector,” Willis answered without hesitation. “In fact, you'll find most of the members of the congregation were aware of it. Father O'Hanlon had it installed I believe, and often regaled the congregation with little snippets of information he'd either gleaned from the inscriptions in the crypt, or that he'd learned about the Greasby family. He was quite fascinated with their history, though I never really understood why.”

  “I see, and you were here all night last night, I take it?”

  “Yes of course, here in the manse that is, not in the crypt, carrying out heinous crimes against Mr. Devereux.”

  Father Willis smiled ruefully as he spoke.

  “I'm sorry. I didn't mean that to sound facetious, Inspector. It's just that I've never been questioned in connection with a murder before.”

  “That's alright Father. People do often react in odd ways when asked to provide an alibi for a crime.”

  “Oh, I see. I am a suspect then, am I?”

  “To be honest, everyone is, Father,” Izzie Drake replied. “You have to understand we have to look at everyone who was here last night, or who had the means or opportunity to commit the murder.”

  “Yes, of course. I understand,” said Willis.

  “Can anyone vouch for the fact you were here all night?” Drake asked.

  “Oh dear,” Willis said, ruefully. “Well, I didn't think I'd have to account for my movements of course, but, let's see. Mrs. Redding was here until shortly after six-thirty, maybe closer to seven p.m by the time she'd got her coat on and said goodnight. I walked outside with her and saw her into the car when her husband arrived to pick her up. I went back indoors and found Father Byrne asleep in his armchair, so I took the opportunity to take a walk around the parish. I often do that if the weather's fine. I came back and went up to my room, read the Bible for half an hour, took a shower and came downstairs just as Father Byrne was waking up. I didn't think to check the time, but it must have been around eleven p.m. I made us both a mug of cocoa and we went to bed soon afterwards. That's the best I can do, I'm afraid.”

  “No, that's fine, thank you, Father. We do know it's hard to account for every minute of a day, and especially when you're not expecting to have to account for your time. Too many criminals out-think their situation and have a ready answer for every minute. That's not always the best thing to do.”

  “Oh, I see, thank you Sergeant.”

  Ross now asked what he hoped would be his last question, allowing him and Drake to get back to headquarters where it appeared things were moving apace in his absence.

  “Do you know a woman by the name of Vera Manvers, Father?”

  “The name is rather familiar, Inspector. It's an unusual name, Manvers, isn't it? Of course, she works at Speke Hill. I've met her a couple of times, I think. After Father O'Hanlon passed away, and before Father Byrne arrived, I stood in as chaplain at Speke Hill, a job that goes with the parish of St. Luke's. I'm sure I met her there, not at Sunday services, you understand, but when I had to visit Mr. Hopkirk to arrange to fulfil my temporary duties there.”

  “I see, well, thank you Father,” Ross said, concluding the interview. “If we need to speak to you again, you'll be here?”

  “But of course, Inspector Ross. Where else would I be?”

  “Where indeed, Father?” said Ross as he and Drake rose to take their leave.

  Outside, Miles Booker and his team were still painstakingly going over the scene where the body of Devereux had so recently been displayed, and also the actual murder site, below ground in the Greasby crypt. Booker promised to let Ross know the instant they found anything of interest.

  The body of Lucas Devereux had already been removed from the scene and transported to the mortuary, where Doctor William Nugent would already be overseeing the autopsy, aided by Francis Lees and Doctor Vicky Strauss. As the first M.E. on the scene, she would want to be part of the post-mortem team for sure, and Ross knew Nugent well enough to know he'd be encouraging the young pathologist to expand her talents under his watchful gaze.

  Izzie Drake was talkative in the car on the way back to headquarters.

  “You seemed almost angry back there, sir, talking to the two priests.”

  “Did I, Izzie? Maybe I was. It's just the whole religious thing.”

  “How do you mean, sir?”

  “Father
Byrne and Father Willis, acting all nice and Godly, for want of a better word. They have a man murdered in their own graveyard, in a bloody crypt for heaven's sake, and yes, they're very sorry and it's all so awful, but you just get the impression it's all in day's work for them.”

  “But it is, isn't it, sir?”

  “Is it?”

