‘Meade totally distanced himself from knowing Sister Melissa. But he lost his composure when Barnes suggested he offered sweets to the kids for “ulterior motives”.’
‘Does Barnes really think that? We’ve had a lot of calls from people who were at the orphanage. Not one of them has alleged sexual abuse.’
‘Barnes was just trying to goad him. You could see Meade was getting hot under the collar . . . excuse the pun.’
‘I’ve got a feeling Meade and Missy were in a relationship. It may even have been sexual,’ Jane said.
‘You’re kidding me!’ Stanley exclaimed.
‘Why shouldn’t priests and nuns have sexual desires like the rest of us?’
‘Is that a come on?’ he grinned.
‘Piss off,’ Jane retorted. She then told him about the photograph in which she thought Meade and Missy were touching hands.
‘Maybe he led her on just to get in her knickers, she got upset, then . . .’
‘What is it with you men and sex?’ Jane said testily. ‘Or are you speaking from experience?’
Stanley held his hands up. ‘Blimey, it was only a suggestion.’
‘What did Meade say when Barnes asked how he knew Melissa’s nickname?’ Jane asked.
‘He didn’t ask.’
‘Why not? Evidentially, that would be enough to arrest him and interview him under caution.’
‘Archbishop Malone walked in at that point. He didn’t recognise Barnes until he told him he was the officer who investigated Stephen’s suicide . . . then said he suspected Malone was involved and there’d be no cover-up this time.’
Jane winced. ‘I bet that didn’t go down well.’
‘It was like a red rag to a bull. Malone asked us to leave and said he’d speak with the commissioner. Which, by the looks of things, he has.’
‘I worry Barnes’s loathing of Malone and the Catholic Church over Stephen Phillips’ suicide is clouding his judgement.’
‘We all have our demons, Jane. The death of a child is one of the hardest things to deal with as a police officer.’
‘I know, but pissing off the archbishop won’t help our investigation.’
He shrugged. ‘Barnes is in charge and we have to do as he says, like it or not.’
Boon walked in. ‘I got a positive result with Julie Dorton about the whittling.’
Stanley sighed. ‘For Christ’s sake, would somebody explain this whistling thing – I mean, whittling.’
‘Shall we just call it wood carving if it’s easier for you?’ Jane teased.
‘Call it what you bloody well like. Just tell me what happened at Canvey Island,’ Stanley said.
Jane told him about Sister Margaret’s condition and the conversation they had with her.
‘I’ve got to say Boony was brilliant with her. If it wasn’t for him . . .’
‘If she’s as nutty as a fruit cake we can’t rely on anything she said,’ Stanley remarked.
Boon frowned. ‘That’s a bit harsh.’
‘I don’t have any sympathy for sadists who take pleasure in beating young children,’ Stanley said bluntly.
‘Neither do I. But calling someone with dementia a fruit cake is offensive,’ Boon replied in the same tone of voice.
Stanley huffed. ‘She’d forget it in two seconds if I did.’
Boon shook his head. ‘It’s nothing to joke about.’
‘Who’s rattled your cage?’ Stanley asked.
‘You have, sir.’
Stanley leaned forward. ‘Who do you think you are talking to, son?’
Jane was afraid Boon was about to say something he’d regret. She kicked his foot.
‘Please, stop this bickering,’ she said quickly. ‘We’re all under a lot of pressure. Arguing amongst ourselves will get us nowhere.’
‘Sorry, sarge,’ Boon said. ‘Sorry, guv.’
Stanley sat back. ‘OK, tell me about this whittling thing you uncovered.’
Barnes’s desk phone started to ring. Stanley picked it up.
‘How did it go with the commissioner, guv?’
Stanley didn’t say anything as he listened to Barnes. A minute later he put the phone down.
‘What did Barnes have to say?’ Jane asked.
‘Not much. He sounded really pissed off. Malone made an official complaint to the commissioner about Barnes’s behaviour. He also said he signed a dispensation order for Sister Melissa, which—’
Jane interrupted. ‘I’ll bet no one’s actually seen it.’
