Unholy Murder

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘My lips are sealed, sergeant.’

  Jane’s heart was racing as she put the phone down. The man who’d been at the mortuary seemed very different from the serene and confident man she had met two days ago, but she was now certain it was Bishop Meade.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Jane had a restless night thinking about Bishop Meade, Thomas Durham and Lee Holland. She woke at six and couldn’t get back to sleep, so she decided to have a shower and go to work.

  Sitting in a peaceful, empty office, with a sausage sandwich and cup of tea for breakfast, she started reading through the convent planning documents.

  Jane came across something of interest and immediately phoned Nick. He sounded groggy.

  ‘You not out of bed yet?’ she asked.

  ‘I was just about to get up.’

  ‘Pull the other one.’

  ‘What are you doing up so early?’ he asked, yawning.

  ‘Working!’ she said. ‘I’ve just found a solicitor’s document which says the convent chapel and grounds were deconsecrated by the diocese in 1964, which was just after the nuns moved out and prior to the purchase of the land by your father. I’ll have to run it by my DCS first, but hopefully you might be able start digging again.’

  ‘That’s great news, Jane,’ he said. ‘I could kiss you all over.’

  ‘You’ll have to wait until tonight for that. Got to go.’ She looked up and saw Boon, who was limping badly and had a black eye.

  ‘What happened to you?’ Jane asked.

  ‘Essex police. One of their players deliberately kicked me in the bloody shin. I had a row with him, then he head-butted me.’

  ‘And there was me thinking rugby was a rough game,’ she said, shaking her head.

  He grinned. ‘It was worth it, though. The twat got sent off and we won the game three-one.’ He raised his leg, struggling to sit comfortably at his desk.

  ‘Do you really think you’re fit enough to work?’

  He looked offended. ‘I’ve never gone sick because of a football injury.’

  ‘I admire your attitude, especially as some officers go sick at the first sniff of a cold.’

  ‘Can you do me a favour, sarge?’

  ‘Depends what it is.’

  ‘Would you mind nipping up to the canteen and getting me a bacon sarnie and a coffee? The first flight of stairs took forever, and my legs are killing me.’

  ‘I thought you were fit enough to work, Boony . . .’

  ‘I’ll get it myself then,’ he frowned, putting his hands on the desk to support his weight as he tried to get up.

  ‘Sit down,’ Jane said. ‘I’m only joking.’ She picked up her purse. ‘Seeing as you’re so poorly, I’ll even buy it for you.’

  *

  On her way back from the canteen, Jane bumped into Stanley on the stairs.

  ‘Morning, Stanley. Nice weekend?’

  ‘Yeah, not bad. Yourself?’

  She thought it best not to tell him about her date with Nick or her visit to Thomas Durham’s house. ‘Pretty boring really. Spent most of it looking through the planning documents. I also had an interesting conversation with Jack the mortuary technician.’

  Stanley shook his head in disbelief. ‘Do you ever actually get out and have some fun on your days off?’

  ‘Yes, of course I do,’ she said defensively. ‘But there’s a lot to do on this investigation, and only me and Boon working on it at the moment.’

  ‘You know what your problem is?’ he said.

  Jane sighed. ‘Enlighten me.’

  ‘You’re becoming job-pissed,’ he said, turning to walk off.

  ‘Don’t you want to hear what Jack told me?’ she called after him.

  He kept walking. ‘Give me five minutes to get a sandwich and coffee, then we’ll talk in the office.’

  *

  Back in the office Jane spoke quietly with Boon. ‘There’s something that doesn’t sit right with me about Thomas Durham and Lee Holland. I’m convinced they’re hiding something from us, but I’m not sure what it is – especially now the original development of the land seems above board.’

  He nodded. ‘I thought the same, but it looks like we were wrong. Are you going to tell Stanley what you think?’

  Jane shook her head. ‘It’s just a gut feeling with no evidence to support it. I’ll leave it for now. But keep digging.’

  When Stanley came back from the canteen Jane told him about the planning document revealing the land had been deconsecrated and asked if he would ask DCS Barnes if the building work could resume.

  ‘What time is the meeting with DCS Barnes?’ Boon asked, looking out of the window at the station yard.

