Unholy Murder

by Lynda La Plante

  ‘It’s possible Melissa was going to the presbytery to see him the night she was killed, but never got there,’ Jane suggested.

  ‘You’ve changed your tune,’ Stanley remarked.

  ‘Meade could have gone to the convent to kill Sister Melissa, then packed her bag to make it look like she’d run away,’ Boon said.

  ‘It’s possible that’s what happened, but he’d have been taking a big risk of getting caught in the convent or waking Julie Dorton.’

  Boon stood up. ‘People commit suicide for a reason. Meade couldn’t live with what he’d done. Stanley’s right, he took the coward’s way out.’

  ‘We’d better go see Barnes,’ Jane said. She had never seen Boon so worked up. She knew he wasn’t thinking clearly and trying to reason with him, or Stanley, would be pointless.

  ‘Did you find anything of interest at Becky’s flat?’ Barnes asked Stanley.

  He handed Barnes a notebook. ‘This was beside her bed. Meade’s name is in it, along with some others. I think it’s her thoughts about the investigation.’

  ‘Strange she didn’t take it with her to work,’ Barnes remarked, flicking through it.

  ‘She’s got a small pocketbook for work,’ Boon said. ‘Becky told me she kept a notebook beside her bed. She’d often wake in the night and think of something important. She said if she didn’t write it down, she’d have forgotten about it by the morning.’

  ‘I know that feeling well,’ Barnes replied. He put the notebook down on his desk. ‘There’s tons of stuff in there, but it’s all in shorthand.’

  ‘I can read shorthand,’ Jane said.

  Barnes handed her the notebook. ‘Transcribe and type it up for me, please.’ He turned to Stanley. ‘Did you speak to Becky’s flatmate?’

  ‘Yes, at her workplace. Her name’s Jayne Burman. She was at school with Becky and has been her flatmate for two years. She said Becky had become obsessed with the murder, thinking it could be her breakthrough to working for a mainstream paper.’

  ‘Did she mention Meade?’ Barnes asked.

  ‘Not by name. Burman said Becky was very perky yesterday morning. When Jayne asked why, Becky said she had a lead on someone connected to the Church to follow up on, which might prove interesting.’

  ‘That’s got to be Meade,’ Boon said.

  Barnes nodded. ‘It certainly looks that way. Even more so now we know Meade left his office at around the same time. What did Becky’s editor have to say?’

  ‘He and two others confirmed Becky left just after two,’ Boon said. ‘She said she was following up on a lead and would be out for a couple of hours.’

  ‘I take it she has a car?’ Barnes asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Stanley replied. ‘A red 1972 Citroën 2CV, with a black canvas roll-back sunroof. I’ve already circulated the registration Met-wide and to the surrounding county forces. I also contacted Becky’s bank. She’s made no withdrawals or card purchases. They’ll notify us if she does. I’ve got a recent photograph of her from her flat.’

  ‘Contact our press office at the Yard,’ Barnes said. ‘Give them a full description; what she was wearing when last seen and details of her car. Get a patrol car to drop her photo off as well. I want it on the six o’clock news, TV and radio, and in all tomorrow’s papers. Can anyone think of anything else we can do to locate her?’

  Jane made a suggestion. ‘This is a long shot. We could contact the Public Carriage Office to get the word out to the black cab community. Tell them we are looking for any cabbie who picked up a man outside Archbishop’s House yesterday afternoon who fits Meade’s description.’

  ‘That’s worth a try,’ Barnes said.

  ‘I’ve got her address book from the flat. We could ring round all her contacts. See if they know anything,’ Stanley said.

  ‘Share it out amongst the team to make it quicker,’ Barnes replied. ‘How’s PC Rogers?’ he asked Stanley.

  ‘Frantic with worry and wishing he’d never told his daughter about the post-mortem. As a cop, he knows the prospects of finding her alive are not looking good. He’s at home comforting his wife. I promised we’d contact him as soon as we have any news – good or bad.’

  ‘I’ll phone him in a minute and tell him about Meade’s suicide, as well as what we’ve just discussed.’

  Barnes’s phone rang. He picked it up and had a brief conversation before ending the call.

