A Killing Moon

by Dunne, Steven

  ‘Young, foreign, transient …’ persisted Charlton.

  ‘She fits the profile in all but the most vital aspect of this case, which Constable Banach herself pointed out,’ replied Brook. ‘Kassia Proch was pregnant when she was murdered. Significantly, the other women who sought to terminate their pregnancies at the Rutherford Clinic weren’t killed. They were targeted and abducted because they were pregnant.’

  ‘And held against their will until their babies were born,’ said Charlton. ‘You’re serious?’

  ‘Deadly serious,’ replied Brook. ‘Kassia decided to keep her baby. And according to her nurse, Mary Moran, the pro-life group CRI, who I believe are targeting these women, were made aware of that. For that reason, she was no longer of interest to them.’

  ‘Whoa,’ shouted Charlton. ‘You’re not suggesting Father O’Toole’s organisation is responsible for these kidnappings?’

  ‘Not the entire group,’ conceded Brook. ‘But someone connected to CRI is using its legitimate protests as a cover for drawing up a list of pregnant women to target and abduct. Constable Banach recently made an appointment at the clinic and put herself on that list.’

  Charlton huffed. ‘You need to be very careful about wild allegations like—’

  ‘We only found out last night that Constable Banach is pregnant,’ interrupted Brook. ‘But Nurse Moran already knew because she saw Banach arrange a prelim at the clinic. She also saw someone take a picture of Banach. That’s how the girls were targeted. Rob.’

  ‘Last night Angie and I interviewed a Mrs Trastevere, who bankrolls this CRI mob,’ said Morton. ‘She admitted that her group takes pictures of all the pregnant girls visiting the clinic so they can ID them. They then put pressure on them by shopping them to their parents and priests. Mrs Trastevere knew Angie was pregnant and said the whole Polish community would be hearing about it the next day. Angie was in a state afterwards, as you can imagine.’

  ‘After that interview, Banach drove to the Royal to sit at PC Ryan’s bedside,’ said Brook. ‘When she left, she was attacked by the two assailants, one of them unknown, as you saw.’

  ‘We know one of them?’ said DC Read.

  Brook held up a photograph. ‘Bernadette Murphy.’

  There was another murmur of excited conversation.

  ‘One of your missing girls?’ said Charlton. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Not a hundred per cent,’ replied Brook. ‘But she may have been seen on the pro-life picket at the Rutherford by Nurse Moran. She’s Bernadette’s aunt.’

  ‘So it’s not a coincidence, Bernadette targeting Rutherford patients,’ said Cooper.

  ‘Far from it,’ replied Brook. ‘The night before she dropped out of circulation, Bernadette and her aunt had a blazing row about abortion because Moran had applied to work at the clinic. And all the girls targeted were Moran’s patients. I’m guessing that was payback, though how Bernadette knew which patients were assigned to her aunt, I don’t yet know.’

  ‘Maybe the aunt’s in on it,’ said Morton.

  ‘We haven’t ruled it out.’

  ‘Bit young, isn’t she?’ said DC Smee. ‘Bernadette, I mean – not the profile of your run-of-the-mill religious fanatic.’ Brook shrugged.

  ‘But Caitlin Kinnear wasn’t pregnant when she disappeared, so how can she be part of the series?’ queried Charlton.

  ‘In Caitlin’s case, I think priorities had changed, though I don’t know why or how,’ said Brook. ‘Maybe she didn’t look guilty enough when she walked past the pickets, and I gather she gave them a piece of her mind, I don’t know. But these are fanatics and that’s their weakness. They think they’re doing God’s work and that makes them untouchable. It’s the kind of arrogance that allows them to kidnap a police officer even after their leader admits they took Angie’s picture to out her to her community.’

  ‘Maybe they’re punishing Caitlin for her sins,’ suggested Morton.

  ‘Possible,’ said Brook. ‘And if so, Caitlin’s in the most danger.’

  ‘Because she’s not pregnant,’ suggested Smee.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Brook. ‘She’s expendable.’

  ‘You think Banach is safe as long as she’s pregnant,’ said Gadd.

  ‘I’d say so,’ replied Brook. ‘But that doesn’t mean we have time to waste.’

  ‘No sign of Trastevere at home,’ called out Noble, entering the incident room. ‘Father O’Toole’s in Interview One.’

  ‘Something to share, Brook?’ demanded Charlton.

