Unholy Murder

Chapter Nine

Jane arrived at Orpington police station at a quarter past nine, with time to spare before her meeting with DCS Barnes, so she decided to have a poached egg on toast with a cup of tea in the canteen. After ordering her food, she sat at an empty table and opened her briefcase to have a quick read through her report. Her heart immediately sank. ‘No, no, no,’ she said to herself on finding the file was not in the case. She instantly knew that in her rush to get to the old convent, she’d left the report on the dining-room table.

‘Excuse me,’ she said to the uniformed officer on the table next to her. ‘How long does it take to get to Chislehurst High Street from here?’ Her house was a two-minute drive from there.

‘About fifteen, twenty minutes tops.’

‘What’s the quickest way?’

The officer gave her the most direct route which, to her relief, was pretty straightforward.

‘Thanks,’ she replied, hurrying to the canteen door.

‘You forgot your briefcase, love,’ the uniformed officer shouted.

‘Shit,’ she muttered, then turned, grabbed the case and ran as fast as she could to her car.

Thankfully, the traffic wasn’t heavy, and she made it home in seventeen minutes. She dashed inside and grabbed her report.

‘Good morning, Jane, you off to work?’ Gerry was walking his dog.

‘Yes,’ she replied, opening the car door, and throwing the report on the passenger seat.

‘Everything OK with the light socket?’

‘It’s working fine now, thanks.’

‘Any problems, you know where I am.’

‘Sorry, Gerry, but I have to go as I’m running late for an important meeting.’

‘You got far to go?’

‘Orpington,’ she replied, wishing he’d stop asking questions.

‘You know what they say... more haste, less speed.’

Jane looked at her watch, it was a quarter to ten. Angry with herself, and knowing she’d be late for the meeting, she banged her hand on the steering wheel. She didn’t drive fast and the return journey took her twenty minutes. She parked her car, ran to the station and up the stairs to DCS Barnes’s office.

Jane knocked on Barnes’s door whilst dabbing the sweat from her forehead with a tissue. She knew her hair must be a mess from all the running around, but there was no time to do anything about it.

‘Come in,’ Barnes said in a gruff voice. ‘I take it you must be DS Tennison.’ He looked over the top of his half-moon glasses as he put a folder in a filing-cabinet drawer, then used his foot to close it.

Barnes was a short, thin man in his early fifties, with combed-back grey hair. He looked quite dapper, dressed in a brown two-piece suit, light blue shirt, navy blue tie and brown shoes.

‘I’m really sorry I’m late, sir, but I was—’

He held his hand up to stop. ‘In my book, if I give up my time, you should be respectful by arriving on time.’

‘Sorry, sir. I was on an early morning search which took longer than expected. I got here as fast as I could,’ Jane said, feeling foolish.

‘That’s obvious from the state of you.’

Jane dabbed her forehead again and Barnes told her to take a seat. She was surprised at how soft, yet strong his voice was.

‘Was the search connected to the nun’s murder?’

‘Yes, sir. We suspected one of the builders had forced the coffin open and stolen a silver cross. He’s denying it, but we found the cross at his flat.’

‘Good. I like positive results.’

‘I also told the site manger to stop all digging work while I made further inquiries regarding the body.’

‘Is he aware the nun was murdered?’

‘No, and neither is Barry May, the builder who stole the cross.’

‘Good, those sorts of people have big mouths, so keep it that way for now. Have you done a report for me?’

She handed him the folder.

‘I think I’ll have a coffee while I read it.’

Jane stood up, intending to go to the canteen. ‘I’ll get it. Milk and sugar?’

He pulled a sour face. ‘I never drink the dishwater they serve in the canteen.’ He pointed to a cabinet in the corner of the room, on which was an electric kettle, a cafetière and a china teapot.

‘The ground coffee is in the cabinet. If you want tea there’s lapsang souchong. I don’t take milk or sugar. If you want anything different, the canteen is on the next floor.’

Jane flicked the kettle on and put some coffee in the cafetière. She watched Barnes out of the corner of her eye as he slowly read the report, occasionally turning back a page to check something. She decided to have a tea and put some tea leaves in the pot.

