Annie had slightly less than four months left of her exchange with the Westford Police. She’d heard from colleagues that her American counterpart, Wayne Sturgess was getting on fine back at the Stockport station she’d left at the end of June. He was into all kinds of sports, so fitted right in. Annie wondered whether there might be any chance of an extension to the programme. She was feeling right at home with the Westford police. Then there was Charlie. There was definitely something developing between them. Annie wasn’t sure if she was in love. At the back of her mind was her ex-fiancé, living in England. They’d been engaged for a long time and he’d left his post in Aberdeen to join her in Manchester, anticipating the wedding. Some part of her still held a fondness for Paul, although she knew breaking off the engagement had been the right thing to do.
Annie’s thoughts were interrupted a moment later when she saw Susan directing two men in paramedic uniforms over to her and Ellison. Her colleague put the magazine down and stood up as they approached. Annie followed suit. Once the introductions were made, the older paramedic, Larry Carson, ushered them into an interview room.
‘So,’ Ellison began, ‘can you tell us what Father Bannister was like when you found him?’
‘He was bleeding heavily and it was difficult to see exactly where the blood was coming from,’ Carson began. ‘He was unconscious so we put the breathing mask on him first and then examined him. I had to cut the cassock away so I could see what was going on. The young seminarian had put some towels on top of the cassock but hadn’t tried to find the source of the bleeding. In fact the kid was in such a state, that we had to move him while we examined the priest.’
‘We’ve interviewed Damien Bailey already. Not much help,’ Ellison interjected.
‘That doesn’t surprise me. He was in a state of shock. I thought we might be bringing both of them in. Anyway, back to Father Bannister. When I cut the cassock away, I realised that his underwear and his trousers were pretty far down his legs.’
Annie was taking notes. ‘How far down?’ she asked.
‘Just below his knees. There was a lot of blood and it was still oozing out. Then I found the source. His penis and scrotal sac were sliced to pieces; that’s the only way I can describe it. The whole thing was a mess. I knew we had to stem the blood flow as best we could and get him to the hospital urgently before he bled out. His blood pressure was dangerously low.’ Carson went on to describe the procedures they undertook and the ambulance journey.
‘Did Damien see that detail?’ Ellison asked.
‘You mean about his trousers and underwear?’ Carson asked. Ellison confirmed and the man continued. ‘I don’t think so, but I’m not a hundred percent sure. He had his back turned a lot of the time, as if the sight of blood was making him sick.’
‘Thanks, that’s been very helpful,’ Ellison replied.
As the paramedics got up to leave, Carson turned back to Ellison. ‘Not to be noted down, Detective, yet I’ve got to say, whoever did that, has to be one sick son of a bitch.’
Annie and Ellison looked at one another when the two men had left the room. ‘Interesting injuries, wouldn’t you say?’ Ellison remarked.
‘Hmm, seems vindictive.’ Annie closed her notebook. ‘Wonder what the captain will make of those details.’
‘We’ll find out soon enough.’
There was another knock on the door and a man came into the room. ‘Susan said you wanted to talk to me. I’m Dr Steve Sanderson, the ER attending. I treated Father Bannister when he was brought in.’
Ten minutes later, they had the full description of the horrific injuries that had been inflicted on the priest. ‘There was one other thing. There was bruising around his mouth and also his wrists. I would say that he’d something over his mouth, maybe tape that was ripped off, as there was skin damage. His wrists were more heavily bruised. I think that’s about all I can tell you.’ Dr Sanderson got up to leave as his bleeper went off. He dialled the phone in the room. ‘I see. I’m with the detectives now. I understand. I’ll ask them to wait.’ He turned to Ellison and Annie, ‘That was James Doran, the surgeon. Father Bannister died a few minutes ago on the operating table. Dr Doran will be down in ten minutes to talk to you. Feel free to stay in here.’
When the door shut, Ellison turned to Annie, getting his cellphone out. ‘We’re into a murder inquiry now. I need to call the station.’ Seconds later, he connected. ‘This is Detective Ellison. I’m with Detective Macpherson at Westford Hospital. We need to see the captain as soon as we get back. Give us three quarters of an hour.’ As he closed the phone, there was another knock on the door.
From Dr Doran, the surgeon, they established what had happened during the surgery, the full extent of the injuries and the official time of death. ‘What was the cause of death?’ Ellison asked, as the surgeon was finishing.
‘Death was due to cardiac arrest, brought on by traumatic injury and blood loss. Obviously, the Medical Examiner will be doing an autopsy to confirm that. I’ll dictate my report now and email it to you in an hour or so. I’ll also copy it to the Medical Examiner’s office.’
Chapter 7
The doorbell rang. Lillian Marks had been waiting anxiously. Apart from the funeral and burial weeks ago, it had been many years since she’d last seen Barry Ainscough. In fact, it was a Thanksgiving and he had spent the holiday in their home. Jenny had been so in love with him. Lillian Marks never understood why it all ended. Barry looked very handsome. If only they had stayed together, she thought, as she ushered him in and led the way into the living room. ‘Can I get you a cold drink? I have fresh lemonade.’