  ‘That was Lloyd Johnson. Dr Pullen just attended the scene. She did a cursory examination of Meade’s body and found no marks indicating he had been in a struggle. She also thought the bruising and cincture marks on his neck were consistent with Meade hanging himself.

  ‘Now, this may sound odd coming from me, but we need to keep an open mind about Becky’s disappearance. Although there’s evidence that points to Meade being involved, she could have been abducted by a stranger. She may be alive and being held against her will. Time is of the essence. We need to think laterally and do everything we can to find her.’

  *

  Most of the team were gathered in the office for the meeting with Barnes, apart from the officers who were searching Meade’s apartment and office, who so far had found nothing of interest.

  Jane phoned the Public Carriage Office who said they would do what they could to trace the cab driver who picked Meade up outside Archbishop’s House. She then phoned British Telecom and requested details of all outgoing calls from Archbishop’s House the previous day, and the names and addresses of who the calls were made to. She said it was urgent and the person she spoke to said they would fax the details through to her within the hour.

  Barnes addressed the team. ‘I’m sure you’ve all heard about Bishop Meade’s suicide. As tragic as it is, depending on which way you look at it, he is no longer my main concern. We now need to concentrate on finding Becky Rogers. To that end, I’ve asked for an urgent press appeal to be made. I want you to treat every call or piece of information we receive as a possible lead. Follow it up until you are completely satisfied it is a dead end. If you have something positive, inform DI Stanley immediately.’ Barnes noticed DCS Salmon and the deputy commissioner entering the room.

  Everyone stood to attention.

  ‘I thought the commissioner himself might have been here,’ Barnes remarked drily.

  ‘He’s busy trying to appease Archbishop Malone . . . thanks to you,’ the deputy commissioner scowled.

  ‘The floor is yours, Salmon,’ Barnes said with an ill-disguised sneer.

  ‘I’d like to speak to you in your office, DCS Barnes,’ the deputy commissioner said.

  ‘If you want to talk to me, sir, I’d rather you did it in front of my team.’

  ‘I won’t ask again,’ he said.

  ‘Then don’t, because I’m not budging.’

  ‘DCS Barnes, you are relieved of your command and suspended from duty until further notice,’ the deputy commissioner said.

  Barnes laughed and shook his head. ‘May I ask on what grounds, sir?’

  ‘Disobeying the commissioner’s orders and misconduct in a public office.’

  ‘Did the child abuser – sorry, Archbishop Malone – influence your decision?’ Barnes asked.

  The deputy commissioner was losing his patience. ‘No, he did not. But he has made a formal complaint about your conduct and your hounding of Bishop Meade.’

  ‘And so the cover-up begins. You’re all as bad as each other.’

  ‘That’s enough, Barnes. Leave these premises now or I will have you forcibly removed!’ the deputy commissioner snapped.

  Barnes took his warrant card out of his jacket pocket and held it up as he addressed his colleagues. ‘Like you all, I took an oath of office the day I joined the police force. We swore to serve the Queen, without favour or affection, malice or ill-will. We learned our primary objective was the prevention of crime and the detection and punishment of offenders. As you progress in your service, never forget the oath you took and what you stand for. It has been a pleasure working
with you all. You should be proud of what you’ve achieved in a short time on this investigation. Keep up the good work and I wish you a successful outcome. The last thing I ask of you is to find Becky Rogers . . . not for me, but for her family.’

  As Barnes walked out, he stopped by the deputy commissioner. ‘We both know you can’t punish or discipline me if I retire.’ He handed him his warrant card. ‘Tell the commissioner to stuff this up his arse.’

  Boon started to clap slowly. He was joined by another officer, then another, until the whole room was filled with applause for Barnes. Jane could see he was deeply moved by their show of respect and admiration. He raised his hand in acknowledgement and left the room.

  Salmon shook his head in disbelief. ‘Just so you all know, I am Detective Chief Superintendent Rufus Salmon. I am now in charge of this investigation and need to be brought up to speed with everything. To that end, I will hold a full office meeting in twenty minutes. I want to hear what each and every one of you has been doing and what evidence you have accumulated.’

