The End

by Dave Lacey

  “Weird how?”

  “Well, you just don’t expect to have a position such as lieutenant in a church type organisation.”

  “Well, if she’s in a position of authority, what else would you call it?”

  “Fair enough. Anyway, where do we start?”

  “I would say start with the grunts first. It makes it seem less official if we talk to them first. Plus they’ll hopefully be more inclined to gossip.”

  “Let’s do that then.”

  Emmett Jones was the only one of the three lower order churchgoers they could get hold of. They left messages for the other two to call back.

  “Emmett Jones?”

  “Yes?”

  “This is Detective Sumner of Greater Manchester CID.”

  “Oh, hello, what can I do for you?”

  “Do you have any time free today at all?”

  “Hmm, a bit tight today, I’m afraid. What’s this about?”

  “I would sooner talk about that in person if that’s okay.”

  “Okay, but I’m looking at next week before I’m free.”

  “Okay, let me rephrase my question slightly. Where are you going to be in thirty minutes?”

  “In my office, in the city centre.” Jones sounded slightly puzzled.

  “Great, what’s the name of the business?”

  “Brazen Insurance.”

  “Good, great, we’ll see you there then.” Jack hung up, giving him no time to argue.

  “He put up a fight?” Smithy queried.

  “For some reason, he thought it would be okay if he slotted us in next week some time.” Jack shook his head in wonderment.

  Forty minutes later, they walked into the lift on the ground floor of the building that housed Brazen Insurance, having been informed that Emmett Jones worked on the twelfth floor. They found his office easily, and were surprised by the man who met them.

  “Detectives?” Smithy nodded. Emmett Jones was average height, around twenty-five, almost totally bald with a Friar Tuck band of hair running around the sides and back. His sharp features barely managed a smile as he offered a delicate hand.

  “Come in, please.”

  “How can I help?”

  “You knew Susan Warwick?” Smithy asked.

  “Knew? That sounds ominous, Detective.”

  “I suppose so. Did you know her?”

  “Yes, you know I did, that’s why you’re here. Can I get you something to drink?” Jones wasn’t being intentionally obnoxious, that much was clear.

  “No, thank you. How well did you know her?”

  “Not very well.” “Care to expand?”

  “I don’t see how I can. You asked if I knew her well. I didn’t.”

  Smithy exhaled loudly, then started again.

  “Tell us about your relationship then, as it was.”

  “We knew each other from the church. She was nice. We talked now and then about general stuff. She gave me advice about cleaning products sometimes.”

  Smithy stifled a laugh; you didn’t get to meet people like this very often.

  “Who did she socialize with?”

  “I have no idea. I didn’t know her that well.”

  “Tell us about the church.”

  “What would you like to know?”

  “Who did she hang around with from the church?”

  “Mostly Mary Parker and her husband Andrew. I don’t know who from the other side.”

  “Other side?”

  “Yes, the other side. Or group, or section, whatever you want to call it. It was another group within the church.”

  “Why would you have groups within a church? Surely everyone is in it together? That’s usually what religion is about isn’t it, inclusion?”

  “It was to make it easier for us to go about our work. Smaller teams made it easier to manage from the top down. It’s really no different from a normal organisation.” He had a very strange, simplistic view of religion Jack thought.

  “Most people are of the opinion that religions are not cut from the same cloth as businesses. In fact, most people of faith go to great lengths to argue against that claim. It seems that your church is unusual in that respect,” Smithy said.

  “Clearly.” It was difficult to get the answers they required, let alone get him to expand on what he was saying.

  “Who is your section chief?” Smithy tried again.

  “You know who it is, Siobhan Mullins.”

  “What was her relationship like with Susan Warwick?”

  “A supervisory one.” This was like pulling teeth, Smithy thought.

  “And who is Mullins’ boss?”

  “I don’t know.” Jones snorted a quick breath through his nose and folded his arms.

