FRANKS, Bill

by JESUIT

  Before making an arrest, though, the evidence had to be sifted and analysed. Circumstantial evidence and hard evidence were two quite different things. It was considered that all the circumstantial evidence they now had would become very powerful once a DNA test had been carried out on the Jesuit and it would then allow them to obtain a search warrant for the motor home. Many cases had been completed once a suspect had been held on such evidence and a warrant obtained. A person’s home almost always revealed the vital hard evidence required. Stolen goods, insignificant items picked up, hairs, soiled clothing, particles of glass or soil; all these things could lead to a successful prosecution. The two men journeyed on, each smiling contentedly, more than happy with the day’s work.

  Tomorrow would be soon enough to sort out the various clues and their value. Then, a call to the Jesuit’s mobile and they would have him! Yes, tomorrow was to be another good day. That was the thought, anyway - until the finding of a young girl’s body was reported.

  CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

  Bethany Sampler sensed that something was going wrong with her marriage; a marriage she had assumed was near perfect. During the last week, she had awakened each morning with an uncomfortable gnawing in her stomach leading to an unshakeable feeling of apprehension. The first suspicion of a problem had begun about three weeks ago and had built gradually to the present state.

  Although outwardly Graham was the same, attentive and loving person, there was an almost imperceptible reaction to any physical contact with her. Enough, though, for her to realise that a change had come about. At first, Bethany had told herself that it was Graham’s work. The current case was truly awful and there seemed no way of finding the killer so it would be a great worry to him.

  However, her instincts, usually reliable, told her that the problem was of a different nature – an age-old one – another woman. She had thought the situation through, knowing that Graham loved her deeply and would not be attracted by another; yet, the instincts. Yesterday, Bethany had sat down and let her mind drift to her first suspicions. Every day together and every move he had made. She thought back to their lovemaking, which was still regular and satisfying. A smile played on her lips at the sexy thoughts but it quickly gave way to an expression of concern, then sadness. It was then she had known for certain that, unbelievable though it may seem, Graham had found someone else!

  She sat on the rug beside the fireplace, staring at nothing, her mind in turmoil. A trickle of a tear slid from her eyes, running slowly down her cheek and lodging at the chin. Then another, larger tear sprung from her large and staring eyes, swallowing up the clinging ones and falling onto her shuddering breasts. The floodgates opened as Bethany allowed the emotion to overtake her, the wetness covering her face, the endless cascade dripping from her with no attempt being made to stem the flow.

  At that time, Graham, together with his assistant, Clive, was rushing to Pangbourne On Thames, their worst fears being realised - yet another body and again a young girl. With all the gathered information on the Jesuit, Graham had dearly hoped to have had his man under lock and key by now. However, locating his man had proved to be difficult; he had simply disappeared from the scene.

  The journey was completed in relative silence, both men with their individual thoughts on the case in hand. Graham had spared only a fleeting thought to his lover, Sallie, and that was business, knowing that she would already be at the scene with her team of forensic officers.

  On finally arriving, he was greeted by Sallie, as the forensic team was about to set off back with their little plastic bags of suspected evidence, including various grubs and insects. An ambulance stood by, waiting for the detectives to carry out their work before removing the corpse.

  “Hello, Detective Inspector,” she began, smiling warmly at Graham. “My boys have finished their work so it’s safe to enter the area now.”

  Graham’s countenance remained grave; he was deeply worried about the continuing murders. “Any clues?” he asked gruffly.

  Sallie responded in an official manner. “Too early to say, yet. Quite a lot of samples have been taken and we have also taken plaster-cast impressions of some tyre tracks from just near to the hedges here.” She waved her hand in the general direction. “We found a girl’s bicycle propped against the hedges, too, and that has gone off for inspection.” Turning to lead the way to the pathetic body, she added: “There is one major clue, Inspector, and that is plainly evident.”

  “Oh, and what’s that?”