  “Well, yes, especially for Catholics I think. To a Catholic Priest, death is all part of God's great plan, I think. You know, we live, we sin, we go to church, we pray for forgiveness, confess our sins and receive absolution and then the only way we get to Heaven is by giving up our earthly bodies through the medium of death, allowing our souls to rise to Heaven where we supposedly dwell in paradise at the side of God for all eternity.”

  “Very profound, Sergeant, very profound indeed.”

  “Well, you did ask, sir,” she grinned as she drove into the car park at police headquarters.

  “Oh, come on,” Ross said, shaking off his maudlin thoughts, “coffee first, then let's go talk to the Manvers woman.”

  “Right sir. You really think she's a killer?”

  “It's certainly stacking up that way, Izzie. From what Curtis told me, she's got a sister somewhere. Let's get Paul Ferris working on locating her fast, unless the Manvers woman tells us right away of course, making things easy for us, but when do they ever do that, eh? And there's still the matter of her accomplice, whoever he is.”

  “You don't fancy either of the priests for the other killer then sir?”

  “Byrne, no, Willis, maybe,” he replied.

  “Are you being serious?” Drake asked.

  “There are holes in his alibi. He could have taken a shower to wash away the blood. He could have slipped something into Byrne's drink at dinner to knock him out for a while, allowing him to slip out and commit the murder, before arriving home in time for bed.”

  Drake laughed, and after a few seconds pause, Ross joined in.

  Five minutes later, Ross and Drake were elated as they were informed by D.C. Dodds that John Selden had literally run into their arms and was also being held in an interview room, waiting to be questioned.

  Chapter 38

  Breakdown

  Ross and Drake studied the woman sitting stoically in Interview Room 1 for almost ten minutes prior to beginning the interview of Vera Manvers. Silent and motionless, she appeared to Ross to resemble one of the giant stone figures he'd seen in TV documentaries of Easter Island. Her face gave nothing away, and he wondered how hard it might prove to break her down and find a way to incite her to talk about the murders he was now almost certain she'd been a party to. More importantly, he needed to try to get Vera to reveal the identity of her partner in crime, who had so far managed to remain anonymous to the investigators, despite Vera's capture.

  “She's not moved a muscle since she was placed in there, sir,” said P.C. Andrews, one of the two constables who'd taken turns to stand guard over Vera in the interview room, awaiting the arrival of the inspector.

  “Looks like she may be a tough nut to crack,” Ross said, before an idea struck him.

  Turning to Izzie Drake, he said, “Izzie, go and ask Sam Gable to start ringing round all the private sanitoriums in the area. If we can find the one in which one her sister's being cared for, it may give us some leverage.”

  “Right sir,” said Drake, turning to leave the viewing room. Drake also added, “Another thing that's bugged me is where the money has come from to pay for the sister's care. It must cost a fortune to keep someone in one of those places for all those years.”

  “You're right, of course,” Ross agreed. “Perhaps it's not private, after all. It's also been my experience over the years that a lot of people use the term sanitorium as a polite, socially acceptable way to refer to a psychiatric hospital. Tell Sam to check out N.H.S, long term facilities too. Tell her to ignore those designed to house the criminally insane, like Ashworth, and concentrate on what I'd call 'normal' long-term psychiatric hospitals.”

  “I'll tell her now sir. I agree, they'd hardly keep her in a place like Ashworth,” referring to the maximum security facility where people like the notorious Moors Murderer, Ian Brady is held to this day.

  Drake was gone and back in two minutes.

  “Sam's on it, sir. I told her to come in and tell us if she finds the sister. It could give us some leverage.”

  “Excellent. Right then, let's go talk to Ms. Vera Manvers.”

  Ten minutes of futile questioning followed. Vera had obviously decided that silence was the best defence against any form of self incrimination. Ross, used to dealing with many hardened criminals over the years, marvelled at her continued stone-faced refusal to utter a single word.

  Feeling the time had come to play his trump card, even though Sam Gable hadn't as yet brought them any news relating to Vera's sister, Ross made his big play.

  “We know all about Brenda, Vera.”

  Both Ross and Drake noticed a sudden twitch of the woman's eyebrows. They'd touched a nerve.

  “We know you killed them to gain revenge for what they did to Brenda. Most people would have wanted to avenge their sister after what they did to her, but most wouldn't have the courage to see it through as you have. Of course, you needed help, didn't you? We'll find him soon enough, even if you don't tell us his name, Vera.”

