Det Annie Macpherson 02 - Programmed To Kill

by Speake, Barbara Fagan

  ‘Did you have something specific behind your complaint or was it just a feeling?’ Annie asked.

  Amato focussed squarely on her. ‘You got kids, Detective?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, when you do, you’ll know that you get a sixth sense about these things. My boy, Dominic begged me to let him be an altar boy. He loved it. He was really proud of himself up there during the Mass. We were proud of him too. My wife usually dropped him off and picked him up if we weren’t going to Mass. One weekday, Dominic asked her to pick him up a bit later. He told her that Father Bannister was really pleased with him and wanted to explain the baptism ceremony, so Dominic could start doing those with him. Frances, my wife, didn’t think any more about it.’ Amato hesitated and they both noticed that he was clenching his fists.

  Annie could feel herself tensing up. She wouldn’t want to have to go up against this man. She glanced over at Ellison who seemed completely at ease. They both waited until Amato was ready to carry on.

  ‘When she got back, she told me there was a time change for picking Dominic up and I got this sick feeling in my stomach. I said I’d go and get him. I was planning to be there when Mass finished and say he couldn’t stay, but I got delayed. There was an accident and a detour set up. I was about fifteen minutes longer than I intended.’ Amato stopped again. This time he put his head in his hands for a minute. Then he looked up at the two detectives. ‘I swear I could have killed him right there and then.’

  ‘Tell us what happened,’ Annie coaxed.

  Amato drew in a breath. ‘I haven’t even told my wife this. I didn’t want to upset her. She has loads of clergy in her family, and thinks they can do no wrong. Me? I’m more sceptical. I think it’s unnatural for priests to be celibate. Far better they get sex in natural ways: you know what I mean?’ When neither of the detectives responded, Tony Amato carried on. ‘The church was empty as Mass had finished. I knew where the vestry was, so I opened the door without knocking. I thought if there was anything going on, I didn’t want to alert the priest and I was right.’

  Annie could see that the man had started sweating and he wiped some drops from his forehead. It was more than the lack of air conditioning in the room.

  ‘They had their backs to me but I could see that Bannister had his arm around my son and was holding him tight. He was whispering to Dominic and never heard me. When I came around the front, he looked up and nearly had a heart attack. His trousers were unzipped and his hand …’ Amato rubbed his forehead.

  ‘What happened?’ Ellison asked.

  ‘I don’t know how I managed to stay calm but I didn’t want to scare Dominic. I gave my son the car keys and told him to wait for me in the car. He looked like he was going to cry. I told him he wasn’t in any trouble; that there was something I needed to discuss with Father Bannister. Dominic took the keys and went out. As soon as the door shut, I picked Bannister up by his shirt. He was lucky I didn’t hit him. I said if he ever touched my son or any other kid in the parish, it would be the last thing he ever did.’ Amato got up from his chair and leaned his back against one of the walls, trying to regain his composure. Then he added, ‘I left before I changed my mind about hitting him.’

  ‘Was your son OK?’ Annie asked.

  ‘Yeah, Father Bannister hadn’t gone beyond unzipping his trousers and Dominic didn’t know what he was going to do. He wasn’t even sure what the whispering was about. Bannister told him what a good boy he was. I never discussed it with him again and we stopped him being an altar boy. I wrote to the bishop and also talked to a couple of the other fathers to make sure that their sons were never alone with Bannister. Did the bishop give you my name, from the complaint?’

  ‘Let’s say it came up,’ Ellison replied. ‘We’re nearly done here, except to ask you where you were on Monday morning before eight o’clock?’

  Amato walked back to his chair, grasping the back of it. ‘Why are you asking me that? Surely, you don’t think, I …’

  Annie noticed that his knuckles were turning white.

  ‘We have to check, now that your name has come up in the investigation,’ Ellison interjected. ‘You had a grievance against a man who’s been murdered.’

  ‘Yeah and I’ll bet I’m not the only one. There’ll be other fathers out there who didn’t get to their sons in time. Look, I know you have your job to do. I’ve never been alone with Bannister again since that day, nor has my son. I can tell you this much, I’m not sorry he’s dead.’ Amato sat back down.

