Rapture Falls (13 page)

McCullum recognized one of the paramedics from his frequent trips to the emergency wards to either interview victims or perpetrators, Ian Durham was a cheerful wiry man in his mid forties,
in his experience always one of life’s
eternal optimist
s
.

“Glad to see it’s you McCullum” Durham said looking ashen faced and distraught, “I hope you get the bastard that did this and cut off his balls” he spat with venom

In a week of surprises McCullum found the amiable paramedics face one of the most disturbing

“What have we got Durham” he asked.

“Some cunt has cut Father
Jacobs’s
throat, some bastard, some..”
spittle froze on his lips as
he became speechless with ravenous fury.

McCullum attempted a soothing tone as the other paramedic, a man whom he did not know, looked evermore nervous and uncomfortable at his partners
demeanour
, McCullum chose to
address
him instead,
“
What’s the situation son”

The younger man answered, “Throat wound sir, there’s a silver letter opener in the back office that looks to be the weapon used, he’s lost a lot of blood but we’ve got him stable, strange though”

“What is?” McCullum enquired

“Well from the amount of blood on the floor and the time of the call from the housekeeper I would have expected him to have been long since expired by the time that we got here”,
Durham’s
sharp intake caused his young co
mpanion to look at him angrily, “Sorry Ian but you know what I mean” he offered.

McCullum
accompanied
them back to the awaiting ambulance, he watched as they loaded the priest into the back, they were con
stantly monitoring Jacobs
and from their ever relaxing manners they were becoming increasingly
calm
over his condition
. Durham closed himself into the rear of the ambulance with the priest leaving McCullum with his partner, McCullum raised an eyebrow at the younger man
inquisitively
,

“Ian’s a regular here, he
doesn’t
talk much about it but I know that he thinks the world of Father Jacobs, he nearly had a fit when we got here, I though
t
I was going to be loading him in the back with the priest” the paramedic walked around to the drivers door whilst McCullum filed this information away to be pondered whether or not this information was relevant.

“Did he say anything,
Father
Jacobs I mean” he asked the departing paramedic through the
driver’s
window.

“I think that he said something to Ian, but I
couldn’t
be 100% sure what it was, sounded like rain or dane or drain something like that”

McCullum’s ears pricked at this “Could it have been Baine?”

“Yeah, yeah that sounds about right, what does it mean?”

“I have no idea” McCullum answered truthfully
to himself
as the ambulance pulled away
leaving him standing alone with
his somewhat
confused
thoughts. He stood outside just out of reach of the growing crowd, by now three other uniformed constables had arrived much to the relief of the younger man alone at the gates, the crowd had grown to around forty of fifty people all whom seemed terrified at the very thought of losing their pastor. McCullum had never been much into religion and failed to see the attraction in handing over so much control to an unproven unsubstantiated force, he had never felt the need to lean so heavily on others for support or for confirmation. He saw the scared faces on those camped outside of the wrought iron gates, expressions of panic and alarm, the horde slo
wly parted as the forensic team led by DCI Jones
fought their way through to the front
, the DCI was not a morning person and McCullum was depressed to see him here at all. His fat superior barreled and shoved his through the people and their questions and greeted McCullum with his usual grace,

“What the fuck hour do you call this Mac?” he barked sullenly

“A little early Sir I’ll grant you” McCullum raised an internal eyebrow at the use of a nickname of any sort from Jones.

“So what we got, some priest caught with his pecker stuck in a choirboy?” Jones’ attitude was a confusing mix of friendliness and aggression.

“Too early to say at the minute, nothing at the scene, no witnesses as yet,
jack shit really” McCullum hated doing it but he knew that it was necessary to resort to a more industrial language in order to ingratiate himself further in with his boss.