  Vera maintained her silence, but there were visible signs that Ross was reaching her. He noticed a slight tremor in her hands where they rested on the table, and her eyes had taken on a watery appearance, as if she might be on the verge of tears. He could tell it was taking all her self-control to maintain her current level of non-cooperation.

  Just when he thought he was going to have to continue to bluff his way through the rest of the story, a knock on the door was followed by the entry of Sam Gable.

  “Can I have a word, sir?” she asked, and Ross rose from the table, recording the suspension of the interview on the obligatory tape recorder. He returned a few minutes later, nodded to Drake from a position behind Vera Manvers, out of her line of sight, and proceeded to re-start the recorder, then he sat down again, this time looking at a sheet of A4 paper, handed to him by D.C. Gable.

  “That was Detective Constable Gable, Vera. She's just been talking to Senior Psychiatric Nursing Sister Leyburn, one of the supervisors at Helmdale Lodge.”

  Vera began to fidget in her chair.

  “Your sister, Brenda's condition is unchanged. She thought you'd like to know. She was very surprised to hear you're in police custody. Seems she was expecting you to visit Brenda again soon. D.C. Gable pointed out to her that it may be some time before you're able to visit again, and she expressed her sadness at the fact that your sister would be reduced to only one visitor if you were 'tied up' as she diplomatically put it.”

  Ross fell silent for a few seconds, and Izzie Drake stepped in to the conversation.

  “You can't seriously have expected to get away with it, Vera, could you? All your plans, all your meticulous planning, all for what? So you can spend the rest of your life in jail, while your sister sits there in that place, trapped in her own mind, wondering why you never come to see her any more? That's assuming she knows who you are of course.”

  A sound, more a whisper than anything else, suddenly emanated from the crestfallen woman.

  “What was that? I couldn't hear you,” said Ross.

  “She knows. I said she knows I'm there and who I am. Brenda knows. I don't care what they or David says.”

  “David? Sister Leyburn mentioned Brenda's fiancé, David. What's his other name, Vera? He's your killing partner isn't he?”

  Vera suddenly realised she'd placed David in jeopardy by her outburst, and realised they'd played on her fear of being cut off from Brenda. She fell silent again.

  “Come on, Brenda. You know it's all over,” Drake spoke quietly, gently, trying to coax Vera to confide in her.

  “I can't,” Vera sniffed as her eyes slowly filled with tears.

  “Can't what, V
era? Tell us his full name? All we have to do is leave a constable at Helmdale Lodge and as soon as he turns up to see Brenda, he'll be arrested. Do you really want your sister to see her fiancé arrested in front of her?”

  “Help us now, Vera, while you can. It'll help your defence if we can say you co-operated fully with us,” Ross urged her, without revealing to Vera that the nursing sister had already given Sam Gable the name of Brenda's fiancé. He wanted to see if they could break through the cold and impenetrable façade that Manvers had created. The tears forming in her eyes were a sure sign that her resolve was crumbling. He passed the notes from Gable to Drake who quickly read them and saw the name of the fiancé herself, and like Ross, gave nothing away to Vera Manvers. Another knock saw Sam Gable again put her head round the door, and this time, she stepped in to the room and quickly walked across and whispered in Ross's ear before turning and walking out again. Ross knew the figurative noose was now tightening around Vera Manvers' neck.

  “D.C. Gable just received word from our forensics team, Vera. They're at your house. They found your white van, parked in your garage. A very interesting collection of items in there, apparently. Bloodied clothes, surgical boots and scrubs, knives, hammers, surgical tools, and a suitcase containing changes of clothes for you and your gentleman friend. I guess you haven't had the time to dispose of the clothes and a rather expensive men's watch yet, have you, Vera? We wondered how the killers came and went so easily when they should have been covered in the blood of their victims. You and he treated it like a bloody day out at the seaside didn't you? You took a change of clothes along with you, carried out the murders, changed in the van and then burned or otherwise disposed of your old clothes and those of your victims. When Mr. Booker, our chief Crime Scenes Officer opened the suitcase containing your clothes, he found something that was a bit of a giveaway, Vera. Can you think what it was?”

  “David,” she said, softly.

  “I know that, Vera. Tell me his other name, please.”

  “Willis,” Vera whispered. “David Willis.”