‘Somethings going on,’ said Rogers, ‘I can feel it in me water.’
‘What are you going on about now, Tom?’ said Jane Stewart.
‘Well for a start, I saw Brian Pratt and Linda Collins go into the boss’s office about half an hour ago, and they shut the door behind them. They’re still in there. I put me ear to the door, but I couldn’t hear anything.’
‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you Rogers, you’ll end up getting the sack,’ said Ian Mills, who had just joined them at the CID table in the canteen.
‘If it helps to satisfy your curiosity, the office meeting’s going to be attended by Mr Stockwell and before that the governor wants us to have a short meeting to discuss something else,’ said Mills.
‘What’s that going to be about, Sarge?’ said Stewart.
‘There’s been a breakthrough of some kind, I think.’
After tea, the team filed down to the training room where they found that Cooper, Pratt and Linda Collins were already present and awaiting their arrival. Linda looked tense. Jane walked up to her and placed a friendly arm around her shoulder.
‘You all right, my lovely?’
‘Yes. Fine thanks, Jane.’
‘Come in folks, take a seat,’ said Cooper, anxious to get started. ‘We’ve something to discuss before Mr Stockwell arrives.’
After they had got themselves seated at the conference table Cooper opened the meeting. ‘Right, as you know, Linda here has been with us for a couple of weeks having been posted from the Women’s Police Department, and that was on the insistence of Mr Stockwell. When I first saw him about staffing the enquiry, I asked for six detective constables. As we are short on the division he wouldn’t let me have that number, but he offered up Linda and Jane to help us with the investigation. Linda has since been to see me as she has been worried about something that has been troubling her. She has found herself in a difficult position and she wants to tell you about it herself. Over to you, Linda.’
‘Thank you, governor.’
There was a brief pause as Linda gathered herself. The others were on the edge of their seats brimming with curiosity. She spoke slowly, deliberately and almost teasingly.
‘Before I tell you, I want you all to know that I really enjoy working with you and I hope that you’ll forgive me for not telling you this earlier. But it’s difficult and I hope that it won’t change things between us.’
‘What is it then?’ said Rogers.
‘It’s the fact that… Superintendent Tom Stockwell is my uncle.’
‘Thank God for that Linda!’ said Jane, ‘I thought you were going to tell us that you’re pregnant!’
‘Oh. Thanks very much, Jane!’ Fortunately, Linda saw the funny side of the remark and in a mixture of humour and relief, she burst out laughing.
The comment punctured the tension in the room and they all laughed.
‘Is that all? Bloody hell! You had me going for a minute,’ said Rogers.
‘You can choose your friends, but you can’t choose your family, Linda,’ said Mills.
‘Just thought that I ought to let you know, that’s all. Just in case you found out some other way and thought that I was a spy in the camp,’ said Linda.
‘Don’t be daft,’ said Jane.
‘The teas are definitely on you later, then,’ said Rogers.
‘Tom, if I must do your typing for you, we’ll call it evens.’
‘Fair dos,’ said Rogers.
‘Good. So, that’s that out of the way then. We carry on as before,’ said Cooper.
‘Absolutely,’ said Jane.
‘Is that the breakthrough we’ve been hearing about?’ said Rogers.
‘No, Tom. There’s more to tell. Wait until Mr Stockwell arrives. While we have a couple of minutes, if anyone needs the lavatory, now is the time to go.’
The girls left the room.
After another five minutes, Superintendent Stockwell arrived in the training room and they all stood as a sign of respect. As they did so the members of the team all looked at Linda Collins and gave a mischievous smile.
‘Good morning, ladies and gentlemen, thank you, please be seated. Over to you Inspector.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Cooper, ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we will have a longer and fuller meeting this morning. I want to take stock of where we are with the investigation and the outstanding enquiries that have yet to be completed. Also, there have been two things that have happened in the last couple of days that we need to make you aware of, not least of which are the so-called “press leaks”. Mr Stockwell has something to say to you on that subject. So, I will hand you over to him.’
