SENTINEL: an exciting British detective crime thriller

by JOHN STANLEY

  The uniformed officers forced their way into George Roberts’ house shortly after ten to find his wife dead in bed, smothered with her own pillow, and the old man slumped over the dining room table, an empty bottle of pills lying in front of him, next to a Bible open at Luke 19.24. One passage was underlined. ‘How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the Kingdom of God?’ it said.

  Neil Garvin and Des Cranmer had only just taken their seats at their usual table at The Black Lion when the front door was wrenched open and half a dozen officers in riot gear walked in and headed for them. The arrests were all over in less than a minute.

  The Reverend Charles Garfield glanced about him nervously and prepared to board the train standing in at Leyton Station. As he did so, he noticed two uniformed officers appear at the end of the platform. With a curse, Garfield ran to the other end of the platform where he stood for a few seconds, his eyes focused on the gap in the fence at the far side of the tracks. His way onto the street beyond, his route to safety, his chance to evade capture. The chaplain gave a laugh, shot a look of triumph in the direction of the pursuing officers, jumped down onto the tracks and started running.

  He did not see the express train that sped round the bend until it was far too late.

  ‘One thing before we go, Jez, said Radford, who was standing next to the bed. ‘It may sound cockamamie but we think you were attacked by three people in the church.’

  ‘Not so cockamamie,’ said Laverick thoughtfully. ‘There’s something been bugging me and it’s only just started to come back.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It’s only a vague memory but after Garvin and Cranmer attacked me, I have this recollection of someone standing over me. I think he was the one that ground his foot into my face.’

  ‘You know who it was?’ asked Gaines, who was over by the window, staring out over the rooftops but now turning back into the room. ‘You seen him before?’

  ‘Yeah, some kid called Roper.’

  Radford and Gaines exchanged glances.

  ‘How do you know him?’ asked Radford.

  ‘He came to me a few weeks ago, said he wanted to be a priest. I told him that if he kept off the smack I would put a word in for him.’

  ‘And did he?’ asked Radford. ‘Did he stay off the smack?’

  Laverick shook his head.

  ‘I suspect not,’ he said. ‘That was the last I saw of him until last night. Pity, nice kid. But why would he want to kill me?’

  ‘Religion has a lot to answer for,’ said Radford as he patted Laverick’s hand and headed for the door. ‘Get some rest. Come on, Michael, I reckon I know where Roper is. Get Gerry and a couple of uniforms to meet us at Chandos Street.’

  Radford was the first to push his way through the front door of the terraced house. Wrinkling his nose at the rank smell, the detective inspector walked down the hallway and into the darkened living room to see Jonathan Farron sitting on the sofa clutching a grubby handkerchief to his bleeding nose.

  ‘One of Roper’s mates,’ explained Perlow.

  ‘What happened to you?’ asked Radford, gesturing to the bloodied handkerchief.

  ‘Guy Roper hit me.’

  ‘Why? Something to do with David Roberts?’

  Farron hesitated.

  ‘I really do not have time to fuck about,’ said Radford. ‘If you don’t tell me, I’ll arrest you for conspiracy.’

  ‘Conspiracy for what?’ A brief flash of defiance.

  ‘Conspiracy to piss me off. Don’t worry, I’ll think of something. So I ask again, was it something to do with David Roberts?’

  Farron nodded, defiance banished.

  ‘You do know that David is dead, don’t you?’ said Perlow.

  Farron took the handkerchief away from his nose and nodded.

  ‘And Guy killed him?’ asked Radford.

  Again a nod.

  ‘But why?’ asked the inspector. ‘Why did he do it?’

  ‘He has not been himself for the past few days,’ sighed Farron. ‘We met this dealer in a pub on Sunday night and he sold Guy some pills.’

  ‘What were they?’

  ‘God knows but I took one of them and it made me feel weird. Didn’t take any more after that.’

  ‘But Guy kept taking his?’

  Farron nodded.

  ‘Whatever they were, they fucked with his head. He said he had to avenge wrongs against the church, started quoting from the Bible, said he was an angel. I tried to get him to stop taking the pills but he just looked straight through me every time.’

  ‘And this morning?’ asked Radford. ‘What happened this morning, Jonathan?’

  ‘He said he was going to kill David. Said that knifing anyone, even a copper, in a church was a violation and he had to pay for it. David was a nice kid. He didn’t mean to stick that copper.’

  ‘But Guy did not agree?’

  Farron shook his head then dabbed his nose again with the handkerchief.

  ‘When I tried to stop him, he did this,’ he said.

  ‘And you didn’t think to call us?’ asked Radford.

  Farron did not reply. Silence settled on the room for a few moments. It was broken by Gaines.

  ‘We think he also tried to kill James Rowland,’ said Gaines, moving away from the door to stand at the end of the sofa. ‘Are we right?’

  ‘Guy said he had heard that the vicar had been stealing from the church. Something David had said. I think he heard it from his grandfather.’

  ‘So the vicar had to pay for it?’ asked Radford.

  Farron nodded.

  ‘Everyone has to pay, according to Guy,’ he said. ‘I tell you, he’s not thinking straight. Even told me he could fly.’

  ‘And where is he now?’ asked the inspector.

  No one saw the young man climb up the drainpipe and onto the roof of St Mark’s, stand for a few moments, open his arms and dive slowly, gracefully, to his death.

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