Cherringham: A Deadly Confession

by Neil Richards

  “And if I wanted to find her?”

  “Over by the raffle table. She can see all the stalls from there.”

  Jack smiled. “Under her watchful eyes? Thanks — I may have to come back for some more scones. They are … addictive.”

  Sister Julienne blushed.

  And Jack headed over to the raffle table.

  *

  Sarah thought that this was a bit … odd.

  The fête going on just as normal, under a brilliant spring sky. And yet, someone near and dear to the convent had died just days before.

  Could be simply because they really needed the money — times were hard here, she could tell, from the main house in need of repair, the cracked tarmac of the driveway, damaged roofs, and the windows that appeared to be missing curtains.

  Still — she wasn’t sure exactly what she was supposed to be doing here.

  Just stop someone, ask them about the departed priest?

  She hoped Jack was having better luck.

  Which is when she felt a strong tug on her sleeve.

  “Mum!” Daniel behind her.

  He wore a sprinkling of white powder on his upper lip.

  “Doughnut?” she asked.

  “Just one. But Mum, I’ve been doing what Jack said, walking around listening really well.”

  Oh no, she thought. Jack’s created a monster. My very own Sherlock Holmes Junior.

  “Yes, and…?”

  Daniel leaned close, now conspiratorial.

  “There’s not just nuns here, Mum.”

  “Right, Daniel everyone is invited to the fête.”

  “No, I mean living here. At the convent. There are ordinary people too. I heard one of them talking to one of the nuns. Talking about their retreat, now that the priest was dead. See—” Daniel pointed. “Over there, that woman in jeans. She’s living here.”

  Sarah quickly reached out and gently pushed Daniel’s incriminating finger point down.

  “Don’t point, Daniel. Well, I told you that this place is also a retreat house, as well. A place to pray, meditate. So I’m not surprised—”

  “But if there are ordinary people here, then what if one of them is the murderer?”

  God. At least he’s whispering, Sarah thought.

  “Daniel, we don’t know—”

  “And maybe there are others here…”

  She put a hand on her son’s shoulder.

  “Okay. Good work. We know that retreaters are here. Feel like doing some more listening?”

  “You bet!”

  “Great. On with it then. And, oh Daniel…?”

  “Yes?”

  “No more doughnuts.”

  He grinned at that — and she had to as well.

  Then Sarah looked around for Jack, wondering whether he might be learning anything at the fête.

  *

  Jack spotted what had to be the Mother Superior, standing by herself, arms folded as if she was a burly football coach, eyes locked on her team.

  Formidable was the word that occurred to him, even from here.

  Memories of his days as the not best-behaved student at St. Vincent Ferrer came flying back at him.

  He never had a police captain as tough as St. Vinny’s Sister Elizabeth, back in Flatbush.

  He took a breath, planted what he hoped was a warm smile on his face, and steeled himself for the approach.

  The nun turned to him as he walked up.

  “Sister Mary Bryan?”

  “Yes,” she said. His smile failed to elicit a matching one from her grey wrinkled face.

  Jack looked away, as if taking in the bustle of the busy fête, while actually dodging the nun’s withering stare.

  Old habits die hard…

  “Lovely day for your event…”

  “Yes. Easter Monday. The Lord has provided a beautiful day.”

  He turned back to her. “Indeed God has. I was wondering…”

  And what he really wondered was whether the woman sensed what was coming. He guessed that his “American Detective” label had become pretty widely known in Cherringham. But did that apply here as well, in the cloistered atmosphere of the convent, tucked away on the edge of the village?

  “Wondering if I might talk to you about Father Byrne?”

  “May he rest in peace,” Sister Mary said, arms still folded.

  “Yes. I imagine you’ll have the funeral this week?”

  “Why?” her voice laced with suspicion. “Did you know him?”

  Jack shook his head.

  Thinking: Maybe Sarah would have been better handling this one.

  “No. Not at all. An old friend of his did speak to me though, Liam O’Connor.”

  The nun shook her head, dismissive, but held her tongue.

  “Guess,” Jack continued, “Liam wondered how that could have happened to his friend.”

  Now it was the nun’s moment to turn away, maybe a bit of a reveal there, Jack wondered?

  “The doctor who attended confirms it was a fatal heart attack, Mr.—”

  “Jack.”

  “All that running he did, gallivanting around the world…”

  Her tongue finally loosened.

  “But that’s just it, Sister, he was a runner, and ran marathons all around the world.”

  The woman was silent for a moment as if she hoped Jack might withdraw.

  Then: “Yes, he ran, and apparently had a heart condition, for which he took medication. Not surprising to me.”

  Jack felt that the ground had shifted, and he was finally in his element, going toe-to-toe with the head nun.

  “You see, Sister Mary … that’s just the thing. If the doctors had cleared him to run, and his medication kept his ticker working okay, it — well, I’m confused. That make sense?”

  Jack wasn’t sure Sister Mary got what he was saying. He wondered if the head nun here at St. Francis might have a secret or two of her own, along with those of the departed Father Byrne…

  “I’m wondering,” Jack said, “if I might see where Father Byrne lived?”

