With Our Blessing

by Jo Spain

  It was a museum of depravity.

  ‘Get your gloves on,’ Tom said, moving closer to look at the images properly. ‘This is all evidence.’

  The girls were very young. Not quite children, but borderline illegal.

  ‘The sick bastard,’ Ray said.

  ‘I guess this is why he has three locks on his front door,’ Tom replied.

  Ray pulled a pair of disposable gloves from his jacket pocket and approached the computer. He pressed a key, and the screen came to life. The computer was on standby; the priest must have been near it recently. A still from an adult video appeared.

  Ray sat in front of the computer and pulled the image to the side of the screen.

  ‘He was deleting downloads,’ he said.

  Tom shook his head; the attic made his skin crawl. ‘He knew we’d discover he lied about his alibi. He was up here trying to hide his tracks and get rid of this stuff before we got a search warrant. Probably didn’t know where to start. He must have been disturbed and hurried down, which would explain why the padlock was open. But where is he now?’

  ‘Tom . . .’ Ray’s voice was flat and disbelieving.

  ‘What is it?’ Tom walked over to the desk.

  Ray had opened a folder beside the keyboard.

  It was full of old photos, one or two already ripped up. These weren’t like the ones on the walls. Some of the girls were actually children, and they were all semi-naked. In each of the photos, they were trying to hide the exposed parts of their bodies, mainly their barely formed breasts. Their eyes looked away from the camera, towards the floor in most cases. In one picture, tears lined the face of a girl who looked no older than thirteen. The background was the same in every photo – a seventies-era sitting room, replete with garish floral drawn curtains and a patterned sofa.

  It was the hair that confirmed it. Each of the girls had identical tight bobs, swept to the side. Tom had seen that style before in photos of Magdalene girls.

  ‘They’re laundry girls,’ Tom said, feeling nauseous.

  ‘There are seven different girls, even without the torn-up photos,’ Ray said. ‘That’ll be his sitting room. He must have brought the girls up here on some pretext the nuns were okay with. Probably let them think they were his favourites.’ He slammed the folder shut in anger.

  ‘Holy crap!’

  The surprised yell rang up the stairs, making them both jump.

  ‘What now?’ Tom exclaimed.

  Chapter 37

  Ray made it down the attic staircase first.

  ‘What is it?’ he yelled, rounding the landing.

  ‘You’ve got to see this,’ Michael shouted back.

  Willie hurried in the front door just as Tom and Ray reached the bottom of the stairs.

  Laura was backed flat against the wall beside the kitchen, her mouth hanging open.

  Michael stood at the side of the stairs by an open door that Tom hadn’t noticed when he’d crossed the hall minutes earlier. The door was made of the same wood as the panelling under the staircase, providing a discreet storage space.

  But it didn’t contain the usual bric-a-brac.

  On the floor, having just tumbled out, lay the prone figure of Father Seamus, curled into a foetal ball. His dead eyes bulged wide in horror, his face blue.

  ‘I just rang his mobile, and Laura heard it behind that door,’ Michael said. ‘He fell out on top of her.’

  Tom stood over the priest.

  He had no obvious injuries. There was no blood seeping from any wound. No bruising was apparent.

  After seeing the contents of the folder upstairs, the inspector found it hard to summon any compassion for the man who lay dead at his feet. He hunched down and stared at the priest’s neck to see if there were any marks that would indicate strangulation. The skin was unblemished bar one possible contusion.

  Tom stood up.

  ‘I can’t see an obvious cause of death, but I can only imagine it’s not natural – unless he was hiding from someone in the stair cupboard and had a heart attack?’

  ‘I nearly had a bloody heart attack,’ Laura said. ‘That’s his mobile on the floor – it must have been in his pocket.’

  ‘Ray, get Ellie on the phone,’ Tom said. ‘Tell her we need her up here immediately. We have to work on the assumption this isn’t accidental, and secure the scene. He died in the last couple of hours. If someone was audacious enough to murder him under our noses, then they could be insane enough to hang around and watch the aftermath. So let’s get Ciaran and his lads back here, too. Michael, Laura, we need to check the nuns’ alibis for this afternoon. I’m going to ring headquarters. And somebody call an ambulance.’