  ‘Ten,’ Jane and Stanley replied in unison.

  ‘Looks like he got the time wrong, then,’ Boon said.

  Jane and Stanley leaned over and saw a grim-faced Barnes stomping across the yard.

  ‘He doesn’t look very happy,’ Jane said.

  Stanley stood up and addressed the office, which was now half full. ‘DCS Barnes is on his way up, so stick the food under your desks and look busy.’ He marched off to his own office.

  Jane looked nervously towards the door. Barnes walked in holding a newspaper. Everyone stood up, acknowledging his rank.

  Barnes pointed his finger at Jane and Boon. ‘You two . . . Stanley’s office . . . Now!’

  Jane and Boon looked at each other as they got up and headed to the door. Stanley stood as they entered his office.

  Barnes threw the newspaper down on the desk. ‘How the fuck did this happen?’

  Stanley looked stunned as he read the headline. ‘I have no idea, sir.’

  Barnes picked up the newspaper and threw it at Jane.

  She looked at the headline and her heart sank: MURDERED NUN’S BODY FOUND ON CONVENT BUILDING SITE. She thought of Nick reading it, knowing she’d lied to him. She wanted to make an excuse to leave the room and phone him, but she knew she couldn’t.

  ‘The article even suggests the bodies of children may be buried on the grounds!’ Barnes exclaimed, looking daggers at Jane and Boon. ‘Have either of you been shooting your mouth off?’

  ‘I haven’t spoken to the press,’ Jane said.

  ‘Me neither,’ Boon said.

  ‘Well, someone bloody well has!’ Barnes shouted. ‘If I find out one of you is lying to me, your career is over!’

  Boon noticed the paper wasn’t a tabloid. ‘The Bromley News Shopper is a local weekly paper, sir . . .’

  ‘Which is exactly why I think someone from this office is the leak,’ Barnes said. ‘I specifically said I wanted this investigation kept quiet. If someone connected with the Church was involved in the murder, you can bet your bottom dollar they’ll do their best to cover it up. We had the upper hand and now we’ve lost it.’

  Boon looked at the paper again. ‘Sir . . .’

  ‘This had better be good, Boon,’ Barnes snapped.

  ‘This article was written by Rebecca Rogers—’

  ‘What a brilliant observation. And there was me thinking you’d tell me something I didn’t know.’

  Boon felt intimidated but was determined to finish. ‘She might be related to PC Rogers, the coroner’s officer at Queen Mary’s mortuary. He had a run-in with the coroner about his handling of the nun’s case. His home address will be on file. I could check the electoral register and see if a Rebecca Rogers is shown at the same address.’

  Barnes’s anger abated slightly. ‘Let’s hope you’re right. Go and do it now.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Boon hurried out of the room.

  ‘I think you may be right about the Church being involved in a cover-up, sir,’ Jane said, knowing this would get Barnes’s attention and hopefully divert his anger.

  ‘And why is that?’ he asked, lighting one of his Sobranie cigarettes as he sat down.

  Jane told Barnes about Bishop Meade’s visit to the mortuary.

  ‘I find it hard to understand why a long-standing
member of the Church, who must have dealt with hundreds of deaths, would be so distressed at the death of one nun,’ she said.

  ‘How certain are you it was Meade who went to the mortuary?’ he asked.

  ‘From the detailed description the mortuary technician gave me, it had to be him. He even wore a bishop’s ring and left in a chauffeur-driven car.’

  Barnes took a long puff on his cigarette and sat quietly mulling things over. Jane was worried his loathing of the Church would turn into a crusade of vengeance for his thwarted investigation into the young boy’s suicide. She also knew she would have to reveal her knowledge of the tunnel between the chapel and the burnt-out buildings, but somehow not give away too much detail about Nick and how she found out about it.

  ‘There is something else of interest I have found out about the convent,’ Jane began, but was interrupted by a knock on the door.

  Stanley opened it. ‘We’re in a meeting, DC Lyons, whatever it is it will have to wait.’ Stanley started to close the door.

  ‘There’s a Bishop Meade on the phone asking to speak with DS Tennison.’

  Jane looked at Barnes.

