Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey Read online

  ‘Because it is my job to think such a thing, Father Will. And if I think you are involved, I shall need to formally caution you. …’

  ‘This is dreadful. …’

  ‘Either you have been well and truly framed or you are sheltering a murderer. I may need to ask you more questions but not yet. Meanwhile I shall go away and think about all this. We’ll talk again. I am always available if you need to discuss this further. …’

  Chapter 9

  WHEN DETECTIVE CHIEF Superintendent Napier returned to the murder room, it was buzzing with activity. Detectives, men and women, seemed to be everywhere, all chattering and renewing old acquaintances. Many had worked together on previous murders and major investigations. Arrivals from around the county were logged in, as well as Nick and the monkstables, and all were asked to update themselves with the progress of the investigation. The information was available from computers, whiteboards, blackboards and even leaflets already rushed out by computer. In temporary charge during Inspector Lindsey’s absence was Detective Sergeant Jane Salkeld, a capable officer.

  ‘Anything to report, Sarge?’ asked Napier as he strode in.

  ‘Most of our teams have reported in, sir, so we’ll be on target for the 3 p.m. team conference. You’ll be pleased to know we’ve just received some useful data from the CCTV cameras in the abbey church. Prior Tuck has managed to glean it from the monitors and records in reception. It’s interesting.’

  ‘Then I’d better see it. Where is he?’

  ‘With that viewing cabinet over there.’ She pointed to the structure that looked like a fruit machine. Napier grunted his appreciation and strode across.

  ‘Ah, Friar Tuck, we have a modest success, I understand.’

  ‘We have, Mr Napier. I can show you – I’ve got the tapes on this machine. They’re a wee bit blurred but they do provide the gist of events during Saturday confessions.’

  ‘Even without any spoken words?’

  ‘Yes, there’s no sound but that’s always top secret anyway,’ said the prior, now accustomed to Napier’s use of the word Friar.

  ‘So I’m constantly being told but I keep trying. You realize the identity of the killer might have been revealed during those confessions. I find that very frustrating. I never get people confessing as readily as that.’

  ‘But some offenders do confess to their crimes?’ suggested the prior.

  ‘Not to me they don’t. Most say nowt because they know their right to remain silent even if I know their wrongdoings. It’s reliable evidence that convicts them, not confessions. And we do get people falsely confessing to murder. Anyway, enough of that. Show me what you’ve got.’

  With Napier at his side, Prior Tuck showed the Saturday tape, explaining that each tape was renewed daily at 5 a.m. by the duty monk, and each ran for twenty-four hours. A clock on the machine confirmed that it was showing Saturday’s events.

  Then Prior Tuck halted the tape at twelve noon. ‘I’m showing you this to focus on that woman who’s just come from one of the pews near the confessional.’

  ‘Why her?’

  ‘Because the same woman appears later, going into the confessional box when Father Will was hearing confessions. His first customer. Not long after six o’clock.’

  ‘Was she, by jove! Slow the film down, we need a good look at her. Fair hair, a tan jumper and greenish jeans. Any idea who she is?’

  ‘Not at the moment, but we’ve not shown this film to anyone else – it’s just come in.’

  ‘Can we print stills from it?’

  ‘The computer department can do that.’

  ‘You’ve a computer department?’

  ‘It’s for college students studying information technology, but the tutors have the necessary expertise and equipment to print stills from this tape.’

  ‘You want for nothing here! Keep going.’

  The film, speeded up temporarily, showed the ongoing scene in the south transept. Many of the people in the film were identified by the prior as members of staff just passing through, although some were on retreat courses and others were day visitors. They entered the camera’s range, looked around and departed without exciting any interest in the viewers. Then Prior Tuck stopped again.

  ‘There she is again, Mr Napier. A wee bit clearer this time. Same clothing as before. A tan jumper and greenish jeans. Autumn wear. It was a warm September day. She’s of medium build, fair hair, worn short. Age? Dunno …’

  ‘Late forties I’d guess,’ said Napier. ‘Give or take a year or so. Maybe into her fifties. So what time was this taken?’

