Unholy Murder

by Lynda La Plante

  Stanley shook his head. ‘For your sake, I hope he hasn’t phoned him.’

  ‘What do you think I should tell Father Floridia?’ Jane asked.

  ‘The truth – that you screwed up and shouldn’t have said anything.’

  ‘Are you going to tell Barnes?’

  ‘What would you do if you were in my position?’

  ‘I don’t know . . . maybe realise I acted in good faith?’

  ‘I won’t tell Barnes,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you,’ Jane said, the relief obvious in her voice.

  ‘Don’t thank me yet,’ Stanley said. ‘Somehow, I doubt a priest is going to oblige you by lying to his superiors the way you did. In which case, you tell Barnes you messed up – and you don’t mention you told me.’

  Jane knew she had no choice. ‘Do you want to draw up an action plan?’

  ‘Right now, I’ve nothing more to say to you, Jane. Have your meeting with the bishop, then we’ll discuss what to do next.’

  ‘I’m really sorry,’ Jane said.

  ‘So am I, Jane. I expected better of you. Just go before I change my mind,’ he said, waving her away with his hand.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Jane bought a sandwich in the canteen and ate it at her desk before phoning the mortuary. Jack, the mortuary technician, answered and she asked to speak with PC Rogers.

  ‘PC Rogers isn’t here, sergeant. I’m not sure when . . . or if he’ll be back.’

  ‘Did the coroner send him back to division?’ Jane asked thinking that would be a bit harsh.

  ‘I heard through the grapevine, the coroner told him his days as a coroner’s officer were numbered. Rogers was in a right sulk when he came back here. He said another coroner’s officer would be dealing with the case as from Monday and he was taking some time off. Then he left with his tail between his legs.’

  ‘Sounds like he’s learned his lesson the hard way,’ Jane said.

  ‘Well, he’s only himself to blame,’ Jack said. ‘He’s been warned about his attitude by the coroner before. Is there anything I can help you with in Rogers’ absence?’

  ‘There’s a priest called Father Floridia who’s helping me identify the nun. He wanted to come to the mortuary and say a prayer for her . . . if that’s OK with you?’

  ‘No problem at all, sergeant. I’ll lay her out in our chapel of rest in a clean white shroud.’

  ‘Thanks, Jack. We’ll be with you in about half an hour. Oh, while I think of it, my DCS wants us to keep the nun’s cause of death to ourselves for the time being.’

  ‘I know – DI Stanley phoned earlier and told me the same thing. He’s got nothing to worry about . . . my motto has always been “what goes on at work, stays at work”.’

  Jane thought Jack’s motto rather ironic, as most people wouldn’t want to hear about the dissection and examination of dead bodies anyway.

  *

  Driving to St Mary’s Church, Jane felt miserable about her conversation with Stanley and anxious about her meeting with Father Chris. She was stuck in a quandary, wondering what she could do to get out of a messy situation. She knew she only had herself to blame, but hoped identifying the nun might placate Stanley and, more importantly, Barnes, if he found out she’d lied to him.

  Jane knew, as a last resort, she could go to court and apply for a warrant to seize any relevant documentation from the diocesan archives, but that course of action risked creating animosity between the police and the Catholic Church, whose assistance was vital to the investigation. She sighed, knowing there was only one answer. She had to be honest with Father Chris and face the consequences, whatever they might be.

  Walking up the stone path to the presbytery, Jane saw Father Chris looking out of the living-room window. He waved to her then opened the front door. He was wearing a black raincoat, black suit, and a shirt with a white clerical collar.

  ‘Hi, Jane, thanks for coming to pick me up. How are you today?’ he said, greeting her with a smile.

  She couldn’t bring herself to smile back. ‘Before we go to the mortuary, I need to have a chat with you.’

  ‘Is something wrong?’

  ‘Yes, but it’s nothing you’ve done. Can we talk inside?’

  He showed Jane through to the living room, where they both sat down.

  ‘I had my meeting with DCS Barnes this morning. He’s happy for you to assist me identifying the nun. But he also instructed me not to tell anyone connected with the Church, the building site, or the press that the nun was murdered, until we discover her identity.’

