‘What’s the lad like, Sarge?’ asked Linda Collins.
‘He was in shock, obviously, but he comes across as a bit naïve, simple even. When I was taking the statement from him, I asked him whether he’d tried to render first aid. He dismissed this because he’d not been trained in first aid and, anyway, in his words, “I didn’t like to because I’ve never touched a nun before.”’
‘Neither have I, Sarge, but it wouldn’t make him a bad person if he did!’ offered DC Tom Rogers, the office clown, to peals of laughter.
‘Yes, thank you for your contribution DC Rogers,’ said Pratt dismissively, ‘This isn’t Workers’ Playtime.’
Pratt continued, ‘The young man’s account is corroborated by Mrs Aldis in her statement. She was in the kitchen virtually all day.’
He surveyed the team over his spectacles. ‘By the way, a typed copy of these statements will be in the incident room. I want you all to read them in full. And, I know I’m repeating what the governor said, but I stress this because it is of the utmost importance. Everything must pass through the incident office, so they have the most up-to-date picture.’
He continued, ‘Next, we have the statement of the butler, Raymond Jenkins. He states he was cleaning the interior of the Rolls Royce and was carrying out some maintenance on the vehicle for most of the day. He went to the garage around 7.30am and stayed there, apart from going back to serve breakfast in bed to his lordship at 9.30am. A couple of times during the day he went to his own apartment in the house for meals. Around 4.30pm he drove into Colchester to make a few purchases at the wine merchants, before returning to the Hall about 5.10pm. He had dinner in his apartment with his wife Adina. About 5.35pm he went to the dining room of the Hall, where he set about replenishing the decanters. About 6.00pm, young Davidson ran into the room to report finding the victim.’
Cooper turned to Ian Mills, saying, ‘Ian, we need to make an enquiry with the person who served Mr Jenkins at the wine merchant’s. If they remember him, it would be good to get a statement to corroborate the time of his visit. Also, we need to know whether he was alone or had somebody with him.’
Pratt nodded and continued, ‘We have yet to get witness statements from the cleaners and Adina Jenkins, his lordship’s nurse.’
‘Name sounds foreign,’ said Rogers, stating the obvious.
‘Well done, Sherlock,’ mocked Ian Mills. Rogers’ face reddened.
‘Right, Brian, what about Stephen Savage who owns the spade?’ asked Cooper. ‘He states he was working on spare ground next to the summerhouse, doing some digging. He left the spade dug into the ground about 3.30pm and went to his workshop. At 4.15pm two women called Baker visited him by arrangement and they went into the greenhouse to get flowers for a wedding. They stayed with him until 5.30pm. He then went home.’
‘And he didn’t go back to the summerhouse at all that day?’
‘No, governor.’
‘OK. In due course, we’ll need to speak to the Baker sisters and get a corroborative statement from them.’
‘Will do, governor. Linda, I want you with me this morning at the Hall,’ said Pratt, ‘We’ll see if we can get those outstanding statements.’
‘Tom and I will call in at the wine merchant’s,’ said Mills, nodding to Terry Cook. ‘So, mark that enquiry down to us please, Terry.
‘OK,’ said Cooper, ‘unless there’s anything else, folks, that’s it for now. Let’s get on.’
The meeting having concluded, Cooper made his way to his office and, having first grabbed a cup of tea, he sat down at his desk facing a large pile of paperwork. It was a fact of life that, whether the DI was running a murder or not, the flow of routine paperwork was relentless.
A knock came on the door and Cooper looked up to see Jane Stewart.
‘Come in, Jane, close the door and take a seat.’
Jane was a couple of years older than Cooper. She had been in the force for twelve years and Cooper knew her well. She was five feet ten inches tall and, although she was what some might call “big boned”, she was a handsome woman with auburn hair styled in a bob. Cooper knew she possessed a lively sense of humour and was a popular member of the force. Though he also knew her to be something of a worrier.
