Unholy Murder

by Lynda La Plante

  There was another loud roar of approval and Nick took hold of Jane’s hand.

  ‘Come on, that’s the rowing boat song,’ he said, as people sat splay-legged on the dance floor behind each another, moving their hands and torsos backwards and forwards, as if rowing a boat, then swaying from side to side slapping the floor twice on each side.

  ‘I don’t really want to get my dress all dirty on the dance floor,’ Jane said.

  Nick took off his jacket. ‘Sir Walter Raleigh to your rescue.’

  ‘I can’t sit on your nice jacket.’

  ‘Yes, you can,’ he said, pulling her up from her chair.

  As Nick sat on the floor, his legs either side of Jane, he eased his body forward. As he pressed against her, she felt an unexpected tingle of sexual arousal. She didn’t think he was doing it deliberately but wouldn’t have minded if he was.

  When the song was over, Nick put out his hand. Jane gripped it tightly and he pulled her up quickly from the floor, she stepped forward, put her arms around his neck and kissed him on the cheek.

  ‘That was great fun. I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed myself so much.’ She hugged him.

  He pulled her closer. ‘You’re an amazing woman, Jane. I’ve had a great time, too.’

  His soft breath on her ear and the sweet smell of his aftershave sent another sensuous tingle through her body. She held his hand as they left the dance floor.

  ‘Do you want to stay a bit longer.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ she said. ‘It’s up to you.’

  ‘Let me know when you want to leave then, and I’ll get Sandra to call a cab for you.’

  ‘I hope you’re not thinking of driving home.’

  ‘No way. I only live over the road. I can pick up my car tomorrow.’

  ‘I can walk with you and get a cab from yours . . . if that’s OK with you.’

  He looked surprised. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes. The truth is, I’d like to see your place. Is it a house you designed and built?’

  ‘No. It was built in the 1930s. My mum and dad used to live there until they moved into the chapel and rented it out. I rented a place locally, then when I was thirty, Dad said I could move in. I’ve modernised the interior, though.’

  ‘Shall we go then?’

  As they left the pub the cold fresh air hit Jane making her feel light-headed. She stopped, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Nick asked, looking concerned.

  ‘Fine thanks . . . just a rush of blood to the head.’

  ‘You had me worried there.’ He smiled and held her hand.

  ‘The houses are big around here,’ she remarked as they walked to Nick’s house.

  ‘Farnborough Park is a private estate,’ he told her. ‘Some of the houses are new-builds and others are Victorian. Many of them were built in the Twenties and Thirties.’

  ‘Did you design any of them?’

  ‘A few of the newer ones. Nearly there . . . it’s just round the corner.’

  As they walked onto the large crazy-paved driveway, Jane was surprised at the size of the elegant red-brick house, which was three times as big as hers.

  ‘It’s lovely house,’ she said. She noticed a green Range Rover parked in front of the garage to her left.

  ‘Is your father here?’ she asked, thinking it might be his car.

  ‘No, that’s my car. I use it for work. It’s more suitable for muddy building sites than the Jag.’

  Nick opened the front door and switched on the chandelier light, revealing a hallway with cream-coloured walls and a hardwood floor. Nick took Jane’s coat and hung it in a cupboard under the stairs.

  ‘Come on through to the kitchen. There’s a bathroom just there on the left if you need it.’

  The large open-plan kitchen-diner had a terracotta tiled floor and oak cabinets. The centre island had a stainless-steel sink and a four-ring electric hob with an extractor above. The dining table, by the sliding patio doors, was made of golden oak, with a set of six matching chairs with black leather seats.

  ‘I love your kitchen. There’s so much workspace . . . and even a dishwasher!’

  ‘I redesigned it a couple of years ago, but I didn’t build it. Originally there was a wall between the dining area and the kitchen,’ Nick said as he opened the fridge and removed a bottle of Chablis.

  ‘Would you like a glass of wine or a coffee perhaps.’

  ‘A small glass would be nice, thanks.’

  Nick poured some Chablis into two crystal wine glasses and handed one to Jane.

  ‘What’s that thing above the cooker?’ she asked.

