Unholy Murder

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘Good thinking, Boon. Give them a call and see if they can help us.’ Barnes looked at each of them in turn. ‘Right, you all know what you have to do. Time is of the essence, so let’s get to work.’

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Jane felt anxious walking to Nick’s office, not knowing if he’d read the article in the News Shopper.

  ‘Mr Durham’s on the phone just now,’ Judy, the office secretary, said when she saw her.

  Jane ignored her and went straight to Nick’s office.

  Nick put his palm on the speaker. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  Jane sat on the sofa, nervously rubbing her hands, and wondering if their relationship was going to be over before it had begun.

  Nick finished his call and put the phone down. ‘This is a pleasant surprise,’ he said as he got up.

  Jane stood up. ‘There’s something I’ve got to tell you – and I don’t think you’re going to like it.’

  ‘What’s wrong?’ Nick asked.

  Jane took a deep breath – then just blurted it out. ‘The nun in the coffin was murdered. We don’t know who did it. I should have told you, but I couldn’t. I’m really, really sorry and don’t blame you if you don’t want to see me anymore . . .’

  Jane was talking so quickly, Nick had difficulty in understanding what she was saying.

  ‘Whoa, slow down, Jane,’ he said, putting his hands gently on her shoulders. ‘I already suspected there was more to this nun thing than you were letting on.’

  She took another deep breath to calm herself. ‘Why didn’t you say so? I’ve been worried sick about how you’d react. I really thought you’d be mad with me.’

  He gently squeezed her shoulders. ‘I’m not going to get mad simply because you’re doing your job.’

  ‘My DCS said we were to keep it to ourselves until we had identified the nun. A journalist found out and wrote the article. She also alleged there could be the bodies of other nuns and children buried in the grounds of the convent. As a result, my DCS said you can’t do any work on the site until further searches are done,’ Jane said, looking forlorn.

  Nick smiled. ‘That’s not your fault. I understand your boss’s reaction. I can’t say I’m happy about it, but I’m not going to argue. Is he going to dig it all up?’

  ‘Not at the moment, but he might later . . . and dredge the lake as well. I’m sorry for any distress this may cause your father, especially with his heart condition. But obviously I couldn’t say anything to him either.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll speak with him. I’m sure he’ll understand, and we will both do anything we can to assist your investigation.’

  Jane looked at her watch. ‘I’ve got to go to the diocesan archives and make some inquiries there.’

  He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Don’t look so worried. Losing the site is only a temporary setback, I’m sure.’

  *

  Boon pressed the intercom at the News Shopper offices in Petts Wood, gave his details and was let in. The receptionist asked him to take a seat while she informed Miss Rogers of his arrival.

  He saw the paper with Rebecca Rogers’ article on a table and read it while he waited. He thought it was a bit sensationalised, but it was obvious her father had given her a detailed account of the discovery of the coffin, post-mortem and cause of death.

  ‘Good morning, DC Boon, I’m Becky Rogers. I take it you’ve come about my article?’

  He looked up to see a very attractive young brunette, with permed shoulder-length hair. She was dressed fashionably in a light blue jumpsuit, which had tapered legs and shoulder pads. The tight silver belt she wore showed off her slim, shapely figure.

  Boon slowly stood up and shook her hand. ‘Yes. Thank you for seeing me.’

  ‘The office is quite small, and people are constantly nattering on the phone. We could pop over to Petts Wood Square for a coffee in the café and have a chat there.’

  ‘That would be good,’ Boon replied.

  ‘I’ll just nip upstairs and get my jacket, then.’

  *

  ‘That’s a nasty limp you’ve got,’ Becky said as they sat down at a table. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Football injury . . . nothing serious,’ he said, taking a sip of his coffee. ‘I’m going to be straight with you, Becky. We know who the source was for your article. I understand why you wrote it, but your father should not have released confidential information to you. He’s put himself in a position where he could be disciplined and even dismissed from the force.’

  She looked shocked. ‘Is it that serious?’