  Stanley whispered to Jane, ‘What a load of bullshit. Now Meade’s dead, he knows full well the investigation is all but over. This is all about damage limitation with the diocese.’

  ‘I agree, but he needs to get his priorities right. Excuse me, sir,’ Jane said, trying to get Salmon’s attention.

  ‘And you are?’ Salmon asked.

  ‘DS Tennison. Are you aware we are also investigating the disappearance of a young journalist called Becky Rogers?’

  ‘No, I was not, though I did hear DCS Barnes mention her name just now.’

  ‘She hasn’t been seen or heard from since yesterday afternoon. We have evidence that—’

  Salmon raised his hand. ‘You can tell me all about it during the office meeting.’

  Jane was astonished by his lack of interest. ‘It’s possible Becky has come to some harm.’

  ‘Did you not hear me, Tennison?’

  ‘Becky is a serving police officer’s daughter,’ she continued undaunted. ‘He and his wife are worried sick about her.’

  ‘We have evidence that suggests Bishop Meade arranged to meet her,’ Stanley chipped in, ‘and a witness who saw him leave his office at the same time Becky left hers. The press has been informed of her disappearance and will shortly be making an appeal for assistance to find her. Needless to say, we can expect a deluge of phone calls. I doubt Becky’s parents, or the press, would be impressed if we didn’t answer the calls because of an office meeting.’

  Boon decided to add his voice to their pleas. ‘I’m DC Boon. I know I can speak on behalf of us all. Investigating Becky Rogers’ disappearance must be a priority. Every second is precious if we want to find her alive and well.’

  Salmon looked embarrassed. ‘OK, the office meeting can wait. Carry on as you were. I’ll read through the reports and we can have a meeting tomorrow if need be. I’ve a few things to do back at the Yard. Keep me informed of any developments, DI Stanley.’

  ‘I will, sir.’

  Stanley waited a few minutes in case Salmon returned, then spoke to the team.

  ‘I think we all know what’s going on here. As far as I’m concerned, Sister Melissa Bailey’s death is still under investigation, since it could be connected to Becky Rogers’ disappearance. Meade may or may not be responsible, but either way we need to find out what’s happened. If you get any calls or information that you feel needs an immediate response, tell me, not Salmon.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Jane sat at her desk to read through the shorthand in Becky’s notebook. She felt sad thinking of the aspiring young journalist writing notes on her first major investigation, full of enthusiasm and keen to impress her editor. It reminded Jane of herself as a young detective, going over the evidence in her mind and writing down her thoughts.

  ‘This fax just came through for you from BT,’ the civilian indexer said, handing over four sheets of paper.

  Jane put the notebook to one side and looked through the calls. She found nothing of relevance until she spotted a number she recognised. Stanley was reading through some reports in Barnes’s office when Jane walked in holding up a fax sheet.

  ‘There’s a two-minute call on here made from Meade’s office yesterday afternoon.’

  ‘What’s interesting about a bishop phoning a presbytery?’ Stanley asked.

  ‘The call was made at a quarter to two, just before Meade left in a cab. He phoned St Mary’s Church presbytery. Father Floridia lives there. He’s the resident priest.’

  ‘So, Meade phoned a priest . . . what’s the big deal?’

  ‘You are hard work at times, Stanley,’ she said.

  ‘Then get to the point.’

  ‘I’ve two thoughts here. One, Meade simply phoned Father Floridia and asked if he could speak with him at the presbytery. Two, Meade asked if he could use the presbytery to meet Becky Rogers in private.’

  Stanley nodded. ‘Now you’re making sense. Do you think Father Floridia could be involved in Becky’s disappearance?’

  Jane sighed. ‘I very much doubt it. Father Chris has helped me from the start of this investigation. Meade told him not to talk to me and he put his job on the line by doing so. Maybe Meade went there to discuss our investigation and see if I’d been in contact with him.’

  ‘Why would Meade go all the way to the presbytery when he could just as easily ask over the phone?’

  ‘I agree, that’s odd. However, there are a lot of prying eyes and ears in Archbishop’s House,’ Jane suggested. ‘But if Becky did go to the presbytery, I don’t believe she would have come to any harm there.’