  “The rectory?” she said, as if the idea bordered on the scandalous.

  “Might help me get an idea how this happened. His belongings still there?”

  The mother superior nodded, but didn’t immediately agree.

  Probably weighing whether it was something she should do.

  “And — I’m sure it would reassure his friend Liam. If I just had a look?”

  Then, with another scan of the fête, she looked again at Jack with a stony face:

  “Very well. No harm in that. I imagine…”

  She’s not at all sure about that…

  And Sister Mary led Jack away from the raffle table, towards the drive which led back to the rectory.

  5. The Good Father’s Room

  Sarah looked around for Jack.

  Besides learning that there were — apparently — three lay people staying on a retreat — thanks to Daniel! — she had found out little else.

  One cheerful nun operating — of all things — a candy floss machine seemed all smiles until Sarah mentioned Father Byrne’s name.

  Sarah introduced herself.

  “Sister Evangeline,” the nun responded quietly.

  The nun kept twirling the paper funnel to gather the floss but the smile had faded.

  “I’m afraid, I didn’t really know him. He served mass for us. Heard our confessions.”

  From what Sarah had found out Byrne could have done with someone to hear his own confession, for multiple reasons.

  “He seemed healthy though?”

  The nun nodded, handing a full pink cloud to one wide-eyed boy, while preparing another.

  “A runner, he was. This has been a shock to us.”

  “I can imagine…” Sarah said.

  Another look around the grounds.

  Where was Jack?

  Back to Sister Evangeline.

  “And Father Byrne didn’t appear to have any … enemies?”


  That made the nun pause.

  And not answer the question.

  “If you don’t mind, I must tend to my machine here, the children.”

  That was clearly an escape tactic, as Sister Evangeline seemed to have been doing a good job up to now of dispensing the candy floss and talking. Sarah smiled, nodded.

  Though she got no information, she had felt something.

  Was Father Eamon Byrne the beloved runner priest, or was there more to the picture, still hidden?

  At that point, Daniel came running up

  “Candy floss. Can I have one of those, Mum, please?”

  Sarah laughed. “If you really must, Daniel. I think I’ll—”

  Her phone buzzed.

  A text from Jack.

  “Join me at the rectory?”

  How did he ever talk his way in there?

  She turned to Daniel. “I’m just going to be up at the rectory for a while, Daniel—”

  In full detective mode, he said, “I’ll come too!”

  She shook her head, pushing his hair off his forehead.

  God, how she loved that boy.

  “No. You get some candy floss.” She leaned close. “Keep your cover story, eyes peeled, ears open, got it?”

  “Sure!” Daniel said, sounding suddenly like an American.

  Ah TV…

  And Sarah walked back up the drive towards the rectory

  *

  The front door of the stark brick building was open and as she entered, Sarah picked up a scent of … what?

  Incense, candles? Not being much in the way of a churchgoer — even her parents weren’t that devoted — the Catholic world was definitely foreign to her.

  Jack had said he was here — but where?

  Finally, halfway down the long dark hall she called out.

  “Jack? You in here?’

  Nothing. She peered up a narrow staircase which led, she guessed, to the bedrooms.

  Another step or two, and she thought of another staircase, in that terrifying film by Hitchcock.

  Then again: “Jack?”

  “In here, Sarah.”

  Jack’s voice cutting through the gloom and candle smells, and Sarah now hurried along the dark corridor.

  The hall carpet she noted, was frayed, the colours faded. Like everything else she had seen here, it was in dire need of updating.

  At the far end of the corridor she could see an open door, light spilling onto the dark corridor. Religious paintings lined the walls leading the way there as Sarah hurried.

  And just as she reached the open door, a nun came out, like a fairground attraction primed to scare her.

  “Oh,” Sarah said. “Sorry—I—”

  But the woman — unlike her charges running the fête, an old nun with so many cracks and lines on her face, outlined by her habit — stepped aside, and said stiffly, “He’s inside.”

  Sarah smiled, which did nothing to break the woman’s icy look, and Sarah moved past her to see Jack.

  Sitting at an old battered desk.

  And, across from the desk, a small chest, drawers open. By the window, a small wooden table with a black book — Byrne’s missal perhaps? — and a laptop.

  But Jack was looking at the drawers.

  He turned and smiled at her. She guessed — considering his background — that this wasn’t such a strange world for him.

  “Everything okay outside?”

  Sarah nodded. “Daniel’s,” she looked back to the nun, standing guard, “having a good time at the fête.”

  She could tell him later about the retreaters here.

  “Good. Sister Mary here, the Mother Superior, was kind enough to let me look at Father Byrne’s office.”

  Then Sarah noticed something arrayed on the top of the chest of drawers. Tickets of some kind, a bunch of them. And a few envelopes open, examined, their contents sloppily re-stuffed.

  “So,” Jack said, “Found this. Know what it is?”

  Jack handed her a watch.

  The Mother Superior had re-entered the tiny room, the air close with the three of them there.

  “They took that off the Father before he was taken away,” she said.

  Sarah looked at the watch. Then she saw a name. She looked down at Jack.

  “It’s a Garmin. You think it’s his running watch?”