  ‘Yes. You were just doing your job, so you’re not in any trouble. But my DCS is not happy. He didn’t want to go to press until we’d identified the body.’

  Becky looked concerned. ‘My dad didn’t actually tell me. I overheard him speaking to my mother. I assumed the police were about to release the information when I wrote the article.’

  Boon suspected she was lying to protect her father, which was understandable. ‘I’m not here to have a go at you,’ he said. ‘What I need to know is, whether or not you are willing to assist the investigation.’

  ‘I’ll do whatever I can to help,’ she said.

  ‘Thanks. Did your article result in any phone calls from the public that might help us with the identification?’

  Becky leaned towards him. ‘I’ve only had a couple of calls, both this morning, but it’s early days and I’m hoping for more. One call was just someone being nosy; the other was from a woman who said she’d been an orphan at the convent.’

  ‘What else did she say?’ Boon asked.

  ‘I can’t tell you that. I have to protect my sources,’ Becky said.

  ‘I understand, it’s the same for me as a police officer. Personally, I thought your article was very good,’ Boon said, trying to gain her confidence.

  She looked pleased. ‘Thanks. I didn’t want to put the bit in about children being buried at the convent. It was my editor’s idea because he wanted to spice it up a bit.’

  ‘For what it’s worth, there’s nothing to suggest any children were buried there.’

  ‘Truthfully, I hope not,’ Becky replied solemnly.

  ‘I know the News Shopper is only a weekly paper, but you might be able to help us with a follow-up piece.’

  ‘Really. How?’ she asked, sounding eager.

  ‘My DCS is holding a press conference at Orpington later today. He’s releasing details about a crucifix we recovered which had some initials and a date on it. Hopefully, it will result in a positive identification. If it doesn’t, he’ll no doubt need to do a further appeal through the national and local press outlets.’

  ‘Do you think I could go to the press conference?’

  ‘You’re a journalist, so I can’t see why not. I’ll make sure your name is on the press list.’

  ‘Thank you so much, DC Boon. It’ll be my first press conference.’

  ‘Please, call me Simon.’

  Becky leaned forward. ‘The lady who phoned me said she still keeps in contact with one of the nuns. I’ll see if I can get her name and address for you.’

  ‘That would be really helpful, but don’t get yourself in trouble on my account. Would you mind asking her if she’d be willing to speak to me?’

  ‘Of course. I’ll call her as soon as I get back to the office.’

  ‘That would be great.’ He finished his coffee. ‘I was also wondering what made you want to become a journalist?’

  She laughed. ‘Originally, I was focused on being a fashion writer, but then I found myself drawn to investigative journalism.’

  ‘Did that stem from your dad being a copper?’

  Becky nodded. ‘A bit, I suppose. Listening to the cases he was dealing with as a coroner’s officer interested me . . . not in a gory way, though. I’ve always found it hard to understand why people commit some crimes – especially murder. Investigative journalism helps me to understand it better. And I believe journ
alists have a duty to write responsibly and help catch the perpetrators of any crime.’

  ‘There are a lot of things we have in common, then.’ Boon smiled, knowing they both still had a lot to learn in their chosen professions.

  She smiled back. ‘Yes, there are.’

  Returning to the News Shopper office, Boon waited in the foyer while Becky went upstairs and phoned her contact. It wasn’t long before she returned.

  ‘Mrs Gorman is happy to see you,’ she told him, ‘but she’d like me to be there as well . . . if that’s OK with you, of course?’ Becky smiled.

  Boon realised she was quite crafty, and not nearly as naïve as she pretended to be. He had no choice but to say yes.

  *

  Jane drove her car to Archbishop’s House. Now that she knew there was no problem with Nick, she was able to think about the future with him. She was sure her parents would approve. Her only worry was that when she introduced him, her mother would embarrass her with too many probing questions.

