‘Yes, governor, and they say the same. Never heard of her.’
‘What about Cardinal O’Mara who allegedly contacted Father O’Leary in the first place?’
‘Apparently, he denies all knowledge of her.’
‘So, Father O’Leary is being made out to be a liar, then,’ said Rogers.
‘Yes, I suppose he is. In a way,’ said Cooper.
‘What about the Vatican State diplomatic passport?’
‘Apparently, Father Thomas managed to check on that and it’s the genuine article, governor,’ said Pratt, ‘but it’s never been officially issued by the Vatican State authority.’
‘So, it seems that it was stolen, and the details added later?’
‘Yes, governor.’
‘What is the position of the Church regarding Sister Margaret’s burial?’ asked Cooper.
‘They no longer wish to get involved with that. They’re washing their hands of her.’
Callous bastards, thought Cooper.
‘So, that means that she’s a non-nun then,’ said Rogers. For once, most of the team laughed at one of his jokes.
‘Thanks for that, Tom,’ said Mills, dismissively.
‘I think the Church need to reconsider. In the eyes of the public, Father O’Leary and Lord Roding, Sister Margaret was a nun attached to Beaumont Hall. It won’t do the image of the Catholic Church any good at all to take such a position,’ said Pratt.
‘Nor would it hurt them to cover the cost and send someone along to the funeral. The coroner will want them at the inquest, as well. Brian. Did Father Thomas say they’ll confirm their position in writing?’
‘Yes, governor. He did.’
‘We’ll monitor that. If they fail to do so, we’ll speak to the coroner. I’m bloody sure that he could bring pressure to bear. If our friends in the press learn about it, they’ll have a field day. Any other business?’
Brendan Withers of Scenes of Crime put his hand up.
‘Fire away, Brendan.’
‘Thanks, governor. We’ve been working through the fingerprints that were lifted from inside the victim’s bedroom. You’ll recall that last time I said there were several marks that were identified as hers. Also, there was one on the corner of the dressing table mirror that was identified as Raymond Jenkins.’
‘Yes, and you raised the point that he holds spare keys to all the rooms in his capacity as butler,’ said Cooper.
‘Yes, but we’ve now checked four more marks, all of which have been identified as belonging to Adina Jenkins.’
‘Really?’ said Cooper. ‘Interesting. Where were they?’
‘On the windowsill. They consist of four fingers of one hand and they were found in a position indicating that the hand was pointing in the direction of the window frame.’
‘Ian, will you get Adina Jenkin’s witness statement out for us, please?’
Mills went to the cabinet and retrieved a file. He selected the document and passed it to Cooper who gave it a quick read.
‘Linda, you took this one. She’s says she hardly ever spoke to the victim and she has said nothing about going into her room.’
‘That’s right, governor. She was very firm on the fact. Mrs Jenkins said she hardly ever spoke to her. I don’t think that they really got on that well.’
‘Given the fact that both must have spent some considerable time with his lordship, you’d have thought, even if they didn’t get on with each other, they would have had to have liaised in some way,’ said Cooper.
‘What did you make of her, Linda? Do you think she would have it in her to have committed the murder?’
‘I think, like a lot of people, she had a tough time during the war. Struck me as being quite a strong woman who knows her own mind. If she did do it, it would give her a reason to try to push it on to Savage.’
‘On its own, it’s not enough to bring her in, but it gives us a start. What would have been her motive for killing Sister Margaret though?’ said Cooper thinking aloud, ‘She did have the means available and, being in the general vicinity, she might have had the opportunity to do so, but what could have been her motive?’
‘Brendan, were there any other outstanding marks?’
‘No. As per usual there are plenty of smudges, but the ones that have enough detail have all been checked now,’ said Withers.
‘Were there any partial identifications?’
‘No, sir. Everything has been checked and done.’