‘Malone said he can show us the document. The commissioner has an official meeting with him tomorrow.’
‘It could be forged and backdated,’ Boon suggested.
‘Possibly,’ Stanley said. ‘But it could also be genuine. Malone told Julie Dorton in 1962 that he was going to sign a dispensation. If he was trying to cover up Melissa’s murder it makes sense the dispensation was issued back then.’
‘Is Barnes coming back here?’ Jane asked.
Stanley shook his head. ‘He’s going home. He wants everyone in the incident room for a nine o’clock meeting when he’ll brief us all on what the commissioner said and where the investigation is going from here.’
‘That doesn’t sound good,’ Boon remarked.
‘I have an awful feeling history might be repeating itself for Barnes,’ Jane said.
Stanley shrugged. ‘We won’t know until he’s briefed us, Jane. For now, we crack on as normal.’
Boon removed the little owl from his pocket and put it on Stanley’s desk. ‘Mother Adele made this. As well as lots of other animals, she also made a ladle for Sister Margaret, like the one she used to hit the kids with. Obviously, she had to use a knife of some sort.’
Stanley raised his hand. ‘I get where you’re going with this. The problem is, we can’t rely on anything Sister Margaret said.’
‘That why I spoke with Julie Dorton. She confirmed Sister Margaret was a keen whittler. She said she kept little animals she made on her study desk and had a small box in which she kept an array of different whittling knives.’
‘All very interesting but circumstantial,’ Stanley said.
‘We can’t just rule out Mother Adele as a suspect,’ Jane said. ‘Julie also told us Mother Adele was ambitious. She saw herself as the next Mother General and fantasised about having a private audience with the pope. If Missy threatened to expose her cruelty and drinking, her ambitions would have been destroyed.’
‘True,’ Stanley agreed. ‘But I don’t think Barnes will buy it. He’s convinced Meade is responsible.’
‘We have to tell him what we know about Mother Adele so he sees there are other possibilities,’ Jane said.
‘I’ll leave that to you two, then,’ Stanley said.
‘Thanks a lot,’ Jane replied.
‘Look,’ he said. ‘You both know this case better than any of us. I suggest you sit down and compile a report detailing all the evidence you have against Mother Adele and Meade. Stick to the facts and don’t forget to consider a joint enterprise.’ Stanley handed Boon the owl.
Jane found herself remembering Barnes’s Sherlock Holmes quote: ‘Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.’
Returning to the incident room, Jane thought about phoning Nick, but knew if he was surly again it would really upset her and she wouldn’t be able to focus on compiling the evidential report. Boon went to the canteen to get a sandwich and a drink for both of them.
‘The Bromley SOCO dropped off some photos for you, sarge,’ the female civilian indexer said, holding up a large envelope. ‘DS Johnson, the lab sergeant, asked if you’d call him regarding the seeds in the victim’s stomach.’
Jane thanked her and took the envelope to her desk. The only photo she was really interested in was the close-up of Meade and Missy’s hands. When she looked at it closely, her suspicion was confirmed. Their hands were touching, with their little fingers entwined together.
‘I got two cheese toasties with tomatoes and a bowl of chips. Is that OK?’ Boon said, carrying in a tray of food and two coffees.
‘It’s fine, thanks. Have a look at this,’ she said, showing him the photograph.
‘Bloody hell, you were right. That’s a strong bit of evidence for the report,’ Boon said.
‘It’s enough to arrest Meade,’ she said, ‘since he’s denied knowing her. And what you said about him using Missy could be right. If she threatened to expose their relationship, he’d know he’d be defrocked.’
‘It also makes it more likely she went to the presbytery the night she left the convent,’ Boon suggested.
‘Only Meade knows the answers. I think Barnes will arrest him when he sees this photo. It proves beyond a doubt he’s lying through his teeth. What time are you meeting Becky Rogers?’
‘It’s supposed to be seven o’clock at The Chequers in Bickley. I’ll phone her and cancel,’ he said.