  “You don’t know? Should I believe that?”

  “Whether you believe it or not, it’s true. I have no other answer to give you.”

  “How can you not know? What sort of church is it?”

  “It’s one that I place great faith in, Detective. I am not at a sufficient level yet where I’m permitted to know the name of our head of church.” This didn’t seem to sit too well with him, and his mood was changing swiftly.

  “Really?” Smithy laughed now. “My, that is weird. Not allowed? Are you always treated like children?”

  “I have work to do now, Detective, and I would like you to go.”

  “Ah, if only it were that easy. We’ll go when I’m finished asking you my questions, Mr Jones, and not before.” Smithy shifted his weight from one foot to the other and lowered his head menacingly.

  Jones was fidgeting now. “We’re not allowed to know until we’ve reached the requisite level of piety.” His weight sagged onto his left side and he chewed at the inside of his left cheek without making eye contact.

  “Okay, so who would know? Siobhan Mullins?”

  “Yes, she would. But I doubt very much that she will reveal anything to you, it’s not worth her while.” He smiled at Smithy; they had really had wound each other up.

  “We’ll see won’t we?” Smithy said finally.

  “We may have more questions for you, Mr Jones,” Jack cut in, “so don’t leave town.” It was time to leave.

  Chapter 24

  On his way into work the following day, Jack called Siobhan Mullins to make an appointment. He was met with her voicemail, which informed him she was on holiday, and would pick up her messages at some point that day. After the beep, Jack left his message.

  “Hello, Mrs Mullins, this is Detective Sumner from Greater Manchester CID. I need you to call me regarding the death of one of your parishioners. I just have a few questions to ask, nothing serious.” He hung up.

  Before Jack left the motorway, Smithy called him to say he had spoken to Sebastian Lawes’ voicemail. He gave Jack Lawes’ address and said he would meet him there. This address was further out than any of the previous ones they had visited, but not excessively so. It was in Alderley Edge, another affluent part of Cheshire. It would seem, at least on the surface, that the Church of the Everlasting Covenant was not impoverished. Jack arrived first, and as agreed he waited outside the gates for Smithy, who pulled up ten minutes later.

  “Shall we?” Smithy asked as he walked up to the electric gates.

  “Let’s dance,” Jack replied.

  It was a magnificent property, with beautiful, sweeping lawns bordered by heritage trees of varying dimensions. The area was notorious for its lane upon lane of millionaires and their mansions, stretching away into the hilly countryside. Where Bowden catered for those wanting the pampered millionaire lifestyle within easy reach of the city centre, Alderley Edge was for the more discerning buyer. Sebastian Lawes came out to meet them as they were making good their assent of the sloped driveway.

  “Gentlemen, apologies for the delay in getting back to you. I’m Sebastian Lawes, please come in.” A sprightly older man, Lawes’ mane of dark silver hair bounced as he moved. The hair framed an evenly tanned face and he was dressed in expensi
ve looking clothes. He looked good, considering he must have been seventy plus. He shook both their hands as they passed him, his strong grip and piercing blue eyes conveying a sense of vitality and warmth.

  “Thanks for seeing us, Mr Lawes,” Jack said genuinely as they made their way into the main lounge. Once again, it was impressive, opulent but not grandiose.

  “Don’t be silly, it’s my pleasure. I have so little to do these days. It’s nice to have somebody visit. Now, can I get you some breakfast?”

  “Oh no, but thank you.” Lawes seemed a very likeable man, and on first impression, neither of the detectives could imagine why he would be part of the church that they had so far heard about and imagined.

  “Drinks then?” He looked from one to the other, a silent plea for company.

  “Some tea would be nice,” Smithy said.

  “Great! Claire?” He called over his shoulder.

  “Yes, Mr Lawes?” A maid had walked into the room, as if she had been lying in wait for his call.

  “Please, Sebastian is fine, I keep telling you. Could you get us some tea?”