  ‘It’s a microwave oven. It uses tiny, electromagnetic waves to cook food more evenly. They say it can cook a joint of meat six times faster than a conventional oven. I haven’t really used it much yet.’

  Jane peered through the patio doors. ‘Is that a conservatory you’ve got in the garden?’

  Nick flicked some switches next to the patio door, lighting up the conservatory and revealing a swimming pool inside it, with a gentle wave of steam fog floating above the water.

  Jane was astonished. ‘Blimey, this place is full of surprises. I’d have brought my swimsuit if I’d known,’ she joked.

  ‘Actually, I’ve got one in the utility room if you fancy a dip. My friend’s wife left it behind the other week. She’s about the same size as you, I reckon.’

  ‘Go on then,’ she said. ‘But only if you’re getting in as well.’

  Nick fetched the swimsuit from the utility room and showed Jane upstairs to his bedroom, which seemed bigger than her living room, though she wondered if the floor-to-ceiling mirrored wardrobe doors made the room look bigger than it actually was. She liked the minimal décor of the geometrically shaped room, with its grey side cabinets, steel side lamps and multicoloured abstract oil painting above the king-size bed.

  Nick opened the door to the en suite bathroom, grabbed his dressing gown and handed it to Jane. ‘I’ll get changed in the spare room, grab some towels then see you downstairs.’

  Jane put the red V-neck shoulder strap swimsuit on and looked in the mirror. It was a tight fit, accentuating her breasts and hips, and she thought it looked quite sexy. She put on Nick’s dressing gown and went downstairs.

  Nick was sitting in his swimming trunks at the dining table looking through a black leather cassette case.

  ‘Do you like Dire Straits?’

  ‘Love them. Mark Knopfler is such a brilliant guitarist.’

  Nick tucked the cassette into the waistband of his trunks, then topped up their wine glasses. She followed him into the utility room and through a door that led to the conservatory swimming pool. He put the glasses down on a small plastic table between two sun-loungers, then put the tape in the cassette player. The first track was ‘Tunnel of Love’, a song about a boy meeting a girl, liking her, but not wanting to spoil things by getting too deep. It suddenly seemed very appropriate.

  As Jane removed the dressing gown and put it on the lounger, Nick looked up with a stunned expression.

  ‘It’s a bit small, isn’t it?’ she said awkwardly.

  ‘Not at all. It fits you perfectly.’

  As they walked along the side of the pool, Jane couldn’t resist playfully nudging Nick as if she was going to knock him in the water. As he deliberately fell sideways towards the water, Nick grabbed her wrist and pulled her in with him. Jane shrieked as they fell into the warm water together. Surfacing, Jane clasped her hands around Nick’s neck as he swam to the shallow end, where he could stand with his head and shoulders above the water. They gazed into each other’s eyes as Nick pulled her close, enveloping her in a tight embrace. The long passionate kiss that followed was intoxicating, a magical moment of surrender that neither of them had felt before.

  ‘Do you want to go upstairs?’ Jane asked.

  ‘It’s been a long time since I’ve made love to a woman,’ Nick said nervously.

  �
��Then we’ll have to take things slowly,’ she replied.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Jane woke early. Blurry-eyed and unaccustomed to the surroundings, for a moment she wondered where she was. But feeling Nick’s warm breath soft on her neck, and his arm around her waist, she felt reassured, knowing she was safe and where she wanted to be. From the intensity of her emotions, Jane knew, even though she had been a bit drunk, that this was more than a casual one-night stand. From the moment they had undressed and got into bed, Nick had made her feel wanted and loved, with gentle foreplay and tender kisses, stimulating her beyond her wildest imagination. Jane had reciprocated, and drawn together like two magnets, they made passionate love, their emotions expressed without words and their eyes speaking the unsaid.

  Jane slowly rolled over and gazed into Nick’s eyes.

  ‘I’m so lucky to have you next to me,’ he said.

  ‘Me too,’ she replied, feeling an adrenaline rush as they kissed.

  ‘Shall we have some breakfast, then I’ll take you home and we can discuss some interior design ideas?’ he said as they pulled apart.

