Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey

by Nicholas Rhea

  ‘Hi.’ She extended her hand for him to shake. ‘I’m DCI Pauline Hammond, Mr Lindsey. Call me Pauline.’

  ‘I’m Brian,’ he told her.

  ‘Follow me, I’ve a pot of tea and cakes organized in my office – they’ll help after your journey. You’ll be pleased that I’ve found the file you want to examine. I must tell you that this crime happened before I joined the force so I hope I can help.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be useful,’ was all he could think of saying as he followed her into the lift and up to the second floor.

  ‘In here.’ She opened a door and showed him into her smart office with extensive views across the city. It contained her desk as well as a small conference table with six chairs.

  ‘Take a seat,’ she invited, indicating a chair at the table and joining him as she organized the tea and cakes. A thick file waited on the table.

  ‘This is very civilized!’ He sat down and placed his briefcase on the table.

  ‘It’s our new home, Brian. We enjoy working here, it’s a massive improvement after our previous old-fashioned offices at Chester House. We can even invite visitors to have tea and cakes! It’s the Jacobson murders that interest you, am I right? The two little girls?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘We refer to them as the Jacobson murders, the name of the man who was convicted. So tell me how you think we can help your enquiries. Take as long as you wish. I work very flexible hours and I’m not going to rush off home at six o’clock.’

  ‘Thanks. Well, first I need to explain what has happened in our force area.’ He provided her with a brief summary of the Ashwell Priory woods murder and the disappearance of Father John Attwood, at this stage refraining from any reference to the real identity of either man. She listened intently, not interrupting his narrative but occasionally jotting notes on a pad.

  When Brian had completed his account, she paused and then asked, ‘So why does Chief Super Napier link the killing of that man with the Jacobson murders? Has he any evidence to support that?’

  ‘He hasn’t officially linked them, Pauline. Both he and I are trying to keep the two enquiries separate but the more we get into our stride, a greater number of linking strands emerge. Let’s face it, the timing of the death and the disappearance of the monk, not to mention the venues, are virtually one and the same. Like most crime investigators, I don’t believe in coincidences but we do need to examine events very closely.’

  ‘I understand. Now tell me what you know about our Jacobson murders.’ She tapped a small package by her side. ‘This disc contains a summary of our files and you have my boss’s permission to take it if it will be any use. It’s a certified copy and your force can keep it. There’s also a selection of official photographs on the disc – they might help.’

  ‘Thanks, it’ll be most useful. So how much do you know about those murders?’ he asked.

  ‘Only what I’ve read in this file. As I said, the murders happened before I joined the force.’

  ‘Can you summarize that file for me? Very briefly?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll do my best. The case focuses on a young family called Goddard: Michael aged thirty-one and his wife Geraldine who was twenty-eight. They lived in a mid-terrace house in a street just off Oxford Road in south Manchester. A pleasant area and they owned their house, on a mortgage. Outwardly an ordinary family. They had two daughters, twins aged six. Sophie and Eleanor. Michael worked as a camera salesman selling to retailers and Geraldine did part-time work in one of the local shops – a small general store, a corner shop that sold everything.’

  ‘A pleasant domestic picture?’ commented Lindsey.

  ‘It was. Outwardly, they presented the false image of a perfectly normal family, happy and well balanced. Then tragedy struck. Geraldine went out one night with her twin sister, Jenny, to celebrate their birthdays with a meal and a visit to a club in town. Michael said he would baby-sit – child-sit is perhaps a better word – so that the women could have a good time then get a taxi home. Geraldine left the house just after seven that evening; her sister made her own way there.’

  ‘Did the sisters live at the same house?’

  ‘No, Jenny lived about half a mile away.’

  ‘Sorry to interrupt, but go on.’

  ‘About half past nine, Michael decided to pop out to get a half-dozen pack of cans of beer from a nearby off licence. It was one of his regular habits. He expected to be away for only a few minutes.’

  ‘So he left the girls alone?’ He wanted that point clarified.