‘No, you won’t,’ Jane said. ‘We’ve got a couple of hours yet. If we haven’t finished by half six, I’ll complete the report.’
‘Thanks, sarge,’ Boon beamed. ‘I gave the owl carving to the SOCO. He said he’ll take it up to the lab in the morning to see what kind of wood it’s made from.’
Jane phoned Lloyd Johnson at the lab.
‘I got a message to call you about the seeds in Melissa’s stomach.’
‘Right. We got a botanist to look at them. Turns out they are Digitalis purpurea seeds, which are poisonous and commonly known as—’
‘Foxglove,’ Jane interjected
‘How did you know that?’ Lloyd asked.
Jane explained about the Scott Davies calendar.
‘Bloody hell, that was a good find,’ Lloyd said.
‘So how does it work as a poison?’ Jane asked.
‘The botanist said foxglove contains digoxin, which is commonly used as a drug to treat cardiac arrhythmia because it slows the heart rate down. Large doses can cause symptoms like vomiting, giddiness and unconsciousness. In excess, it slows the heart rate so much the brain becomes starved of oxygen; the body’s reflex response is to try and increase the heart rate, which can result in a heart attack and death.’
‘So you’d have to have a good knowledge of plants to know how to use it?’ Jane asked, thinking of Mother Adele.
‘I’d say so. The botanist said there have been many cases of accidental poisoning due to foxglove penetrating the skin when handled without gloves. People have even unwittingly made tea from the leaves and poisoned themselves. It has also been used to murder people. The botanist told me of a case where a German doctor killed his girlfriend with it. Under the guise of conducting a physical examination, he placed digoxin on his glove and administered the poison rectally . . .’
Jane winced at the thought. ‘Yes, thank you, Lloyd, I get your drift. I’ll need to get Sam Pullen’s opinion on the poisoning angle.’
‘I already have. She said it’s most likely the seeds were put in Sister Melissa’s food or a hot drink at the last meal she had before she was killed.’
‘Julie Dorton said Sister Melissa was very emotional and incoherent the last night she saw her.’
‘That makes sense. Pullen said the poison could have a delayed reaction of up to eight hours. She also suggested it was possible, when Sister Melissa was first strangled, that the fear factor caused her heart rate to accelerate so much she became unconscious.’
‘So whoever strangled Sister Melissa might have thought she was dead and put her in the coffin,’ Jane suggested.
‘That’s exactly what Pullen suggested. She’s going to get a specialist to examine the heart for any signs of damage due to sudden cardiac failure. I’ve got to say, whoever had it in for Sister Melissa was determined to kill her one way or the other.’
‘Now you’ve told me this, it seems likely the Mother Superior was involved. We also found out she made herbal remedies from garden plants, so she must have known what was and wasn’t poisonous.’
‘Have you been able to trace her?’ Lloyd asked.
‘Yes, to a grave in Hackney. She died a few years ago.’
‘So if others were involved, they could put the blame on her.’
Jane sighed. ‘I know. This investigation gets more and more complicated by the minute. Thanks for calling.’
‘I’ll say a prayer and hope for some divine intervention,’ he joked.
‘Worth a try,’ she said, putting the phone down.
*
After Boon had left for his date, it took Jane another hour to finish the report. Having read it twice, she was satisfied everything of evidential value was in it. She was leaning towards Barnes’s view that Meade had killed Sister Melissa, but it was clear others had to be involved in the cover-up or at least knew the truth of what had happened. She was still suspicious of Thomas Durham and Lee Holland because they’d lied to her, but she was no closer to finding out why.
She was just about to leave when the indexer’s phone started ringing.
‘Orpington incident room, how can I help you?’
‘I’d like to speak with Detective Sergeant Tennison, please.’
She recognised the Canadian voice. ‘Hi, Inspector Tremblay, it’s Jane speaking.’
‘I’m with Melissa’s parents, Lawrence and Fiona Bailey. They showed me her birth certificate and letters she wrote home when she was at the convent. I’ve told them about your investigation and the likelihood the victim is Melissa. Mr Bailey would like to speak to you,’ Tremblay said.
