‘So why not get married and have children? Does that not appeal to you?’
‘Blimey, governor. That was a bit sudden. I hardly know you. I’ll have to think about it.’ She laughed so heartily that Cooper could see her breasts struggling against her blouse. Embarrassed? He certainly was.
‘Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that.’
‘That’s OK, governor. Don’t mind me. It’s just my wicked sense of humour. To answer your question, I might eventually, I suppose, if I meet the right man. I just want an interesting life, really. I know that it was forced by circumstances but being in the Wrens really wet my appetite for adventure.’
‘So, you enjoyed it in the navy, then?’
‘I loved it. It was work hard, play hard. That sort of thing.’
‘Do you still work hard and play hard?’
‘With respect, governor. You should know the answer to the first part of that question, shouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, I do. You do.’ He stumbled over his words. Cooper, get a grip, he thought. You are starting to sound like a right soppy date. He had never been confident with attractive women. He had been badly hurt in the past and, although he was attracted to this woman, he was wary. Where could it all end?
‘So, what do you do to unwind when you’re not at work?’ asked Linda.
‘Go to the pub. Read a bit. I used to play football regularly, but I’m getting a wee bit old for that now.’
‘Oh dear, governor, that sounds a bit tragic.’
‘Yes, I suppose it does, when you say it like that, doesn’t it?’ he laughed, nervously.
‘No other ladies in your life, then?’ she said, teasing him.
‘Only my mum, Sadie and my landlady, Pearl.’
‘Oh dear, that’s a shame. You have a relationship with this Pearl, do you?’
‘No, nothing like that,’ said Cooper with a grimace. ‘I just threw her name in for good measure.’
‘Do you think there could be enough room for one more then?’
‘You know you don’t have to ask that.’ He smiled, shook his head and looked away.
‘Sorry, governor. I know I’m a bit forward. I don’t believe in wasting time. The war and the navy made me like that, I’m afraid.’
‘Listen. You can drop the “governor” bit, when we’re out on our own, so long as you don’t keep teasing and tormenting me all the time. I’m very sensitive,’ he said, feigning shyness.
*
After lunch, they made their way by tube to Westminster and, as they emerged from the steps of the Underground, they found themselves facing the “Mother of all Parliaments”. It was a sunny day outside and they felt the warmth hit them as they reached ground level. They turned right and crossed Whitehall. Time was still on their side, so they strolled across Parliament Square and on up Victoria Street.
Cooper felt like holding hands with the young beauty who was walking beside him. It almost seemed like they were together, on a holiday. He had to slap himself down and make a conscious effort to remain professional and concentrate on the job.
As he walked in silent contentment, Cooper reflected on the fact that, like most people, a holiday was something he hadn’t had for many a long year. The war had seen to that. Although he’d been abroad at the time, the years of captivity didn’t really count as leisure. It got very boring, being in the same place, with the same “happy campers” and the same food, day in, day out.
After ten minutes or so, they arrived at the front steps of Westminster Cathedral and as they were unable to locate an obvious “business entrance”, they ascended the few steps at the front of the building. They entered the main doors, walked through the vestibule and were met with a vision of pure majesty.
As they stood looking up at the ceiling they were casually approached by a young priest who nodded to them and said, ‘Beautiful isn’t it?’
‘Magnificent,’ said Linda.
‘Can I be of any assistance, sir, madam?’ There was a trace of an accent Cooper was unable to place.
Cooper made the introductions, ‘Yes. Thank you, Father. We’re police officers from Essex. We have an appointment with Father Michael Thomas.’
‘I see. If you would care to take a seat for a moment, I will go and see if I can find him for you.’
The priest walked away along the nave, to the rear of the building, and turned left disappearing behind the choir screen. After about five minutes, a tall, slim priest in his early thirties, taking the same path as his colleague, walked back towards them.
‘Inspector Cooper?’
‘Yes, Father,’ replied Cooper. He gesticulated towards Collins and continued, ‘And this is my colleague Detective Constable Linda Collins.’
