Unholy Murder

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘It’s no excuse for what he did. His actions endangered the lives of other officers. It’s lucky no one got killed.’

  ‘I agree with you.’

  ‘I wish more people on the force did,’ Jane said.

  ‘That’s your problem, Tennison. You think the world is against you. Because of that you sometimes fly solo, which in turn annoys your colleagues and turns them against you. Contrary to what you may think, I’ve heard many a good word said about you. If you want to make inspector, you need to learn how to communicate better with both your superiors and subordinates. Teamwork is based on trust and respect.’

  She nodded, knowing he was giving her sound advice.

  He looked at his watch. ‘I’ve got to head off to the Yard in a minute. Photocopy your report and leave the original on my desk. And remember, tread carefully with Father Floridia and anyone else you speak to at the diocesan offices. Don’t take their word as gospel,’ he smiled.

  She couldn’t help asking before she left his office: ‘I don’t wish to appear nosy, sir, but have you had a bad experience with the Catholic Church. I mean, in an official way?’

  Barnes nodded, removed another cigarette from the pack and lit it. ‘It was over twenty years ago now. I was a young DS in North London, investigating a case where a twelve-year-old boy called Stephen Phillips had gone missing from a children’s orphanage run by a priest and nuns. I instigated a search of the nearby woods and found him hanging from a tree.’ He took in a deep breath and let out a sigh. He rubbed his chin and shook his head as he recalled the memory. ‘The poor boy had taken his own life.’

  ‘That must have been a shocking thing to witness,’ she said.

  His voice trembled. ‘Cutting Stephen down from the tree and holding his limp body in my arms still haunts me to this day. I didn’t even know him . . . yet it was if I’d lost my own son.’ He took a steadying breath before continuing.

  ‘At first, I couldn’t for the life of me understand why a mere child would want to commit suicide. It was during the post-mortem I discovered the answer. When we removed his clothing, there were black and blue welt marks over his lower back and buttocks. He’d been beaten so badly you could see the outline of the belt and buckle on his skin. The pathologist said some of the marks were old and some recent. I knew right away whoever was responsible for inflicting Stephen’s injuries had to work at the convent.’

  Jane felt sickened by the idea. ‘Was it the priest or one of the nuns?’

  ‘At first, I suspected it was just the priest in charge of the orphanage, but I later found out some of the nuns also beat the children. He was a pompous, self-righteous man who believed it was “God’s will” that children who were unruly should be punished and the use of a belt was appropriate. He described Stephen as a “problem child” who needed to learn right from wrong,’ Barnes said, his sadness turning to anger.

  ‘What did the priest say when you told him Stephen had committed suicide?’

  ‘He considered it to be a mortal sin. His exact words were, “We must say what we know is the truth – taking your own life is a sin against God who made us.” The church even refused to hold a funeral mass for Stephen because he’d committed suicide.’

  ‘I never realised the Catholic Church could be so strict.’

  ‘Neither did I. The sad thing is, it took a child’s suicide to open my eyes. An orphanage should be a safe place where children are loved by adults they can trust, not a place that fills them with fear of physical abuse.’

  ‘Were they sexually abused as well?’

  ‘I don’t know for certain. But I believe the priest got a sadistic pleasure out of humiliating and inflicting bodily harm on the children under his care, some of whom were only six years old. It beggars belief that anyone of any faith could mistreat innocent children the way they did.’

  Jane could see the sadness in Barnes’s eyes, but thought it strange he never said the priest’s name.

  ‘What was the outcome?’

  ‘The archbishop got involved. He informed my DCI the diocese would carry out a thorough investigation and I was told to await the outcome. A week passed and I’d heard nothing, so I went to the orphanage and said I wanted to interview some of the older children and have them examined by a police doctor. The priest refused to let me in the door.’

  ‘On what grounds?’