‘Welcome aboard, Jane. This is a bit of a departure for you, being attached to the CID. Think you’ll enjoy it?’
‘I’m sure I will, governor.’
‘Well, for what it’s worth, we’ve worked together before and I know you are more than capable. I’m going to attach you to Ian Mills. Anything you are not sure about, just ask him or Brian Pratt. OK?’
‘Will do. Thank you, governor.’
Cooper could see Jane had a very troubled look on her face.
‘Would you do something for me, Jane?’
‘Yes, governor.’
‘Just remember that there’s nothing in law that says you can’t do your job well and have fun while you’re doing it.’
She smiled, ‘Thanks governor.’
Jane left the office. The next officer to arrive was Linda Collins, who stood in the doorway. Cooper looked up from his desk before she had the chance to knock on the door.
‘You wanted to see me, sir?’
‘Yes, Miss Collins, come in and take a seat.’
Cooper hadn’t really been able to take a good look at her during the meeting as she had been seated behind a desk, but here she was standing before him: She was twenty-nine years of age, around five feet eight inches in height – shorter than Jane, but still quite tall for a woman – and of slim build. She had black hair, tied back in a french roll. Brown eyes and an exquisitely pretty face. She was smartly dressed in a two-piece, dark-grey suit, underneath which was a white, open neck, blouse. In short, Linda Collins was stunning.
‘I understand you were in the Wrens. Is that correct?’
‘Yes, sir. Three and a half years, in all.’
‘What did you do?’
‘I was in Portsmouth for training, at first, then Gosport, as a radio operator. After that I was posted to Malta, where I worked mainly in the radio room on shore.’
‘Then after you were demobbed, you joined the police. How much service have you got in?’
‘About four years now, sir. I was stationed at Chelmsford and then I was posted to Colchester just after the amalgamation.’
‘Dealt with much crime?’
‘Shoplifters and domestic assaults. That’s about all really.’
‘And now you want to be a detective?’
‘Yes, sir. I would relish the challenge of being on the CID and I’m sure you’ll find that I am a hard worker.’
‘What gave you the idea?’
‘Well, I’ve always fancied myself as a detective from the day I joined. But it was Mr Stockwell who suggested my secondment to me, sir.’
‘Really? Well, let’s do our best not to disappoint him, shall we? I’ll attach you to DS Pratt who’ll be your first line supervisor. Anything you don’t understand, make a point of asking him or DS Mills, OK?’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘Once again. Welcome aboard.’
Cooper had two new and welcome additions to his team. He suddenly felt invigorated.
*
‘Jeremy, what the bloody hell is going on down there?’
Her ladyship was on the telephone, having been tipped off by a friend about the murder of Sister Margaret.
She was in full rant and his lordship knew it was best just to say nothing, and let the rant blow itself out before daring to open his mouth.
‘Why didn’t you call me and let me know what had happened?’ asked Fanny. ‘Don’t I have a right to know?’
‘Well, I knew you were busy up in town and I didn’t want to disturb you, my darling,’ said Jeremy, pathetically.
‘You know I was dead set against the
idea of that woman staying at the Hall from the very first.’
‘I needed her expertise, darling.’
‘I told you though, didn’t I? I knew she’d be trouble,’ scolded Fanny. ‘Her and her superior attitude, turning her nose up at me. She was a complete bitch.’
‘Oh, do please keep a modicum of respect, my darling. The poor woman’s just been brutally murdered.’
‘She probably opened her bloody mouth once too often.’
Jeremy was shocked at this diatribe and momentarily lost for words.
‘Why didn’t you just go to church like normal people?’
‘Well, I needed more than that, my precious.’
‘And who paid for all her food and drink? Answer me that?’
‘She didn’t eat a lot, dear; anyway, noblesse oblige, what?’
‘You’re a fool, Jeremy! A fool!’ shouted Fanny. ‘You just let people take advantage of your good nature.’