  ‘DC Cooper was drawing up a list of target properties for warrants …’

  ‘Warrants?’ said Charlton.

  ‘Father O’Toole founded CRI with Connie Trastevere’s money,’ said Brook. ‘She’s a widow with ties to militant pro-life groups in the US. She also inherited extensive properties …’

  ‘What has that got to do with anything?’

  ‘It’s likely that whoever abducted these girls is going to need space and privacy,’ said Noble.

  ‘That is speculative at best.’

  ‘It’s not speculation that we have an officer in danger, sir,’ said Noble.

  ‘You have no evidence of an indictable offence against anyone connected with CRI, Sergeant,’ said Charlton. ‘No magistrate will issue a search warrant for a fishing expedition like that.’

  ‘Then we’ll go in without one,’ snapped Noble. ‘Would you like to see the abduction again, sir?’ he demanded, the aggression in his voice giving Charlton pause.

  For once Brook was the peacemaker. ‘Sir,’ he said, stepping in front of Noble. ‘Perhaps you can use your influence with Father O’Toole, get him to cooperate.’

  ‘He’s under arrest?’

  ‘Here at our invitation, sir.’

  ‘Do you realise how insane that sounds?’ protested Father O’Toole. ‘Kidnapping young women and holding them until they deliver their babies.’

  ‘We do, Patrick,’ said Charlton.

  ‘Citizens Resisting Infanticide is a legitimate charity,’ continued O’Toole.

  ‘We have to ask,’ continued Charlton. ‘One of our colleagues was abducted last night. A Constable Banach. I believe you met her.’

  Brook and Noble exchanged a despairing look.

  ‘Good Lord,’ said O’Toole, genuinely surprised. ‘Are you serious? That nice young policewoman abducted?’

  ‘We haven’t confirmed it,’ said Brook. ‘And putting aside how insane it sounds, can you tell us whether Mrs Trastevere ever mentioned such a tactic, even in passing?’ Brook saw O’Toole hesitate. ‘Father?’

  ‘I really don’t think talking about something means you believe in it,’ said O’Toole.

  ‘If you have something to say, spit it out, Patrick,’ implored Charlton.

  There was silence while O’Toole wrangled with himself. Charlton was about to speak again but Brook caught his eye with a minute shake of the head.

  A moment later, O’Toole’s expression betrayed a mind made up.

  ‘Well?’ said Brook.

  ‘She once told me about a group in America she was connected with years ago. Children of the Lord Jesus Christ, they were called. They used to abduct women going into the clinic. But it wasn’t really kidnapping, Inspector – more of an intervention. You see, a lot of these girls feel pressured into having abortions by friends, parents, even a society that holds motherhood in contempt—’

  ‘Patrick!’

  O’Toole took a deep breath. ‘Connie said they would … intercept the girl for a few hours, take her to a secret location and talk through the relevant scriptures with her. They’d pray with her until she saw the error of her ways.’ He looked down. ‘Or not. Then they’d take her home or to a church.’

  ‘Did Connie approve?’ said Charlton. O’Toole’s lips were firmly sealed. ‘Patrick.’

  ‘Broadly, yes, but that doesn’t mean …’

  ‘Where is she now?’ asked Noble.

  ‘If she’s not at home, I don’t know,’ replied O’To
ole.

  ‘Do you know anything about Mrs Trastevere’s property interests?’

  ‘I know she has them,’ said O’Toole. ‘Nothing more.’

  ‘But you’re not familiar with anywhere specific she likes to spend time. Somewhere out in the country, away from it all.’

  ‘As far as I know, she spends her time in her Duffield home. It’s semi-rural, nice area – very pleasant garden. All her other properties are tenanted.’

  ‘Do you own any property, Father?’ asked Noble.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Not even a place to live.’

  ‘The parish provides accommodation,’ said O’Toole. ‘A small house in Littleover behind the church. It meets my needs.’

  ‘Does the church own property around the county to which you have access?’ asked Brook.

  ‘I really don’t see the relevance, Brook,’ said Charlton. Brook’s glare spoke volumes.

  ‘Father,’ prompted Brook, turning back to the priest.

  ‘There’s a small hall in the church grounds,’ said O’Toole. ‘We use it for the youth club.’

  ‘Nothing further afield,’ continued Brook. ‘Something larger, more remote.’

  ‘No.’