‘Governor, don’t you think it might be an idea to interview her again? After all, she did falsely accuse Savage, in her statement, of being with the victim at 4.30pm on the day of the murder,’ said Pratt.
‘Not yet. Let’s hold off for now. I’d like to have a word with her husband first. We don’t know much about her history. I’m sure he’ll be able to fill us in on a few details.’
‘She came originally from Romania,’ said Linda. ‘They met when her husband was stationed abroad at the end of the war.’
‘The Romanians were on the side of the Nazis, weren’t they?’ said Rogers.
‘They were for a while, Tom,’ said Cooper, ‘but I want to hear about her past from her husband. He could be holding some significant information about her. Not only that, I want to push his buttons by showing him the Tatler photographs. See how he reacts. It might just loosen his tongue’.
‘Going back to the subject of fingerprints,’ said Pratt, ‘I’d like to hear what he says about his fingerprint being found on the victim’s dressing table mirror. Just because he holds all the keys doesn’t make it necessary for him to go into all of the rooms.’
‘Fair comment, Brian. Another thing, did we get the statements from the Winthrop sisters?’
‘No, governor,’ said Ian Mills.
‘Right, let’s get on with it. I want to know if the victim’s room was cleaned before she occupied it in February, and how thoroughly. Linda, will you see the twins for me and let me know when their statements have been taken?’
Collins nodded and smiled, ‘Yes, governor.’
*
Linda Collins didn’t waste much time and she didn’t have to be asked twice.
A few minutes after the meeting had ended she was straight on the telephone to Beaumont Hall and spoke to Raymond Jenkins. He arranged for Linda to see the twins at midday. She had intended to interview the girls by herself, but she was unable to arrange transport to get her to the Hall. That being the case she thought she’d exert her influence on Tom Rogers and she called to him across the office.
‘Tom.’
‘Yes, darling,’
‘You know the governor wants me to get statements from the Winthrop sisters?’
‘Yes,’ said Rogers warily.
‘Well, the thing is, I’m not yet qualified to drive police vehicles and I can’t get any transport. Would you be a poppet and run me to Beaumont Hall in the Wolseley?’
‘Only if you buy me a tea.’
‘Of course, I will, Tom. Goes without saying.’
After a roller coaster of a ride to Beaumont Hall, Rogers dramatically skidded to a halt outside the staff entrance. Linda regretted asking Rogers to drive her. He had spent most of the journey trying to impress her with his “response driving”, and all the while she had been forced to grip the sides of the seat tightly with both hands. She was now suffering from motion sickness. Not an ideal condition to be in when about to conduct an interview. Linda could have throttled him.
James Davidson answered the door and he showed the officers through to the dining room. They did not have long to wait before there was a knock on the door, and in walked Amy and Cecily. They both wore the regulation maid’s uniform, complete with bonnet, and, as identical twins, they were both red heads, each with a pale complexion and freckles. They were quite pretty. But they were so alike, it was almost sini
ster. After making their introductions, Linda explained to the girls the purpose of their visit and what they intended to do.
Linda decided to interview Amy, and Tom took the other twin, Cecily, to an ante room where he interviewed her by himself. On seeing that Amy was rather nervous, Linda tried to put her at her ease before putting questions to her.
‘How long have you worked here, Amy?’
‘Two years now. Cecily and I started on the same day. It was Mrs Aldis who got us the job. We’d been cleaning the village hall for a few weeks as a favour. We weren’t getting paid, but did it to help Mum and Mrs Aldis, who are both on the committee. When the jobs came up here, Mrs Aldis suggested to Mum that they’d be ideal for Cecily and me.’
‘And how old are you?’
‘Nineteen.’
‘Do you like working here?’
‘It’s a job and the people are friendly enough. Although it doesn’t matter too much as Cecily and I tend to go our own way. We keep ourselves to ourselves.’
‘Who is the eldest out of the two of you?’