‘Thanks. I’d love one. It’s still so hot out.’ Barry took a seat and looked around the room, as he heard the woman getting the drinks ready in the kitchen. It hadn’t changed much since the last time he was here. That Thanksgiving, her husband was still alive. Now, he surmised, she must live on her own. As his eyes scanned the room, they stopped at the photograph of Jenny. His breath caught for a second; she was so beautiful.
Lillian Marks came back into the room. ‘On a hot day, there’s nothing as refreshing as homemade lemonade. I taught Jen how to make it when she was little. Every summer she would set up a table outside and sell the drinks for a dime. The local kids would stop on their bikes for a glass. Even though summer is virtually over, it’s still nice to sit down with a glass of lemonade. Always makes me think of Jen.’ Her eyes brimmed with tears. ‘No mother should have to bury her little girl.’
‘I’m so sorry Mrs Marks. I hadn’t seen her in years.’
‘I know. I always wondered what happened between the two of you, not that it was any of my business. When you came and stayed with us that Thanksgiving, I got a good feeling about you. Jen was definitely in love.’
Barry shifted in his seat. ‘Maybe we were too young,’ he offered. ‘Tell me what she did when she came home. I never saw her again.’
Lillian Marks took a sip of her drink. ‘The first few months were very difficult. She wasn’t herself; spent a lot of time in her room. Neither Ed nor I could get much out of her. She was a different person. We found out later that she was clinically depressed at that stage. Our doctor insisted she see a psychiatrist. The medication the psychiatrist gave her didn’t seem to work. Finally, he suggested she spend some time in the hospital. I think he wanted to be sure that she was taking the pills he’d prescribed.’ Lillian Marks’s voice faltered for a second. ‘I had to admit to him that I was afraid to ask her if she were taking her pills. In fact, I was afraid to ask her anything. I didn’t want it to be my fault if she sank deeper into depression.’
Barry Ainscough was thoughtful for a moment. ‘I imagine it’s even harder on families, not knowing what to do for the best, having to hold back and let the professionals do their job. I’d like to hear more, unless it’s too painful.’
The woman
got up and walked over to the mantelpiece, picking up the picture frame. ‘This is the last photograph we have of our daughter when she was the Jenny we knew, when she was happy and bubbly, before that horrible depression took hold. We didn’t understand psychiatric illness at the time. Of course, we blamed ourselves. Maybe we should never have encouraged her to go to college; neither her father nor I had. Her older sister Grace was the really clever one and went on to law school. We wanted both our daughters to have the same opportunities. It must have been too much for her. All we had to go on was Grace and she had loved her college experience.’ She touched the photograph tenderly, rubbing her fingers over Jenny’s smile. Then she returned it to the mantelpiece and sat back down. ‘We appreciated that you wrote to her, Barry, and I’m sorry she never replied. I wanted to write to you myself, but didn’t dare suggest it. I’m sorry, it must have been awful for you not hearing from her.’
Barry shifted in his seat again. ‘It was, I have to admit. She was the first girl I had really fallen for. I thought there was more between us; that she felt the same way.’ Barry shrugged his shoulders and looked at Lillian Marks. ‘I’m so glad I spotted the obituary in the newspaper and was able to come to her funeral. I wanted to say goodbye, even after all this time.’
‘I really appreciate that you did. I’m sorry Ed isn’t still with us. He would’ve been pleased to see you again, Barry. I have to admit, though, that it’s a comfort to me that he went before Jennifer. Her death would’ve broken his heart. They were so close. I sometimes wonder if that was the final straw for Jennifer, losing her dad.’
Neither said anything for a moment, both lost in their own thoughts. Finally Barry broke the silence. ‘Can I come and see you again, Mrs Marks?’
‘Of course, Barry.’
As she watched him get in his car, she mused about Barry Ainscough. What would he have been like as a son-in-law? She knew this much. He and Jennifer would have made a handsome couple. Who knows, she might have been a grandmother by now. Jennifer had been her only hope in that regard. Grace wasn’t the marrying type, too focussed on her career. She wiped a tear away as she watched the car drive down the road. So many regrets.
Chapter 8
The route from the hospital to the station took about twenty minutes. The station was situated in the heart of downtown. One more office building in a landscape full of skyscrapers, glass-fronted buildings, tourist signs pointing to the almost forgotten historical section of the town and arterial highways leading north to Massachusetts, east to Rhode Island and south to the Connecticut shoreline and New York City. Annie found the station’s location handy for her bus travel, as her apartment wasn’t far from the downtown area. After growing up in a small town, she loved being in a city. It was also convenient that the building housed the Crime Scenes Department on the upper two floors.
Entering the squad room, Annie and Ellison dropped things off at their desks and then approached Franconi’s glass door. He was on the phone and from the sound of his raised voice was none too happy. Bad sign, thought Annie. Still, for now she was on Franconi’s good list because of the Hardman case, so that at least was positive. Murder in his jurisdiction wasn’t.