  “Press that side button,” he said, reaching up to the watch.

  She pressed her thumb against where he pointed, and a symbol of a heart began blinking.

  “Heart monitor,” she said. “With GPS.”

  Jack nodded. “Precisely. Someone who ran as much as Father Byrne, especially with a heart condition, would want something exactly like this to monitor how he was doing.”

  “All that running,” Sister Mary said dismissively, not afraid to show her disapproval.

  Sarah turned the watch to the back. A small port there.

  And she understood why Jack wanted her to come and meet him. The watch might hold clues to Father Byrne’s last run. She handed the watch back to Jack and waited for him to make the next move.

  “Sister Mary,” said Jack, holding up the watch. “I wonder if I could borrow this? It might help with understanding what was happening with Father Byrne’s heart.”

  The nun took a breath, a sigh that had her crossed arms rise and fall. Sarah imagined that she just wanted all this to go away.

  But then … Sister Mary nodded.

  “All right. I don’t see why not. But let me have it back, won’t you?”

  “I’m very grateful,” said Jack.

  “Hmm, I’m sure,” said Sister Mary. “And now — I have to see to the fête. All those young nuns need supervision, you know. They don’t understand that this is a fund raiser.”

  Then, almost to herself… “Just how much we need the money.”

  “Thank you,” Jack said. “We’re done here, I’m sure so,” he smiled. Sister Mary seemed impervious to Jack’s charm but that wasn’t stopping him from trying… “we’ll come back with you. Spend some more money and help things along.”

  Not a hint of a smile back from Sister Mary.

  Just a “Good.”

  And she turned and led the way out of the house.

  As they walked down the corridor behind the nun, Sarah caught Jack’s eye: he handed the watch over to her.

  “This should tell us pretty much everything,” she said quietly.

  “If,” Jack said, “it was simply a heart attack.”

  They emerged into the daylight, a relief from the dark atmosphere of the rectory, and walked back down the drive towards the convent.

  “Soon as we can get away from here then — let’s take a look at that last run…”

  “Rendezvous at your office?”

  “I’ll drop Daniel home — and see you there.”

  She watched as Jack headed for his car.

  Time to find her son.

  *

  The fête seemed to be doing a booming business as people from Cherringham and neighbouring villages strolled around the stalls.

  She finally spotted Daniel, playing a bowling pin game the nuns had set up on a corner of the car park, away from the main action.

  She watched him taking his time with a wooden ball as if preparing for a game-saving penalty at the World Cup.

  He was definitely all-boy … but he had an intensity about him. And, she had to admit, a lot of his father’s drive.

  That could be a good thing, that intensity.

  But it was something she noticed … and watched.

  She let him roll the ball, expertly taking out the three remaining standing wood pins.

  The nun running the attraction clapped her hands together and said: “Bravo. Well done, indeed.”

  Sarah came up to her son, who quickly reached down to the grass and retrieved a stuffed monkey wearing a brimmed cap.

  “Mum — look what I won for you! And I just won another ticket!”

  Sarah took the monkey whose goofy f
ace — eyes wide, mouth grinning crazily — seemed a perfect fit for this odd afternoon.

  “Why, thank you. You can never have too many stuffed monkeys.”

  Another boy, standing behind Daniel, came up for his ‘go’ at the pins, now being reset by the enthusiastic nun.

  “Daniel, about ready to leave?”

  He nodded. Then—

  “Mum, while you were inside, I followed those people…”

  Sarah had already started walking back to the car, only half-listening to Daniel.

  “What people, Daniel?”

  But her son stopped and pointed, way over at the raffle area, a crowd now gathering.

  “See them? Those three people there, the ones who live here, with the nuns.”

  Sarah nodded.

  Right. The retreaters.

  “They’re here for some peace and quiet, Daniel. That’s all.”

  Sarah could make out a woman, two men.

  “But Mum, Jack asked me to look around. And they’ve been walking around together, just the three of them. And every time they talk, it’s like they put their heads together, all secret-like.”

  Definitely too much TV.

  She turned to him. “Great, Daniel. I’ll be sure to tell Jack. You never know.”

  “Good.”

  And with that Daniel seemed appeased.

  But as she walked, Sarah now looked at the trio and saw something that seemed obvious.

  Exactly what Daniel had seen.

  They were bunched together. They were looking around.

  And her eyes on them now…

  They did lean into each other, talking — it seemed — as if they didn’t want anyone else to hear.

  More steps, her eyes still on them.

  And the thought that maybe, just maybe Daniel had indeed spotted something strange.

  Simply people on a retreat, she had thought.

  But who are they? Why are they here?

  And could it have anything at all to do with Father Byrne?

  So many questions — and reaching the Rav-4, pressing the electronic key to unlock the doors — she realised … not a single answer in sight on the crisp, blue-sky day.

  6. The Last Run

  By the time Sarah reached her office in Cherringham’s main square, Jack was already there, waiting at the front door.

  “Sorry,” she said, unlocking the door and letting him in. “Daniel was hungry so I had to make him some quick cheese on toast. Then when Chloe saw his, she wanted some too…”