  She lifted the heavy brass knocker and banged it down several times. With Bishop Meade away, she had an opportunity to speak with Mrs Parkin in private. She just hoped that Mrs Parkin was unaware of the News Shopper article. The same priest she had met on Friday opened the door.

  ‘Good morning, Detective Tennison. Unfortunately, Bishop Meade isn’t here.’

  Jane smiled. ‘Yes, I know. He said he was going to a meeting in Cambridge. I’ve actually come to speak with Mrs Parkin, the archivist.’

  ‘Is she expecting you?’

  ‘Yes. Bishop Meade has asked her to assist my inquiries in identifying the nun.’

  ‘Very good. The archives are down in the basement. Please follow me.’

  They walked down the winding marble stairs which opened onto a long corridor.

  ‘Mrs Parkin’s office is just up on the right.’ The priest turned and left.

  Jane knocked on the door and entered.

  Her eyes had to adjust to the dimly lit, musty-smelling room. She was surprised how big it was, with row after row of alphabetically arranged books, binders and boxes stretching towards the ceiling and covering every inch of the dusty shelves.

  A woman was sitting behind a large desk with a table lamp. ‘Mrs Parkin?’

  ‘How can I help you?’ she asked.

  Mrs Parkin looked to be in her early forties, with shoulder-length blonde hair. She was short, slim, and smartly dressed in a white blouse with a bow at the neck and a black skirt.

  ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Tennison. I wanted to thank you personally for searching your archive records on the Sisters of Mercy Convent.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ she replied.

  ‘There were a couple of other things I was going to ask Bishop Meade about the convent so I can complete my report. Unfortunately, he’s gone to Cambridge. I wondered if you might be able to help me.’

  ‘I will if I can. I just need to pop to the ladies.’

  Jane doubted Mrs Parkin would try and contact Meade but couldn’t be certain. ‘Actually, I need to use the toilet myself.’

  Mrs Parkin smiled. ‘Follow me.’

  When they returned to the archives Mrs Parkin asked Jane how she could help her.

  ‘Bishop Meade said the convent buildings and land were deconsecrated. Do you have a record of who in the diocese dealt with it?’

  ‘It should be on the Petition for Faculty. I put it in a box with the few things I found on the convent.’ She reached under her desk, pulled out the box and looked inside. ‘Here it is. Signed and dated fifth of July 1964 by Bishop Malone. He’s our archbishop now.’ She handed it to Jane.

  ‘Would he have performed the deconsecration alone?’ she asked. She scanned the document for Meade’s name, but couldn’t see it.

  Mrs Parkin pulled another document from the box. ‘This solicitor’s letter also confirms it was Bishop Malone. He’s currently in Rome helping to organise the Pope’s visit to the UK. I’m hoping to get an introduction when he visits London,’ she beamed.

  ‘Would he have dealt with the exhumation and removal of nuns’ bodies to another grave site?’

  ‘Yes. There’s a document in here about that as well.’ She showed it to Jane.

  ‘Could I have copies of these documents for my case report, please?’

  ‘Of course.’ Mrs Parkin walked over to the copier.

  Jane thought about Thomas Durham and Lee Holland and what they might be hiding. ‘If other bodies had been uncovered by the builders during the original redevelopment of the convent, would they have had to notify the diocese?’

  ‘Most certainly yes . . . and also the council. They would also have to apply for another Petition for Faculty, then the bodies could be moved and the ground deconsecrated.’

  Jane thought about Father Chris’s suggestion that a layperson might have been involved. ‘Do you keep records of any builders or handymen who worked at the convent?’

  ‘We don’t keep their names, if that’s what you mean. However, we do keep receipts regarding repair work and estimates, which would have gone through our buildings department.’

  ‘Would you have receipts relating to the Bickley convent?’

  ‘Possibly, but they would be stored in a separate section of the archives and might take a while to find.’

  ‘I’d be grateful if you could have a look when you get a chance, and let me know if you find anything,’ Jane said.

  ‘Jot down your phone number on my notepad,’ Mrs Parkin said, pointing to the pad on her desk. ‘Is there anything else I can help you with?’ She handed Jane the copies of the documents.

