A short while later, a note having been duly delivered, Superintendent Tom Stockwell emerged from the council chamber. He had assumed the need for him to leave the event was for a good reason and he appeared in quite good spirits. Was that a whiff of Scotch Cooper could smell on his breath?
‘Good evening, Albert. What brings you here?’
‘A murder, sir. At Beaumont Hall.’
‘Not Lord Roding, I hope,’ said an alarmed Stockwell, ushering Cooper into a side room.
‘No, a house guest. In fact, it was a nun, sir. Beaten to death with a garden spade. I thought I’d better inform you. I wouldn’t want you to be asked questions about it later and be taken by surprise.’
‘Quite right, Albert. Thank you. Good God! What is the world coming to? Has anyone been arrested for it?’
‘No. Not yet, sir, I’m afraid. We haven’t any suspect either. I hate to say it, but I think this one might go on for some time.’
Cooper then explained the circumstances in more detail. When they had finished their discussion, Cooper agreed that he would further discuss the case with the superintendent the following morning.
Cooper returned to Beaumont Hall and caught up with Brian Pratt.
‘Most members of staff have made a witness statement now, governor, but we haven’t taken one from his lordship yet. I think he’ll want you to be present when he does make one. It’s something to do with rank, I think. He mentioned it when I went to speak to him in his room, although, to be fair, I think he’s still in shock. He was in bed all day and unable to provide anything useful other than the fact that the deceased was a house guest who was giving him spiritual guidance.’
‘Really? ‘said Cooper sceptically.
‘Yes. Apparently, she was helping him convert to Catholicism. Anyway, I took the liberty of assuring him of your presence when we finally put pen to paper.’
‘Thank you, Brian. Were you able to carry out any house-to-house enquiries?’
‘No, unfortunately we weren’t, governor. There are no other premises directly overlooking the Hall, so it wasn’t possible. One or two of the staff live in tied cottages on the estate itself, but they and their families have been interviewed. The next nearest houses are over a mile away.’
Cooper looked across the lawn to the scene that had been illuminated and covered by a large tent. He could see that, within it, the Scenes of Crime officers were still carrying out their examination of the victim’s body, which remained in situ.
‘OK Brian. We’ll let the servants go home now. After Scenes of Crime have finished we’ll need to keep the scene and her bedroom guarded overnight. I will see his lordship for a more detailed chat tomorrow. The briefing of the team will be first thing tomorrow morning, in the CID training room, after I’ve been to see Mr Stockwell to update him. Can I leave you to spread the word?’
‘Will do, governor.’
Cooper then cadged a lift back to town with one of the uniform police cars, leaving the Wolseley with Pratt. After booking off at the police station, he checked his watch and realised there was no chance of his grabbing a late pint as it was past closing time and even the governor of his local, the Hole in the Wall, was averse to doing “afters” on a Tuesday. Cooper decided to go straight home to try to get a good night’s sleep. No bad thing, he thought to himself. He would need clarity when he started in earnest the following morning.
2
DAY TWO
Wednesday 13th July 1949
‘I’m glad you told me about this last night, Albert. The more I think about it, the angrier I get. It’s outrageous! outrageous!’ said Superintendent Stockwell at the top of his voice.
‘A nun murdered on our patch. What is the world coming to?’
‘Grim times indeed, sir,’ said Cooper.
They were standing in the superintendent’s office, which was still located in the town hall. The Colchester Borough Constabulary, of which they had been proud members, had just been subsumed into the Essex Constabulary and the power base had shifted to Chelmsford.
The superintendent had been the head of the old force, and, in the process of amalgamation, he had suffered a reduction in status, but, whatever politics lay behind the change, the ethos of the old borough force was still intact. It remained steadfastly independent and any acceptance of change by the staff would not happen quickly.
‘We must find the person responsible and clear this up, or we won’t hear the last of it.’
‘Well yes, quite, sir.’
‘And another thing, it seems that the East Anglian Recorder have got a hold of the fact that a nun has been murdered on our patch. Some woman called Munson. How did that happen, do you think?’ said Stockwell pointing an accusatory finger.
‘I don’t know, sir. It didn’t come from our side, I can assure you.’
‘Well, I damned well hope not.’
Cooper was quietly seething, and he wasn’t so sure. If one of my lot have made themselves busy, I’ll kick their arse all around the car park.
‘I had the Munson woman on the phone first thing this morning. To be fair to you, Albert, were it not for the fact that you kept me informed, I would have been completely nonplussed and made to look as if I have no grip on what goes on in my own force’s area. I told her we had no comment to make at this stage,’ said Stockwell, who continued, ‘This investigation, do you think you could handle it yourself?’
‘Me, sir?’
‘Yes, you, man. You have the necessary investigative experience, and, who knows, a successful outcome might give you a chance to project yourself for higher rank.’
‘Well, I’m pleased you have faith in my ability, sir, but won’t Essex Headquarters have something to say about it?’
‘Just you leave them to me Albert. It’s a matter of principle. We don’t want the Metropolitan Police or anyone else’s murder squad treading all over the borough, do we? We are still quite capable of managing our own affairs.’
‘Well, of course, sir.’