The next couple of hours passed excruciatingly slowly as the forensic team took sample and photo’s whilst all the while McCullum had to summon up laughs and foul language as Jones spouted almost every bigoted and racist adjective and passed them off as humor. Finally, mercifully
,
they were done, the scene was documented
and dusted
, potential witnesses canvassed and questioned, the surrounding area checked for footprints,
fibers
and any other evidence
. The priest had been attacked in the rear office, the weapon used was a small silver letter opener that the sturdy housekeeper had identified as belonging to Father Jacobs, so the assailant had not brought a weapon with him or her making the attack somewhat less premeditated an escalating argument perhaps, the blood trail led to a small service door that had been surprisingly destroyed, presumably the attacker had fled this way and the good father had followed chasing off his invader, McCullum felt an admiration for the guts of the older man. Eventually he had managed to extricate himself from the clutches of DCI Jones taking a rain check on the man’s offer of a booze sodden lunch with explanations
of prior unbreakable commitment
, he finally sat alone in his car attempting to separate in his mind the evidence of the scene from the inane prattle of his
alleged
superior.
All he needed after his strange experience with the Priest was the chance to centre himself again, to breathe slowly and deeply.
The housekeeper had provided him with a saintly picture of Andrew Jacobs, which whilst flattering the priest as the second coming
,
provided him with very little knowledge of the man. He had tried surreptitiously talking to some isolated members of the outside crowd, apparently the more questions that he had asked of the congregation the more he was told of the communities and the
populations’
redemption and salvation at the sole hands of one white haired priest, his flock truly flocked around his reputation. He had been unable to find a single word against the man that could be construed as anything other than perfect, this sort of adulation made him a little uncomfortable. Jones was already convinced that Jacobs had tried to convert the wrong scumbag teenager and got left with a tasty reminder of keeping your nose out, either that or he stuck his hand up the wrong cassock. McCullum headed back into the city centre with only one lead rattling around his head, Baine, the name had cropped again and he did not believe in coincidences.

SUBTLETY
101

God said, "Let us make man in our image, in our likeness, and let them rule

over the fish of the sea and the birds of the air, over

the livestock, over all the earth, and over all the creatures that move along the ground."

So God created man in his own image, in the image of God he created him;

male and female he created them.

Genesis 1:24-27

Delores
Griffin
was
sixty, broad and proud
,
with strong working sho
ulders that testified to a life
time of
hard
labour, her
thickly
callused
hands were clasped together in prayer
as she looked down at the church office’s crimson stained floor
, her life had nearly ended when she found dear Father Jacobs.
The sight of all that blood
first thing this morning
had momentarily shocked her
right
down to her stocky ankles, she cursed
herself for even for a second,
doubting God’s plan and her part in it.
Father Jacobs was by all accounts making a rapid recovery from injuries that she had been told were far less severe than had first seemed.
One of the young adults from Father Jacobs’ youth group “The Samaritan Knights”, had
supposed to be helping her but had not turned up
. Justin Marsh
was bright eyed and
normally
eager to help around St Paul’s, h
e was a local boy from a poor family who had all but abandoned him and he had been drifting as so many of the lost children had done since her day. Growing up Delores had been raised in a hard but loving home, her parents had instilled a life of God and work in her with an iron fist, unlike many of today’s lax families who seemed to believe that discipline was a dirty word. Before Father Jacobs had come to their parish the area had long since fallen into a moral decay, low wages and
the
ever increasing numbers of young parents
,
still
nothing but
children themselves
,
had began reproducing at an alarming rate. Groups of youths had started to gather with aimless lives to waste and chose to make others as miserable as they were, Father Jacobs, God bless him, had taken these wayward and lost souls and had gathered them unto him and into the embrace of the Lord. Soon those who had sought nothing more than mindless destruction and ruin began to exhibit signs of compassion and direction, the local area had been transformed as the churches outreach programmes
started to pull in those who had seemed lost forever and transformed them as they transformed their own surrounding environment. Graffiti and rubbish were swept aside under a new broom of hope, those who had once sought only to damage were now repairing, the streets became safe to walk for everyone and those few who had not fallen in line had moved away without being seen again and good riddance. Delores had seen optimism run riot throughout the community as the church assumed its rightful place at the heart of the community, all things now ran through St Paul’s and she felt the pride of contributing in her own small way. She ran the churches schedules with military precision, from being the only volunteer to work at St Paul’s she now supervised
sixteen
others
. T
hey cleaned all corners
of God’s house
leaving the interior gleaming with pride,
she
organised the functions and
rotas
for activities such as the crèche and the soup kitchens, she personally cooked all of Father Jacobs’ meals and ran his diary.
She was the only one granted access to the small rear office
and now sat on her knees scrubbing the stone floor
with cold harsh water and a coarse wooden brush, she ignored the screaming pain from her fingers as she paid her penance for arriving late this morning and not being at her masters side, the water ran red through the stone grooves as she attempted to eliminate the guilt through sheer effort and willpower.