  The detectives engaged in a flurry of activity, as Tom pulled his phone from his pocket.

  ‘I guess this rules out the priest for Mother Attracta,’ Ray said, as he pulled his own phone out.

  ‘If he’s been murdered, and if it’s the same killer,’ Tom cautioned.

  ‘Sir,’ Laura said, ‘it’s something Barney Kelly said to me when I was up with him.’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘He said the priest had it coming, just as Mother Attracta had. He was angry. And he’s dying. He has nothing to lose.’

  ‘You’re only back from the nursing home a short while, though. How fast can he move?’

  ‘You can get down here in ten minutes in a car.’

  ‘Okay. Confirm he didn’t leave the home.’

  Tom’s first call was to Emmet McDonagh.

  ‘Who’s dead now?’ Emmet said, wearily.

  ‘The local priest. I can’t confirm it yet, but I’m pretty sure this is a murder scene, Emmet. Now will you come down?’

  There was silence down the line.

  ‘It’s starting to get very Da Vinci Code down there, isn’t it? I’ll be lucky to make it down tonight in this weather. Get Ellie and Jack started, and make sure the scene is well photographed.’

  Emmet hung up, and the inspector dialled his boss. It was Sunday afternoon and Tom guessed McGuinness would be at his grandson’s weekly football match. They played every Sunday, hail, rain or shine. Or in this case, snow.

  Sure enough, when the phone was answered Tom could hear the determined cheering of half-frozen parents and grandparents in the background.

  ‘Tom. Good. What’s the latest?’ McGuinness’ voice stuttered in the cold.

  ‘I have another body, sir. It looks like murder.’

  A noise halfway between choking and outrage barrelled down the line.

  Tom held the phone away from his ear. He considered not saying who the latest victim was.

  ‘You can’t be serious? Is it related?’

  ‘Well, up to about ten minutes ago he was my main suspect, so you could say that.’

  ‘Who is it? Where are you?’

  ‘I’m with the victim. It’s the local priest.’

  The line fell silent. Silence from Sean McGuinness was always worse than ranting.

  ‘I don’t know what’s more upsetting, Tom – that a priest is dead, or that a priest was your chief suspect in the murder of a nun.’

  Tom said nothing.

  ‘If the priest was a suspect, why wasn’t he in custody?’ McGuinness demanded.

  ‘He only became a suspect proper in the last hour. He gave us an alibi and when it was checked, it was full of holes. His house was being monitored. His and the immediate neighbour’s houses are surrounded by a ten-foot wall, and he was an elderly man.’

  ‘Is McDonagh on the way down?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Good. The Deputy State Pathologist is in Limerick, so you’re in luck. I’ll ring him. I’ll speak to the assistant commissioner for the region and get some extra manpower sent in to assist you. You’re working with the local sergeant already, so Limerick will be happy to leave our bureau in charge. A man was shot dead in Limerick City last night, so that team has its hands full.’

  Two vehicles pulled up outside the house. Ciaran emerged from one, and Ell
ie and Jack from the other.

  ‘I’d better go.’

  ‘Get me regular updates. And tell me if you need anything. I mean anything at all, Tom. I’m not having the media claiming we haven’t devoted sufficient resources to this.’

  Michael came up the drive. He’d gone next door to check if anybody was in.

  ‘No one there,’ he said.

  ‘Where’s the body?’ Ellie asked, as she approached.

  ‘In the hall. Emmet McDonagh is on his way down, weather permitting, and we’ll have pathology here shortly. Can you tell if it’s murder? It’s not obvious to me.’

  She shrugged and walked in ahead of the two men. Jack emerged from the back of the van, carrying the forensics equipment.

  ‘We didn’t find him straight away,’ Tom said to Ciaran, as they stood at the front door, looking in. ‘I was starting to wonder whether he’d done a runner or if someone had kidnapped him, too. Wait until you see what we found in the attic.’

  ‘Not another body?’

  ‘Lots of them. Mainly naked, in pictures.’