  Ellison waited a few minutes for the man to regain his composure. ‘I still need to know where you were on Monday morning.’

  Amato shook his head and let his breath out. ‘We have the same routine every workday morning. I leave the house about eight thirty. I drop Dominic off at school and then come here to the office. So before eight o’clock I would have been home. My wife can confirm that.’ Before either of them asked, Amato gave them his home phone number.

  Annie made the call before they left the building. For now, she thought, the man has an alibi, but routines can change and wives can back their husbands, even in a lie.

  Chapter 15

  The two detectives picked up sandwiches at one of the local bakeries and decided to eat in the car. Neither wanted anything too heavy before the autopsy. The day was getting increasingly warm and Ellison opened the car’s windows.

  Annie looked across at Ellison. ‘What did you make of Amato?’

  He paused for a minute, still unwrapping his sandwich. ‘Protective father, I guess is the main label I’d put on him, but it wouldn’t surprise me if he roughed the priest up more than he’s admitted. I think the guy has a temper, which he barely controlled while he was talking to us. Probably ruminating on it right now. He’s got a good job though, so probably doesn’t want to mess up. Wouldn’t be surprised if he told more than a few people. Any of them could have started to get concerned about their own kids. Who knows?’

  ‘I saw him pretty much the same way,’ Annie responded, taking a sip of her coffee. The sandwich was going down pretty well too. She hoped it would stay that way during the autopsy. ‘Could have anticipated we’d come calling and wanted to sound aggrieved, but not too aggressive. Maybe the wife’s been on standby for a call. The only part I didn’t buy was his keeping the scenario from her. If he had, then why wasn’t she more concerned when I talked to her? Also, the kid could’ve said something to her, thinking he was in trouble.’

  ‘Yeah, that would make sense. He might have left the priest alone on that occasion and then gone back. We need to check out if he really did write a complaint to the bishop. Taking matters into his own hands might be more his style.’ Ellison was quiet while he finished off his sandwich and then crumpled up the waxed paper. ‘I think we also need to talk to Detective Baxter. See if Amato’s name has come up in his inquiries. Maybe the two elderly sisters passed the gossip on to other families as well, although they didn’t admit to that, did they?’

  Annie put her wrapper in the brown bag, along with her coffee cup and then collected Ellison’s from him. ‘I’ll check my notes on that. I’m happy to ring Detective Baxter as well, if you want.’

  ‘That would be good.’

  ‘I’ll put this stuff in the litter bin over there.’ Annie opened the car door and a moment later she was back.

  ‘So, off to the autopsy. Are you sure you’re OK with this? I could drop you back at the station. Bronski might be glad of some of your time today,’ Ellison offered.

  ‘I’m fine, thanks. All part of the exchange experience. Might get one up on Wayne Sturgess who’s in my job in Stockport. Haven’t heard he’s had a murder inquiry yet.’

  ‘Competitive are we?’ Ellison laughed.

  ‘Something like that,’ Annie replied.

  ‘So tell me, Detective, where does that come from?
I thought Americans had the monopoly on being competitive.’

  ‘You may be right about that as a national trait, but families can also be competitive. In mine, I’m the third generation to become a detective and every time I get a case, I think I’ve something to prove to my dad and grandfather.’

  ‘I thought you told me some time ago that your father had passed away.’

  ‘Aye, he died a few years ago. I still miss him, miss speaking to him, telling him about my day. He was always so interested. As close as I am to my mum, my dad understood my work, the pressures, the drive to find answers.’

  ‘I know what you mean. Neither of my parents can understand why I like being a detective. They think I could find safer ways of making a living.’

  Annie laughed. ‘There’s that aspect too. I don’t say a lot to my mum, as she worries about my job, like she worried about my dad’s. She’s got a lot on being the carer for Andrew, my brother.’

  ‘He was quite ill some weeks back, wasn’t he? Is he better now?’

