A Journal of Sin (19 page)

‘I’m quite happy here.’

If she couldn’t move him, she had to move the crowd. She turned around to face them. ‘I’m going to talk to, to?’

‘Will.’

‘To Will about Father Michael, but I need to do it in private, which I’m sure you understand. So, if everyone could just wait a little over that way, it’d be much appreciated.’

‘He’s been murdered; we’ve never had a murder here before.’ Fuck. One stray voice. So much for broaching the subject sensitively. She turned back around. The crew were set up and Will held a microphone to her face.

‘On? We’re here in Sunbury, yet another town hit by Hurricane Eliza, with PC Gladstone. Officer, what can you tell us about the murder of Father Michael, the local priest?’ She stood there stunned. Will looked at her expectantly. The camera’s red light flashed; she was on live television.

‘Erm – I can only confirm at the moment that a body has been found and we are looking into the circumstances. I cannot say anymore at this stage.’

‘Is the body that of the local priest?’

‘That’s all I can say at the moment. A body has been found and the death is being treated as suspicious.’ She couldn’t give them an inch. She was certain journalists had strict regulations regarding the reporting of incidents like this, and releasing names and details of the deceased in this way must fall way below those ethical standards.

‘Ok. An awkward response there from local officer PC Gladstone, hopefully we’ll have more for you soon. Off?’

‘Yep, it’s off.’ Alan lowered the camera. ‘Will, you’re an arsehole, how could you ask that?’

‘You need to learn to think on your feet a little, lady. I was hoping for a better show.’

Sarah physically shook with rage and fear. ‘How could you fucking do that? You can’t just broadcast that without checking with me first.’ Being on live television was enough to bring on the nerves, but announcing a murder investigation before her bosses had any knowledge of it left her petrified of the consequences. She imagined Father Michael’s family, sitting on the sofa, watching the evening news and finding out about their brother’s death, and her twin girls seeing their under -slept, undernourished mother panicking on live TV.

‘I just asked the questions, love; you told the world. Let’s chat about it and we’ll go on again in about twenty minutes with a fuller story.’

‘No. I need to speak to my boss before I say another word on camera.’

‘Well, there’s no refusing is there? You want me to go on air and say the officer now refuses to speak to us about the murder? Think how would that look.’ He looked so proud of himself.

‘Will. Stop being a dick,’ said Alan. ‘Are the masts still out this way?’

‘Yes. No signal, no landline. No way to get a message out at all,’ she replied.

‘Aside from live TV to the entire world all at once.’ Will smirked.

She wanted to punch him; she was going to lose her job anyway. ‘You know, that poor man’s family may well have just found out about his death whilst sitting in their living rooms. Are you proud of that? I’m not sure what it is about that makes you so happy.’

‘Ignore him. He’ll only wind you up,’ said Alan. ‘Why you out here on your own? Surely they should send more officers to deal with a murder?’

‘I stayed with my mum through the storm, so just luck I guess. Good or bad luck, depends on your perspective.’ Will walked towards the residents to question them.

‘Seriously, I wouldn’t let him get to you. He’s not long for this job the way he’s carrying on.’ The satellite phone rang from the helicopter. ‘In fact, this is probably our producer now.’

‘Hello, PC Gladstone?’ Matt called from the other side of the helicopter, holding a large, old-fashioned looking phone. ‘It’s Chief Superintendent Adams for you.’

TWELVE

‘So, the body is being preserved where?’ DS Dales stared at his notebook trying to get his head around Sarah’s chronology. Sally had gone upstairs to give them some privacy and he’d settled into her chair in the lounge. His long legs were uncomfortably crossed, allowing him to use his thigh as a bookrest. They’d spent the past twenty minutes in Sally’s lounge going over exactly where Amy found the body, something Sarah felt could have been achieved far easier by just walking the route. Dales had a sharp attention to detail that no doubt led to him being selected for the Major Crime Team and being chosen for this assignment.

‘In a shed, a short way from here. It’s secure.’ She hoped.

‘In a shed? A lock-up shed or a garden shed? In a freezer?’ Whomever briefed him hadn’t filled him in on the situation in Sunbury. No electricity meant no freezer. She’d mentioned it to the chief super, but he hadn’t been in a listening mood.