  ‘I’d rather just spend the day in bed with you,’ she smiled.

  Nick tapped her nose. ‘I thought you were meeting a girlfriend for lunch?’

  ‘I’ll call her and make an excuse. I don’t think she’ll be too bothered.’

  ‘Well, it’s up to you.’

  ‘Her number is at my house, so I’ll have to ring her from there.’

  ‘Do you want to use the bathroom, while I make some bacon, eggs and coffee?’ Nick asked.

  Jane grabbed his hand. ‘Can we make love again first?’

  *

  Later, Nick picked up his car from the Fantail car park and let Jane drive it to her house. Taking a longer route this time, she felt more relaxed and better able to enjoy the experience.

  ‘I should have the Ferrari up and running in a few weeks, and you can have a go behind the wheel,’ Nick said.

  ‘That would be great.’ Jane smiled, liking the fact he wanted to see more of her, though she worried that rushing things too quickly might spoil everything. Only time will tell, she thought to herself, hoping that this time it would last.

  As soon as she got home, Jane went upstairs to change and phone Sam Pullen, while Nick measured the wall between the dining and living rooms and made notes in a drawing book.

  ‘Hi, Sam, it’s Jane. Something has come up and I can’t make lunch at The Bull’s Head today,’ she said, feeling bad about lying.

  ‘No problem,’ Sam said. ‘To be honest, I’m feeling knackered after a late night.’

  ‘Did you get called out to a crime scene?’

  Sam laughed. ‘No, I was out on a date with Lloyd and had a bit too much to drink, then one thing led to another and . . . well, I won’t go into details.’

  Jane was a bit taken aback by how frank Sam was being. ‘You mean Lloyd Johnson, the lab sergeant?’

  ‘Why? Have you slept with him as well?’

  ‘No! Never! We’re just good friends.’

  ‘So, is there anyone in your life, Jane?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Not at the moment . . . but I’m working on it,’ she said tentatively.

  ‘It’s not that handsome Father Chris, is it?’ Sam asked.

  ‘No, it isn’t,’ she said firmly. ‘He’s a priest, Sam, for goodness’ sake.’

  ‘I was only joking, Jane. No need to be so touchy.’

  ‘Sorry, I had a late night catching up on my paperwork and didn’t sleep too well.’

  Sam asked if there had been any developments in the investigation. Jane told her about Bishop Meade making inquiries with the archivist and how everything had pretty much come to a standstill.

  ‘Hopefully, we’ll know who she is by Tuesday at the latest and DCS Barnes will form a squad. Then we can move forward quickly.’

  ‘You’ll solve it, Jane. Lloyd said you’re one of the most dogged and lateral-thinking detectives he’s come across. If you fancy going out next weekend, let me know. And get some rest, you grumpy mare,’ she laughed, and Jane couldn’t help joining in.

  Although Sam Pullen could be a bit direct and over the top, Jane liked her and felt they shared a bond. They were both strong-willed and determined to prove themselves as good as any man at their jobs.

  Jane went into the living room. The door to the dining room was open and she could see Nick looking at one of the building plans, that she’d forgotten to put away. She bit her lip, wondering how he would react.

  ‘I’ve cancelled my lunch with Sam Pullen. She was fine about it,’ she said.

  He looked up. ‘Great. We could go out for lunch and a drive in the countryside . . . if you want to?’

  ‘I’d love to. Sorry about the mess. My DI wanted me to look through a load of plans and documents we got from the Bromley planning department,’ Jane said in a casual tone.

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Just to see if there’s anything about the land being consecrated.’

  ‘I can help you if you want . . .’

  ‘It’s all right. I’ll do it tonight. Besides, this is my day off and I’m entitled to enjoy it.’

  ‘There is something interesting here,’ he said, pointing to some markings on one of the plans.

  Jane moved closer. It was the original plan of the convent dated 1851 and the markings were two parallel lines of dashes running from the convent chapel to the buildings that had been destroyed by fire.

  ‘Is it a pathway of some sort?’ Jane asked.