  ‘Put the call through to Stanley’s phone,’ he said. ‘He might not be aware of the article in the paper yet. If he does start kicking off about it, hand the phone to me and I’ll deal with him.’

  The phone rang and Jane picked up. Barnes leaned in close so he could hear both sides of the conversation. Jane could smell the stale smoke on his breath.

  ‘Good morning, Bishop Meade. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Good morning, Detective Tennison. Unfortunately, I’ve some bad news. I spoke with Mrs Parkin, our archivist, who informed me our diocesan archives have no records pertaining to the nuns who lived and worked at the Sisters of Mercy convent,’ he said in a matter-of-fact way.

  ‘What, none at all? Are you sure?’ Jane asked.

  ‘It would seem they were all destroyed in the fire in the convent outbuildings where they were stored.’

  ‘Even the children’s records?’

  ‘Sadly, yes.’

  ‘What about any priests who lived or worked at the convent?’

  ‘Only Sisters of Mercy ever lived and worked there. On a positive note, I can tell you that the convent land and buildings were deconsecrated and a “Petition for Faculty” was granted. There were about twenty nuns’ graves there, all of which were officially moved to St Luke’s cemetery in Bromley before the convent was sold.’

  ‘With regard to the fire, do you know exactly when it occurred?’ she asked.

  ‘Mrs Parkin informed me it was the summer of 1962. The fire started in the bakery and destroyed all the convent’s provisions, then spread to the schoolhouse. With little food to eat, no school to teach in, and the main buildings in a state of disrepair, the convent closed and it was sold to a building developer. I should add that the convent’s records would have been transferred to the archives had it not been for the fire.’

  ‘I see. Well, thank you for your assistance, Bishop Meade,’ she said.

  ‘If there’s anything else you need, please feel free to call me. I won’t be in my office today, though, as I’m attending a religious conference in Cambridge this afternoon.’

  Jane put the phone down.

  ‘He’s hiding something,’ Barnes said, his jaw set.

  Stanley wasn’t so sure. ‘Hiding what? There was a fire, and Jane found a council planning document confirming everything was deconsecrated.’

  ‘I’m not doubting that,’ Barnes said. ‘What I find odd is he never gave his name when he went to the mortuary or told you he’d been there. Also, he never asked when the nun’s body would be released for burial.’

  ‘In fairness, he did ask me when I met him on Friday,’ Jane said. ‘I told him it was the coroner’s decision and he’d probably want us to identify her first.’

  ‘He’s just told you the records were destroyed, and he knows the land was deconsecrated . . . so why didn’t he ask you to speak with the coroner? Take it from me, there’s skeletons in his cupboard,’ Barnes said firmly.

  Jane thought for a moment. ‘It’s possible his emotional distress at the mortuary wasn’t grief over the death of a nun. His reaction to seeing her body could be an outpouring of self-pity and regret for something he’s done or was involved in. If I’m right, then it also suggests Bishop Meade knows who she is and may be lying about the diocesan records being destroyed in the fire.’

  ‘If he’s lying, then so is the lady who looks after the archives, which on the face of it would seem unlikely,’ Stanley remarked.

  ‘Then we need to have a word with Mrs Parkin . . . without Meade knowing,’ Barnes said.

  ‘I can do that, sir,’ Jane said. Barnes nodded.

  Boon returned, looking pleased with himself. ‘The electoral register for PC Rogers’ address only showed him and Mrs Rogers living there. But I phoned Jack the mortuary technician and asked him if Rogers had a daughter. He said yes and her name was Rebecca. She’s twenty-two and a junior reporter for the News Shopper.’

  ‘Looks like she’s trying to make a name for herself,’ Stanley said.

  ‘Good work, son,’ Barnes said. ‘I’d like you to pay Miss Rogers a visit. I want to know exactly what information she received. Also, tell her her father could be disciplined and possibly dismissed from the force for leaking confidential information to the press.’

  ‘Is it worth getting her to do an article about the cross and asking former nuns and orphans at the convent to contact us?’ Boon asked.