‘I am, according to Mum. Only by ten minutes. I try to boss Cecily around and pull rank. It doesn’t work though. She just either ignores me or tries to give me a Chinese burn.’ She laughed aloud.
‘Who is your boss?’
‘We come under Mr Jenkins and Mrs Aldis. She’s nice. He’s quite strict. He checks our work to make sure that things have been done properly. Cecily calls him Hitler, but not to his face, of course.’
‘Did you know Sister Margaret? Or ever speak to her?’
‘No, not really. Sometimes if she was coming along the hall to go to her room and we were cleaning, she’d say hello or good morning. But she didn’t speak to us apart from that.’
‘Did Sister Margaret get on very well with the other members of staff at the Hall?’
‘We didn’t see much of her really. We’re normally gone by 2.00pm. She used to spend most of her time with Lord Jeremy.’
‘Did you clean her room for her?’
‘No, she cleaned that herself. We cleaned it just before she arrived in May, but we didn’t go in there after that.’
‘Was that on the instructions of Mr Jenkins?’
‘Yes. He made a right old fuss about the fact that there was going to be a nun living here, and everything had to be clean, and spick and span for her arrival. The room hadn’t been used for a few years, and it looked like it when we first went in there as well. It was in an awful state with thick dust everywhere and ragged curtains; they even had to get a glazier in to replace a couple of the window panes.’
‘Did Mr Jenkins inspect your work after you’d cleaned her room?’
‘Yes. He came just when we were finishing putting the new curtains up. He gave the room the once over and locked the door behind us as we left.’
‘Have you seen him or anyone other than Sister Margaret go to the room after that?’
‘No, nobody.’
‘Are there any other rooms occupied on that landing?’
‘No. One or two are used for storing things, that’s all.’
‘So how often were you up on that floor?’
‘When she was there, it would be every day. We would just check that everything was all right and clean a couple of times a week when we found something that needed doing.’
‘Do you have much to do with the other staff?’
‘We know Mrs Aldis, obviously. James Davidson, we were at school with. There’s Mr Savage the gardener; he’s all right. He lets us make a fuss of the dogs when we see them.’
‘Have you ever seen Mr Savage sitting or talking with Sister Margaret?
‘No, not that I can remember.’
‘What about Mr Jenkins? Did he have much to do with her?’
‘I don’t really know, but I suppose he must have done.’
‘Do you have anything to do with his lordship’s nurse, Adina?’
‘Is that Mrs Jenkins?’ asked Amy.
‘Yes, it is.’
‘We would see her moving about the place with his lordship. She always seems a bit sad, really.’
‘Losing Lord Roding might have something to do with that, don’t you think?’ said Linda.
‘No. She was always like that. But she used to say hello and wave. She wasn’t stuck up or anything. We often used to see her sitting on the side of the well.’
‘Sitting on the where?’
‘On the side of the well,’ said Amy.
‘Which well would that be?’
‘The one in the back garden. It’s not far from the kitchen.’
‘She would often sit there, thinking and staring into it. Cecily used to say it was almost like she wanted to make a wish, but couldn’t make her mind up what to wish for.’
‘Does she still do that?’ asked Linda.
‘Haven’t seen her there for a couple of weeks, come to think of it, but there’s been a lot going on hasn’t there?’
Linda then put pen to paper to take down Amy’s witness statement. After completing the statement, she had finished with Amy and, having sent her on her way, she walked next door to check on progress with Tom Rogers and Cecily. She found Rogers sitting alone as Cecily had already departed.
They made their way out of the house via the kitchen, where Linda spoke to James Davidson. ‘James, I understand that there is a well near the kitchen. Will you show us where it is, please?’
James guided them to an area some thirty yards from the kitchen door behind an outbuilding. The well was part of a rockery, which was surrounded on three sides by a hedge. A small path led to the one exposed side, but, for persons unaware of its existence, it would have been easy to carry on along the main path and miss it altogether. Linda gazed into the mouth of the well, but she couldn’t see the bottom. She picked up a small pebble and tossed it into the darkness. There was a splash after a second or two, and she estimated that it would be a drop of around twenty feet to the surface of the water.