  “Yes sir.” She smiled and headed for the kitchen.

  “Now, what can I do for you?” Lawes had still not taken a seat; instead he leaned against one of the pillars at the side of the enormous fireplace.

  “Mr Lawes, how well did you know Susan Warwick?”

  “Susan? Why did you say, ‘did’? Has something happened?” He became animated.

  “I’m afraid so. Susan Warwick was found dead at her home last week.” Lawes hand flew to his mouth, his eyes opening wide as he moved toward an armchair.

  “Are you okay, sir?” Smithy asked.

  “Yes. I… I can’t believe it. This is terrible news. How did it happen?”

  “At present, we don’t know. It appears that she slipped in the shower, but as time has moved on it looks possible that somebody may have helped her on her way.” It was more than they had wanted to reveal, but the nature of their questions would be driving people to their own conclusions anyhow.

  “Good God, surely not? Why would anybody do that? She was a lovely person, a very gentle creature. It just doesn’t seem right.” He had taken a seat opposite them now and was staring at the floor or perhaps at nothing at all. Then his outlook changed, his features hardened and his mouth formed a thin line.

  “No, this isn’t right. Tell me, what do you need to know from me?”

  “How well did you know Mrs Warwick, Mr Lawes?”

  “Well enough, I suppose. Susan and a few others from the group came out here a few times. I never visited her house. Her husband was not a welcoming presence. In fact, I would go as far as to say he was a deeply unpleasant man.” Lawes looked much older now than when they had walked in.

  “How close was she to other members of the church?”

  “I would say that she was closest to Mary Parker and myself.”

  “What about the head of the church, do you know him at all?”

  “No, I’m afraid I don’t. We’re not allowed to know who he is or meet him until we have reached a particular level. You have to understand that, although I am part of the church, I do not necessarily follow its doctrine to the letter. In the end, it has become a way of meeting people for me, sad as that is.”

  “Would Susan have known who it is?”

  “I doubt it. She wasn’t ambitious enough to get close to him.”

  “What about members of other teams? Did you ever get to know any of them? Would Susan have gotten to know any of them?”

  “It’s possible. I did meet up with a few of the others on occasion. And remember, we would all meet up for weekly ‘spiritual meetings’. Though we didn’t necessarily get the chance to talk much at those.”

  “Mr Lawes, are you aware of any rumours that may have been circulating about Susan?” Jack asked hesitantly. Lawes looked at him, his stare unwavering.

  “Such as?”

  “Rumours that she may have been having a relationship with somebody, outside of her marriage?” He felt uncomfortable under the older man’s gaze.

  “Rumours can be nasty and divisive, Detective. I do not deal in them if I can help it at all.” He had by now regained most of the vitality that had been so visible when they arrived, along with a heavy dose of anger.

  “I couldn’t agree more, Mr Lawes. However, such is the nature of Mrs Warwick’s demise, we can leave no stone unturned in our investigation. Please don’t judge us too harshly. It’s uncomfortable enough posing questions such as these without being made to feel worse for doing so.” Now it was Jack’s turn to stare hard at Lawes, who was immediately contrite.

  “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but this has been quite a shock for me. I’m not normally so discourteous. Please, ask your questions.”

  “Were you aware of any rumours about Mrs Warwick?”

  “Yes, I was, although I have no idea who started them or what their evidence was to suggest such things. Neither am I aware of whom the other party may have been in the alleged relationship. But I am under the impression it was somebody from within the church.” He pronounced this last sentence with deliberate care. It was not lost on the two younger men sitting opposite him.

  “Really? What makes you think that?”

  “Because it was the only avenue she had. Her husband didn’t allow her to have any other interests. The church was allowed because, as Mr Warwick saw it, it was no threat. And she spent a great deal of time on church business. That, plus the rumours…well, at my age it doesn’t take much to put it all together.”

  “But you don’t know who it might’ve been?” It was Smithy’s question.