  ‘You can’t be certain of that,’ Stanley said, opening the phone book and picking up the phone.

  ‘Who are you calling?’

  He started to dial a number. ‘The presbytery. I want you to speak with Father Floridia, ask him if he’s spoken with Bishop Meade recently and gauge his reaction.’

  Jane put her finger on the disconnect button. ‘I’ll do it, but face to face.’

  ‘Take Boon with you,’ Stanley said.

  ‘No. I need to go alone. I’ll know if he’s lying.’

  ‘Just because someone is nice, it doesn’t mean they are not dishonest. Meade being a prime example.’

  ‘I know that, but Father Chris isn’t like him or Malone.’

  ‘Sounds like you’ve got to know him well in a short space of time,’ Stanley remarked.

  ‘I consider him a friend,’ Jane said.

  Stanley raised his eyebrows. ‘Just a friend?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, frowning. ‘And I resent your insinuation.’

  *

  Jane knocked on the door of the presbytery. Father Chris opened it, looking pleased to see her.

  ‘Hello, Jane. What brings you to my door?’

  ‘I’m here in an official capacity. I need to ask you some questions about Bishop Meade.’

  His smile faded. ‘You’d better come in. Is Bishop Meade not willing to talk to you?’

  They walked through to the living room.

  ‘I’ve some bad news about Bishop Meade.’

  Father Chris looked concerned. ‘Has he been arrested?’

  ‘Bishop Meade is dead, Chris. He hanged himself in Archbishop Malone’s office this morning.’

  Chris slumped onto the sofa, a stunned expression on his face.

  ‘I was one of the officers who found him.’

  Chris looked upwards. ‘Where were you, my God, when he needed you most?’ Then he bowed his head. ‘Eternal life grant unto him, O Lord, may perpetual light shine upon him and may he rest in peace. Amen.’ He made the sign of the cross, then looked up at Jane. ‘What is it you need to know?’

  ‘Did Bishop Meade phone you yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, he said he needed to speak with me and asked if he could come to the presbytery.’

  ‘Can you remember what time he called?’

  Father Chris thought for a second. ‘About quarter to tw
o, I think. Then he came here just after two.’

  ‘Do you know how he got here?’

  ‘I assume it was in a taxi cab. He asked me to call one when he was leaving.’

  ‘And what time was that?’

  ‘Just after seven. What’s this all about, Jane?’

  She told Chris about Becky Rogers and her unexplained disappearance.

  ‘I have to ask you this, and please don’t take it the wrong way. But did Becky come here to speak with Bishop Meade?’

  ‘No. He never even mentioned her name while he was here. I can assure you Bishop Meade had nothing to do with her disappearance.’

  ‘What did Bishop Meade want to speak to you about?’

  Father Chris sighed. ‘I’m sorry, but I can’t tell you, Jane.’

  ‘Why not?’

  There was sadness in his eyes as he looked at her. ‘Roman Catholic law forbids me disclosing what was said during a confession.’

  ‘Meade confessed to you?’

  ‘If I break the sacred seal of confession, I will be excommunicated from the Church.’

  ‘But this is a murder investigation. And a young woman has gone missing.’

  ‘That makes no difference. I can’t tell anyone what Bishop Meade said, not even the police, no matter how serious the crime is. I shouldn’t even disclose the identity of a penitent who has confessed.’

  ‘We know Bishop Meade lied to us. I have evidence that suggests he had been in a relationship with our victim. If he didn’t kill her, I suspect he knew who did.’

  ‘You have to believe me, Jane. Bishop Meade did not kill Sister Melissa.’

  Jane knew only Meade could have told Father Chris her name.

  ‘Can you tell me who did?’

  He looked forlorn as he shook his head. ‘There’s no point in continuing this conversation. My answer will always be no.’

  ‘Now Bishop Meade has killed himself, he will be seen as a murderer who could no longer bear his guilt. Surely you want to clear his name.’

  ‘I don’t want to argue with you, Jane, but I beg you to keep this conversation between the two of us.’

  Jane sighed. ‘I understand your position in the eyes of the Church, but if you know who killed Sister Melissa and don’t tell me, you’re letting whoever is responsible get away with murder.’