‘No. Wrapped in a tent in a shed at the bottom of a garden.’

His eyes lit up and he scribbled some notes. There was no other way of describing it. It was so ridiculous, it sounded sarcastic. ‘And whose house is it?’

‘John Horscroft’s. I had nowhere else to keep it. He’s the only other person who knows it’s there.’ She was willing to risk a white lie on this one if it meant the sergeant thought she was slightly less of an idiot.

‘Right. I think that’s all the physical evidence covered. Body, crime scene, search of his quarters, notebooks; we’ll get to the detail of those shortly. The DI will also want to know any lines of enquiry you’ve carried out and whether you’ve identified any suspects. I have to compile a very thorough report. This whole situation has caused severe embarrassment back at the ranch.’

‘My enquiries have been limited by –’

‘Yes, the not so ideal circumstances. You’ve mentioned them, but what do you actually have?’

‘At the moment, there’s not a lot pulling me in any particular direction. Not enough to make an arrest. The injuries to the genitals suggest a sexual motive and, with him being a priest, this maybe a vigilante attack. There is something else. There is a recurring confessor in the journals. Someone that visited Father Michael numerous times before he was murdered. In fact, the journals were started because of this person. Father Michael called him the Unrepentant Man.’

‘The Unrepentant Man?’

‘In 1991, this Unrepentant Man came to Father Michael and confessed to abusing children. Father Michael started the journals in case he ever needed to break his sacramental vow of silence. He kept a record of all their sins; I can’t be sure why, but my best guess is because he had no other release. He couldn’t talk to anyone. In truth, he shouldn’t really have been writing it down either, but he clearly felt the need to.’

‘The Unrepentant Man doesn’t come for a while, years in fact, but when he does, it’s clear he’s not genuinely confessing anything, simply goading the poor man. Father Michael struggles so much that he seeks advice from his bishop. He mentions this briefly and it seems he provides the deceased with little comfort, and in the end he decides to risk leaving the church. He’s not specific on what he intends to do, but the most recent journal implies he’s going to out this Unrepentant Man, possibly make a complaint to the police; it’s not something we’ll ever know now.’

‘You think this character knew Father Michael was going to turn him in?’ Dales stopped taking notes and seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say.

‘He doesn’t mention it explicitly, but it’s too big of a connection to ignore.’

‘I agree. Does he give a name?’

‘No. There aren’t any names in any of the books.’

‘Anything we can use to identify him at all?’

Sarah thought for a moment. There really wasn’t. Father Michael’s attention to detail had been so precise, that he’d left her little to use to locate the man who may well have murdered him. ‘No.’

‘Okay, well, we’ll have someone read through them in detail back at the office. A fresh pair of eyes may help find something you may have missed.’ He went back to taking notes. She felt like she was taking her driving test again; a man sat jotting down impactive things at odd intervals that were just out of eyeshot.

‘Is there anyone who may have a reason to think the deceased abused any kids?’

Was that it? Was that all the attention he was going to give it? ‘One of the residents, Sean Willoughby, mentioned his brother was abused as a child. He wasn’t forthcoming with details; too busy complaining the police didn’t do anything about it.’ Dales jotted something down, most likely just his name.

‘This the same guy who took the book from his room?’

‘Yes.’

‘Date of birth?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Address?’

‘It’s not far from here, I can show you.’

‘Was the suspect in the abuse case a member of the clergy?’

‘He didn’t mention it.’

‘Did you ask him?’

‘No.’ He wrote more notes, flipping the page and continuing on. She stayed quiet as to why she couldn’t answer his questions; ‘because I thought he’d just turn up’ wouldn’t have gone down so well.

‘And where is that book now?’

‘He’s still got it. If he even took it at all, he flatly denied it when I asked him, and John’s the only witness to him leaving Father Michael’s room with it.’ She hoped her assessment of the situation would win him back round. Talking it through helped form her thoughts. She hadn’t stopped in the past few days and, embarrassing though this process was, she was glad Dales was here.

‘But you trust John, right?’

‘Yeah. Yes, I do. Well, I did. Something’s come up since that may change all that.’

‘Anything that puts him in the frame?’