‘Tell me, do you use the well to draw water for the kitchen?’
‘Not now, miss. They used to in the olden days, but now the Hall is connected to the water mains. I think Mr Savage still uses it sometimes to collect water for the garden.’
Linda thanked the young man and they made their way to the car.
Some poor devil is going to have to go down and search it, she thought to herself.
*
Trevor Lloyd-Davis sat in his office at Scotland Yard, studying a document with a self-satisfied grin. He had just been given lunch in the House of Commons dining room by a couple of MPs who were opposing a security bill soon to be tabled in Parliament. They had wanted to pick his brains and never one to waste an opportunity, he had been pleased to oblige them.
Now, just when he thought the day could not get any better, he had been given some good news in the form of a secure telegram, handed to him by one of his sergeants, who was now standing at the side of his desk, waiting for instructions.
‘Shut the door, Archie, and have a cigarette.’
The sergeant walked to the door and back across to the boss’s desk and accepted a cigarette from the silver box Lloyd-Davis was offering up.
‘Thank you, sir. The people at SIS have done bloody well for us this time. Who would have thought it?’
‘Yes. The CID at Colchester will be pleased. Now they’ll know who they are dealing with. Doesn’t reflect particularly well on the Catholic Church though, does it?’
‘Do you want me to call Colchester and tell them the good news, sir?’
‘No, I’ll call their DI, Albert Cooper, and tell him, in general terms, that we have an interesting result for him. Then I want you to take the telegram to Colchester and give it to him by hand.’
The security officers (MI6) working at the embassy in Vienna had indeed made them
selves busy. Following the referral from Special Branch, in relation to Monsignor Tarquin Crecy and Irma Caro, they had fully utilised their local contacts. The scenario, as described to them was a familiar one. There was one common driver for people wishing to flee Austria by unconventional means, even in 1949, and that was to avoid being held to account for their actions during the war.
It was, therefore, a logical step to have made enquiries with the Jewish Historical Document Centre in Linz. They had come back quickly with a positive result having identified their subject from the details given:
“Irma Regina Caro, née Kurz.
“Born in Graz, Austria, on 23rd March 1919. Stabsunteroffizierin in the TK Waffen SS Support Service.
“Wanted for war crimes of murder in Mauthausen Concentration Camp, Linz.”
*
Brian Pratt had just returned to the office having shown DS Archie Ferguson to the front door. It was now 6.30pm. Ferguson had declined Cooper’s offer of hospitality, preferring to pursue some personal agenda of his own.
‘I can’t believe it, Brian,’ said Cooper, ‘A Nazi war criminal disguised as a nun on our patch.’
‘Yes, and it looks like she finally got what she deserved, governor,’ said Pratt.
Alby Cooper suddenly became very earnest, ‘Brian, I think it best we keep this between ourselves for now, mate. We need the team to remain objective. We can’t have them switching off at this stage just because they think she had it coming to her.’
‘No, sorry, boss. I agree, of course. Just my automatic reaction.’
‘I think that now would be an appropriate time for us to speak to Mr Raymond Jenkins. Don’t you? We’ll pay him a visit first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘What about Mr Stockwell, governor?’
‘As luck, would have it, he is on leave until Monday.’
26
DAY TWENTY-SIX
Saturday 6th August 1949
Adina slipped into the study and silently closed the door behind her. The room was dark, save for the moonlight shining through the french windows. She stood for a few seconds to adjust her eyes to the darkness, listening to the sounds of revelry coming along the corridor from the kitchen. The 5.00pm deadline, as set by Raymond for the end of the planned festivities, had been abandoned under pleading from Beryl Aldis and the event had gathered momentum.
Devotion to Murder Page 25