  ‘I’m not sure, but I think it might be a tunnel, running from the chapel to the old outbuildings.’

  ‘Really?’ Jane replied, her curiosity piqued.

  ‘There’s a cellar in the chapel with a six-foot-long cavern off it, which my father uses for storing his wine. I think the cavern might once have been part of this tunnel but was bricked up at some point.’ Nick looked at the 1965 plan for his father’s original development of the convent. ‘There are no similar markings on here for a tunnel.’

  ‘Why would that be?’

  ‘A number of reasons. The architect may not have looked at the original plans, or he might have thought the tunnel had been filled in, or decided it wasn’t relevant to my dad’s development.’

  Jane realised the outbuildings weren’t far from where the coffin had been discovered and wondered if the tunnel could have been used to secretly move the nun’s body outside the convent. If it had been, common sense told her that two or more people had been involved in moving it, sometime after the murder but probably before Thomas Durham bought the land. There was a part of Jane that really wanted to tell Nick the nun had been murdered. But she knew it was best not to say anything until DCS Barnes decided to go public with the details. She just hoped Nick would be understanding when he learned the truth.

  Jane’s phone rang, and she picked it up.

  ‘Hi, sarge. It’s DC Lyons, early turn CID at Bromley. Sorry to bother you on your day off.’

  ‘That’s OK. What’s the problem, Matt?’

  ‘Jack, the mortuary technician at Queen Mary’s, rang. He was a bit worried about an incident that occurred yesterday concerning the dead nun. I tried phoning Boony but there was no answer, so I thought I’d better phone you.’

  ‘What’s happened, Matt?’ she asked, wishing he’d get to the point so she could go out with Nick.

  ‘I don’t know the full details. Jack said he was doing a suicide post-mortem with Prof Martin when a priest turned up and said he’d come to say a prayer for the nun. Jack asked him who he was, and he said the bishop had sent him.’

  ‘Is that it?’ Jane asked.

  ‘Pretty much. Jack also said he thought the priest was behaving a bit oddly when he said his prayer for the nun. Anyway, he left his home number if you want to ring him for more details.’

  ‘Fire away,’ Jane said, picking up the pen and notepad next to the phone.

  After the call, she was in two minds abo
ut phoning Jack to get more details, though she suspected it was nothing to be concerned about as Bishop Meade didn’t know Father Chris had already said a prayer for the nun.

  ‘Everything all right?’ Nick asked as he entered the living room.

  ‘Yes, just one of the detectives from the office passing on a message.’

  ‘Do you have to go to work?’ he asked with a frown.

  ‘It’s nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Right, let’s get on the road.’ Jane smiled, eager to drive the Jag again.

  ‘Do you fancy popping over to my dad’s and having a look around the chapel? You might find it interesting.’

  ‘I thought you didn’t want to worry him, especially with his heart problem?’ she said.

  ‘To be honest, I’m curious about the tunnel. I don’t think my dad even knows about it. He’d probably find it quite interesting.’

  Jane knew she’d need to see the cellar at some point and find out if a tunnel did actually exist. ‘Do you want to ring first in case he’s out?

  ‘I’ve got my own set of keys. He won’t mind me showing you around if he’s not there.’

  ‘Can I drive again?’ Jane asked with a grin.

  Nick threw her the keys. ‘We’ll take her on the A20 first, then you can really give it some welly.’

  *

  As Jane drove up to the old convent, Nick said his father’s car was outside so he should be in. Once inside the main entrance hall, Nick used his key to open one of the arched wooden double doors to the chapel and stuck his head in.

  ‘Hi, Dad, you in? It’s me, Nick,’ he called out, but there was no answer.

  Walking into the chapel, Jane was astounded by the interior. Decorative stone carved arches and pillars acted as room dividers alongside the original timber panelling, stained-glass windows and vaulted ceilings. The light and airy open-plan sitting-dining room had a stone fireplace with a wood-burning stove, and the dining area led to a luxuriously fitted kitchen.

  ‘This is absolutely stunning. I’ve never seen a place like it. It’s like stepping back in time yet being in the future,’ Jane said.