Franconi glanced up, noticing the two detectives and signalled them into the office. He put the phone down. ‘Damn press. Can’t wait for an official statement. They have to try and get a comment from you first. I keep telling the switchboard not to put them through. It never ceases to amaze me how they get the news before we announce it. This time, some damn parishioner wanted her fifteen minutes of fame. At least she didn’t give out the name. So, tell me what you’ve got. The press office wants something pronto.’
Franconi settled back in his chair and did that movement with his shoulders, which Annie knew was characteristic of a bad mood. It didn’t bode well for the news they were about to impart.
Ellison was leading on the case so he had the job of informing the captain. ‘Father Bannister died on the operating table after suffering a cardiac arrest. His injuries were pretty horrific. Basically his genitals had been sliced open, leading to massive blood loss. The surgeon, Dr Doran was dictating his report as we left the hospital. He’s emailing it to us. He’s liaising with the Medical Examiner and there’ll be an autopsy to confirm the cause of death.’
Franconi raised an eyebrow. ‘Unusual place to take a blade to, isn’t it?’
‘I’ll check the databases for any similar attacks. The ambulance crew said when they searched for the source of the blood, they found his trousers and underwear down below his knees.’
Franconi leaned forward and picked up a pen, scribbling a few notes. ‘I think we’ll keep that detail to ourselves. Did anyone else at the scene notice that?’
‘Not that we know of, Captain,’ Ellison replied. ‘The seminarian who found him reported his cassock saturated with blood below his waist. He covered the whole area with whatever towels he could find. He never mentioned lifting the cassock and the ambulance crew were pretty sure he hadn’t. Apparently he looked away most of the time they were dealing with Father Bannister.’
Ellison glanced over at Annie who confirmed. ‘That’s right. He was in such a state when we interviewed him that I think he would’ve told us if he’d done that. I can check again, though, if you want. The ambulance crew weren’t certain what he saw.’
‘OK, Macpherson,’ Franconi said, ‘double check with the seminarian and Ellison, you let the ambulance crew know that we’re withholding that piece of information. We need them to keep it out of the press as well. What else?’
Ellison reported on the other interviews with the residents of the seminary and the ER doctor. ‘I asked the two officers at the scene, Cunningham and Jacobs, to talk to the six people who turned up for the Mass to see if they saw or heard anything. They’ll report before their shift ends this afternoon.’
‘Too bad one of the parishioners alerted the press. Anyway, that can’t be helped now. What about Father Bannister’s next-of-kin?’ Franconi asked.
‘According to Brother Jonathan, he only had his mother, Marion Bannister, who lives in Westford, where Father Bannister grew up,’ Annie answered.
‘Decide which of the two of you wants to break the news to her. That has to happen before the press release goes out. She may have already heard about the attack on the local news, which is why I got that call. These reporters will go with anything, confirmed or unconfirmed with no thought for the next-of-kin. Sergeant Owens will give you an officer to go with you.’
Franconi stood up to show that the meeting was at an end. ‘I’ll run the press release by you, Detective Ellison, before it goes out. Let me know when the mother has been informed. Might be a good idea to take Brother Jonathan along. Meanwhile, I’ll inform the bishop.’
*****
Twenty minutes later, Annie and Officer Phipps pulled up in front of the seminary. The clergyman was waiting for them. Annie got out of the car and greeted him. ‘Thanks for agreeing to accompany me, Brother Jonathan.’
‘My presence will be better for Marion Bannister, rather than two strangers. I’ve known her for several years.’
‘Before we go, I need another quick word with Damien Bailey.’
The older man raised an eyebrow. ‘I’d better take you back in.’
Damien responded to the knock on his door and Annie turned to Brother Jonathan. ‘I can take it from here.’ She waited until the clergyman retreated down the hallway. A few minutes later, she was satisfied that Damien Bailey had no knowledge of the situation of the priest’s clothing, apart from the extent of the blood on his cassock.
*****
Ellison’s phone call caught Carson and his partner on their break. They assured Ellison that the detail of the trousers would go no further, given their code of conduct around confidentiality. They’d reported it to him because of any relevance to the
police investigation. Carson also ventured the opinion that it would explain why there were no tears in the trousers or underwear when the police later examined them. They also reminded Ellison that they had cut the cassock away in order to find the source of the bleeding. Carson confirmed that the clothes were sealed at the hospital and given to the Medical Examiner, as was standard procedure.
As soon as he’d spoken to Larry Carson, Ellison got on the computer. A search of the databases confirmed that no similar attacks had happened in the past five years, although ten years ago there was one similar case. The attacker had been caught and was still in prison. Ellison added more details to the database before his desk phone rang. It was Cunningham.
‘Yeah, come on up.’
Ellison was still on the computer when Officer Cunningham approached his desk. ‘Take a seat, while I close a few of these windows down. I’ve been interrogating the databases.’ A moment later, he turned to the officer, ‘So what’ve you got for me?’
Cunningham passed over the report he and Jacobs had prepared. ‘Much the same story as the first time. The only thing of interest was something mentioned by the two elderly sisters we visited, Mary and Arlene Muzicoski. They were reluctant to say anything at first until we coaxed it out of them. They’d heard mention that a complaint had been made about Father Bannister to the bishop.’
Det Annie Macpherson 02 - Programmed To Kill Page 3