‘Thank you, Inspector. By the way, smoke if you want to, ladies and gentlemen.’
Mills, Pratt and Stewart all lit up.
‘As you know, there has been an unfortunate series of leaks to the press, which have culminated in the name of a suspect being published in the East Anglian Recorder this morning. I know that you are all aware of that development and that, this morning, you were told to ignore the name “Bernard Connelly” for the purposes of this investigation. The suggestion that anyone with this name is responsible for the murder is totally erroneous. I can now tell you that my secretary, Mavis Dockree, has been suspended from duty regarding the leaks, and the matter is under investigation by Headquarters. I am telling you this now to clarify the situation for you. There is compelling evidence against Mrs Dockree, but I am not at liberty to say any more to you than that.’
Stockwell then appealed to his audience.
‘But, I want you to think on this. Unfortunately, this series of leaks undermined not only what you were doing but you as individuals. It’s a sad fact, but you were all under suspicion. This kind of thing creates bad feeling and a toxic atmosphere in the workplace, and in extremis it can put officer’s lives at risk. Anyway, it has now been dealt with, and I want you to know that I am proud of the team and have faith in you all. Now let’s put this unfortunate situation behind us and see if we can get our murderer. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. It’s back to you now I think, Albert.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
The team broke into a spontaneous round of applause and Cooper thought that he could see a moistening around the eyes of Mr Stockwell as he left the room.
‘OK, I will just reiterate what the boss said then. The press do not have a right to know how we managed to solve this problem. Mr Stockwell and I will deal with it if any potential conflict arises from the situation. In fact, we’re due to have a press conference at 4.00pm. I anticipate that, as far as the press are concerned, we’ll have to manage a certain amount of disappointment.’
‘Finally, and before we move on to general matters, and I make no apologies for repeating myself here, nobody is to speak to the press on any issue, and if you are approached, I expect you to come to me or one of the sergeants in my absence.’
‘Right. You’ve had the gypsies warning.’
*
The press conference would be the final stage of the operation to plug the leak. It was decided that advanced details were to be disseminated to the various press organisations by Ian Mills working from the sheaf of telephone logs that had been completed by the front-office staff when fielding the many telephone enquiries that morning. He had to remain steadfast and stick rigidly to the script over the telephone, as, in some cases, the recipient of the advanced details, tried to pump him for more information. The conference was to be held in magistrates’ court number three, which would be vacant as the court would have no normal business scheduled for the day. Stockwell prepared a form of words as a statement to be made at the press conference:
“Essex Constabulary are currently engaged in a murder enquiry to identify and bring to justice the killer(s) of Sister Margaret, a Carmelite nun. The murder was committed on Tuesday 12th July 1949, in the grounds of Beaumont Hall, a
stately home in the village of Beaumont-cum-Moze. The name of a man called Bernard Connelly has been brought to our attention as a possible suspect for the murder in this morning’s edition of the East Anglian Recorder Newspaper.”
Cooper considered that the choice of Colchester Magistrates’ Court, as the venue for holding the press conference, was something of a masterstroke. Apart from the fact that it was available space, the very purpose of the building would hopefully instil some discipline into what was likely to be a volatile event. However, to be sure, a section of uniformed officers would be on hand to deal with anyone who became inordinately exercised.
Brian Pratt was acting as the usher, as the doors were opened by him at 3.45pm. The fact that he was nearly injured in the stampede led him to shout out, ‘Please take it easy, ladies and gentlemen. There’s plenty of room for all. Let’s have fact on the right, fiction on the left!’ One or two groaned at this merry quip. Gladys Munson had turned up with a colleague. She was looking rather smug and had ensured they could grab a couple of seats in pole position on the front row.