  ‘He’s sort of back to his old self, although he’s fragile, health wise and always will be. The doctors keep trying to get his medication right.’

  ‘Can’t be easy,’ Ellison remarked.

  Annie spent the rest of the journey looking out of the car window. Although it was only the beginning of September, the leaves were already starting to turn. She’d been assured that autumn would be spectacular, especially in the more rural parts of Connecticut and the other New England states. Maybe one weekend, Charlie will take me for a ride into Massachusetts, Annie thought, as Ellison drove the last few miles.

  Ten minutes later, Ellison parked the car in the parking lot closest to the mortuary and the special suite for forensic autopsies. ‘Been here before?’ Annie asked as they got out of the car.

  ‘Yeah. I’m more familiar with the place than I’d like. My first, and still the worst, was nearly ten years ago, soon after I got promoted. The lead was a guy called Jeff Swanwick, who retired a couple of years back. The victim was a ten-year-old kid. I can picture her vividly to this day.’ Ellison stopped the story, as he directed Annie through the reception area to the staircase leading to the basement. ‘We’re not required to attend autopsies but all the detectives I know do it. I think it gives you more insight into the death, certainly more than you get reading the report. Besides, sometimes the reports take a while, so if you’ve observed it, you’ve more to go on while you’re waiting.’

  ‘I think so too,’ Annie commented. ‘I always try and attend them back home for the same reasons. Plus I think it gives you more insight at crime scenes about what needs to be preserved and protected, evidence wise.’

  Ellison rang the buzzer and gave their names. The door unlocked and an autopsy technician met them and introduced herself. ‘The body is already in the autopsy suite and I’ll be assisting Dr Fogarty, the Medical Examiner today. He’s ready to start. If you want to leave anything, we have lockers over there.’ When Annie and Ellison had deposited their stuff in the lockers, the technician continued her briefing. ‘Here’s some aprons for you. You probably won’t need them, but better to be prepared. You might also want to put some Noxzema under your noses. It helps with the smells.’ The young woman passed the jar to each of them. When they were ready, she escorted them through.

  ‘Detective Ellison, we meet again,’ Fogarty said as they came in the room.

  ‘Hi Doc, never a pleasure,’ Ellison replied and Annie sensed this was their standard banter. ‘This is Detective Annie Macpherson. Detective Macpherson is on the exchange programme from England.’

  ‘Welcome Detective. Are you from anywhere near the bard?’

  Annie smiled. ‘Closer to Robbie Burns, I’m afraid.’

  Fogarty laughed. ‘I hear the lilt now. Ever observed an autopsy before, Detective?’

  ‘A few.’ Annie looked around at the tiled walls and floors. The glare from the fluorescent lights hitting the stainless steel trolleys and cabinets was much as she remembered in the last autopsy room she had seen. She noticed the familiar glass fronted cabinet doors and the array of equipment needed for the procedures. There was no way of disguising the purpose of the room and no way of taking the edge off the grim discoveries made within its walls. She knew the sights and sounds she would hear over the next hour: the internal organs being removed and weighed, the sound of the electric saw removing the skull cap, the gurgling of bodily fluids running down the drainage holes in the autopsy table and the minute detail in which Dr Fogarty would describe what he was doing and his findings. It was not a situation she relished, but one that she considered a necessary part of the job.

  ‘So you’ll know that the body came into the room in a sealed body bag. We’ve already weighed it and started taking photographs. We’ve compared the information on the tag and I am now confirming that this is the body of Father Brian Bannister.’ Fogarty continued, describing the overall condition of the priest’s body, his words recorded to assist in compiling his report.

  ‘Detectives, could you step forward for a moment?’ Fogarty asked. ‘I want you to have a better view of the lower part of the body. You can see that the work of the surgical team was extensive. The injuries to the genital area were severe.’ Fogarty then quoted from the surgeon’s report and pointed to each part of the surgical process. ‘The surgeon did his best, but I expect that we’ll soon see that this man was beyond saving before he ever arrived on the operating table.’ Fogarty removed the surgical stitches and reviewed the mutilation to the genital area, measuring the sizes of the wounds and the depth of muscle cut. When he had finished that process, the detectives stepped away.