‘Tell me, how many staff do you think you would need?’
Cooper thought out loud. ‘Oh, an incident office manager, DS Mills would be ideal for that; a couple of office staff on the inside; and I’ll need DS Pratt and six detective constables on the outside enquiry team. That should be enough for now, sir.’
‘Well, I can give you most of them. We do have other crimes in the borough to deal with. As for the constables, you can have four instead of six, and two of them will be female officers on secondment from the Women’s Police Department: WPC Jane Stewart and WPC Linda Collins. Both are good officers. Miss Collins is particularly bright. She served in the WRNS [Women’s Royal Naval Service] during the war. Regard it as a kind of experiment. I want to see how women would get on with serving in the CID.’
‘Very good, sir. I must just also tell you I have already taken the liberty of informing the coroner about the case?’
‘Who is the coroner these days?’
‘Doctor Cunliffe, sir. He was quite content with the situation when I spoke to him.’
‘Very well, then. Keep me posted on any progress, will you, please.’
‘Yes. Thank you, sir.’
Cooper had been dismissed.
Well, that was remarkably painless, he thought, as he left the superintendent’s office. He’d anticipated getting much more of a grilling than he’d received.
He felt surprised and quite chuffed that the boss had expressed such faith in him. On the other hand, he thought, could it be that I’m being set up as a possible scapegoat should it all go to rat shit? He decided to take a positive attitude to the appointment and tried to dismiss any thoughts of failure.
‘Well, that’s a feather in your cap, Alby, my lovely,’ said the boss’s secretary.
Her sudden outburst made him jump. He hadn’t seen her lurking behind the superintendent�
�s office door.
‘Bloody hell Mavis!’ he said through gritted teeth.
‘You been listening at the door again, nose ointment? He’ll catch you at it one day, you know.’
‘Just being attentive,’ she said. ‘You know how much I care about you boys. Besides, if he invested in one of those intercom things I keep asking for, I wouldn’t have to creep around half as much as I do.’
Cooper chuckled to himself as he left the management suite.
Nosy mare! he thought.
Mavis was a very attractive woman, it had to be said. About thirty-five years old with blonde hair and a good body, long shapely legs and an ample bosom. She had lost her husband during the war and she was still on her own. Mavis had a good handle on the office gossip and she liked to think she held a position of power. People in the force were loath to upset her; she knew it and played on the fact.
A few of the men fancied their chances with her, including Cooper himself, although he had never been tempted to ask her out. He was very wary of women. As a single man, he was quite entitled to throw his hat into the ring, but he shuddered at the thought of what could happen to his career should any personal relationship with her turn sour. For now, he just played along in a state of mild amusement and flirtation.
On leaving the town hall, Cooper crossed the High Street to “Sadie’s”, his aunt’s greengrocery shop. Sadie was serving behind the counter as usual.
‘Morning auntie!’
‘Keep your voice down! It does nothing for me image you know, letting customers hear I’m old enough to be your aunt.’
Sadie was a widow and a mere twelve years older than him.
‘What time was it this morning, then?’
‘Been up since 5.00am to take the delivery from the market. Jim normally does it, but he’s in hospital with appendicitis.’
‘Bloody hell, Sadie! I don’t know how you do it.’
‘At my age. You mean?’
‘No. Now I didn’t say that, did I?’
‘No, I know. Just teasing. I’ve got good workers who can usually take care of things, so I can get a couple of hours on the settee in the afternoon. That’s not going to happen today though. Never mind.’ She yawned into her clenched fist. ‘Anyway, have you spoken to Brenda yet?’
‘Blimey. Here she is again with her Brenda!’ said Cooper, with mock indignation. ‘No, I haven’t managed to identify her yet. I’m beginning to wonder if she really exists or whether she’s some figment of your imagination. Have you actually met the girl yourself?’
‘Not as such, but, from what I hear from speaking to her mum, she would be ideal for you, Alby. She even works at the police station.’
‘Yes, I know. You told me, but I haven’t been able to place her yet.’
Sadie was always trying to steer him in the direction of, what she always referred to as “nice girls”. For some time, she had been talking about her friend’s daughter, Brenda. Unfortunately, Sadie wasn’t good on detail and the only Brenda he knew at the police station was a woman who worked in the canteen and was in her late fifties. All right for her age, but she was heavy on the lipstick and, given the state of her teeth, if she had a white one, she’d have a snooker set. He certainly wasn’t going to get involved with her.
‘Anyway, auntie, apart from the early start, everything all right?’
She threw an apple to him, ‘Yes, thank you, ducks!’
He had little time to stop for a chat, so he left her and dived straight into Fred’s Café next door, where he indulged in his morning ritual of an egg sandwich. Fred, who was standing behind the counter with the ever-present fag hanging out of his mouth, acknowledged him with a nod and a smile. ‘We’ve had a murder then, Alby? The papers are over there if you want to find out more about it.’
Fred was well known for his dry sense of humour. Cooper laughed. ‘Thanks Fred. It’s where I get most of my information from.’