  ‘Half past three on Saturday afternoon. Now watch her. She’s alone in that part of the church.’

  After looking at some of the statues and wall paintings, the woman went across to the confessional and read the noticeboards. One of them gave the times of confession, but even with this poor image, they could see the name on the board above it, in larger letters. It was Father John Attwood’s name-board. Then she opened the door of the confessional and peered inside. By holding it open, the dim light remained on. She held the door wide open and then, using her foot, reached forward to kick the kneeler. It moved without constraint. Using her foot again she restored it to its former position, closed the door and moved away.

  At that point, a man and woman entered the south transept and so the woman slid into a pew and knelt down as if in prayer.

  Prior Tuck resumed his commentary. ‘She stayed there for a few minutes as the newcomers entered but she never spoke to them, and then she left. She does not appear again until about five past six that same evening. There’s no doubt it is the same woman. On that occasion she goes straight into a pew to await her turn for confession. We’ve caught that on camera too. First in the queue with about eight people waiting. She doesn’t acknowledge any of them.’

  ‘Do we know who they are?’ asked Napier. ‘I’d like to talk to them, so see whether any of them know this woman.’

  ‘It’s doubtful, Mr Napier. The abbey church is not like a parish church where you get the same people turning up time and time again, except of course for the students – they’re regular attenders. Even so, this place tends to cater more for visitors with lots of different churchgoers each weekend or even each weekday. Also, many of the staff go home after work and not many work on Saturdays, except the domestic staff in the college area. The chances are that most of those people are strangers to one another.’

  ‘That could be why this woman selected it,’ suggested Napier. ‘So she wouldn’t be recognized. But we must trace and question them, if we can find them. One of them might know her. That’s all it takes, just one.’

  ‘I can ask around the campus and show pictures of her,’ suggested Prior Tuck. ‘We could get the monkstables to do that – Nick will guide them. Someone might have seen her or even given her accommodation nearby. And she might have arrived by car – there’s a lot we need to find out.’

  Prior Tuck moved the film forward to show the woman’s arrival and then focused on her taking her place in the queuing area.

  ‘What’s she carrying?’ Napier leaned forward to obtain a clearer image of the moving woman. ‘Reverse it. Friar Tuck … take us to when she enters this time, slow it down … I want to see what she’s carrying. It’s not a handbag, is it? Now is that curious? A woman without a handbag?’

  ‘I’m not very au fait with women and their handbag-carrying customs! Would she bring her handbag to confession? Surely she’d leave it somewhere safe.’

  ‘She’s a woman, Friar Tuck. She’d probably have it with her and she’d take great care not to leave it anywhere. Although this woman hasn’t a handbag, she does have an umbrella, one of those large ones you see at race meetings and events like golf matches. With blue and white stripes. Furled.’

  ‘Is that what it is?’

  ‘I think so even if the image is rather blurred. Now why would a woman bring a huge colourful umbrella to confession on a fine September day – it was a fine day
, if you recall. So, can you think of anything better for concealing and carrying a stiletto dagger? Much more practical and secretive than a rolled-up newspaper.’

  ‘Now that you mention it, it does seem ideal. I’ll fast forward until she gets up from the pew to enter the confessional.’

  As they watched that section, they saw the woman stand up when her turn came. She walked from the pew towards the confessional box, carrying the umbrella not by its handle but with her right hand gripping it around the folds, holding them tightly together midway along its length. She opened the door with her free hand and stepped inside as the door closed behind her to extinguish its modest light. The time was seven minutes past six.

  ‘I need to talk to Father Will again,’ said Napier. ‘He must have heard something odd as she extricated the stiletto from the umbrella and shoved it under the kneeler.’

  ‘She was in there less than five minutes,’ said Prior Tuck. ‘Here she comes again, leaving the confessional but carrying her brolly by its handle. She didn’t return to the pew to say her prayers neither did she remain in church but left the building just before quarter past. So far as we know, she was never seen again inside the abbey church. I don’t know where she went from there.’