‘Of course,’ she replied.
These were the conversations Jane dreaded. It was never easy talking to a parent who had lost a child, and even harder when they had been murdered. Jane knew the Baileys must have suffered years of torment wondering what had happened to Melissa. Their last physical contact would have been the day they lovingly embraced her, aged eighteen, as she left home to devote her life to God. Then, nine years later, she would go silent and they would never hear from their daughter again. Not knowing where Melissa was, or how she was being treated, must have driven them to the depths of despair. All they would have wanted was to know Melissa was alive, safe and well, but now their worst fears had become a reality.
‘Thank you for finding us, detective. My wife and I have always dreaded this day would come. I have to ask, but are you sure it’s Melissa?’ Lawrence asked.
‘I’m sorry, but all the evidence points towards Melissa being our victim. We recovered a cross engraved with her initials and the date she took her vows. Sister Julie Dorton, a good friend of Melissa’s who was also at the convent, has identified it as being hers.’
‘Melissa often spoke about her in her letters. She said Julie always cheered her up when she felt homesick.’
‘How often did Melissa write to you?’ Jane asked.
‘Once a month, which was what she was allowed under the convent rules. There were a couple of times we didn’t hear from her for two or three months, but it didn’t worry us at the time.’
‘May I ask why not?’
‘She did say in a letter that one punishment for breaking the rules was the withdrawal of writing privileges, so we assumed that was why there were sometimes gaps between her letters. Melissa could be a bit hot-headed and impulsive. She often got in trouble at junior high school for speaking her mind. In fact, I think she spent more time in detention than she did in the classroom. Then when she was seventeen and decided she wanted to be a nun she calmed down.’
Jane recalled Julie Dorton mentioning the sister’s letters were checked and edited by the Mother Superior, thus making it impossible to write anything negative about the convent or life there to family or friends. Although Jane thought she knew what Lawrence’s answer was going to be, she still had to ask her next question.
‘Did Melissa ever write about wanting to leave the Sisterhood or anything that was troubling her?’
‘No. She’d tell us about the work she did in the convent, the orphan
ed children and how much she loved them. She often said she missed us and hoped if ever we were visiting the UK we could come to the convent and see her. Regrettably we never got the opportunity,’ he added, his voice tinged with sadness.
‘Can you recall when Melissa last wrote to you?’
He took a deep breath before continuing. ‘The fifth of August 1962. The day of her twenty-seventh birthday. She said Julie was baking a cake for her.’ His voice started to tremble. ‘We became concerned when we hadn’t heard from Melissa for nearly six months. I asked the advice of a Canadian detective I knew here in Kingston. He contacted Bromley police on our behalf about our concerns.’
‘Do you know the name of the officer he spoke to?’
‘Detective Jim Harris. I spoke with him a couple of times myself.’
‘Did he carry out an investigation?’
‘He told me he visited the convent and spoke with the Mother Superior who informed him Melissa had left in August as she no longer wished to be a sister. He also said the bishop had granted her a dispensation, allowing her to leave.’
‘Do you know if Detective Harris recorded Melissa as a missing person?’ Jane asked.
‘He said he would, and he’d also make some local inquiries, but beyond that there wasn’t a lot more he could do. At the time I thought Melissa might have been embarrassed about telling us she’d left the sisterhood. I thought she would eventually make contact with us . . . but now I know why she didn’t.’
‘Did you have any further contact with Detective Harris?’
‘I called him a couple of times, but he told us there were no further developments. A year later I travelled to London and went to Bromley police station. I spoke with a sergeant who told me Detective Harris had retired. He checked the station missing persons records and told me Melissa’s file was still there, but there was no update on her whereabouts.’
It was clear to Jane that DC Harris had accepted Mother Adele and Bishop Malone’s word as gospel and let her missing person file gather dust in a filing cabinet. Worse still, he hadn’t even bothered to notify the Missing Persons Bureau at Scotland Yard.
‘Did you make any other inquiries while you were in London, Mr Bailey?’ Jane asked.
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