  Ciaran blessed himself as he took in the lifeless body on the floor.

  ‘Is there an actual doctor on the way?’ Ellie asked. ‘To confirm he’s dead?’

  ‘His own doctor is coming,’ Ciaran said.

  ‘And we’ve rung an ambulance,’ Tom added. ‘You don’t think he’s in some kind of coma or something?’

  ‘Wouldn’t be the first time. You know they’ve excavated coffins and found nails embedded in the lids from people trying to scratch their way out.’

  Tom shuddered. ‘I’m hoping if he’s still alive we’ll establish it during the post-mortem. Does it look natural?’

  She threw her hands out as if to say ‘I’m not psychic’. She checked for a pulse before peering closer.

  ‘There’s no obvious sign of struggle. All I can see without removing his clothes is this mark on his neck. It’s not symptomatic of strangling. This could be a puncture wound from a needle, but I can’t be sure. I’ll try and do a bit more with the body without disturbing too much.’

  Tom noticed Jack standing beside him. He was staring at the priest as if this were the first dead body he’d ever seen, his nose wrinkled in disgust.

  ‘Can you take pictures, Jack?’ Tom asked, distracting the man from his reverie.

  Jack turned, suddenly realizing Tom was there. ‘Sure. I’ll get started.’

  Ray came down the stairs and ushered Tom and Ciaran out to the garden.

  ‘You find something?’ Tom asked.

  Ray nodded. He looked disturbed.

  ‘I found plenty. I’ve figured out where Father Seamus was overnight on Wednesday. Are you ready for this?’

  ‘Where was he?’ Tom asked.

  ‘His computer has contact details for brothels in Dublin and emails to several of them. He was due to visit one in the city centre on Thursday morning.’

  ‘You are joking me!’ Ciaran exclaimed. ‘Thursday morning? You’re telling me our priest was visiting ladies of the night, in the morning?’

  ‘I don’t think they have set opening hours in brothels,’ Ray replied. ‘I guess he went down late on Wednesday night to avoid the drive up and down on the same day. He was booked into a hotel on the Wednesday night. Easy enough to check if he was there, they’d remember checking someone in that late.’

  ‘Ciaran, Barney Kelly made a serious statement to my officer Laura earlier,’ Tom said. ‘He implied the priest could have been involved in getting some of the women in the Magdalene Laundry pregnant. Now we’ve found explicit photos of underage girls, probably from the laundry, in the priest’s possession. Is this something you’ve heard before?’

  Ciaran hesitated before replying. ‘As a rumour, speculation, nothing more.’

  Tom nodded. ‘I suspected he was hiding something. We were starting to wonder if he killed Mother Attracta because she had been blackmailing him.’

  Ciaran’s face paled.

  ‘What is it?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Will we head back to the convent?’ Ciaran suggested. ‘I can fill you in there.’

  ‘Sure,’ Tom said, scrutinizing the other man. ‘Let’s check around the back first. Laura, Michael and Willie are going to be checking the nuns’ whereabouts this afternoon. We need to do another door to door, at least in the immediate vicinity, to see if anybody saw anything in the last two hours. There are more guards being sent in from Limerick city.’

  ‘Good,’ Ciaran replied. ‘We’ll cover the village by the end of the day.’

  Tom looked across at the small green on one side of the priest’s house, the next property being the church. On the other side, he saw large semi-detached houses stretching back to the road on which they had entered the village.

  Tom pointed to the empty house next door. ‘Who lives there?’

  ‘It’s a rental. There’s a woman leasing it at the moment. A writer. She only comes down occasionally. An old woman used to live there; her family have her in a home now. They’ve been renting out the house the last few months to pay the medical bills.’

  They made their way round to the rear of the priest’s house.

  ‘I feel a bit guilty,’ Ciaran said. ‘Michael had a notion we should pull the priest in for questioning. I disagreed and said we should verify his alibi first. I regret that now.’

  ‘There wasn’t enough to pull him in for questioning at that point. Ray was keeping watch, and I was in no hurry to come over from the parish hall.’

  ‘Monitoring the house was also Michael’s idea,’ Ciaran replied, glumly.