  ‘Then we must find out,’ muttered the indefatigable Napier. ‘Someone must have seen her outside the abbey church.’

  Prior Tuck switched off the machine. ‘We can run this through again and again if necessary. It might help.’

  ‘We’ll need to see it again, especially Nick and the monkstables, if they’re to continue local enquiries. And I think Father Attwood’s driver should have a look at that woman.’ Napier was thinking aloud. ‘So the big question is this – did she leave the stiletto in the confessional? If so, how far had she carried it in the brolly? And where from? Once more, she might have been noticed by someone. Those monkstables need to ask a lot of questions around the campus.’

  ‘A lot depends on how she arrived at the abbey church,’ was the prior’s response. ‘There’s no parking immediately outside and the visitors’ car park is several blocks away. Someone might have noticed her, especially carrying such a colourful brolly, and wondered why she wanted it on such a mild and dry day.’

  ‘It seems we’re going to keep your monkstables busy,’ said Napier, beaming.

  ‘I’ve worked with less efficient police officers,’ admitted the prior.

  ‘Right. Well, Friar Tuck, it stands to reason that somebody must have seen her around these premises. Where did she come from? Had she been walking in those woods at any time? If she was, did she stumble across the stiletto? Did she find it and decide to take it with her, wherever she was going? Then changed her mind and got rid of it? Did she have a vehicle and if so was someone waiting for her outside the abbey church? There are many, many questions to be asked – and answered.’

  ‘There’s something else to consider,’ Prior Tuck suggested. ‘If this woman arrived at this confessional just after six o’clock, she could not be the same one who greeted Father Attwood outside Scarborough Beach Hospital just before six. There are similarities in their appearance but there is no way she could have travelled the thirty miles or so from Scarborough in those few minutes. Clearly we are looking for two women. We have a description of the Scarborough woman on file, provided by the abbey driver.’

  ‘Good point, Friar! And did the Scarborough woman have a mobile? Could she have called Father John? We need the driver to look at these photos when we get them organized. He might recognize her, might be able to point us in her direction even with a name or some other form of identification. We must consider and examine every probability. Maybe these two women are completely unknown to each other? We mustn’t be sidetracked by distracting evidence. Remember, the disappearance of Father John might not be linked in any way to the murder but I’m not one for believing in coincidence in such cases, Friar Tuck. You as an ex-copper should know that.’

  ‘Which is why I mentioned it,’ said Prior Tuck, smiling.

  ‘Right, keep a tight rein on that film. We need to make much wider use of it, but now it’s almost time for the CID conference. I’d like all your troops there.’

  ‘It’s already been arranged.’

  ‘Splendid. And if I deal with the murder in the wood, can you cope with the disappearance of Father John?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then I’ve just time for another chat with Father Will. Whatever he can tell us will be rich fodder for the conference. So see you later.’

  When Napier returned to the cop shop, Father Will was about to close it so that he could attend the CID conference.

  ‘I’m just leaving for the conference,’ said the quiet monk. ‘Is it important, Mr Napier?’

  ‘Important enough to be sorted out before we both attend the conference, Father Will.’

  ‘I do hope you are not going to try and pressure me again into revealing the contents of the confessions.’

  ‘No, I’m not, but it’s associated with that. I’m concerned about the confessional box itself rather than its customers.’

  ‘You’d better come in. I can lock the door to keep it private.’

  When they were settled, Napier spoke quietly. ‘I know I’ve put you under some pressure, Father Will, and I’m sorry to have to question you again.’

  ‘You have to do your job, like us all.’

  ‘How true. Father, please try to be frank and helpful with me. Since we last spoke, we have discovered some footage on the CCTV security tapes that cover the confessional and south transept.’

  As Napier described what those extracts had revealed, Father Will listened in silence.