She put the coffee on his desk, and he nodded a thank you. She took a sip of the tea, which was surprisingly refreshing after all the running around she’d been doing. A few minutes later, Barnes put the report down on the desk and removed his glasses. He opened his desk drawer and removed a packet of Sobranie Black Russian cigarettes and a gold Dupont lighter. Opening the pack, he offered one to Jane, who politely declined. He removed one of the long black cigarettes by its gold filter, which was decorated with a double-headed eagle, lit it and inhaled deeply before slowly blowing out the smoke. He folded his reading glasses and put them in the breast pocket of his jacket.

‘Your report is very informative and well written, Tennison. Is there anything you’d like to add?’

She told him about the cross, detailing the engraving and possible significance of the date and initials on it.

‘If the cross is the victim’s, it would be reasonable to assume she was murdered sometime after February 1958,’ Barnes surmised.

‘That’s what I was thinking,’ Jane said. ‘I’ve been told the convent was sold to the developer in 1965, so we are only looking at a possible seven-year time span.’

‘I agree, but you must also consider the cross may have been put on the nun to fool anyone who found her.’

‘You think the cross could belong to whoever killed her?’

He took a puff of the cigarette. ‘It’s not beyond the realm of possibility someone religious, such as a priest, killed her. Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’

Jane knew the quote was from Sherlock Holmes, and wondered if Barnes was trying to impress her.

‘I was told the diocese keep records of all the nuns in their district, so it shouldn’t be difficult to identify individuals with the initials MR,’ Jane said.

‘Who gave you the information about the diocesan records?’ he asked.

‘Father Christopher Floridia. He’s the priest at St Mary’s, which is just down the road from the old convent.’

‘I didn’t see his name mentioned in your report.’

Jane hesitated. ‘I didn’t think it relevant to the investigation, though he was very helpful and informative regarding—’

Barnes folded his arms and tilted his head. ‘Did you tell him the nun was murdered?’

Jane suspected that if she said yes, she’d be taken off the investigation.

‘No, sir,’ she said quickly. She then explained that she’d sought his advice prior to the post-mortem. ‘I wanted to know what the religious rules were regarding consecrated ground and who I should inform if there was, or wasn’t, a body in the coffin. He did ask me to let him know the outcome, so out of courtesy I phoned him after the PM—’

He leaned forward to interrupt. ‘And what did you tell him?’

Jane took a deep breath. ‘Only that we’d discovered a mummified body in the coffin dressed in a nun’s habit. He offered to introduce me to the bishop and help identify her.’

Barnes straightened in his chair. ‘At present I don’t want Father Floridia, the bishop, or anyone connected to the Church knowing this is a murder investigation.’

Jane was taken aback. ‘Surely, sir, the priority is identifying our victim and ascertaining if she was a nun at the old convent. Father Floridia’s assistance would be very useful.’

‘I don’t trust priests or the hierarchy of the Catholic Church to be truthful when dealing with something that reflects badly on them. They’ll make empty promises to keep you at bay,’ he said bluntly.

‘Will it not reflect badly on us if we don’t tell them?’ she countered.

‘I’ve made my decision, and I expect you to obey it,’ he said, stubbing out his cigarette.

‘Yes, sir,’ Jane replied. She wanted to ask why Barnes didn’t trust the Church, but thought it best not to. ‘Does that mean you want me to continue with the investigation?’

‘Yes, for now.’

‘Thank you, sir. Will the murder squad be based at Bromley or here?’

‘I’m not forming a full murder squad just yet. I want everything played low-key for now and no press involvement. If whoever killed her is still alive, the last thing we want to do is give them a heads-up and the opportunity to disappear. Do your best to identify the nun over the next three days, then I’ll review my decision on Monday.’

Jane was confused. ‘How do I do that without speaking to anyone connected to the Church?’

‘I never said you couldn’t talk to them. You’ve already got one foot in the door with this Father Floridia. Tell him the post-mortem is still ongoing.’

‘I don’t think I’d feel right lying to him.’

‘You don’t have to lie. Your report said further expert opinion is needed to determine the nun’s age and how long she’s been dead. That’s quite true, and it’s also true we need to identify her as soon as possible. I’d call it a means to an end. However, if you’re not happy about it, I can always find someone who is...’ He paused to let her answer.

