Forgive Me Father

by Paul Gitsham

  ‘What else?’ asked Sutton.

  ‘There are a total of eleven leaves missing from the pad. Two were found elsewhere in the room; a shopping list in the back pocket of a pair of trousers, and a list of what we’ve confirmed are horse-racing fixtures from a couple of months ago down the back of the bedside table. There was no sign of the nine missing leaves, however there were impressions left on the pad, and this is where it gets interesting.’ He opened a series of images on the iPad, each showing the same piece of paper, but under different filtered light.

  ‘Using alternate light sources again, they found indentations matching the suicide note, and they also found two other attempts at it. Both were in Father Nolan’s writing, but both had mistakes.

  ‘Because he was drunk?’

  ‘We can speculate. But there’s more. A third set of indentations, with the same words ‘Forgive me Father, for I have sinned’, but printed in block capitals and in a different person’s handwriting.’

  There was a pause whilst the team digested that thought.

  ‘So basically, what we are saying, is that Father Nolan was made to write his own suicide note; but he was so inebriated that somebody else had to write the words down for him to copy?’

  ‘Yes. There were also traces of petrol caught in the paper fibres, where the pad and the note had been handled; there were no such remnants on the sheets found in his room. The concentration was too low to suggest that paper had been doused in fuel, or even had any spilled on it, more likely Father Nolan had traces of petrol on his hands from handling something with petrol residue.’

  ‘Such as the petrol can found at the scene?’

  ‘Entirely possible.’

  A disturbing picture of Father Nolan’s last hours were starting to emerge.

  What had initially looked like a tragic suicide, was now appearing much more sinister. The priest had drunk whiskey laced with his own medication. He had then been escorted, probably semi-conscious, to the undercroft where he had been made to write his own confession, before being doused in petrol and set alight. His killer then returned to his room and placed the note prominently on the man’s dresser.

  The degree of planning alone gave Warren pause for thought.

  * * *

  Warren was sitting with Sutton in Grayson’s office again. Unfortunately, Grayson was due to brief Assistant Chief Constable Mohammed Naseem in the next few minutes, and so hadn’t offered either man a cup of his coffee.

  ‘Take me through what we have.’

  Warren quickly brought him up to speed on the latest forensic developments.

  ‘So the killer probably returned from the chapel to place the suicide note on the dresser in Father Nolan’s room? And did so without being seen by the two kids that reported the fire?’

  ‘Yes, which narrows the potential routes that killer must have taken. They couldn’t have exited the chapel by the front door without being seen, so must have left via the rear entrance near the altar, which means they could then have walked unseen back to the house. It isn’t possible to exit the undercroft directly.’

  ‘And Rodney Shaw is still the main suspect?’

  ‘Yes. We are also trying to find a homeless person called Lucas Furber who was arrested for causing a disturbance in the abbey grounds some months ago, and who seems to have issues with the church, but Shaw is looking the most promising. His alibi for that night is collapsing around his ears as we speak.

  ‘We also know that the killer used a second set of keys to relock the chapel and the undercroft, so that they could leave a set with Father Nolan and make it seem as though he locked himself in there. Rodney Shaw has his own set of keys. On top of that, he has full access to the retirement home and can move around largely unnoticed. His footprints have been found around the fire exit that we believe Father Nolan was taken through.’

  ‘Circumstantial, and easily explained away by defence counsel,’ warned Grayson.

  ‘I agree. However, we might now have a sample of the killer’s handwriting, that we may be able to match to him. I’d also like those missing sheets of paper, but they could have been disposed of in any one of a dozen ways by someone like Shaw.’

  ‘What’s your plan?’

  ‘Full forensics on the likely routes between the house and the chapel. If Father Nolan was stumbling around drunk and drugged, he and his killer may have left fibres and other trace evidence along the route. We have samples of some of Shaw’s clothes from the search in relation to the thefts for comparison.’

  ‘What else? You have enough to arrest and question again, and to do another search explicitly to look for evidence in relation to the murder, but unless he confesses I’m not seeing enough to charge. If you need to bail him at the end of the interview, you’ve just tipped him off.’

  Warren gave a sigh.

  ‘You’re right. We’ve seen no signs that he’s planning to flee, or that he thinks his previous arrest was for anything other than those thefts, so I don’t think he’s a flight risk. Let’s continue testing his alibi. We should also be able to find a sample of his handwriting for comparison purposes.’

  ‘Are we going to tell the church that it’s now a murder case?’ asked Sutton. ‘It’s all very well us not wanting to tip our hand by arresting Shaw, but the killer is still out there. The residents of that home – or the community at large for that matter – could be in danger here.’

  ‘A fair question,’ said Grayson; he looked troubled. ‘That’s a decision for ACC Naseem to make, I think, but I’ll pass on your concerns.’

  Grayson looked at his watch and stood up.

  ‘I’ll tell Naseem that we have two potential suspects. Let’s talk again tomorrow and decide if we should arrest.’ He paused. ‘Of course there’s still one more unanswered question. Of all the things to make Father Nolan write on his suicide note, why “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned”?’