‘John’s divorced. He’s not been back here long since the break-up. He’s not seen his wife and kid since. I spoke to a local lady, Grace Stapleton, who was close to Father Michael. Grace used to volunteer to clean the church. She told me Jenny, John’s wife, visited the deceased on a regular basis seeking marriage advice. After a while, John started coming to the church and arguing with Father Michael about it, asking what they were talking about and even telling him to stop.’

‘Wait. I thought you said he was upset about the divorce? Why was he complaining about advice given by a priest? Priests don’t often suggest flinging your ring off and partying. Trust me, I sat through all that myself. Waste of bloody time it was too.’ Dales straightened his legs.

‘Grace doesn’t know. If he did suggest divorce, he must have had a good reason. Either way, that’s what happened.’

‘So it may be that’s what John assumed they were talking about and took a dislike to him for it. You mentioned he had an unhealthy interest in the journals? Does that concern you?’

‘He’s not over his ex. He keeps pictures of her in his lounge and next to his computer. She took out a restraining order against him, keeping him away from her and his kid. If what Grace says is true, he’s probably thinking Father Michael documented his conversations with Jenny. Nothing I’ve read suggests that’s the case.’

‘We’ll round him up.’ He didn’t look up from his notebook.

‘Really? John?’

‘Could be our man. Either way, someone needs nicking. You can’t have a murder announced on national news and nobody arrested. He has a motive, he thinks the deceased contributed to his divorce and he’s tried to get his hands on confidential evidence numerous times.’

‘I’m just not sure he’s the type.’ Saying it out loud to a sergeant sounded even more stupid.

‘It’s more than enough to question him.’ It didn’t sit well with Sarah. Men like Dales were prevalent in the police service; she’d seen her fair share in the short time she’d been there. In her experience, men like Dales came from a generation of police officers that bent the few rules they had and had struggled to adapt to modern times. Policing culture had evolved since their time, but when the chips were down, the officers seen as liabilities under a modern spotlight were venerated as the ones who could get the job done. She didn’t have the experience or the background to disagree, and it was unlikely he’d want to discuss it with her anyway.

‘Before we do that, Sarge, there’s someone else I think we should talk to. You may have better luck with him than I did.’

THIRTEEN

‘We’re not going to be here too long. All of this has got to be moved on pretty quickly.’ Dales knocked on Tom’s front door.

Sarah nodded. There was no point in arguing. It seemed Dales had already decided how the case was going to pan out. It was enough to get him to even speak to Tom, and part of her believed there was a chance he’d understand what she meant after he had. She hoped it wouldn’t take long for Dales to get a sense about Tom, that feeling she had whenever she spoke to him.

‘I hope this isn’t a waste of time.’ The front door opened. ‘Tom Bletchard? DS Dales. This is PC Gladstone.’

‘Oh yes, we’ve met. Hello. How can I help?’ Tom’s dressing gown diluted his normally intimidating nature.

‘Can we come in for a chat?’

‘Of course.’ They sat down in the living room. Whereas Sally decided to maintain her house in the style in which she bought it, Tom kept up with modern conventions. Sarah sank into the black leather sofa, careful not to get so comfortable she fell off to sleep.

‘Tom, I’ve taken over the investigation into Father Michael’s murder. I’ve just come to get some background information. I hear you’ve helped try to get Sunbury back on its feet since the storm and knew the deceased well.’

‘Yes. They’re a chipper bunch here though, so I can’t take all the credit. Sarah’s been doing her best all on her own, poor thing.’
Slimeball.
She heard footsteps upstairs and hoped Anne would come down, just to see what Dales made of their relationship. Most murders were as a result of domestic violence, so given his position on MCT, he’d have seen a fair few, and she was certain he’d recognise the signs the way she had. ‘I’ll just boil us some water; all this must be thirsty work.’ He left the lounge.

‘You won’t have to do that much longer, Sir. They were talking about getting the power back on just before I flew over here.’ Dales hadn’t mentioned that to Sarah. Nice to be kept in the loop, Sarge.

‘That’d be grand. It’s all starting to wear a bit thin. It’ll be nice to have some home comforts back.’ He handed them both a mug of tea. ‘So, what can I do for you?’