  As Fogarty proceeded, he collected evidence that would need to be examined further: fingernail clippings, loose hairs that might or might not belong to the victim, hair samples from the victim’s head and other bodily areas and swabs from the victim’s mouth. As various stages, his autopsy technician made up slides for microscopic analysis and labelled them with Bannister’s case number. Various fluid samples were also taken and put into appropriate vials. Finally, Fogarty removed the internal organs, dissecting as necessary for further examination. Each stage was also meticulously photographed for the autopsy report.

  Annie became mesmerised by Fogarty’s voice, providing such painstaking detail and it helped to distract her from the macabre sights she was witnessing. He reminded her of one of those history presenters who is fascinated by the past or by discoveries at archaeological finds. Two hours later, Annie and Ellison returned to the anteroom and discarded their aprons. Fogarty had more work to do, but the confirmation was death by cardiac arrest due to traumatic blood loss from the mutilations.

  ‘That was some attack,’ Annie remarked as they made their way back to the car.

  ‘Yeah. I’m not sure now that Tony Amato would be capable of that, unless the priest did more to his son than he’s told us. There would have to be a pretty strong motive to inflict injuries so severe and targeted at that part of the body,’ Ellison reflected.

  ‘Looks personal to me,’ Annie ventured. ‘The abrasion marks on his wrists were consistent with his hands having been taped around the back of his body. That would explain why there were no defensive wounds. Then the tape must’ve been removed, as his hands weren’t taped when he was found. Why do that?’

  ‘Perhaps the murderer was trying to cover his tracks. We might find DNA on the tape so he removes it. By then, Father Bannister was probably in no state to resist. Still the murderer must have handled the body. From what Fogarty said, it appears that Father Bannister was kneeling when the attack happened and we know that his trousers were pretty far down his knees. The clothes still need to be examined, so we might get lucky there,’ Ellison replied.

  ‘He had his cassock on when he was found, so somehow that had to have been raised out of the way for the attack,’ Annie added. />
  ‘Yeah. Maybe it was raised up around his neck. Perhaps the priest thought he was about to be strangled, but was then sliced up instead. It’s also clear from the abrasions that his mouth was taped up. Either the murderer was very careful, or there’ll be some evidence we can use. We’ll have to wait for the reports.’

  Annie was thoughtful for a few seconds before commenting further to her partner. ‘Amato is a pretty big guy. Bet he works out.’

  ‘You’ve got a point there.’

  Chapter 16

  Patrick Mearns had helped his senior partner, Clive Atkinson, build up a thriving legal practice and now they were considering taking on a new partner to cover the banking section, the fastest growing area of the firm. The last thing Mearns needed was a major distraction or for Atkinson to get any idea that the death of a local priest could have far reaching consequences. The phone call from Matt Lansdowne yesterday was expected, if not welcomed, and Mearns’ legal instinct was to stay well clear of the mayor. But some obligations went back a long way.

  He went to his locked filing cabinet, the one that his secretary never accessed, and retrieved the business card they’d require. Opening another drawer he brought out the bottle of aged malt whiskey and poured himself a double shot. Careful to lock the cabinet again, he returned to his desk to prepare for the meeting, having already blocked out two hours for lunch. There was barely an hour now before he had to leave the building.

  *****

  Breakfast had been pretty much a silent affair. Monica irritated Matthew Lansdowne more in the morning than at any other time of the day. It was all the fussing around he couldn’t stand and the smell of baby food. He looked across at Lydia and wished she were twenty-one, rather than a few months old. Then he comforted himself with the fact that he’d only be sticking around for another couple of years. There wouldn’t be as much of a scandal after the election. He’d need Monica on the podium with him for the campaign – the happy family – then it could all fall apart. He was sure he could put temptation in her way and an affair on her part would leave him as the injured party. Imagine the support from women after that, especially when he played the trump card of being a single father, during access times. It would also make his father-in-law indebted to him, for the hurt his daughter had caused. That way they’d never be enemies.