  Sunday 1st March

  Chapter 28

  The rattling of Warren’s phone against the bedside table was enough to awaken him from his slumber. Beside him, Susan mumbled something before rolling over.

  A quick swipe quietened it. ‘One moment,’ he whispered as he disconnected the charger and tiptoed out of the room.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you, sir.’ Warren didn’t recognise the voice at the end of the line; he glanced at the phone’s screen: 5.30 a.m.

  ‘Not to worry, the alarm goes off in half-an-hour anyway.’ At least, it did for him; Susan liked a lie-in on a Sunday.

  ‘There’s been a body found.’

  Warren felt a surge of excitement, mixed with dread, his tiredness suddenly evaporating.

  Generally speaking, there were plenty more officers further down the food chain than Warren who would be called to attend a scene before him, unless there was reason to suspect foul play, especially at such an early hour, on what was technically Warren’s rest day.

  ‘I’ll be right there.’

  * * *

  Hastily erected mercury lights illuminated the scene, chasing away the remnants of the night’s darkness; the rattle of the portable generators shattered the early dawn quiet.

  ‘A group of students found him at about two-thirty. They were staggering back from town and decided to take a short cut.’ The uniformed sergeant pointed to a group of four young people huddled next to a police van. Dressed for a night out, rather than an early morning on a riverside towpath, the two women and two men shivered under police-issue blankets. All four of them had swapped their shoes for plastic booties and were sipping hot drinks from a thermos flask.

  ‘Have they been processed?’

  ‘Yeah, they’re still a bit pissed but the adrenaline and cold have sobered them up enough for a preliminary statement.’

  ‘Take me through it and then we can run them home. Let them get some shut eye before we get them back in later.’

  The officer flipped back through his notepad.

  ‘As I said, the witnesses were walking along the r
iverbank after a night out. They’re third-year students living in digs up by the Chequers estate. It’s not the safest route home, but it’s a significant shortcut and they were in a group of four.

  ‘One of them, they’re not sure who, spotted something lying underneath the bridge. When they realised it was a body, the two lads clambered down the bank, whilst one of the lasses phoned an ambulance. The water’s not very deep, but it was moving quite quickly. When it became obvious that the body was face down in the water and probably dead, they gave up trying to get to it. Probably sensible, otherwise we’d be dealing with three fatalities, not one.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I arrived, along with PC Abis. He secured the scene and took preliminary statements, whilst I saw the body recovery team in.’ He motioned towards the van parked on the verge then checked his notebook again.

  ‘They arrived at quarter past four, and sent a team in to secure the body; it was wedged between some rocks, so it isn’t going anywhere. They’re waiting for full light before they retrieve it. Scenes of Crime reckon that any evidence that was going to be washed away will have already been lost, and another couple of hours won’t hurt.’

  The Crime Scene Manager was no doubt correct – and they needed to keep their team as safe as possible – nevertheless Warren chafed at the delay. He could imagine fibres, DNA and other clues disappearing down the river.

  ‘They managed to have a look at the body and saw it was an elderly, white male. When they spotted the dog collar, I figured we’d better call it in to you guys right away.’

  Chapter 29

  The body in the river had undergone preliminary identification by 10 a.m.

  Alarm bells had started ringing when Father Gerry Daugherty failed to appear at breakfast, and then missed Sunday service. Bishop Fisher turned an unhealthy grey colour, and Warren had to take his arm and lead him to a chair when Baines confirmed the priest’s absence.

  Warren had already seen a photo of the deceased man in the river and it was clearly the same person in the photograph on Father Daugherty’s bedroom wall.

  More damning was the note, sitting on the wooden dresser.

  ‘Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.’

  ‘Another suicide? Why?’

  Warren said nothing. It was clear that the time was approaching when it would be necessary to reveal to the public that Father Nolan’s death was a murder rather than a suicide, but that wasn’t Warren’s call to make. In the meantime, it was important to treat this as he would any other unexplained death, leaving open the possibility of suicide, murder, or as unlikely as it seemed on the face of it, accident or natural causes.

  Baines also looked shaken.

  ‘Can you think of any reason that Father Daugherty might take his own life?’ asked Warren.

  Both men shook their heads.

  ‘Father Nolan had a history of depression and mental illness. What about Father Daugherty?’

  Fisher paused. ‘Father Daugherty was taken ill a few years ago with nerves.’

  ‘Was that before or after he became a resident here?’

  ‘Before.’

  Warren looked at the retired bishop carefully.

  ‘Was that the reason he retired?’

  The brief snapshot of the late priest’s life, relayed to him by Baines, suggested that like his former colleague Father Cormac Nolan, he was younger than normal when he gave up his ministry.

  ‘In part,’ allowed Fisher.

  ‘The death of Father Nolan was a tremendous blow to our community,’ said Baines. ‘It is always possible that those already depressed or in spiritual pain may have been more affected than was first obvious.’ He looked toward Fisher. ‘I’m very sorry, Your Grace, I should have prioritised the care of our community, rather than wasting my time chasing this supposed thief.’

  Warren decided not to acknowledge the sly dig in his direction.