  ‘Yes, they were in bed and asleep when he left the house. He checked before he went out and locked the door when he left.’

  ‘So for a brief time they were unattended? Six-year-olds?’

  ‘Right, but it’s not as bad as it would appear. They had a very good neighbour, a widower in his early forties, who had a key and would often baby-sit for them, or look after the house if they went away for the weekend. They did that quite regularly, often staying in caravans. Anyway, if either Michael or Geraldine wanted the neighbour to look after the kids temporarily or just to pop his head into the house to see if things were OK, they would ask, and they had a system of rapping on his front window as they left their house. Three loud raps meant a request to look in on the kids. That habit removed the need to knock on the door and disturb the neighbour.’

  ‘A curious practice?’

  ‘Yes, but they often used it and it apparently worked.’

  ‘How did they know he was in?’

  ‘He watched a lot of television in that room. They could hear it and he could hear the raps above the noise. The Goddards and their neighbour had done this for a few years. They told him in advance when they would be leaving and the knocks were confirmation they’d left the house. The neighbour would then pop around to see if the girls were OK. He had a key. He’d stay a while to read them a story if they were awake, and then go home when they were asleep. He would sit all evening if asked but the Goddards didn’t like to trouble him too much. They regarded him as an old man – he had a few premature grey hairs and a bald patch.’

  ‘And during those few minutes, somebody went in and killed the girls?’

  ‘Right. It was that man, their neighbour. John Jacobson. He was caught by Michael when he returned from the off licence.’

  ‘Caught?’

  ‘With a carving knife in his hands, both girls dead and blood all over the place. Both had had their throats cut.’

  ‘That’s dreadful! So what was Jacobson’s story?’

  ‘He told the investigating officer he’d come to check on the girls and had found them dead in bed, with the knife on the bedcovers and blood everywhere. He’d moved the knife and did his best for the girls, then Goddard returned to find him at the bedside, covered in blood. He denied killing them but admitted he’d not disturbed an intruder. Michael, the father, had an alibi – he was in the off licence at that time. And the mother was out with her sister. Both alibis were confirmed.’

  ‘And Jacobson continued to deny the murders?’

  ‘He did. He protested his innocence and the whole affair was very thoroughly investigated. Obviously, the father – stepfather to be correct, he was not the girls’ natural father – came into the frame as a suspect but apart from an alibi – a partial alibi in reality – the bloodstains on him, and his fingerprints on the murder weapon were explained when he found the girls and wrested the knife from Jacobson. Both men were bloodstained and both sets of fingerprints were on the carving knife. Forensic tests confirmed that.’

  ‘And there’s always a strong belief that a father is unlikely to kill his own children. That unsupported belief could tip things in the father’s favour.’

  ‘Which is what Goddard said when interviewed. He was distraught at the suggestion he could kill his own wife’s offspring. He behaved like their real father. But you and I know tragedies can happen for a variety of reasons.’

  ‘Goddard was thoroughly investigated,
was he?’

  ‘As thoroughly as possible. He was a strong suspect, Brian, this file confirms that. He could have killed the children before going out to the off licence. We learned that he was under a lot of pressure at work – he depended heavily on commission as a camera salesman, but sales were going down due to the increased use of mobile phones for taking photographs. He had domestic debts too, and was behind with his mortgage payments. And we discovered he was not the natural father of those girls – his wife had been unfaithful but because he could not father children he forgave her and accepted the girls as his own. Or so he told everyone.’

  ‘Quite a tangled web! My own police experience has told me there are many apparently devoted fathers who have killed their children. Their motives have been varied – problems at work, loss of status, money worries, mental problems, the wife’s behaviour, unfaithfulness, professional insecurity, depression, jealousy or even an ability to control themselves which results in violent outbursts … there are many cases of fathers losing control, along with motives galore.’