  He looked concerned. ‘Does he know you told me she was murdered?’

  Jane sighed. ‘Under the circumstances I thought it best not to tell him you know.’

  Father Chris looked worried. ‘This puts me in an awkward position with Bishop Meade, because—’

  Jane interrupted. ‘I would never ask or expect you to lie to him. If you don’t want to come with me to Bishop Meade’s office, I totally understand. He doesn’t know we’ve met or discussed the discovery of the coffin or the nun’s death, so I’m happy to keep it that way, if you are. Then there will be no repercussions for you.’

  He gave her a doubtful look. ‘That’s not really possible now.’

  ‘Why not?’

  Father Chris shook his head. ‘I spoke with Bishop Meade last night, after you left.’

  Jane was surprised. ‘I thought you said you wouldn’t call him.’

  Father Chris looked upset. ‘Don’t worry, he doesn’t know the nun was murdered.’

  ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you. This whole situation is my fault.’

  ‘It’s all right. I understand your concern. After you left last night, I realised I’d have to make an appointment to see the bishop as he’s a busy man. I didn’t want you to have a wasted journey, so I called him. Naturally, he asked what it was about, but I only told him I’d been informed a coffin had been uncovered at the old convent with the body of a nun inside. If Bishop Meade finds out I knew she was murdered before I called him, he’s not going to be a happy man.’

  ‘Looks like we’ve both dug a bit of a hole for ourselves,’ Jane sighed.

  He let out a nervous laugh. ‘We reap what we sow. Bishop Meade also knows you are trying to ascertain the nun’s identity.’

  ‘Did he say if they had any historical records of the nuns who lived at the convent?’

  ‘No, and I didn’t ask. He said he’d do what he could to help. I told him we’d be there around half past two.’

  ‘We best be on our way, then,’ Jane said. ‘Are we agreed we don’t tell him she was murdered – at least for now?’

  ‘Regrettably, yes. I’ll let you do the talking when we get there,’ he said solemnly.

  *

  As they got into Jane’s car, she looked at her watch and told Father Chris they had time to go to the mortuary first if he wanted to say a prayer for the nun before the meeting with Bishop Meade. Jane reached over to the back seat, picked up a folder and handed it to Father Chris.

  ‘We recovered the cross at the builder’s flat this morning. He admitted forcing the coffin open and stealing it. There are some photographs of the cross and coffin in there for you to look at.’

  Jane started the car and pulled away from the kerb. She noticed he was looking at a photo of the cross.

  ‘It’s exactly as you described it would be – the Sacred Heart, with a small cross and circle of thorns engraved on it. I’m assuming MB are the initials of the nun.’

  ‘Possibly, but they could be for her given name.’

  ‘I forgot you told me that,’ Jane said.

  ‘A common given first name for a nun is Mary. The B could also refer to a given name or even a real surname.’

  ‘What about the engraved date? Could it be when she became a nun?’

  ‘Possibly. It could also be when she took her final vows.’

  ‘How old do you have to be to become a nun?’ Jane asked, realising it might
help narrow down the victim’s age.

  ‘These days, at least eighteen. After a woman decides she wants to be a nun, she moves into a community, like a convent, as a novitiate. They live and work with other nuns, to help them decide if they want to live a religious life.’

  ‘Like a sort of test drive to see if you like it,’ Jane smiled.

  He laughed. ‘That’s one way of putting it.’

  ‘Would the joining age have been younger back in the fifties and sixties?’

  ‘Possibly, yes. I have met a nun who became a novitiate when she was fifteen, but I think that’s quite rare over here.’

  ‘How long does it take to become a fully-fledged nun?’ Jane asked.

  ‘After two years as a novice, the nun takes her first vows, then after another three years, they surrender their life to their religious order and take vows that compel them to remain unmarried, devote their work to charity, and give up most of their material goods. Then, as you put it, the novitiate is fully-fledged.’