‘I take your point, sir. Of course, I’ll do as you ask. DC Boon’s also been assisting me...’

Barnes frowned. ‘DI Stanley said he’s not very experienced.’

‘But he’s keen and eager to learn,’ Jane said. ‘He’s liaising with the Missing Persons Bureau and was with me at the building site and post-mortem, so he’s up to speed with the investigation.’

‘All right, but if he screws up it’s on you.’

‘What about the building site? Can they start work again?’ she asked.

‘Not yet. To be honest I’m not that concerned about whether or not the land is consecrated. The priority is identifying the nun and finding out who murdered her. That said, it can be used to our advantage as a cover to get information out of the diocese and identify the nun. Once you’ve done that, I’ll review the situation regarding the building site.’

‘Should I report back to you directly?’

‘I’m in meetings at Scotland Yard for the rest of the day and away at a family wedding over the weekend. DI Stanley will supervise you in my absence. Are you rostered to work this weekend?’

‘No, sir, but I’m more than happy to do so without overtime, and re-roster my rest days.’

He nodded. ‘You can claim overtime if your inquiries justify it. Same goes for DC Boon if you need him. We can have another meeting in DI Stanley’s office on Monday morning at ten. Is there anything else for now?’

‘I was wondering if it would be worth getting an anthropologist to do a facial reconstruction. It’s a fairly new thing which involves—’

‘I’m fully aware of what it is, Tennison. Circulating a facial reconstruction this early in the investigation could lead to a lot of erroneous identifications and cause more problems than it’s worth. I’m happy for a forensic odontologist to examine the victim’s teeth to give an estimate of her age at death. If you do identify the victim and recover any dental records, the odontologist can then compare the two; that way, you’ll have a confirmed ID.’

Jane already knew, from a previous investigation, what a forensic odontologist could do and thought she’d raised it in her report. ‘Thank you for letting me continue the investigation. I won’t let you down,’ she said.

‘That remains to be seen. From what I’ve heard, you had quite a chequered history during your eight years’ service in the Met. My advice to you is, be a team player and don’t go behind people’s backs. It only causes friction and distrust.’

Jane thought he was criticising her part in the downfall of DCI Bill Murphy. ‘DCI Murphy was a corrupt officer, and a jury found him guilty,’ she said. ‘If I had to do the same again, I would.’

‘And I commend you for that. I knew Murphy when he was a DS. Like you, I served with him on the Flying Squad. Back then he was an honest, devoted detective who quickly rose to the rank of DCI. Unfortunately, he got himself in financial difficulties and was going through a divorce when he started taking bribes. Then, as you know, he progressed to organising armed robberies.’

‘It’s no excuse for what he did. His actions endangered the lives of other officers. It’s lucky no one got killed.’

‘I agree with you.’

‘I wish more people on the force did,’ Jane said.

‘That’s your problem, Tennison. You think the world is against you. Because of that you sometimes fly solo, which in turn annoys your colleagues and turns them against you. Contrary to what you may think, I’ve heard many a good word said about you. If you want to make inspector, you need to learn how to communicate better with both your superiors and subordinates. Teamwork is based on trust and respect.’

She nodded, knowing he was giving her sound advice.

He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got to head off to the Yard in a minute. Photocopy your report and leave the original on my desk. And remember, tread carefully with Father Floridia and anyone else you speak to at the diocesan offices. Don’t take their word as gospel,’ he smiled.

She couldn’t help asking before she left his office: ‘I don’t wish to appear nosy, sir, but have you had a bad experience with the Catholic Church. I mean, in an official way?’

Barnes nodded, removed another cigarette from the pack and lit it. ‘It was over twenty years ago now. I was a young DS in North London, investigating a case where a twelve-year-old boy called Stephen Phillips had gone missing from a children’s orphanage run by a priest and nuns. I instigated a search of the nearby woods and found him hanging from a tree.’ He took in a deep breath and let out a sigh. He rubbed his chin and shook his head as he recalled the memory. ‘The poor boy had taken his own life.’

‘That must have been a shocking thing to witness,’ she said.