  Barnes shook his head. ‘The News Shopper is just a weekly rag. We need the mainstream tabloids and TV involved. I’ve already spoken with our press office. They’ve organised a press conference for four o’clock this afternoon at Orpington where I’ll make a public appeal for assistance. I’ll need blown-up photos of the cross, the coffin and the victim in the coffin.’

  ‘The anthropologist who does facial reconstruction is making a two-dimensional drawing of the nun’s face. It might be worth using it in a press appeal,’ Jane chipped in.

  ‘I want to see it first,’ Barnes replied.

  ‘Are you forming a murder squad, sir?’ Boon asked hopefully.

  ‘Yes. It’ll be based at Orpington. There’s a conference room we can use. Stanley, I want you to set it up today, so take two more Bromley detectives with you to help. I’ll call around the division and ask them to release further staff. I want everyone at the press conference and a five thirty squad meeting after it.’ He looked at Jane. ‘In the meantime, you speak with Mrs Parkin and Boon with Miss Rogers.’

  ‘Are you going to arrest Bishop Meade?’ Boon asked.

  Barnes shook his head. ‘There’s not enough evidence yet. Even if Meade admits he went to the mortuary, it doesn’t prove anything. Our priority is identifying the nun and finding a connection between her and Meade. Clearly it would take at least two people to move that coffin to where it was found. That said, our only suspect at present is Bishop Meade. But we need to find substantive evidence he has lied and obstructed the investigation before arresting him.’

  ‘I have an idea where the coffin might have come from,’ Jane said. ‘I was about to tell you before Bishop Meade called. Can I just nip and get a plan of the convent so I can show you?’

  Barnes nodded. Jane returned quickly with the 1851 plan of the convent and laid it out on Stanley’s desk as the others gathered round.

  ‘I spoke with an architect who told me these markings are for a tunnel. As you can see, it runs from the convent chapel basement to the outbuildings.’

  Barnes looked thoughtful. ‘It makes sense keeping a coffin in the chapel basement . . . and the tunnel would be useful cover for moving it unnoticed.’

  ‘Between the convent and the outbuildings are gardens, surrounded by eight-foot-high walls, which give further cover once you exit the tunnel. The coffin was found just here, which is about fifty metres away.’

  ‘At the time, no one wo
uld have thought houses or flats would be built on the land,’ Boon added.

  ‘If you’re right, Tennison, using the tunnel to move the coffin implies someone living at the convent was involved.’

  ‘I agree, sir, but there’s also the possibility it could have been a layperson who worked at the convent,’ she said.

  ‘You’re right,’ Barnes said, ‘though I doubt there’ll be any records of laypeople who worked at the convent in the fifties and sixties. That said, a press appeal might help identify and locate them.’

  It was becoming obvious the task ahead of them was not going to be an easy one because of the years that had passed since the murder.

  ‘I think it might be worth us having a look at the tunnel and taking some photographs,’ Barnes said.

  Boon looked at Jane. ‘We met the man who lives in the chapel—’

  Jane was quick to interject. ‘I’ll ask him if I can have a look at the basement and take some photographs.’

  Barnes lit another Sobranie. ‘All in all, this has been a productive meeting. Is there anything else we need to discuss for now?’

  Jane raised her hand. ‘Can they resume work on the building site now we know the land was deconsecrated?’

  Barnes shook his head. ‘I would have said yes. Unfortunately, the News Shopper article alleging children may be buried on the land means I can’t.’

  Jane knew it was pointless arguing with him. She dreaded telling Nick the bad news.

  ‘Will you be digging up the site and dredging the lake to look for other bodies?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know yet. We’ll have to see how the inquiry develops,’ Barnes replied.

  Stanley, who hadn’t said much, looked at Jane. ‘Do you know how old the children at the orphanage were?’

  ‘No. Why do you ask?’

  ‘We have to consider that one of the children could have committed the murder, and the nuns and Meade covered it up.’

  Barnes nodded. ‘I agree. The problem is, if all the children’s records were destroyed, we’ve no way of identifying them.’

  ‘Not necessarily, sir,’ Boon piped up. ‘A man at Bromley Council told me some Catholic orphanages and children’s homes are run by the Catholic Children’s Society, which is based in Westminster. They may keep records of the children who were sent to the convent and where they went when they left.’