  ‘About the fire, do you know how it started?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Might there be any records?’ Jane asked, recalling Meade telling her Mrs Parkin had given him the details of when and where the fire occurred.

  Mrs Parkin looked in the box and removed a document. ‘Just this. It’s a letter from the diocesan solicitors to the developers.’

  Jane read it. The only mention was a line stating that a fire had occurred in August 1962, damaging several uninsured outbuildings and the school beyond economical repair. Jane realised Meade could have the letter but wondered how he knew the fire had started in the bakery and destroyed all the convent documents.

  ‘There’s nothing else about the fire?’

  ‘Not that I could find. You’d be better off speaking to Bishop Meade. He knows more about it than me.’

  Jane didn’t want to press Mrs Parkin. From what she said, it seemed Meade knew a lot more about the fire than he was letting on and was trying to distance himself from it. Jane changed tack.

  ‘I assume when the convent closed the children were moved to another orphanage.’

  ‘Yes, but I doubt they would all have gone to the same one.’

  ‘Would you have a record of their names and where they were sent?’

  ‘Unfortunately, we don’t. Bishop Meade did ask me to look, but it appears the convent never passed the details on to the archives, which was most remiss of the Mother Superior in charge. Then again, with all the distress and upheaval of the convent closing, she might just have forgotten.’

  Jane wasn’t so sure and wondered if the records had been passed on but had then been destroyed by Meade. ‘Do you know who the Mother Superior was?’

  ‘No, it appears all the nuns’ personal records were destroyed in the fire as well.’

  ‘Did any priests live at the convent when it was open?’

  Parkin frowned. ‘Of course not, that would be most irregular.’

  ‘Would a local one visit or help teach at the school?’ Jane asked.

  ‘That wouldn’t be uncommon. St Mary’s is the nearest Catholic church to the old convent. Father Floridia is the current priest. He’s a lovely man – unlike some of the misery guts out there. You know, I’ve never heard anyone say a bad word about Father Floridia.’

  Jane nodded. ‘I’ve had the pleasure of meeting him. He introduced
me to Bishop Meade. As a matter of interest, would you have a record of the priests who worked at St Mary’s in the fifties and sixties?’

  Parkin’s eyes narrowed. ‘Can I ask why you need all this information?’

  ‘The coroner wants us to explore every possible avenue to try and identify the nun found in the unearthed coffin. He’s a stickler for making sure we do a thorough job.’

  Mrs Parkin nodded. ‘Well, we wouldn’t want to upset him. Give me a second while I look in the St Mary’s archives.’ She walked down a long row of bookshelves and out of sight.

  Jane didn’t hear the door open but jumped when she heard someone behind her cough to get her attention. She turned sharply and saw the young priest.

  ‘I’ll have to ask you to leave, Detective Tennison,’ he said in a firm voice.

  ‘May I ask why?’ she said, suspecting the News Shopper article had been brought to his attention.

  ‘I have just spoken with Bishop Meade. He is most displeased to learn that you neglected to make him aware you are investigating a murder. He feels you have deceived the Church by your actions and will be informing Archbishop Malone. Under the circumstances I think it’s best you leave.’

  ‘Fair enough. Please tell Bishop Meade my detective chief superintendent will be in touch with him to explain our position,’ she said, surreptitiously folding the copied documents and tucking them in her pocket.

  The priest followed her to make sure she left the building.

  Mrs Parkin returned to her desk empty-handed and looked around for Jane. ‘Why does everything keep disappearing round here!’ she muttered to herself.

  *

  On the drive to Mrs Gorman’s house in West Wickham, Becky asked a lot of questions about the investigation. Boon tried to confine his answers to things she would already have known through her father.

  ‘Do you reckon someone connected to the Church was involved?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to wait and see what the investigations turn up.’

  ‘Come on, Simon, we both know it’s got to be someone who lived or worked at the convent,’ she insisted.