He ordered his sandwich and a mug of tea and sat down at one of the tables. He picked up an abandoned copy of the local paper, which was lying on a nearby counter. Splashed across the front page in large letters was the headline “Nun murdered at Beaumont Hall”. He read the article, which, disturbingly, contained quite a bit of detail purportedly penned by one Gladys Munson. It provided no clue as to the reporter’s journalistic source. As he read the article, he began to understand the superintendent’s anger. Where the bloody hell had she got all this information from? It was disturbingly accurate. After eating his breakfast, Cooper got up from the table, and, as was his habit, he took his cup and plate back to the counter.
‘All right if I take the paper with me, Fred?’
‘Help yourself, Alby. Just make sure you get the bastard!’
Cooper walked around the corner to the police station, entered via the front door and climbed the stairs up to the main CID office, where some officers were busy at their desks and one was using the telephone. Those who saw him enter the room stood up.
‘As you were. Finish off what you’re doing, folks. We’ll kick-off the briefing in a couple of minutes.’
The team consisted of two experienced detective sergeants, in the persons of Ian Mills and Brian Pratt, and four constables, two of whom were the trainee detectives, Jane Stewart and Linda Collins. After they had finished their tasks they gave Cooper their undivided attention.
‘Thank you, ladies and gents. Before we start, I’d like to welcome Miss Stewart and Miss Collins who will be acting as temporary detective constables on secondment. Welcome aboard, ladies. Please come and see me for a chat after the meeting.’
After these greetings, he ran through the circumstances as far as they were known. He then issued a warning: ‘All evidence and information must be passed through DC Terry Cook in the incident office. He’ll keep me up to speed.’ All eyes focussed on Terry Cook, who was sitting at a desk at the rear of the room. He acknowledged them with a perfunctory salute.
Cooper continued, ‘You may be aware that we’ve already had some coverage in the East Anglian Recorder, which was worryingly accurate. However, it doesn’t name the source of the information. So, it comes to this: nobody in this room is to speak to the press, whether they are local or otherwise, without my say so. We need to be very careful about what detail goes into the public domain. If I find out anyone from within the force has talked to the press without authorisation, there will be major consequences, and by that, I mean dismissal!’
‘Bloody hell. They were quick off the mark, governor,’ said Pratt.
‘Yes, they were, Brian, but I was going to say that the information in the paper, detailed as it was, had to have come from someone who had attended the scene. I strongly suspect it may have been a member of Lord Roding’s staff,’ Cooper continued, ‘OK. So, moving on, these are our priorities, ladies and gents. Before we run through witness statements taken from the staff at the Hall yesterday, I’ll detail the urgent enquiries we need to get covered. Firstly, we want to know more detail about our victim and why she was staying at the Hall. I’m hoping the information from Lord Roding and a search of her room might provide us with this, and it could well be key to solving the case. We need to establish the motive for this murder. I’m hoping if we can do that, it will provide us with a clue as to the identity of the killer.’
Cooper turned to Pratt. ‘Brian, I want us to cover the victim’s room this morning. So, will you notify Brendan Withers at Scenes of Crime and tell him we’ll meet them at the Hall at 11.00am, please? We will require them to carry out a full forensic search of the bedroom.’
‘Yes, governor.’
‘The post mortem needs to be covered, so I’ll do that,’ said Cooper. ‘when we get a time from the pathologist. Right, search of the grounds. We were unable to carry out a search of the grounds before it got dark last evening. Sergeant Scott and his team were out this morning at first light. They found noth
ing in the garden or grounds, and there was no sign of the exit route taken by our murderer in the long grass.’
Cooper then turned and addressed his remarks to DS Mills.
‘Ian, I want the incident office to remain, for now, up at the village school. We’ll run it there for a week to see if we can pick up on any of the local gossip. After that, we’ll have to reassess the need for it to be there, as twenty-four-hour security would be quite a commitment for the uniform branch.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘One last thing before Sergeant Pratt summarises the witness statements: Mr Stockwell, the superintendent, has just told me he wants us to handle this enquiry entirely ourselves. That is, without importing a murder-investigation team from outside to take over from us. It’s quite a vote of confidence, in my opinion.’
The room erupted with ironic cheers.
‘I thought you’d be pleased with that. So, we’ll try not to let him and ourselves down then, eh? Now, listen in, boys and girls. There is a lot to do. Over to you, Brian.’
‘Thank you, governor,’ said Pratt. ‘Sister Margaret, was a house guest at Beaumont Hall, which is the home of Lord and Lady Roding. Her body was discovered on the ground outside the summerhouse, in the garden, by a kitchen porter named James Davidson. He estimates this to have been around 6.00pm. She was still alive when he found her, but she died after only a few minutes. We believe that she had been struck around the head and neck with a garden spade; this was found nearby. For now, we have young Davidson as the last person to have seen the victim alive. He also said he’d been sent out to speak to her earlier, by Mrs Aldis, the cook, to ask her what she wanted for her dinner. That would have been about 4.25pm. Apparently, at the time, she was doing some painting in the doorway of the summerhouse and she was OK. After he had found her on the floor later, he ran back to the house to get help and the cook, Mrs Aldis, tried to resuscitate her, but it was too late.’
Devotion to Murder Page 3