  Fisher dismissed the man’s apology with a wave of his hand. ‘We have all been failing in our pastoral duties.’

  * * *

  The additional afternoon briefing was packed, not least because DSI Grayson was the person who’d called it.

  ‘I’ve just been on the phone to Assistant Chief Constable Naseem. There is obviously going to be speculation from the public about the circumstances surrounding the death of Father Daugherty and any possible link to Father Nolan last week.

  ‘The identity of Father Daugherty has not yet been released to the press, but the fact that the victim is a priest has already made it onto social media, no doubt courtesy of the students who found him.

  ‘Currently, Father Nolan’s death is still being portrayed as a suicide.’ He paused. ‘For operational reasons, that will not be changing in the immediate future.’

  Around the room, officers shifted uncomfortably. Warren couldn’t blame them. He’d been a silent party to the conference call between Grayson, ACC Naseem and the press office earlier that day and there had been a vigorous debate about whether they had a duty to inform the public that a murderer was likely within their midst. On the one hand there was the public safety aspect; on the other, the potential benefits from not tipping off the killer. Added to that, the complication of how exactly to answer direct questions from the press.

  In the end, a compromise had been agreed upon: Father Daugherty’s death would be described as ‘unexplained’ for the time being, until a likely cause had been established. Questions concerning any link between the two deaths would be deflected for now, however, the true nature of Father Nolan’s death would be released to the public in the next twenty-four hours.

  That gave Warren and the team another day where the killer might still think that he or she had got away with it. He was determined not to waste it.

  ‘Rodney Shaw doesn’t usually work weekends. Find out what he was doing last night, and if he has an alibi.’ Mags Richardson nodded her agreement. ‘Again, pull in any CCTV and ANPR records,’ Warren continued, ‘and cross-reference with the data from the night of the fire.

  ‘Hutch, you and your team have got to know the retirement community pretty well, and the surrounding neighbourhood. See if you can find out anything new, but bear in mind what DSI Grayson said, make sure the team don’t let the cat out the bag about any suspicions.’

  ‘Will do,’ promised the Geordie sergeant.

  ‘Rachel, start scrutinising Father Daugherty’s past. Look for any overlap between the two men, besides their place of residence. Chivvy along the Social Media Intelligence Unit and get them to prioritise searches related to either man or the retirement home.’

  ‘I’ll get right on it. I was expecting a preliminary report soon, I’ll ask them to extend the search parameters.’

  ‘Moray, did the students who found Father Daugherty have anything else to contribute when you interviewed them earlier?’

  ‘Nothing, sir. They were all pretty hungover when I spoke to them and couldn’t remember anything new.’

  ‘Probably a bit of a stretch,’ admitted Warren. He remembered the state they had been in that morning. With that he dismissed the team and headed back to his office. On the way, Tony Sutton joined him. The older man looked at Warren carefully, but waited until the office door had closed before saying his piece.

  ‘It wasn’t your decision to make.’

  There was no need to elaborate on which decision he was referring to.

  Warren sighed. ‘I know, Tony. But I could have said more during the conference call with ACC Naseem.’

  ‘Don’t take this the wrong way, Chief, but I think you’re too far down the pecking order for your opinion to have carried much weight.’

  Warren smiled briefly. ‘Thanks. I think.’ His tone sobered. ‘The problem is that I can’t help wondering if the killer of Father Nolan has struck again, because he thinks he got away with it the first time. And if that’s the case, and we don’t announce a murder investigation soon, will the killer will strike again? Inside that retirement home are a couple of
dozen vulnerable, elderly people. Are we gambling with their lives?’

  Chapter 30

  The press conference had been unusually busy for a Sunday evening. Held at Welwyn HQ, there had been no unoccupied seats.

  It wasn’t surprising. The death of Father Nolan had been gruesome and tragic and involved an organisation often viewed by the public with both fascination and suspicion. News of a second death had editors scurrying to cover the story, no doubt hoping for something similarly juicy.

  So far they had been disappointed. DSI Grayson had followed the script, merely confirming that the cause of death was as yet unknown and stating that they were keeping an open mind as to any link between the two deaths. When asked directly about the investigation into Father Nolan’s death, his answers had been non-committal and devoid of any substance. He’d again appealed for any witnesses to come forward.

  Much to Warren’s relief, he hadn’t needed to attend. Warren’s appearance at the previous press conference for Father Nolan had established that he was SIO of that investigation; having him sitting next to Grayson would run the risk of prematurely confirming a link between the two cases. Besides which, it meant that Grayson got all the attention, a fact snidely pointed out by Tony Sutton.

  Despite the paucity of new information, the assembled reporters had pounced on every detail and the conference was headline news on every news bulletin that night, and the top story on every newspaper website. By the time Warren checked his email one last time before going to bed, there had been two reports of freelance photographers being detained for trespass, after they were caught scaling the abbey’s perimeter wall. In addition, some enterprising reporters had worked out Warren’s likely email address and contacted him directly for a quote, bypassing the press office. One of the grubbier tabloids had even hinted at a willingness to ‘compensate him for his time’ if he took them up on their generous offer for their paper to enlist their readers in helping the police.