  “Feathers. I recognise them as being from the Hummingbird. I instructed my team to leave them in place for you.” It was easy for Sallie to adopt her official pose, that being the norm on such inquiries. However, she was concerned about the effect this latest killing had had on her lover; he was clearly rattled. She updated the men on her clinical findings, age of the victim, lack of sexual activity, slight abrasions and bruises, but not from a struggle, and so on.

  The girl was lying neatly a few feet into a field of waving corn. The wheat stood erect and largely untrampled – no signs of struggle. The hot weather had encouraged swarms of flies to the stench of the dead flesh as it began to deteriorate. It became a constant battle for the trio to keep the insects from the girl as the two men walked slowly around the figure, hearts heavy with pity and horror at the sight. Stopping at the feathers, nestled at the left thigh, Graham muttered: “Let’s hope, my sweet little one, that the feathers did fly you speedily to the Heaven in which you now belong.” His face was grim, the hardness covering the tenderness beneath. He knelt and, using a pen, removed the feathers.

  For several minutes he knelt, staring at the bunched object as though trying to glean from it just what had taken place – and why, in God’s name! Without turning, he spoke: “That’s it, Sallie. We’re done here.” He rose and Sallie called to the waiting ambulance to remove the poor victim back to the pathology department at New Scotland Yard where a thorough examination could be carried out. Sallie logged and bagged the evidence of the feathers.

  Before returning to their cars, the three walked to the far edge of the roadway, surveying the sprawling town and countryside below. Absently, Graham spoke his thoughts aloud: “What a lovely area this is. So beautiful, so serene.” Clive and Sallie glanced toward him as he spoke.

  It’s when you think that this is where the author, Kenneth Graham, was inspired to write “Wind In The Willows” from his church cottage; no doubt a story that the young girl has read. It has seen such as the celebrated actor, George Arliss…”

  “Who?” enquired Clive.

  “George Arliss, made silent movies in twenties America. You won’t know of him, I suppose. You will know of D.H. Lawrence, though. He stayed here a short while, too, with his wife.” Graham fell silent, his colleagues respecting the mood, appreciating his suffering. “And now we have this!” he spat. “A young girl, no more than thirteen years old, all her life in front of her.” He banged a fist into the palm of his hand. “Taken away by a bastard of a priest- a man of God!” He turned quickly and, muttering a swift “See you back at the Met,” to Sallie, he hopped into his car followed immediately by Clive. The pair shot off, leaving a slightly bewildered forensic scientist watching after them as they disappeared around the bend of the dipping road.

  Three hours later, Graham was back in his office, having brought his Superior, Longfellow, up to date on the events and having suffered some more unprofessional sarcasm from the man. Clive was in the outer office, poring yet again over the thickening file on Brother Saviour, searching for any extra clue there may be.

  Sitting back in his comfortable chair Graham reflected on the frustrating case before him. He had known instinctively from very early on that the Jesuit was his man and the clues, sparse that they were, had slowly built into compelling evidence to support his gut feelings. The inquiry files listed the person, his vehicle type and licence number and the general area in which he was operating, yet he had not recently been seen. It seemed incomprehensible that not
one of the police forces had been able to trace his whereabouts. The priest was not likely to be in hiding as he was, as far as Graham knew, unaware of just how close the Met was in it’s suspicion of him.

  Hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling as he pondered, Graham failed to hear the tiny knock at his office door. He only realised that someone had entered by the slight draught that wafted across his face when the door closed.

  Bringing his hands down from his head and placing them on his desk, he was surprised to see Bethany standing before him. “”Er…hello, Beth,” he stammered, recovering from the initial surprise, “What are you doing here?”

  The sweet smile warmed Graham instantly. She really was special. For the briefest of moments, he wondered why he had gone astray with the enchanting Sallie, faint guilt pricking tamely at his conscience.

  “I just called on a whim. I had nothing special to do this afternoon and, as I was in town, I decided to come and see you – offer support. Moral or otherwise,” she added with a grin.