She subconsciously grew in stature as the sudden promotion registered with her.
Cooper reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and retrieved his wallet, which contained his warrant card. He offered it for the priest’s inspection.
‘Father, we are from the Essex Constabulary. I spoke to you earlier on the telephone. We’re investigating the brutal murder of a nun in our area. We believe she had something to do with your late colleague Monsignor Crecy.’
‘Yes. Was this on the estate of Lord Roding?’
‘Yes, it was, Father.’
‘Only I spoke to him on the telephone a couple of weeks ago, when he contacted our office. Was this Sister Margaret?’
‘Yes, it was.’
‘And she was said to be from the Carmelite Order. Yes, it’s a great shame Monsignor Crecy is no longer with us. He passed away recently. But I’m sure he would have been able to tell us all about her. Unfortunately, even though I made extensive enquiries at the time of Lord Roding’s contact, we simply know nothing of her. I had to leave it like that, I’m afraid.’
‘Did your secretary pass you the letter that one of my sergeants delivered here a couple of weeks ago, which was intended for Archbishop Mahoney?’
‘Yes, Inspector. I delivered it to his office myself and gave it to his secretary. He was abroad at the time and has only recently returned. I dare say he’ll reply shortly.’
‘I understand you shared an office with Monsignor Crecy. What was his job, exactly?’
‘He was a type of liaison man, I suppose you could say. Before he was sadly taken from us, Monsignor Crecy’s role was to maintain contact on behalf of the archbishop of Westminster, that is, Archbishop Mahoney, with the Church in other countries and the Holy See.’
‘The Vatican?’
‘In essence. Yes, the Vatican.’
‘Do you know of a Cardinal Patrick O’Mara?’
‘I’ve heard of him. He’s in the Vatican, I believe. Tarquin Crecy has spoken of him in the past. I understand he carries out papal projects.’
‘What sort of projects are they, then?’ asked Collins.
‘I am really not privy to that kind of information, I’m afraid, miss,’ said Father Thomas.
‘We were informed by HM Immigration at Harwich that Sister Margaret entered this country in May, from Holland, in company with Monsignor Crecy. Do you know anything about that?’
‘No, I don’t. He was often gallivanting around Europe, but he didn’t confide in me at all, I’m afraid.’
‘We have been given to understand that the purpose of her visit was to assist Lord Roding with his conversion to Catholicism. Is that something that happens a lot?’ asked Cooper.
‘You mean to say that she came from abroad just to do that?’ asked Father Thomas, with a tone of incredulity.
‘Yes, Father, and that is according to Lord Roding himself, apparently; it was the sole reason she was here. She even had a Vatican State diplomatic passport.’
‘Something is definitely wrong there, I must say. You might think the Catholic Church has money to burn, but, believe you me,
Inspector, we’re always being told to tighten our belts and try to curb our costs. They wouldn’t send somebody all the way from Rome for a task like that, I can assure you.’
‘What is the normal procedure for this sort of thing then?’ asked Collins.
‘The normal procedure is that the local parish priest would take that kind of pastoral role and not a nun brought all the way from Rome. The very idea is ridiculous.’
‘Well, Father Thomas, the formal letter from our chief officer that I referred to is addressed to the archbishop. It sets out our position and that of the coroner. We’ll need the Church to take on responsibility and act for Sister Margaret. Do you think you would be able to speak to the archbishop and try to speed up his response?’
‘Yes, I can certainly try. I can assure you of that, Inspector.’
‘As you have said yourself, the whole idea of her being seconded in this way is somewhat irregular. Would you be able to assist us by making the necessary enquiries with the Vatican to ascertain whether they know anything about her?’
‘I could certainly take care of that for you. It may take a little time though.’
Cooper showed Father Thomas the victim’s passport, so he could take down the details.
‘Do you think you could find out whether this passport is genuine?’