  Brook glanced at Noble, who placed a photograph of Bernadette Murphy on the table. ‘Do you know this young woman?’

  O’Toole looked at the photograph. ‘Should I?’

  ‘Her name is Bernadette Murphy,’ said Charlton. Brook put a hand over his face while Noble stared at Charlton open-mouthed. ‘We’re fairly certain that she was involved—’

  ‘Sir,’ snapped Brook. ‘Can I have a word?’ He stopped the tape and ushered Charlton through the door.

  ‘Yes?’ enquired Charlton when he was outside.

  Brook closed the door behind him but held on to the handle. ‘Please wait here.’

  ‘Pardon.’

  ‘Or go to your office,’ said Brook. ‘But don’t come back in.’ He turned back to the interview room but was halted by Charlton’s indignation.

  ‘Would you care to explain that remark?’

  Brook faced Charlton, choosing his words with care. ‘It’s my fault, sir. Sergeant Noble and I are trained detectives. You’re not. I should never have let you sit in.’ Charlton went red and Brook sensed a tantrum was only seconds away so continued in his most reasonable voice. ‘When we interview witnesses or suspects, we ask for information. We don’t give out the information we have because that might influence what we get back.’

  ‘I was just asking if he knew her,’ said Charlton.

  ‘No, you were just telling him that we knew her. And now Father O’Toole knows that he has no reason to lie.’

  ‘Lie?’ exclaimed Charlton. ‘He’s a priest. Why would he lie?’

  ‘Everybody lies,’ said Brook. ‘And what’s more, we encourage it because when we catch them in that lie, we have them.’

  ‘Are you suggesting Father O’Toole is a suspect?’

  ‘I don’t have to suggest it. He clearly is.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘I know,’ replied Brook. ‘That’s why you should leave this to us.’ He slipped quickly back into the room.

  ‘I recognise the face, yes,’ said O’Toole. ‘I’ve seen her at demonstrations from time to time but never spoken to her. What did you say her name was?’ Brook turned off the recording of O’Toole’s disembodied voice and looked across at Noble.

  ‘The Chief Super teed him up nicely,’ said Noble.

  ‘He did.’

  ‘What did you say to Charlton?’ asked Noble with a grin.

  ‘Essentially to stay out of the interview room while the professionals did their work.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  ‘Ouch is right,’ said Brook. ‘I suspect my reservoir of goodwill is now a dust bowl.’ He looked at Noble. ‘Put someone on Father O’Toole, John.’

  ‘Follow him?’ Noble raised an eyebrow. ‘You know he’s a priest.’

  ‘Don’t you start! O’Toole lied to us. He knows where Trastevere is so there’s a chance he might lead us to her.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Cooper, clicking on the mouse. Brook and Noble watched the abduction of Banach again. The young officer approached her car, creeping up on the hooded figure seemingly intent on theft.

  ‘She did everything right,’ said Noble.

  ‘She should have called for back-up,’ said Brook.

  ‘Would you stand and watch some scumbag nick your car?’ enquired Noble. ‘Would anyone?’

  Brook conceded with a shrug. ‘Wait. Freeze it, Dave.’

  ‘I haven’t got to the van yet,’ said Cooper.

  ‘Go back,’ said Brook. Cooper obliged. ‘There.’ Brook moved his head closer to the monitor. ‘Another car.’

  ‘Part of one,’ said Noble, also straining to make it out. ‘Looks like an Audi. Dr Fleming?’

  ‘Dr Fleming,’ agreed Brook. ‘That’s his personalised plate.’

  ‘To be fair, he does work there.’

  ‘That’s a pay-and-display, John. Fleming’s a consultant. He’d have his own parking space.’

  Cooper restarted the film and they watched the burlier of the two assailants give Banach a fireman’s lift to the large white van while the slighter figure sprinted ahead to open the rear doors. A minute later the van roared away round the hospital ring road to the main entrance, followed by Banach’s Peugeot in hot pursuit.

  ‘Tell me you know where they went,’ said Brook.

  ‘I know roughly,’ said Cooper. ‘They drove north up the A38 and took the A52 towards Ashbourne. We can’t be sure but I don’t think they go past Ashbourne. The traffic flow cameras tracked them beyond Shirley. The bad news is the camera before Ashbourne is on the blink …’

  ‘Where’s that?’

