Murder Club (20 page)

‘Yes, sorry. Of course we did. My memory. Not what it was.’

‘That’s okay, Reverend.’

‘But I don’t understand. What has that to do with us?’

‘A body was discovered in the grounds.’

‘Well there has been a cemetery in the grounds since the church was built.’

‘It wasn’t in the cemetery part.’

‘Oh?’

‘I still don’t see what this has to do with us, Detective,’ said Patricia Hunt.

‘We don’t know who the man is. Trying to get a lead on him. We’re just making enquiries really.’ Delaney smiled reassuringly.

‘We heard about it on the radio,’ said Patricia. ‘We would of course have phoned if we thought we could help in any way.’

‘As far as our forensic pathologist can tell, the body has been there for some twenty years. About the time the church was under your care, Reverend.’

Geoffrey Hunt took a hit on his inhaler, his breathing wet and ragged. ‘I retired twenty years ago. Have you spoken to my successor?’

‘Not as yet. He is in Africa on missionary work at present. We’ve left him a message.’

‘He may …’ The older man struggled to get the words out. ‘He may be able to help. Maybe he knows something …’ He trailed off, wheezing.

‘Are you all right, dear?’ Patricia crossed to his side and held him as Geoffrey’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed in his chair. ‘Help me,’ she shouted to Delaney, who rushed over to catch her husband.

Sally pulled out her mobile and punched in the number nine three times.

‘I need an ambulance quickly,’ she said.

Bible Steve stood in the gents’ bathroom, horrified at the sight of the man looking back at him from the mirror. His whole body was trembling, and tears had formed in the corner of his eyes. He turned both taps on and looked down at his shaking hands as he put them under the jets of water. The water turned pink for a moment, then clear as he rubbed harder as if to scour the skin from them.

He splashed water onto his face and through his hair. Making fists of his hands and rubbing the corner of his eyes. He opened his eyes again and leaned in closer to the mirror.

‘Who are you?’ he whispered. ‘Who the fuck are you?’

He held his hands under the water again and then cried out as it burned his hand.

Dave Matthews came running into the room, closely followed by Laura Chilvers. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked.

‘It’s hot,’ said Bible Steve.

‘Here,’ said Laura, taking his hand, running the cold water and putting his hand under it. After a while, she dried off his hand with a paper towel and looked at it. ‘You’ll be okay, I’ll get the nurse to put some cream on it.’

‘What happened to me?’ said Bible Steve.

‘You scalded your hand, Steve,’ replied Dave Matthews.

‘That’s not my name. I’m not called Steve. And I don’t mean the water.’

‘You need to get back into bed.’ Laura took his arm and led him out of the room into the ward corridor.

Bible Steve walked docilely along, no fight in him. ‘How did I get so old?’ he asked.

Laura shrugged sympathetically. ‘Can you remember anything at all about what happened last night?’

Bible shook his head, confused, and looked down at his hands again as they arrived back at his room. ‘My skin is parchment, isn’t it?’ he said.

‘I’m sorry.’

‘How charged with punishments the scroll!’ he continued.

‘What are you on about, Bible?’ asked Sergeant Matthews.

‘The spirit is weak, so the flesh must be punished, and here that punishment is recorded.’ He held up his hands, forming them into fists. ‘The body is a canvas and pain is the paint with which God marks us.’

Dave Matthews held his hands up. ‘Okay, Bible. Let’s not do any decorating here.’

The confused man lowered his hands, looked at
Laura,
then back at the sergeant. ‘I do remember one thing,’ he said, tears forming in his eyes again.

Laura put her hand on his arm. ‘What?’

‘A death.’ He almost whispered the word.

‘What do you mean?’

Tears streamed from the homeless man’s eyes now. ‘I murdered a young woman.’ He looked down at his bunched fists again. ‘I can still see her blood.’

Sergeant Matthews would have pressed him but the registrar came bustling up to them, a nurse in tow and a serious expression on her face.

‘Okay. That’s quite enough, Sergeant. You’re upsetting him.’

‘He’s just confessed to a murder.’

‘He is tired and confused. Your questions will have to wait and we need to do some blood tests.’

‘Hold on just a minute,’ said Dave Matthews. ‘I need to speak to him.’

‘Then you need to speak to him later.’

‘It’s important.’

‘He’s in no state to be questioned right now. That’s a medical … and a legal opinion.’ She looked over at Laura, who nodded.