  They arrived at the wood behind the priest’s house and stood back so they could see the top of the garden wall. It was covered in pristine snow except for one spot, which had been disturbed.

  The two men examined the ground underfoot. They saw the footprints almost immediately, etched into the snow, leading to and from the trees.

  ‘How far back does this wood go?’ Tom asked.

  ‘About five minutes’ walk to a road,’ Ciaran replied.

  ‘That’s where the killer came from. The tracks have to be recent, or the snow earlier would have covered them,’ Tom observed.

  ‘They look like men’s boots,’ Ciaran said. ‘You didn’t see any prints in the garden?’

  ‘I have to admit I wasn’t looking for any,’ Tom said. ‘I was focused on the back door rather than the garden. I was still assuming that the priest couldn’t have exited the property via the back. We weren’t thinking that anyone had broken in, at that stage. There were definitely no signs of wet footprints in the kitchen, anyhow. So if someone did enter, they took off their boots beforehand.

  Even as he spoke, the snow started to fall again, flakes landing in the incriminating bootprints.

  Tom pulled out his phone and rang Ray.

  ‘Tell Jack to get round here pronto. We’ve found footprints.’

  ‘Personally,’ Ciaran said, as Tom took photos of the prints on his iPhone, ‘I’d have used that tree to hoist myself over.’

  Branches hung over the wall from a large horse chestnut on the priest’s side of the garden.

  ‘That’s how our killer got over, all right,’ Tom said, standing up, but not before placing his jacket over a set of footprints to protect them. He started shivering almost immediately. ‘The branches look sturdy enough.’

  They could hear the sound of an ambulance making its way through the village, siren blaring, its frantic wailing too late for Father Seamus.

  *

  The pathologist and doctor arrived at the same time as the ambulance. Tom had worked with the pathologist before and greeted him with a familiar handshake. Then he introduced himself to the doctor.

  ‘Mulligan’s the name. I’m the village GP,’ the other man said. ‘I’ve been Father Seamus’s doctor for nigh on thirty years. Is it a suspicious death?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure, but the pathologist will confirm that,’ Tom said.

  The doctor looked like he should have ret
ired some time ago. He was frail and his glasses seemed too big for his ageing head. But his eyes were lively, and he seemed pleasant enough.

  ‘Is it okay for us to come in?’ Tom asked Ellie from the front door.

  The crime scene technician was back on her knees beside the dead priest, carefully checking his hands and fingernails.

  ‘It’s okay now. There were so many of you in here when he was found, we’ll have to check everything against your samples, anyway.’

  She stood up and introduced herself to the two new professionals, running through the preliminary work she had already done.

  The two paramedics had discreetly brought a wheeled stretcher up to the front door of the house and were awaiting a signal to remove the body. The snow was falling heavily now, swirling in the air like a scene in a snow globe.

  The pathologist assumed control over the examination of the corpse.

  ‘He had a heart condition, Inspector,’ Doctor Mulligan said. ‘If there’s no obvious injury, what makes you think something sinister happened?’

  ‘He was in that cupboard.’

  The doctor looked at the cupboard door and raised his eyebrows.

  The pathologist knelt down beside Father Seamus and performed the same ritual as Ellie, carefully moving clothing aside and then focusing on the mark on his neck.

  ‘What was wrong with his heart?’ Tom asked the doctor.

  ‘Arrhythmia. It was weak and prone to irregular heartbeats. He needed surgery, but he was a stubborn man. The necessary recovery period bothered him. He would have needed somebody to move in and take care of him.’

  ‘If you ask me, he’s been injected with something right here.’ The pathologist straightened up from his appraisal of Father Seamus’s neck. ‘It was sudden and it was jammed into him hard, hence the discolouration and slight swelling. I’ve seen something similar before in the murder of an elderly woman in Louth. Her son finished her off.’

  ‘A poison of some sort?’ Tom asked.

  ‘We’ll need an autopsy for that kind of information. Luckily for you I plan on being in Limerick city for a day or two. I’ve just completed one post-mortem there but haven’t written anything up yet. I can do this poor man today.’