  *

  Arriving at the mortuary, Jane asked Father Chris to wait in the coroner’s officer’s room while she went to speak with the mortuary technician to check if the nun’s body was ready for viewing. As she entered the mortuary examination room, she saw Sam Pullen standing by the X-ray viewer with a grey-haired man in his fifties casually dressed in a white T-shirt, blue jeans, denim jacket, and white trainers.

  Jack was placing a clean shroud on the nun’s body, which was on a mortuary trolley. ‘I’ll take the nun to the chapel of rest. Give me five minutes to set things up, then the priest can do his bit,’ Jack said cheerfully pushing the trolley towards the doors.

  ‘Hi, Jane.’ Sam smiled. ‘This is Richard Eaves. Richard, this is Detective Sergeant Jane Tennison.’

  ‘Thank you for letting me be involved in your investigation,’ Eaves said. ‘I’m looking forward to doing the facial reconstruction. As it’s the weekend tomorrow, I’ll pick the head up on Monday and get straight to work on it.’

  ‘How long do you think it will take?’ Jane asked.

  ‘At least two or three weeks for a clay reconstruction.’

  ‘I look forward to seeing it,’ Jane said, but Eaves could see she looked disappointed.

  ‘If you need something quicker, I could do a two-dimensional facial reconstruction,’ he suggested.

  ‘What does that involve?’ Jane asked.

  ‘Taking a front and side profile photograph of the skull, which I place side by side on a drawing table and cover with transparent paper. Using the shape of the bone and the tissue markers as a map, I then sketch a face back onto the skull. It will only take me a couple of days. I’ll also do the clay model as part of my research.’

  Jane brightened. ‘Thanks, Richard, the sketch will be immensely helpful to start with. Are you able to give an estimation of the nun’s age?’

  ‘You just missed Doc Martin, the odontologist,’ Sam said. ‘He examined the teeth and estimated her to be between twenty and thirty years old.’

  Eaves nodded. ‘I’ve looked at the X-rays for skeletal development and anatomical growth markers in the hands, wrists and clavicles. My findings concur with Doc Martin’s.’

  Jane had hoped the age range might be narrower. ‘The cross on her body had 20 February 1958 engraved on it. If she was sixteen when she became a nun and the date refers to the taking of her vows, which would be five years later, then her age at death could be between twenty-one and thirty.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ Sam said. ‘But the date on the cross could also refer to when she became a novice nun, which means she could have been anything between sixteen and twenty-one when she died.’

  ‘If the convent closed in the mid-sixties, that makes the possible age range sixteen to twenty-three, I think,’ Jane added.

  Eaves was apprehensive. ‘It should always be borne in mind, whatever the case, all a forensic anthropologist or odontologist can do is give the best estimate of biological age, regardless of how far it may be from actual chronological age. Once you identify her, the age problem should be resolved.’

  ‘Thanks for your help, Richard. I look forward to seeing the reconstruction,’ Jane said.

  Jack walked back in. ‘The nun’s ready for viewing.’

  ‘Thanks, Jack. I’ll let Father Floridia know,’ Jane said.

  Sam walked with Jane to the coroner’s officer’s room to get her coat and briefcase.

  ‘I’m working Saturday but should be finished around five. I wondered if you fancied going out for something to eat,’ Jane asked.

  ‘I’d love to, Jane, but I’m out on a date. I could do Sunday lunch, though.’

  ‘I’m not sure if I’ll be working Sunday.’

  ‘If you’re not, give me a ring Sunday morning. I know a lovely old pub on the Thames called The Anchor. It’s a short walk from London Bridge station. We could meet there first.’

  ‘Sounds good to me. I’ll let you know about work,’ Jane said.

  ‘He doesn’t look like your everyday fuddy-duddy priest,’ Sam remarked, having seen Father Chris from the corridor.

  He stood up as the two women entered the room.

  ‘We can through to the chapel of rest now, Father,’ Jane told him.

  ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Of course,’ Jane said and did the introductions.

  ‘Do you have a Christian name?’ Sam asked as they shook hands.

  ‘It’s Christopher, but most people call me Father Chris,’ he replied.

  ‘Are you Italian?’