At 4.00pm precisely, Superintendent Stockwell, somewhat magisterially, entered the court with Cooper, and he took the chair usually occupied by the chairman of the bench. Cooper sat alongside him. Stockwell had also taken the prudent decision to have a court stenographer present in the room to record the proceedings.
‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. May I have your attention, please?’ said Stockwell. He introduced himself and Cooper, and then went on to explain their reason for being there. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, we have called a press conference today to deal with the matter of a person, one Bernard Connelly, who has been named as a suspect in our investigation into the murder of Sister Margaret. This revelation was led by the East Anglian Recorder, in their morning edition, with some fanfare.’
‘Mr Stockwell, my name is Richard Timmins of the Argus. Can you give us some more specific detail on this development?’
‘No, Mr Timmins. We can’t give you anything. We simply have nothing to give you.’ said Stockwell.
There was an audible gasp from the assembled members of the press and the room erupted.
‘But the public have a right to know!’ shouted a voice from the back of the room, with outrage and indignation.
‘I couldn’t agree more, sir,’ said Stockwell, who was warming to his task. The tactic was working. They were starting to bite.
Gladys Munson, who having penned the article for that morning, felt it incumbent on her to challenge Stockwell and force “the truth” out into the open. This was her moment, so she got to her feet.
‘Superintendent, I am Gladys Munson of the East Anglian Recorder and I am the author of the piece to which you are referring. Are you denying that you have arrested a man called Bernard Connelly for the murder of Sister Margaret?’
‘Yes, I am. Perhaps you can tell us more Mrs Munson? For instance, how you managed to come by this information?’
‘Well, as I’m sure you know, Superintendent,’ said Munson, who was playing to the gallery, ‘I am under no obligation to divulge the details of journalistic sources.’
‘Quite right, too. But if your source has any other information that might help our investigation, I am sure that we would be most grateful to them for their assistance. After all it is a citizen’s duty to help the police,’ said Stockwell with heavy sarcasm.
‘We understand that Bernard Connelly works as a gravedigger at St Saviour’s Catholic Church in Beaumont. Are you saying that you have never heard of this man?’ said Munson, who was not prepared to give up easily.
‘That’s exactly what I am saying. This is a name that we do not recognise. We have no Bernard Connelly in custody, nor does any such person have a bearing on the investigation of this murder,’ said Stockwell, vehemently.
‘Anyway, that’s all for now. Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, when we have some information to give you, we will let you know.’
Stockwell and Cooper both rose from the bench to walk out of the court.
The anger in the room was palpable. Much of it was directed at Gladys Munson and her “silly provincial rag”.
The press had been well and truly stuffed. But, would it end there? Was this fiasco a story, in itself?
Cooper followed Superintendent Stockwell from the court and out through the connecting door, into the magistrates’ retiring room. As they reached the sanctuary of the back room he saw Stockwell punch the air.
‘God! I enjoyed that, Albert!’
This man, who had once seemed so dour and defeatist, was going up in Cooper’s estimations.
15
DAY FIFTEEN
Tuesday 26th July 1949
The national newspapers had a field day at the expense of the East Anglian Recorder. The criticism of their provincial cousins was largely over the fact that they didn’t appear to have carried out any due diligence to verify what their source had told them and had simply taken it as being totally reliable. In fact, Munson had spoken so highly of her informant, emphasising their level of placement and access, that her editor had allowed himself to be bullied into immediate publication. Furthermore, he was so intent on stealing a march on his competitors that he had taken a reckless punt on the veracity of the information. He and Munson were about to pay the price.
So, it was the turn of the national newspapers, led by the Daily Sketch, to make their own enquiries to try to get to the bottom of the suspect named as Bernard Connelly. They were certainly not going to take the word of mere country coppers. They were convinced that there was a story to be distilled from the mess presented by the Recorder.
There was only one place to go to pursue their interest, St Saviour’s Church, where Gladys Munson had stated that the suspect Bernard Connelly was employed as a gravedigger.