  Graham studied Bethany’s lovely, fresh face, captivated by the warm mouth as if seeing it for the first time. His heart beat faster and it was with some effort that he controlled the almost irresistible urge to leap over the desk and press his mouth to those warm, inviting lips and taste the sweet nectar. “Oh, well. I’m glad you did. I’m never too busy to see you, Beth. Would you like a coffee or something?”

  Bethany studied her husband in the same way he had just studied her; wondering if, and why, he had found someone else. She found it hard to believe but her instincts were usually so reliable. “Yes, thanks, love,” she replied, her voice bright, giving no hint of the inner turmoil.

  Going to the door, Graham asked a nearby police officer if he would bring a couple of coffees – one with cup and saucer for Bethany.

  There was a short period of awkward conversation before the drinks arrived, unexpectedly served on a wooden tray, with a bowl of sugar, milk and a couple of teaspoons. Quite a change from the usual beakers - normally chipped at that! Graham offered his thanks and laid the tray on his desk.

  The coffee was sweet and welcome to Bethany, helping to calm the inexplicable nervousness that was invading her. The very presence of Graham had always relaxed her, giving her a feeling of safety, of dependability. But now, since her suspicions had been aroused, his attitude had definitely changed; changed in a subtle way and one that only a wife could sense. Even here, in her husband’s office, the atmosphere was suspect. It wasn’t only her, Graham, too, exuded an air of discomfort. It was as if he would be happier if she left; if she had not called at all.

  Then, for the most brief of instances – half a blink and she would have missed it – his expression altered. In that snippet of time, Bethany saw a horrified look, a look almost of panic, and then all was restored. It was so quick she could have imagined it. However, she knew what she had seen and it puzzled her.

  Almost in the same moment, the office door swished open and Bethany turned in her seat to see the visitor. It was in that instant she knew her fears had been realised. This was the woman!

  The eyes of the two women met as time stood still, Sallie pausing in her stride into the office, Bethany frozen in position. To both females, this was as momentous as The Big Bang.

  Graham was a terrific detective and very successful in his career. But, he was a man and, as such, the significance of the moment completely passed him by. “Ah, Sallie,” he said, standing. “Would this be the autopsy report?”

  Time fell once more into step and Sallie moved forward. “Yes, Detective Inspector, it is,” she said in an official voice. “If you have any questions, please feel free to give me a call.”

  Still on his feet, Graham took the offered folder. “Oh, Sallie. I’d like you to meet my wife, Bethany,” he said extending an arm in her direction. Bethany stood as her husband completed the formalities of introduction to his lover. She quickly but thoroughly studied the competition.The polite handshake took the form of fingers quickly into palms and even more quickly withdrawn. There was no smiling small talk and no appearance of friendship. Sallie left hurriedly, closing the office door sharply behind her.

  Bethany’s head was spinning with the suddenness of the event and she just wanted to leave. Turning to Graham, she thought: For a detective, Graham, you didn’t do very well there. You so totally missed the atmosphere! “I’d better get moving, Graham,” she said. “Any idea what time you will be home, tonight?”

  “Not sure, sweetheart – as always, it depends if anything comes up.”

  Bethany hated the term ‘sweetheart’ at that very moment. It was a term she normally loved but the presence of that woman, so close, made it seem the utmost in insincerity. Instead of leaning to Graham for the expected kiss, she turned and left. Graham was only mildly puzzled by the action and put it down to PMT, or something. Returning to his seat, he began to plan the next moves in the chase for the deranged killer who was still at large.

  Outside, Bethany hailed a taxi, one of the robust looking black cabs, commonly known as ‘Bombers,’ and fumed all the way back, pictures of the pretty rival filling her thoughts, images that beat and destroyed the loveliness.

  The cabbie looked into his rear mirror with the intention of carrying on polite conversation but, noting the thunderous expression on the face of his passenger, he decided otherwise and spent the rest of the journey in unaccustomed quietness. At least, he received a handsome tip as the lady paid the fare. His last glimpse was of an obviously furious woman stamping up the drive to her front door.