  ‘That the archbishop was still conducting his investigation and I would cause the children undue stress and disrupt their daily routine. The next thing I knew the divisional commander wanted to see me in his office. The archbishop had complained that my behaviour was overbearing and accused me of persecuting one of his priests. I was told to mark the case file up as a suicide by a mentally unstable child.’

  Jane was staggered. ‘That’s awful. How could a commander condone serious assaults against young children?’

  ‘The archbishop used the law to his advantage. Corporal punishment in schools and orphanages is justified by the common-law doctrine known as in loco parentis, whereby teachers are granted the same rights as parents to discipline and punish children in their care if they do not adhere to the rules.’

  ‘But what about the welt marks from the belt on Stephen’s buttocks? Surely that was physical evidence the priest had gone too far.’

  ‘The archbishop said the priest and nuns had had justifiable grounds to chastise Stephen on a number of occasions as he was so unruly. The Met solicitors said without Stephen as a witness it was impossible to say who was actually responsible for inflicting the injuries, and therefore there wasn’t enough evidence to charge anyone. The archbishop said the priest had been given some advice on his future behaviour and moved to another post.’

  ‘Where did they send him?’

  ‘I don’t know. They wouldn’t tell me. As far as I’m concerned the whole thing was a big cover-up by the Catholic Church to protect its reputation.’

  ‘Did Stephen have any family?

  ‘No, both his parents had died in a car crash when he was six. One minute he was alone in the world and the next he was in a living hell.’

  ‘Where was he buried?’

  ‘The coroner helped me arrange an Anglican burial for him. No one from the Catholic Church even bothered to attend. It was a really sad day, but the whole of the CID office attended, and uniform formed a white-gloved guard of honour outside the church. I visit his grave a few times a year and lay some fresh flowers in his memory.’

  Jane was deeply moved by Barnes’s shocking revelations. It was clear he would never forget Stephen Phillips, and was still deeply frustrated and angry at not being able to charge and convict the priest for the assaults he’d no doubt inflicted on numerous children. His distrust of the Catholic Church now made perfect sense. But she also worried that in the current investigation, it might cloud his judgement of decent, caring priests like Father Chris.

  CHAPTER TEN

  As she drove back to the station, Jane felt relieved her meeting with DCS Barnes had gone so well. He certainly hadn’t come across as the kind of authoritarian stickler for the rules Stanley had described.

  But although she was pleased that Barnes wanted her to continue the investigation, Jane was also worried she might come to regret not being honest about telling Father Chris the nun had been murdered. It had also put her in an awkward position with Father Chris, as he understandably didn’t feel comfortable lying about a nun’s death to Bishop Meade. She just hoped Barnes would quickly form a full murder squad once the dead nun had been identified, and this would allow her to tell the bishop the cause of death.

  After parking her car in the station yard, Jane walked the short distance to the office of Thomas Durham and Son in Widmore Road. She pressed the intercom and explained she was the detective dealing with the unearthed coffin on the building site and had come to speak with Nick Durham.

  ‘Hang on second, please . . . I’ll see if Mr Durham is available,’ said a female voice.

  Jane was surprised
and a bit annoyed not to be simply buzzed in. It was nearly a minute before she got a reply.

  ‘Sorry for the delay, Ms Tennison. Please come in. Our offices are on the first floor.’

  Entering the office Jane couldn’t help but notice how modern and bright it was, compared to the drab, green-painted walls and worn brown carpet of the CID office. On one wall were numerous pictures of houses and flats, which presumably had been designed and built by the Durhams. On the opposite wall were two large-scale drawings of different modern-style houses, next to which was a separate glassed-in office, with a kidney-shaped glass desk and two small sofas. Jane could see the back of a tall man with collar-length blond hair. He was smartly dressed in a light blue suit and holding a phone to his ear whilst looking at a large building plan on the wall.

  An attractive blonde-haired woman in her mid-twenties looked up from her typing as Jane walked in.