‘I’m not talking about a formal interview. We just want to talk.’

‘Then you can do it a little later. Come on, sir. Let’s get you back to bed.’

She led Bible Steve back into his room. Sergeant Matthews swore mildly under his breath. ‘What the hell’s going on here, Laura?’

Laura Chilvers shook her head, her eyes troubled. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Are you all right?’

‘Yes, of course I am!’ she snapped back.

Dave Matthews looked down at the hand she was rubbing nervously, unaware that she was doing it.

‘How did you hurt your hand?’

‘I did something really stupid.’

‘What?’

‘I don’t know.’

THE BRIEFING ROOM
was about half-full. Uniforms and CID, some sitting, some standing. Most with cups of coffee. The windows were steaming up, but through them you could see the snow falling in earnest. Delaney wiped his hand on the window, peering out to see a white layer covering his Saab. Maybe it was time to get a new car. As a detective inspector he was entitled to have replaced it years ago. And with a baby on the way, maybe he should. An estate maybe. Kate would probably approve of a Volvo, something dependable, reliable, safe. Words not usually associated with him. He smiled at the thought, and realised that Diane Campbell had just said something to him.

She half-sat on the desk behind her, a pint-sized mug of tea held in her petite hand.

‘Sorry, what’s that?’ he asked.

‘I said, is something amusing you, Detective?’

‘Life, boss. Sometimes just looking out of the window, seeing the city stretching out in all directions. The millions of people. Some of them loving. Some of them just living. The hate, the poverty, the dirt. And then days like today with the snow falling, covering up all the dirt. Makes you wish it could do the same for the pain and hurt that human beings visit on each
other
on an hourly basis. But you know nothing can. You have to either smile or cry.’

‘Yes, thank you, Brendan Behan. But back in the real world of the Metropolitan Police, what can you tell us about the John Doe we dug up in Queen’s Park yesterday morning?’

‘Not a lot more, ma’am. The lab will run a DNA analysis, but that will take a while. Likewise dental records. We’re checking the missing-persons lists for the area, going back to the time we estimate he was buried there.’

‘Any hits?’

‘The vicar at the time, Geoffrey Hunt. His brother went missing about the same time. A little while later, the reverend’s brother called to say he was okay, apparently.’

‘You think the brother might be the John Doe?’

‘It’s possible. But I also think he might know what happened to the John Doe. Could be he had a reason for disappearing.’

‘A reason like murder, you mean.’

‘Someone put a hole in the man’s head and tried to make sure the body was never discovered.’

‘If those workmen hadn’t been digging that trench, it probably never would have been,’ said Diane Campbell.

‘Exactly. I get the sense that there was something the retired vicar wasn’t telling us.’

‘You think he knows where his brother is?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Can you not lean on him?’

‘He’s in hospital, ma’am,’ answered Sally Cartwright.

Diane looked over at Delaney. ‘Jesus, Jack! Don’t tell me—’

‘Of course not,’ Delaney said. ‘He’s an old man. He’s sick. He just collapsed is all.’

‘I’ve seen your bad-cop routine, Jack.’

Delaney held up his hands. ‘I swear. Just asked him a couple of questions is all. I’ll go and see him later when he’s fit to question.’

‘Where is he?’

‘The South Hampstead.’

‘Talking of which, what’s the update on Bible Steve, Slimline?’

Dave Matthews shrugged his broad shoulders. ‘He’s still there. Out of intensive care now, but not in good shape.’

‘What about his mental state?’

‘In some senses worse. He doesn’t even recognise the name Bible Steve any more and has no memory of being on the streets.’

Diane nodded. ‘Paddington Green are not treating the Chinese woman’s death as suspicious. The coroner said she died from a heart attack. She had a long history of heart problems, apparently. It could have been triggered by finding Bible. Or it could have happened any time, according to the coroner. The cold didn’t help.’

‘Looks like the poor old sod was attacked, though, guv.’

‘Go on?’

Laura answered for him. ‘The X-rays show he was hit with something. Something long and round-shaped.’

‘A baseball bat?’

‘Could be.’

‘But it was definitely a deliberate attack. He’s lucky to be alive,’ added the sergeant.

‘Random?’

‘We’ve spoken to the homeless unit. No other reports of recent tramp bashing.’

‘We prefer the term “homeless”, Slimline.’