  “No, but I can’t imagine it was anybody from our group. It was not me,” he chuckled wryly, “and it was most certainly not Emmett Jones. She didn’t like him at all.”

  “Yes, we’ve met.” All three raised their eyebrows at this.

  “It wasn’t Andrew Parker either. He’s devoted to his wife. That leaves Fred Thomas. He works in London through the week and comes home for weekends. Which means he would simply not be able to fit in an affair.” He held out his hands toward them, wearing an expression suggesting it was all common sense.

  “I see,” said Jack. “Would it be fair to assume that your group leader would be able to provide the details of the other group leaders and the name of the church head?”

  “Siobhan? Yes, of course, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she won’t tell you. The higher you get with this organisation, the more secretive it gets.” Now his expression became unreadable.

  “You know, Mr Lawes, through all of our conversation with church members about the church itself, I have yet to come across anybody who speaks of the church as a religious entity, as somewhere they can go for spiritual satisfaction. The talk has been mostly focused on ‘the organisation’ or ‘the group’ or ‘the team’. Does that not seem strange to you?”

  Lawes laughed lightly “Strange? That’s the very least of what it is, my boy. You haven’t used the word ‘cult’ yet.” He looked Jack in the eye as he said this.

  “The last thing you want to do when trying to extract information from people is antagonize them, Mr Lawes,” Jack replied.

  “Well, I’ve used it now, so you can’t really upset me with it can you? You’re right, of course, it doesn’t resemble a religious organisation. But it’s not an organisation that amasses great wealth, which is perhaps surprising, as many of its members are very wealthy. Like me.” Lawes stared off into the middle distance. “I’ve a feeling that at the head there lies a religious zealot, and that for every step you take away from him that zeal diminishes. Until you’re left with another petty group of people who use groups such as this to exercise a power they do not hold in their everyday lives.”

  “Then why are you still a part of it?” Jack asked, bemused.

  “Because I’m a lonely old man, whose beloved wife died three years ago, and who has since been unable to find anyone or anything to fill that void. The chur
ch comes a very distant second. It’s the people I have met there that keep me involved, nothing more.” Jack felt a great sadness for the old man. He was very likeable, and, despite his recovered energy, he once more looked tired and deflated.

  “I’m sorry to have brought this to your doorstep today, Mr Lawes, I really am. We’ll take up no more of your time, but we may have more questions at a later date. May we be in touch again?” Jack asked.

  “Under the circumstances, it seems the very least I can do. I hope I’ve been of some help.” He showed them to the door, waving them off as they passed through the open gates.

  Chapter 25

  Since taking care of the Warwick boy, Clarence had given a great deal of thought as to how he would proceed with the other clean up jobs. Things had not gone as he would have hoped; careful as he was, he could not always factor in extraneous steps taken by third parties, such as Paul Warwick calling the emergency services and telling them that his mother had been murdered. Or the fact that he had gone missing, making it harder for Clarence to eliminate him. All things considered, it was going to be a tall order carrying out the remainder of his jobs. His employer wouldn’t care about these difficulties; results were his only concern. Potentially, there were five more people involved, which meant there were five more people to remove. His employer had made all the connections, and the Mechanic had been the one to discover that a number of people were unable to keep their own counsel, ensuring their own fate.

  How difficult was it? It only took one person to talk, and from there it always snowballed, out of control usually. The good news was, fingers crossed, it had gone no further than Alphonse Ngwenye. That didn’t make life any easier right now, but at least it meant they had contained it. Clarence didn’t even know what it was, but that didn’t concern him; he didn’t need to know. What did worry him was that if his employer had made the connections, then it was entirely possible that the police would too. He had requested to take care of the two detectives to prevent any future issues, but had been refused, again. It was dangerous enough as it was, his employer had told him, without making it worse by having the two detectives connected with the case turn up dead. He thought there was more to it than that, but, once more, it was not his concern.