  ‘We are aware of all those, and there was more, Brian. Michael Goddard had a host of troubles and we know he used violence against his wife at times but I’ve not found any reports of him attacking the children. As a young man he had convictions for assault occasioning actual bodily harm and for carrying offensive weapons – knives, in fact. More importantly, he was involved in the drugs scene – when his salesman’s income dwindled, he started dealing in drugs in a small way at first, in and around Manchester. Whilst maintaining the aura of a normal family, he got involved in bigger drug deals despite attempts by other dealers to warn him off, even with death threats. He realized he could beat them at their own game, and became more violent than them. Over the years, he came into the frame for several unsolved murders, all drugs related. Nothing was ever proved. He covered his tracks and silenced witnesses but also moved house regularly to conceal any local notoriety and also took on modest jobs to give him the appearance of a family man. He was a very clever villain.’

  ‘So despite all that known background, he was never charged with those child murders? And John Jacobson was found guilty?’

  ‘He was interviewed, that was a foregone conclusion but Goddard’s alibi was a key factor, Brian.’

  ‘Tell me about it.’

  ‘Before going to the off licence he was alone in the house with the girls. His alibi was his visit to the off licence which was confirmed and, of course, the fact that he had caught Jacobson in the girls’ room with a knife in his hands and covered in blood. He took the knife from Jacobson and got blood on his own hands by doing so, that was his story. Goddard’s fingerprints were found on the carving knife and he had blood all over his clothing and hands. It was their blood, forensic evidence proved that. Goddard’s account was accepted.

  ‘The girls had died a bloody death; the sheets and Jacobson’s hands and clothes were covered with their blood. He even had the knife in his hand as Goddard walked in. Caught bang to rights, as they say.’

  ‘That seems very conclusive but it does give rise to a need for closer questioning of Goddard. Do we know anything else against Jacobson?’

  ‘Not a lot. He was a widower with no family; his wife had died some years earlier and he had worked in the building trade. He had retired early, selling his business but then earning extra by doing odd jobs, house repairs mainly. He had no convictions and was widely regarded as a very decent man. Defence counsel tried to convince the jury that he was innocent but they heard a story of him sitting on the bed with the girls on an earlier occasion. When this was followed by the father’s evidence that he had caught Jacobson in the girls’ bedroom, knife in hand and blood all over, it was enough to convince the jury. When he was convicted, people in the public gallery applauded. He was sentenced to life imprisonment with a recommendation he should never be released so long as he was a danger to children. His defence counsel helped him to sell his house on the grounds he would probably never be released. Despite all the evidence against him, coupled with the court decision, Jacobson continued to protest his innocence but all in vain. The problem was he could not prove his innocence. The evidence was overwhelming.’

  ‘So what happened to the Goddards?’

  ‘They sold the house and moved away. The girls’ natural father was a drug dealer too but he was killed in a traffic accident. Informers said Goddard was responsible for setting it up – there was intense enmity between them – but nothing was proved. Goddard was questioned but never charged. After the girls’ murder, they moved around very frequently, always using a legitimate business and change of address to conceal their drugs activities. We lost track of them; they never returned to the Manchester area.’

  ‘You must have had enquiries about them? From other police forces?’

  ‘For a while, yes, but their links with Lancashire faded away. Recently we learned that Michael had set up a business somewhere in Yorkshire making shockproof and waterproof cases for mobile phones and vulnerable things like pocket calculators, cameras and even spectacles. Another cover for his drug dealing. Word has it that he’s a successful businessman in the York area, and his wife is still with him, but they have no family. I’m sure his wife never knew he had killed the children. Jacobson carried all the blame. If the Goddards are around and involved in their usual business, they’ll be operating under false names, they always do.’

  ‘Still violent, is he? Is that something you know?’

  ‘Yes, we are fed snippets from time to time. As I’ve said, it’s known he’s a violent but charming rogue, Brian, the worst of the worst. And he can silence witnesses. On top of that, he’s become extremely rich.’

  ‘If he’s in the York area, we can check him out. I wonder if he’s come across Jacobson, who’s also living in Yorkshire? You know he’s out of prison, do you?’ Brian put to Pauline.