  ‘Father Chris is Maltese,’ Jane said.

  ‘It’s a lovely island. I went there once on holiday,’ Sam said.

  ‘I’m glad you liked it, Dr Pullen.’

  ‘Please, call me Sammy.’

  Jane wasn’t sure if she was flirting. ‘I think we best get a move on, Father, or we’ll be late for the meeting with the bishop.’

  ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you, Sammy.’

  ‘Likewise, Father Chris.’

  As he walked to the door, Sam took Jane’s arm.

  ‘It’s a pity priests are celibate,’ she whispered with a wink.

  *

  In the chapel of rest Father Chris took off his coat, removed a purple stole from his pocket and placed it around his neck. The nun’s body was covered to the top of her neck in a white ritual blanket with a large embroidered gold cross.

  ‘Would you like me to leave?’ Jane asked.

  ‘No, it’s fine, please stay if you want.’

  Jane stood with her hands behind her back and head slightly bowed so she could watch him. He remained in silent prayer for a while before speaking.

  ‘My God, I recommend to thee the souls of my relations, my benefactors, my friends, and my enemies, and of those who are in purgatory on my account. I recommend to thee the souls of evangelical labourers, of religious and priests, and especially of those who had charge of my soul. I recommend to thee the souls of those who were most devout to the passion of Our Lord, to the Blessed Sacrament, to the Blessed Virgin Mary, the souls who are most abandoned, those who suffer most, and those who are nearest to the entrance into paradise. Eternal rest grant unto them, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine upon them. May they rest in peace. Amen.’

  Jane was touched by his prayer, hearing the emotion in his voice. Thinking he had finished, she raised her head, and took a step forward. She was about to speak when Father Chris continued the prayer. She quickly stepped back and resumed a solemn position.

  ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen,’ he said, blessing the nun with the sign of the cross. He turned to Jane.

  ‘Thank you for letting me pray for her.’

  ‘It was a very moving.’

  ‘An Italian saint called Alphonsus Liguori wrote it in the 1700s, when he was a bishop. Under the circumstances, I thought it appropriate.’

  ‘I’ll let the mortuary technician know we’ve finished, then
we’ll be on our way.’

  *

  Father Chris was quiet on the journey to Southwark. Something was clearly preying on his mind.

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about how she died . . . helpless, unable to move or shout for help,’ he said after a while.

  ‘It’s bizarre . . . her body was mummified, and face contorted . . . yet I saw her as I imagined she would be . . . a beautiful young woman who devoted her life to God. Yet, as a man of faith I ask myself: where was her God when she needed him most.’

  ‘Doesn’t the bible say he moves in mysterious ways?’ Jane offered.

  ‘Actually, it doesn’t,’ he said. ‘The words are from a poem called “Light Shining out of Darkness” by William Cowper, encouraging us to trust God’s greater wisdom in the face of inexplicable tragedies.’

  ‘As you can probably tell,’ Jane admitted, ‘I’m not very religious. But I do believe we will find the person responsible for her death.’

  ‘Really, after all this time?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ve a good success rate investigating murders, and believe me, I don’t give in easily,’ Jane assured him.

  ‘I’m sorry for being so gloomy. I have every faith in you succeeding,’ he said.

  ‘Can I ask you something about the nun?’

  ‘Of course. I don’t have a problem talking about her, although seeing her lifeless body brought back some sad memories.’

  Jane thought it best not to ask about those memories. ‘When a nun dies of natural causes and is placed in a coffin, would her hands be put in a praying position like you did earlier?’

  ‘Yes, usually with a wooden cross placed in the hands.’

  ‘What about rosary beads?’

  ‘Sometimes they’re wrapped around the hands. Why do you ask?’

  ‘Barry May said the nun’s hands were clasped together like that when he opened the coffin. A wooden cross and rosary beads were in her hands. It’s possible someone religious did that after she was killed.’

  Father Chris was taken aback. ‘Are you suggesting someone connected to the convent killed her?’

  ‘I can’t rule it out.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of a case where a priest, a nun or anyone connected with a religious order committed murder. Have you?’ he asked bluntly.