‘Yes, I can, of course. I assure you these enquiries will be carried out as quickly as possible, Inspector, and I will speak to the archbishop. We can’t have our people murdered like this and be seen to be sitting on our hands. True, the Church is a vast organisation, which is spread out over many countries, and the lines of communication are long, but we can move swiftly when we want to. I’ll be in touch.’
Cooper and Collins were both comforted by Father Thomas’s attitude and response. They bid the priest farewell, took their leave and walked out onto Victoria Street, where they tried to hail a cab.
‘What do you think of all that then, Linda?’
‘He certainly means business. By the way, thank you for the promotion. It was very sudden and unexpected,’ she said, with a beaming smile.
‘My pleasure DC Collins. I was only expressing a personal wish, and, of course, I’ll have to speak to the head of CID to get his sanction on it. So, don’t tell anybody else about it, as it’s nowhere near official yet,’ he said with a grin.
Linda Collins felt encouraged. In more ways than one.
After standing at the side of the street for a full five minutes or so, Cooper finally managed to flag down an empty cab and they sped off to their next appointment.
*
On arrival at the offices of Tatler, they were provided with a welcome cup of tea in the reception area, where, after a short wait, they were joined by Quentin Smallpiece.
‘Hello Inspector. Nice to see you again. I see your new assistant is far more attractive than the last one,’ observed Smallpiece, who nodded towards Collins.
‘Thank you, Quentin. Meet my colleague DC Linda Collins who is on the murder team with me at Colchester.’
‘Yes. Miss Collins, we spoke on the phone, didn’t we?’
‘We did indeed.’
Smallpiece shook hands with them both.
‘I have a letter here from Mr Stockwell, in which he sets out the terms regarding our cooperation on an “article”.’
‘Splendid,’ said Smallpiece. He took the letter from Cooper and briefly gave it the once over before putting it back in the envelope and sliding it into his pocket.
‘Thanks for that. I’ll read it in more detail later and pass it on to our legal department for their attention. Is there anything we may help you with in the meantime?’
‘Yes, we have an interest in a Monsignor Tarquin Crecy who was connected to our victim, Sister Margaret. We wondered whether you might have anything in the archive on him, at all.’
‘How are you spelling that?’
Cooper provided him with the details.
‘I can certainly have a look for you. It’ll take a day or two, as the archive is located out in Pinner. I would want to go out there myself rather than entrust this type of task to somebody else. So, if you’ll leave it with me, I’ll let you know as soon as I can.’
‘We are much obliged, Quentin.’
There was nothing else to discuss at this juncture, so Cooper and Collins, having declined the offer of more tea, left Tatler for the tube station, citing their wish to beat the rush hour.
They made their way back to Liverpool Street Station and found that they were in luck. There was only a wait of ten minutes for the Colchester train, and an hour later they were walking out of the front door of Colchester North Station. It was now 6.00pm, and Cooper felt they had done enough for one day.
Cooper found a telephone box nearby and he put a duty call into the CID office to ascertain whether anything was happening. Jane Stewart answered the telephone. Apparently, all was quiet and there were no messages for either of them. Cooper had Jane mark both him and Collins off in the duty book. Now their time was their own.
‘Right, we’re off duty,’ said Cooper as he exited the telephone kiosk, ‘You can go home now, if you want to, Linda.’
‘I will. But what about I buy you a drink first?’
‘Fine, DC Collins. Good idea,’ said Cooper. A little taken aback.
‘You can call me by my Christian name now, then. Can’t you, Albert?’
‘Yes. I think that I could manage that, Brenda.’
Linda feigned a punch to Cooper’s arm.
‘Do I really look like a Brenda?’
Cooper just nodded, smiled and didn’t answer.
They walked across the road to the Norfolk Arms where they entered the snug and spent a couple of hours in fun and self-indulgence over a few drinks. They found they were happy and relaxed in each other’s company, and they confided details of family, their wartime experiences and hopes for the future. On leaving the pub, Cooper escorted Linda to her home, which was only a fifteen-minute walk away. As they strolled arm in arm through the quiet streets, Cooper came to a decision. He knew he was besotted with Linda, but, for now, their relationship would have to be hidden from their colleagues, and be one of slow and careful progression. Both their careers would be blighted if, God forbid, their personal relationship was ever allowed to interfere with their work.