It was midday and several members of the press were camped outside St Saviour’s. Some had taken it upon themselves to ring the doorbell of the parochial house, and on each occasion the door had been opened by the housekeeper, Mrs. Maloney. She had flatly denied that there was anyone employed at St Saviour’s called Bernard Connelly and denied that there were any priests in the house, before she slammed the door. Disgusted, she crossed herself on both occasions for her sin and walked to the foot of the stairs where she shouted up to Father O’Leary. ‘You can’t hide in your bedroom forever, Father!’
‘Yes, I can,’ whispered O’Leary, ‘and keep your voice down, they’ll hear you.’
After working in the vestry due to having been tipped off about the arrival of the press by the housekeeper, Father O’Leary, had left the church through the crypt and had sneaked into the house via the back garden. He had since been hiding in his room. Various reporters and camera men had been camped on his doorstep since early morning and the front doorbell had been ringing off the wall. Father Thomas O’Leary was deeply disturbed by all the attention. What on earth would his parishioners think? He only had himself to blame. He had been flattered when first contacted by Cardinal O’Mara and had readily obeyed when he had sworn him to secrecy. Father O’Leary knew that his old friend held a position of influence in the Vatican, as it was said that he carried out the projects that Pope Pius XII would entrust to no other. O’Leary now regretted the fact that hubris had stopped him from telling his bishop about the presence of Sister Margaret in the village. Although he could have done nothing to have prevented her murder, Irma Caro, a young Swiss woman who was in a strange land, had been entrusted to his care. Despite her being an adult, she was an innocent, so he was firmly of the view that he was expected to act in loco parentis. He had failed her and consequently he felt very guilty about the situation.
O’Leary decided that he would send a telegram to the Vatican requesting that the Cardinal contact him urgently. As for the bishop, he could wait.
*
Lord Jeremy Roding was sitting alone with a rug over his knees and
a jug of Pimm’s on the table at his side, the content of which was down to its last couple of inches. It was a fine, still, sunny afternoon and Jeremy was seated in the shadow cast by the summerhouse. Although it was the middle of the day, it was almost as if his lordship was keeping vigil in memory of his recently departed house guest.
Cooper and Pratt were once again at Beaumont Hall and were being led through the garden by the butler, Jenkins. His lordship looked up from his book as he saw the group approach him and then with laughter said, ‘Ah! The intrepid detectives. I need to speak to you.’ He pointed an accusatory finger. ‘What is this I have been reading in the paper about an arrest?’ Lord Jeremy sounded as if the Pimm’s had started to get the better of him.
‘I take it, my lord, that you are referring to the suspect named in the Recorder as Bernard Connelly?’
‘Yes, Inspector, that’s the chap. I’ve never heard of him. Has he been charged?’
‘No, my lord. The whole business is a complete nonsense. Newspaper speculation, I’m afraid. On the back of a so-called journalistic source. We are totally sure that the person named could not have been responsible for the good sister’s murder.’
‘Oh. How disappointing. Well, I should like to have been kept informed all the same,’ said Lord Jeremy, almost sulkily.
‘Well, that is one of the reasons for my visit today, my lord. A bit late in the day, I will admit, but we had to get to the bottom of it first,’ said Cooper somewhat disingenuously. He continued, ‘But putting that aside, my lord, we wanted to ask you some more questions about Sister Margaret. Did she ever speak to you about her family or any of her friends at all?’
‘No, no,’ he said ponderously. ‘She always insisted that the church and the Carmelite Order were her family.’ He went silent for a few seconds and he appeared to be concentrating his thoughts. ‘Now! How silly of me! Something has just occurred to me. I do know that she visited Father O’Leary at St Saviour’s in the village on a couple of occasions and it was he who brought her to Beaumont Hall in the first place. Oh, please forgive me, I’ve only just realised. My memory seems to be getting worse. Don’t get old, Inspector; your brain starts to freeze over.’ He shook his head in despair.
Devotion to Murder Page 14