  ‘Welcome to Thomas Durham and Son, Ms Tennison. I’m Judy, the office secretary. Mr Durham is on the phone. He’ll be with you as soon as he’s finished. Would you like a coffee or cup of tea?’

  ‘A black coffee, no sugar, would be lovely thanks,’ Jane replied, hoping it would perk her up after her lack of sleep.

  ‘Please take a seat.’ Judy pointed to a two-seater sofa. There was a small coffee table next to it with a pile of glossy house brochures.

  Judy returned with Jane’s coffee in a bone china cup. ‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting. Mr Durham is on a very important business call.’

  Jane wondered if it was about the coffin and the shutting down of his building site. She picked up a brochure for a five-bedroom house and flicked through it. Looking at the interior photographs, she was amazed how contemporary and bright the rooms were, especially the fitted kitchen with its modern appliances. It made her realise how old and rundown her house was. It struck her that Nick Durham might be able to recommend a good electrician to look at her fuse box and wiring. Her thoughts were interrupted when she heard a man’s voice call out.

  ‘Detective Tennison. I’m so sorry to keep you waiting. Please come through to my office.’

  Jane looked up and instantly thought the man, in his mid-thirties, looked familiar. He was good-looking, with an engaging smile and slim physique. She picked up her coffee and followed him to his office, where he pointed to one of the sofas.

  ‘I’m Nick Durham. Please take a seat.’ He went and sat on the other sofa.

  Even his voice sounded slightly familiar to Jane. ‘Excuse me for asking, but have we met before?’ she asked.

  He put his hands up. ‘Honestly, I’ve never been arrested in my life!’

  She couldn’t help smiling. ‘Well, there’s always a first time for everything.’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘If a policewoman like you had arrested me, I’m sure I’d remember.’

  ‘Clearly, I must be thinking of some other Casanova I met,’ Jane said drily.

  ‘I usually get mistaken for Robert Redford,’ he said with a grin.

  ‘Not Woody Allen?’

  He laughed. ‘Ouch, that hurt.’

  Although Jane was enjoying their banter, she thought it best to get to the point of her visit.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t contact you yesterday. Things got busy at work and I didn’t get a chance to call you before your office closed.’

  ‘That’s OK. Lee, my site manager, told me about the discovery of the coffin last night. He also rang this morning and said you’d found the body of a nun in it. Do you know who she was?’

  ‘Not at present. Her body was mummified, so she probably died some years ago.’

  ‘Lee also said you’d arrested Barry May for stealing a cross from the corpse,’ he said with a frown.

  ‘Yes, that’s correct. We found a cross and chain at his flat, which we believe to have been taken from the nun’s body after he forced open the coffin.’

  ‘He’ll never work for me again, that’s for sure,’ Nick said angrily. ‘How does all this affect our building work at the convent?’

  ‘My detective chief superintendent has said that you have to close the site for now.’

  ‘Can we at least knock down the fire-damaged buildings?’

  ‘He wants to know if the land is consecrated and identify the nun first, then he’ll review the situation.’

  ‘I doubt the outbuildings would be. I was told they were badly damaged by a fire while the nuns were still there. The structural damage meant we couldn’t rebuild them. We were going to knock them down and make it into a parking area.’

  ‘Like I said, the final decision is my boss’s. As soon as he’s made it I’ll let you know.’

  ‘Thanks. My dad’s a stickler for doing things by the book. He made sure everything was in order before buying the convent and starting the renovation work.’

  ‘I don’t doubt that,’ Jane said. ‘But we still have to make the necessary checks. Do you know in what year your father purchased the buildings and land?’

  His brow furrowed. ‘I remember him showing me round. He was chuffed to bits, proudly telling me his vision of turning it into luxury flats. I’d just finished my A level exams at the time, so it must have been the summer of 1965.’

  Jane wrote the date in her notebook. ‘Why the long gap before the current redevelopment?’