  ‘Our last information was that Jacobson would never admit to the crime, so he would never be granted parole. You say he’s out now?’

  ‘Yes, on licence. Much to everyone’s surprise, he admitted his guilt and was granted parole. He has been out for ten years or so, living under an assumed name in our force area, which is why I’m aware of this. I am sure there will be a record somewhere in your offices, perhaps in a top secret file.’

  ‘We should have been informed. He’ll be under strict supervision, surely?’

  ‘Naturally. But I have to say this – he is now known as Father John Attwood and is a monk at Maddleskirk Abbey deep in the moors near Aidensfield. He disappeared on Saturday shortly before a murdered man was found near the monastery. There’s a search going on for him right now.’

  ‘That sounds ominous! Someone’s not been too careful with their supervision. Who’s the dead man?’

  ‘We’re not sure. Very few people know about Father Attwood’s past and it is not for public consumption. From what we are told, it seems he admitted the crimes simply to get out of prison so that he could set about proving his innocence.’

  ‘You say he has disappeared? Was that voluntarily?’

  ‘He might have been tricked into leaving the monastery.’

  ‘That sounds nasty. Have you met him?’

  ‘No, I haven’t, but we are investigating the murder of an unknown man in the woods near the abbey. He was killed with a stiletto wound, the trademark of a drugs baron. The circumstances are puzzling but my boss, Detective Chief Superintendent Napier, wants to know more about the crime for which he was convicted, hence my visit here. He reckons it’s relevant.’

  ‘He’s not suggesting this force manipulated the conviction of an innocent man, is he?’

  ‘I’m sure he would suggest no such thing, Pauline. The evidence was enough to convince the jury. That’s pretty final. The case appears to have been conducted according to the rules.’

  ‘It was, but I have to admit there were doubts about that conviction. Before you arrived, I spoke to officers who remember the case and out of the three I spoke
to, two expressed doubts. They felt Jacobson had been set up for the murder and that the crime was the work of the girls’ stepfather. The possibility was investigated discreetly but evidence of Jacobson’s guilt was too strong – enough to convince the senior investigating officer and a jury.’

  ‘Do you think your chief constable would sanction a cold-case review? It would help us to deal with the present murder.’

  ‘Your boss needs to speak to my chief,’ suggested Pauline. ‘But I would add my support – after all, I’ve read a summary and must say that gave me doubts about the safety of Jacobson’s conviction. There are some points of evidence that seem not to have been checked, overlooked by both the investigating team and Jacobson’s defence counsel.’

  ‘And it would be necessary to re-examine the forensic evidence.’

  ‘That can be done,’ she said. ‘But I am powerless to help – a cold-case review is a matter for our chiefs, yours and mine. And don’t forget, Brian, cold-case reviews can take a long time.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind. Thanks for taking the time to talk to me like this and thanks for producing this disc, it will be most useful. Now I’ll let you go home.’

  ‘You’ll keep me informed?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Chapter 12

  ‘YOU WERE LATE back, Brian!’ commented Detective Chief Superintendent Napier the next morning, Tuesday.

  ‘There was a lot to investigate, boss.’

  ‘So what’s your verdict? Was your trip useful?’

  ‘Yes. Very.’ He provided a short resumé, adding, ‘It takes us a step or two forward. Of major importance is confirmation that the stepfather of the Jacobson victims, Michael Goddard, has moved from Manchester. No one is sure where he’s gone, he has disappeared with his wife, and they’re thought to be living in the York area under assumed names. He is a known killer, taking out those who get in his way, but he appears to be a highly successful businessman. A cover story. One of his enterprises is making safety covers for mobile phones, calculators and so on, but the Criminal Intelligence Bureau along with Manchester CID believe his real wealth comes from drug dealing under the guise of various forms of manufacturing. He shouldn’t be hard to trace if we can find the right people but this inquiry has shifted firmly into our lap. We should realize that if Goddard is currently operating on our patch, he might have seen Father John somewhere and recognized him despite a few years of ageing and John’s new identity.’