  Meanwhile, Graham had called his sidekick, Clive, into the office to show him the interim autopsy report handed to him by Sallie. All the usual signs were there showing that the murder had been carried out by the same man, with one significant difference – this time, the poison could not be identified. The feathers had been confirmed as being from the hummingbird and that just about tied it all together.

  Several times during the day, Graham had tried to contact the Jesuit on his mobile phone, but without success. However, he felt certain of one thing - the Brother would make contact with the bereaved as soon as the story hit the streets, and that would be in the evening editions of the newspapers. Acting on this, he telephoned the priest at the church of St. Cecelia, followed by a call to the Reverend Francis Beesley at St. James The Less – was there a James the Greater? he wondered – in the village of Pangbourne. At that time, neither had had any contact with the Jesuit but agreed to let Graham know if and when there was.

  Other murders were being investigated, also, and it was Graham’s responsibility to oversee them and direct the course of action to be taken. Whilst not being directly involved in the other cases, it took time to organise and issue his directions, relying on officers of lesser authority to make sure they were carried out.

  The day passed quickly enough, the amount of work keeping the detective fully occupied, but he was impatient to conclude the main investigation and prevent more murders being committed. His mind continually drifted to the case and the awaited call from the clergy.

  At five-fifteen in the afternoon, Graham was ready to clear up and leave, pondering whether to go home, as he should, or to engineer a sexual meeting with Sallie in the pathology lab. Sallie was just about winning the argument when the phone on his desk shrilled. Picking it up, wearily anticipating a request for further advice on one of the inquiries he had been dealing with during the day, he became suddenly alert. The call was from Father Edward McCahill, head priest at St. Cecelia’s and he had been contacted by Saviour!

  Apparently, the Jesuit had read of the awful discovery of a young girl’s body and wondered if the family was Catholic. On being told that they were, indeed, he had asked for an audience with the priest, prior to a visit to the parents to offer solace and advice. The time of the meeting had been arranged for ten-thirty in the morning, following completion of the morning Mass. Graham and Clive would be there.

  Replacing the phone, he attracted Cl
ive’s attention and told him of the development. “Yes!” he exclaimed, “At last we can get him!”

  “Get yourself off home, now, Clive,” instructed Graham, “And get a good night’s sleep. We need to be fresh and alert tomorrow.” The broad smiles on the men’s faces seemed in danger of becoming a permanent fixture.

  As Clive left the still busy office, Graham picked up the internal telephone to speak to Sallie. His adrenalin was pumping now - and he needed sex! Another excuse to Bethany for his lateness home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY THREE.

  The following morning, at ten twenty-five, the two detectives observed the approach of a motor home as they sat parked outside the Catholic church on Horseshoe Road in Pangbourne.

  As the vehicle came to a halt a few yards from their position, the Jesuit could clearly be recognised through the windscreen. Graham and his Sergeant moved out of their car and walked casually toward the Brother as he alighted.

  Recognising the policemen, Ignatious greeted them with an open smile.

  “Ah, detectives,” he boomed. “So nice to see you again.” He held out his hand. “What brings you here?”

  Ignoring the extended arm, Graham spoke. “Brother Ignatious Saviour, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Kylie Johnson, on, or about, the tenth of June two-thousand and one. You do not have to say anything…” The usual caution was issued as Clive snapped the handcuffs into place. Then, first checking that the motor home was secured, Clive led Ignatious to the police car and sat beside him in the rear. Before setting off, Graham contacted the Met. and arranged for someone to collect the motor home and take it back for inspection by himself and forensics. After all this time, all the investigating, all the soul-searching, the arrest had been completed so easily and quickly.

  Later, after securing the brother in a cell, Graham and his assistant searched the now impounded motor home, together with a couple of forensic officers. In a cupboard, they found two bags containing bunches of hummingbird feathers, while in another cupboard, they discovered a number of small bottles containing fluids labelled with the names of various poisons; names that had become familiar to Graham from reading the pathology reports on the recent victims.