‘But there’s another problem.’

‘Go on.’

‘Bible Steve tells us he saw a murder the other night. A young woman. Early twenties. Blonde. Blood everywhere.’

‘Where?’

‘He doesn’t remember.’

‘And can he describe the attacker?’

‘Perfectly.’

Dr Laura Chilvers uncrossed her arms. ‘We think he is suffering from some kind of psychotic episode. The blows to the head, his earlier fall. Some kind of fugue, delusional fantasies.’

‘What’s the neurologist say?’

‘They’re running tests.’

‘There’s been no report of any young woman being murdered?’

‘No, boss,’ said Sergeant Matthews.

‘Doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.’

‘It’s a possibility.’

‘Highly unlikely!’ added Laura.

‘So he can give us a good description of who this possible murderer is.’

‘He said he did it himself, ma’am. He claims he killed the young woman.’

‘You’re not telling me you’re taking him seriously?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘This is Bible Steve we’re talking about.’

‘He says he killed someone. Maybe he didn’t. Maybe he saw something, though.’

‘Maybe.’

‘He does seem different as well,’ said the sergeant. ‘Not like his old self at all. A different person somehow. Not just the amnesia. In a funny way he seemed more together.’

‘He was just more sober,’ said Laura. ‘It won’t last.’

‘Best get a wriggle on then. Because he might have imagined or dreamed or hallucinated something last night. But someone beating him up with a baseball bat isn’t a delusional fantasy, is it?’

‘No.’

‘Then we had better look into it.’

‘Ma’am.’

Diane nodded at Dr Chilvers. ‘And I don’t need to remind you that if Bible Steve left here last night with a serious head injury, and you allowed his discharge without picking up on it, there could be serious consequences.’

‘I’m pretty sure …’

Diane held a hand up to interrupt her and turned to Delaney. ‘This is one for CID,’ she said. ‘The other case has been waiting for twenty years. I want you to get back on this, Jack. You’re going to the hospital anyway.’

‘Sure.’

‘As Laura says, it sounds highly unlikely. I don’t have Bible Steve down as a psychotic murderer. But we can’t afford to ignore it and he might well have seen something.’

‘I’ll get on it,’ said Delaney.

‘I’ll come with you,’ said Laura.

‘Kate, see if you can chase up the reverend’s brother meanwhile as you know the family. What’s the brother’s name?’

Kate consulted her notebook. ‘Jeremy Hunt, Diane. Reverend Jeremy Hunt, I should say. Runs in the family.’

There was a knock on the door and DI Tony Hamilton walked in followed by DI Emma Halliday.

‘Hello, ma’am. Sorry to interrupt,’ said DI Hamilton.

‘That’s okay, Tony. We’re wrapped up here.’ She gestured for the team to get on. ‘So what can I do for you?’

‘Like to have a word with Inspector Delaney.’

‘Be my guest.’ Diane left, followed by the rest of the team.

‘What’s going on, Tony?’ asked Delaney.

‘Not entirely sure.’ Hamilton waited for the room to clear then closed the door on the three of them.

‘Bit of a puzzle,’ Emma Halliday agreed.

‘Bit out of your bailiwick, aren’t you, Catwalk?’

‘Not really. They are going to combine White City here with Paddington Green next month apparently.’

‘Why?’

‘Cutbacks, Jack. Streamlining of management and operational infrastructure. Just the beginning, I’d say.’

‘Be about right. What does Napier say?’

Emma grinned. ‘Don’t know, but if it means a sideways move for him, he’ll not be happy.’

‘That’s something then,’ said Delaney, finishing his coffee. ‘So what’s the puzzle that brings the Met’s best and beautiful over to see little old me?’

Emma reached into the black leather bag she had slung over her shoulder and placed an evidence bag on the table.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s a tarot card. Major Arcana.’

Delaney picked it up. A man dressed in medieval garb, hung by his one foot from a T-shaped tree. Red hose, blue jerkin and a yellow corona around his head.

‘The Hanged Man,’ said DI Hamilton.

‘I’m Irish, not a gypsy. What’s this got to do with me?’

‘The card was found on a man who suicided a year ago. Jumped under a train at Piccadilly Circus station. Took a while to track him down. His name was Andrew Johnson. Came from a town called Lavenham in Suffolk. He was the landlord of a small pub called
The Crawfish
there.’