His voice trembled. ‘Cutting Stephen down from the tree and holding his limp body in my arms still haunts me to this day. I didn’t even know him... yet it was if I’d lost my own son.’ He took a steadying breath before continuing.

‘At first, I couldn’t for the life of me understand why a mere child would want to commit suicide. It was during the post-mortem I discovered the answer. When we removed his clothing, there were black and blue welt marks over his lower back and buttocks. He’d been beaten so badly you could see the outline of the belt and buckle on his skin. The pathologist said some of the marks were old and some recent. I knew right away whoever was responsible for inflicting Stephen’s injuries had to work at the convent.’

Jane felt sickened by the idea. ‘Was it the priest or one of the nuns?’

‘At first, I suspected it was just the priest in charge of the orphanage, but I later found out some of the nuns also beat the children. He was a pompous, self-righteous man who believed it was “God’s will” that children who were unruly should be punished and the use of a belt was appropriate. He described Stephen as a “problem child” who needed to learn right from wrong,’ Barnes said, his sadness turning to anger.

‘What did the priest say when you told him Stephen had committed suicide?’

‘He considered it to be a mortal sin. His exact words were, “We must say what we know is the truth — taking your own life is a sin against God who made us.” The church even refused to hold a funeral mass for Stephen because he’d committed suicide.’

‘I never realised the Catholic Church could be so strict.’

‘Neither did I. The sad thing is, it took a child’s suicide to open my eyes. An orphanage should be a safe place where children are loved by adults they can trust, not a place that fills them with fear of physical abuse.’

‘Were they sexually abused as well?’

‘I don’t know for certain. But I believe the priest got a sadistic pleasure out of humiliating and inflicting bodily harm on the children under his care, some of whom were only six years old. It beggars belief that anyone of any faith could mistreat innocent children the way they did.’

Jane could see the sadness in Barnes’s eyes, but thought it strange he never said the priest’s name.

‘What was the outcome?’

‘The archbishop got involved. He informed my DCI the diocese would carry out a thorough investigation and I was told to await the outcome. A week passed and I’d heard nothing, so I went to the orphanage and said I wanted to interview some of the older children and have them examined by a police doctor. The priest refused to let me in the door.’

‘On what grounds?’

‘That the archbishop was still conducting his investigation and I would cause the children undue stress and disrupt their daily routine. The next thing I knew the divisional commander wanted to see me in his office. The archbishop had complained that my behaviour was overbearing and accused me of persecuting one of his priests. I was told to mark the case file up as a suicide by a mentally unstable child.’

Jane was staggered. ‘That’s awful. How could a commander condone serious assaults against young children?’

‘The archbishop used the law to his advantage. Corporal punishment in schools and orphanages is justified by the common-law doctrine known as in loco parentis, whereby teachers are granted the same rights as parents to discipline and punish children in their care if they do not adhere to the rules.’

‘But what about the welt marks from the belt on Stephen’s buttocks? Surely that was physical evidence the priest had gone too far.’

‘The archbishop said the priest and nuns had had justifiable grounds to chastise Stephen on a number of occasions as he was so unruly. The Met solicitors said without Stephen as a witness it was impossible to say who was actually responsible for inflicting the injuries, and therefore there wasn’t enough evidence to charge anyone. The archbishop said the priest had been given some advice on his future behaviour and moved to another post.’

‘Where did they send him?’

‘I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me. As far as I’m concerned the whole thing was a big cover-up by the Catholic Church to protect its reputation.’

‘Did Stephen have any family?

‘No, both his parents had died in a car crash when he was six. One minute he was alone in the world and the next he was in a living hell.’

‘Where was he buried?’

‘The coroner helped me arrange an Anglican burial for him. No one from the Catholic Church even bothered to attend. It was a really sad day, but the whole of the CID office attended, and uniform formed a white-gloved guard of honour outside the church. I visit his grave a few times a year and lay some fresh flowers in his memory.’

Jane was deeply moved by Barnes’s shocking revelations. It was clear he would never forget Stephen Phillips, and was still deeply frustrated and angry at not being able to charge and convict the priest for the assaults he’d no doubt inflicted on numerous children. His distrust of the Catholic Church now made perfect sense. But she also worried that in the current investigation, it might cloud his judgement of decent, caring priests like Father Chris.