  ‘Financially my father needed to sell all the flats built in the first development to fund further development. Then he decided to buy land near St Mary’s Church and build detached houses on it. When they were completed and sold, I persuaded him to use the money to build more flats on the convent grounds.’

  Jane recalled passing some new houses on the way to the convent. ‘Does your father know about the coffin?’

  ‘Yes. I spoke with him last night. He said his solicitor liaised with the Church and Bromley planning department. They supposedly checked everything before he purchased the land and there was no indication that any bodies were buried there.’

  ‘Unfortunately, I know nothing about religious or legal rules covering consecrated ground,’ Jane admitted. ‘I’m meeting the diocesan bishop this afternoon. Their archives office should have records concerning any burial sites on the land and the sale of the convent.’

  ‘Would you like me to dig through our old company files for any paperwork relating to the original purchase?’

  She nodded. ‘That would be helpful.’

  ‘Where do we stand as a building company if it is consecrated land?’

  ‘It wouldn’t be a matter for the police to investigate, unless there was any fraud involved in the original purchase,’ Jane told him.

  Nick looked offended. ‘My father would never do anything dishonest. His reputation in the building trade is second to none.’

  ‘I wasn’t casting aspersions on your father. I was just stating how and why the police might be involved. A civil court would probably deal with any legal arguments about the purchase.’

  ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound tetchy. My dad has got a dodgy heart, so I get a bit worried about him. He’s supposed to be retired and enjoying life, but this coffin thing has got him all worked up. As a company we stand to lose thousands of pounds if the development is stopped, which won’t do his stress levels any good.’

  ‘I appreciate your concerns,’ Jane said. ‘It might be advisable to consult your solicitors as they will be able to give you far better advice than me.’

  ‘I’ll do that. It is what it is for now, I guess.’

  ‘I’m sure the bishop will be able to tell me more about the convent land, and I’ll call you later if I’ve any more information.’

  ‘Thanks, I’d appreciate that.’ He went to his desk and picked up a business card. ‘I’ll put my home number on this as well. Don’t worry if it’s late. I doubt I’ll manage to get much sleep with this hanging over us.’ He handed Jane the card.

  She couldn’t help noticing he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. ‘Is there anything else you’d like to ask me?’

  ‘Wil
l you need to speak to my father?’

  ‘Considering his heart condition, I wouldn’t want to cause him any further stress. For now, it’s probably best I contact you if I have any further questions. That way you can decide what you want to tell him.’

  ‘Thanks for your understanding of our situation. Is there a number I can contact you on if I need to?’

  ‘I work at Bromley in the CID office. I don’t have a business card, but the station number is in the phone directory.’ Jane stood up. ‘It’s been a pleasure meeting you.’

  ‘Likewise,’ he replied as they shook hands.

  ‘There is something I’d like to ask you that’s not police related, though,’ she said. ‘I was wondering . . .’

  ‘Yes, I would love to have dinner with you this weekend,’ he said with a straight face. ‘What time suits you?’

  She laughed, unsure if he was just trying to be funny or was genuinely asking her out.

  ‘Actually, I was wondering if there was an electrician you could recommend.’

  ‘Is it a big or small job?’

  ‘I don’t really know. I recently bought a house in Chislehurst and I think the fuse box and wiring need looking at.’

  ‘The guy who does the wiring on our new builds might be able to look at it for you. It could be a week or two before he’s free, though.’

  ‘I’m in no rush.’

  ‘Leave it with me. I’ll have a word with him and get back to you.’

  Jane thanked him and walked towards the door.

  ‘You didn’t answer my question about dinner.’

  Now she knew he was being serious. She smiled over her shoulder but didn’t reply.

  She stopped at Judy’s desk. ‘Thanks for the coffee. I was wondering if you have any brochures for two-to-three-bedroom houses or flats Mr Durham has built.’

  ‘Yes, we do.’ She opened one of the filing cabinet doors behind her. ‘Are you thinking of buying one of his properties?’