‘Well, anyway, when are you coming home, dear?’
‘I’m not. I have things to do up here in town.’
‘But the police may wish to see you,’ said Jeremy.
‘I can’t imagine why they would want to see me, but if they do, they can come here, can’t they?’ She slammed down the receiver.
Jeremy sat alone in the study in his wheelchair. He wondered why he had ever married the bloody woman.
*
‘Good afternoon, gentlemen,’ said Jenkins, as he opened the front door of the Hall to Cooper and Pratt. ‘His lordship is expecting you. If you’ll come with me, I’ll take you to him.’
The officers followed the butler through the ground floor of the house to the study, which was at the rear of the building. The room was light and airy, and there were large french windows, which afforded a view onto the terrace and gardens. Cooper caught sight of the summerhouse, which was only about thirty yards away across the lawn. As they waited, he stood and inspected the framed photographs that were on the mantelpiece of a high stone fireplace. There were several pictures of a young man in uniform, whom Cooper took to be the late Honourable “Teddy” Roding, but there was not one of the current Lady Roding. He thought it rather strange.
They were soon joined by Lord Roding, and, following introductions and the offer of tea, they all sat down.
‘Tragic circumstances, my lord.’
‘Yes, indeed, Inspector. Sister Margaret was a good woman and an immense help to me. She’d been with us for a couple of months and we had become very used to her being around the place,’ said Jeremy.
‘What was her purpose for being here, my lord?’ asked Cooper.
‘Well, with my illness, I now have a lower expectation of life extending beyond more than a few years. Naturally, I have prayed, and I have managed to find solace in Jesus Christ. I find the true “Lord” gives me comfort.’
Oh no. Not another God-botherer, thought Cooper, but instantly scolded himself for his cynical lack of compassion.
His lordship produced a handkerchief and blew his nose loudly. ‘I am making it my mission to convert to Catholicism, and, to that end, following a consultation with my school friend, Monsignor Tarquin Crecy, I was able to secure the help of Sister Margaret, who came highly recommended and rightly so.’
‘If we should need to speak to him, where could we find Monsignor Crecy, my lord?’
‘I have his address in London, Inspector. That is, I have his place of employment. He works from an office in Westminster Cathedral. I’m sure they could put you in touch with him,’ said his lordship.
‘Only, we’ll want to know more about Sister Margaret’s background. Put simply, we need to know who we’re actually dealing with,’ explained Cooper.
‘I see. I’m sure Tarquin could answer your questions for you. He’s a very kind and resourceful man.’
‘How did you get on with her, my lord?’
‘Very well. She was at my side almost constantly and she was a great comfort to me. It was a little difficult with her at first because I did have some trouble understanding her accent and so did the staff. But we became more used to it over time, and I helped her with her English pronunciation. She was due to return to Rome next month, but, alas, that will no longer happen, poor girl.’
‘Obviously, we need to know where everybody was at the time of the murder. Would you please tell us your movements during the day, yesterday, my lord?’
‘Surely, you don’t regard me as a suspect, Inspector?’ said his lordship, defensively.
‘No, my lord. Not as a suspect. But, then again, we have no suspect at this stage of the enquiry, and we need to establish where everybody was and whether anyone saw anything suspicious; that kind of thing.’
The explanation seemed to pacify his lordship, and he gave his account, albeit reluctantly.
‘My day started at around 9.30am, when I received my breakfast tray, which was brought to me by Jenkins. While I was eating, I received a visit from Adina, my nurse, who came to administer some medicine and she remained with me for a short while. Later in the morning, Sister Margaret came and sat with me for an hour or so. I was tired after a restless night and so I decided I would remain in bed.’ He continued, ‘That put Sister Margaret at something of a loose end, so she said, as it was such a fine day, she would go into the garden to continue with her painting. She was a very talented artist, you know. It’s so sad. I had it in mind to offer to speak to my wife to see if she could get some of her work exhibited.’
‘And where was Lady Roding, my lord?’