  ‘Osmaston. But the good news is I checked the cameras on all exit routes from Ashbourne on that timeline and there’s nothing matching the van and the car driving through.’

  ‘So their destination was somewhere this side of Ashbourne.’

  ‘That’s still a big area,’ said Noble. ‘They could even be holed up in Ashbourne.’

  ‘Van plates?’ ventured Brook.

  ‘Fakes,’ said Cooper.

  ‘What about Mrs Trastevere’s properties?’ asked Brook.

  ‘She doesn’t own anything in the area,’ replied Cooper.

  ‘Damn.’

  ‘There was one thing,’ said Cooper. ‘I said she doesn’t own anything.’

  ‘Meaning.’

  ‘CRI is a charity, right?’

  ‘So Father O’Toole claims.’

  ‘Well, he’s right,’ said Cooper. ‘He’s a trustee. The thing is, when you register as a charity, you have to demonstrate public benefit.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘To do that, Mrs Trastevere handed ownership of a smallholding near Rodsley over to the charity …’

  ‘Just off the A52,’ said Noble. ‘That could be it.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘According to the records, it used to be a farm, but it’s being converted into some kind of retreat,’ said Cooper. ‘Do you want an address?’

  ‘We do,’ said Brook, looking at Noble.

  ‘Wagons roll,’ said Noble, plucking his jacket from the back of the chair. ‘Not coming?’ he asked when Brook didn’t move.

  ‘Take Charlton.’

  ‘You’re joking.’

  ‘Far from it. It doesn’t need both of us and he needs a win for all our sakes.’

  ‘But …’

  ‘It’ll be good for him,’ said Brook. ‘And the division. I’m going for Fleming.’ Noble tried and failed to compose a further objection, nodded reluctantly and left the incident room, gathering up a pair of radios charging on a rack.

  ‘Dr Fleming, please,’ said Brook, speaking into his mobile.

  ‘He’s out of the clinic at the moment,’ replied the receptionist at the Rutherford. ‘Can I put you through to Dr Simons?’

  ‘Don’t worry
. I’ll catch him at the Royal.’

  ‘You won’t,’ said the receptionist. ‘He’s taking a couple of days off to go walking in the Peaks.’

  ‘Whereabouts in the Peaks?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t give out that information, sir.’

  ‘This is DI Brook, Derby CID.’

  ‘I have strict instructions …’

  ‘And I’m investigating a murder.’

  A pause at the other end. ‘I’ll have to clear it with—’

  Brook rang off and tapped out a text to Noble. Fleming may be in Rodsley. Good luck. ‘Tell me more about CRI, Dave.’

  ‘There’s not a lot to tell,’ said Cooper. ‘Founded in 2012 …’

  ‘The year Bernadette disappeared. How many trustees?’

  ‘Just three. O’Toole, Constance Trastevere and a Dr Cowell.’

  Brook stared at him. ‘Helen Cowell?’

  Brook ran down the corridor on to Cowell’s ward. He fumbled for his warrant card and thrust it into the nearest nurse’s eyeline. ‘Dr Cowell. Where is she?’

  ‘You just missed her, I’m afraid,’ said the nurse. ‘She left about fifteen minutes ago.’

  ‘What car does she drive?’

  ‘I don’t know if I should—’

  ‘It’s a matter of life and death,’ said Brook.

  ‘Her car broke down last week,’ shouted another nurse. ‘She’s borrowed Dr Fleming’s car for a few days while he’s away. It’s an Audi …’

  Brook sprinted out towards the car park, grappling with his mobile. ‘Any joy, Dave?’ he barked when Cooper picked up.

  ‘The response car says Cowell’s not at her home.’

  ‘Tell them to stay there. Meantime get details to Traffic. She’s driving a high-end Audi belonging to Fleming; you know the registration. And find out if she has other property.’

  ‘I checked. She’s only got the house in Ockbrook.’

  ‘What about O’Toole?’

  ‘He’s on the electoral register but not as a homeowner and doesn’t own any property in his name.’

  A thought occurred. Brook thumped the roof his car. ‘Sister-in-law,’ he mumbled.

  ‘What’s that?’ said Cooper.

  ‘Father O’Toole’s sister-in-law died in childbirth.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So he must have had a brother at some time.’

  ‘Samuel O’Toole,’ said Cooper, reading from his monitor a minute later. ‘Still alive and living in Derbyshire.’