*
It was late afternoon and Lord Jeremy was lying in his bed reading. Also in the room was his nurse, the ever-devoted and flexible Adina Jenkins. She was sitting by the window, looking out across the gardens. It had been a mild day with a few clouds breaking up the sunshine. They had the window open and all that could be heard was the rustle of the leaves as the air moved through the trees. All was calm and peaceful.
They were quite alone as Raymond Jenkins had once again been called up to London to convey her ladyship to yet another society function. Jeremy was always grateful to Jenkins for his willingness to adapt his schedule at short notice. He reflected that Jenkins really was a very patient and obliging man, and that he was fortunate to have secured his services.
Jeremy put his book down and laid it on the eiderdown. He watched Adina for a while as she moved around the room. She was a very attractive woman, with classic Mediterranean looks. She had a nice figure, a particularly alluring bottom and shoulder-length, black hair that was flecked with grey. Jeremy hoped, that in the years to come, she would not run to fat, like many mature women from that part of the world. But for now, she was perfect.
One thing that had struck him about her was that she had very deep brown eyes, which were very expressive. She was the type of woman who found it almost impossible to hide her thoughts and feelings. It was all in her face. There was no doubt in his mind that she had a kind heart. The way that she cared for him was testament to that. But, now, he could see that she was deep in thought, troubled even.
‘Is ev
erything all right, Adina?’
‘I’m OK, my lord. I’m just thinking about my family in Romania. I miss them a bit, you know, especially my mother.
‘Who do you have there?’
‘We had a big family at one time, but not many now. The Germans, they kill some of them. The Russians kill others. I still have my mother. She is Hungarian. Also, I have a younger sister, Natalia, and two cousins.’
‘Where do they live exactly?’
‘In a little village near Bucharest.’
‘Why don’t you go and visit them?’
‘I have spoken to Raymond about going to see them, but he says we have to save money.’
‘I could pay for you to have a visit, you know.’
‘That is nice of you, my lord. But when do we have time? Raymond is in London a lot these days and I have my work here.’
‘I’ll speak to him,’ said Jeremy.
‘Anyway, it is time for your medicine.’
Adina walked into the bathroom, opened the cabinet and took a large brown bottle from inside. She rinsed a teaspoon in the basin and proceeded to load it from the bottle. She then re-entered the bedroom slowly, with an open palm beneath the spoon, taking care not to spill the contents on the carpet.
‘Open wide your mouth, my lord.’
Jeremy swallowed the contents of the spoon, after which she again rinsed it in the basin. She re-emerged from the bathroom drying her hands on a towel.
‘I am just going to the kitchen to see Mrs Aldis about your dinner. What would you like to have, my lord?’
‘She served up a nice steak and kidney pudding last night. I really fancy some more of that, if there’s any left, with gravy, roast potatoes and peas,’ said Jeremy, almost salivating.
‘Good. You’re hungry. That is a good thing.’
Adina left the room and walked off along the landing.
Jeremy felt among the covers for his Bible, and in doing so, he heard a thud as it fell off the bed and hit the floor.
‘Damn and blast!’ said Jeremy to himself.
He didn’t want to wait for Adina’s return and he couldn’t be bothered to get out of bed to retrieve it. Thinking that, with a minimum of effort, he could lean out of the bed and reach his book, he slumped heavily down the side between the bed and the dressing table but found he couldn’t quite get there. Then suddenly, it happened. He became dizzy and couldn’t focus his eyes. There was a ringing in his ears and, down one side of his body, he felt quite numb. Jeremy became distressed and began to panic. He tried to call out for help, but he just could not articulate his words. He could only groan and make the noise of alarm.
Devotion to Murder Page 19