‘She was at our London address in Bedford Square. She has her work at the art gallery in Kensington during the week.’
‘Did you speak to the sister after she went out into the garden?’
‘No. I’m sorry to say, that is the last time I shall ever see or speak to her. In this life, anyway.’ He began to weep. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector. Who could have done such a thing? She was only a slip of a girl.’
When he had composed himself, his lordship’s account was taken down by Pratt in the form of a witness statement. Cooper then informed him that they would like to make a detailed forensic search of Sister Margaret’s bedroom. Although his consent was not a requirement, his lordship agreed that, under the circumstances, a thorough search of her room was entirely necessary. On the instructions of his lordship, Jenkins led the officers to an upper floor where they came upon a young constable, who, having been tasked to stand guard, had clearly made himself comfortable and was sitting outside the bedroom reading a copy of Moriarty’s Police Law.
As if embarrassed that he had somehow been caught out, the constable leapt to his feet. ‘Good morning, sir. Just studying for the sergeant’s exam.’
‘That’s all right. I’m pleased to see it son. Everything quiet up here?’
‘Yes, sir. Nobody has been near or by apart from Emily and her sister: the two girls who do the cleaning.’
‘You didn’t let them enter the victim’s bedroom, did you?’ said Cooper, only half joking.
‘No, sir.’
‘Good man. How long have you been here?’
‘I’ve been here since taking over from the night-duty man at 6.30am,’ said the young constable, buttoning his tunic.
‘Good,’ said Cooper, ‘We are going to carry out a search of the bedroom when Scenes of Crime arrive. Will you enter us on the log and give me the key, please?’
‘Yes, sir.’ The constable handed over the key, took a pencil from behind his ear and wrote the details down on the log book, as instructed.
‘And while we’re carrying out the search you can nip round to see Mrs Aldis in the kitchen for ten minutes and get a well-earned mug of tea.’
‘Thanks very much, sir.’
Cooper turned to Pratt. ‘Brian, will you just go down and look for Brendan? We won’t enter the room until you return.’
He waited and chatted with the constable for five minutes or so until Pratt ascended the stairs with Brendan Withers and one of his colleagues. They were laden with metal cases, cameras and other paraphernalia.
After unlocking the door, Withers and his colleague entered the room. Remaining outside and not wishing to get in their way, Cooper poked his head through the doorway to observe their activity. As expected, the sister’s bedroom was quite spartan in content and layout. It was a single-sized bedroom with a high dormer window, and with just enough room for a single bed, small wardrobe and dressing table. It was basically a cell with enough available floor space to fit in a small rug.
Following a short briefing by Cooper about the parameters of the search, Withers and his colleague began examining the various surfaces of the furniture and fittings, in a search for fingerprints and blood.
‘Right, Brendan, I’ll leave it with you,’ said Cooper, ‘Brian and I have got a post mortem to go to.’
Pratt’s face fell. This was news to him. He hated attending post mortems and Cooper knew it. It wasn’t a fear of dead bodies per se, after all, he had seen plenty of them in his time. No, Pratt’s tolerance altered the day he went to his first post mortem held for a child. This came within a year of Pratt and his wife Marjorie losing a child in infancy. He found that he was unable to remain dispassionate and the experience had totally floored him.
Since then, Cooper had consciously followed a policy of trying to get Pratt to as many post mortems as he could to break his aversion to them. However, Cooper had decided that, henceforth, he would cover any child cases himself.
They walked, in silence, back along the gravel drive towards the Wolseley, and Cooper could sense Pratt was mentally preparing himself, so he grabbed the keys from his sergeant and got behind the wheel. They set off through the country lanes to get back into the town, and, during the drive, Cooper thought he might try to diffuse the tension.
‘Did you notice that pair of pink, frilly knickers lying on the floor of the bedroom Brian? Methinks there’s more to our nun than meets the eye.’
Devotion to Murder Page 4