  ‘At a few minutes past six, Father Will, a woman, perhaps in her late forties or early fifties, casually dressed in a tan top and green jeans, entered the confessional during your tenure. She was your first penitent.’

  ‘You know I cannot discuss this. …’

  ‘Please hear me out, Father. Earlier in the day, she had been filmed examining the interior of the confessional, moving the kneeler around with her foot.’

  ‘Goodness me! Why would she do that?’

  ‘That is what we want to know. Now, when she went back there to make her confession, she was filmed entering the confessional whilst carrying a large blue and white umbrella.’

  ‘People bring all sorts with them … and often leave things behind.’

  ‘Now I don’t know everything that goes on in one of those tight little boxes but I would imagine a woman with a large brolly would have difficulty finding somewhere to put it especially as, when the door closes, the interior is in darkness.’

  ‘There is a kneeler, Mr Napier, fairly low, in fact. Some people have to move that to get settled, especially a large person following a smaller one who’d probably shift it around a little.’

  ‘I am leading up to that. So did that woman, your first customer on that occasion, appear to have trouble getting settled? On her knees with a large brolly to battle with? In the darkness?’

  ‘I’ll be honest with you, Mr Napier. She did appear to have difficulty settling down. I attributed it to the darkness and perhaps because she was a stranger. I wondered if she was carrying shopping or something.’

  ‘Could you recognize any of the sounds she was making?’

  ‘No, I couldn’t see what she was carrying either: one cannot see much from the other side of the grille in those boxes.’

  ‘But she was struggling to settle down?’

  ‘I’d say so, yes, just a little. And I am not breaking the seal of confession by telling you that. She had not begun at that stage.’

  ‘When she finished, Father, she emerged and took the umbrella with her. But we have reason to believe she left something behind, quite deliberately. The stiletto dagger that had been concealed and smuggled inside within the folds of her umbrella.’

  ‘Oh dear God, whatever next! I cannot comment. I know nothing about that. I never saw her do such a thing. She never men
tioned it. Could she have lost it? Slipped out of the umbrella without her knowing? The stiletto, I mean?’ Father Will now appeared to be extremely nervous, licking his lips and avoiding eye contact with Napier.

  ‘We don’t think so. We think she deliberately disposed of it because it was the weapon used to kill the man in the wood. Did it belong to her, or had she found it?’

  Father Will paused and issued a huge sigh with almost a sobbing sound, ‘Mr Napier, I know nothing of that. Absolutely nothing. Truly I do not.’

  ‘I believe you. That has settled one small matter so let’s continue our normal routine. It’s time to attend the conference.’

  Chapter 10

  AFTER WELCOMING HIS newly arrived officers and introducing Nick and the monkstables, Detective Chief Superintendent Napier dealt with minor details such as hours of work, expenses, overtime and murder room discipline. Then he outlined the key facts of the murder. Quite deliberately, he concealed the name and profession of the victim. That was for later.

  ‘You’ll be allocated your actions by Detective Sergeant Salkeld. She is standing in for Detective Inspector Lindsey who is making enquiries in Lancashire. He is following what could be a strong line of inquiry that may or may not be associated with this murder. That’s for me to decide. More about that in due course. Our immediate concern is to get the murder victim identified and establish sightings of him. His details are displayed on the blackboard and there are colour photographs of the body at the scene of the murder. Take a good look then get out there to get him identified, trace his movements and establish his contacts. Somebody will know him, somebody must have seen him around. Has he a car? A motorbike? A pedal bike? Is there such a vehicle abandoned nearby? In one of the local villages? Where has he been staying? Does he have friends and contacts here? A woman friend? A backpack abandoned?

  ‘Two women might be involved. The first is shown on a CCTV security film of the church interior – have a word with Detective Constable Sheila Trowbridge over there.’ He pointed to her. ‘She’ll show you extracts from the film, as many as you want, and she can arrange prints – they’re always useful if you find a witness who may have seen her. We believe that woman concealed a stiletto dagger in the confessional and we’re sure it’s the murder weapon. Bear that in mind.