‘That won’t be a problem, we’ve plenty of suitable venues. Leave it with me, Nick, I’ll check after I’ve locked the crypt. Where shall we rendezvous?’
‘How about the cop shop?’ It was called that because it had previously been the school tuck shop – some said it was named in honour of Prior Tuck, not only because of his name but also because he had been a frequent customer to buy Mars Bars. ‘I’ll wait there for you, then I can brief the monk constable on duty. He’s going to be very busy.’
‘It’ll take a few minutes to explain things to the abbot and others. Will you be remaining? Perhaps working with us?’
‘I don’t think the detectives will want me, a retired police officer, hanging around, but with our combined and specialized knowledge, the murder team might find the monkstables useful for local enquiries. I’ll be happy for us to help. It’s a case of waiting to see what the CID need. I’m not going home just yet.’
I called Mary on my mobile to say I would not be home for some time and would probably have lunch in one of the refectories. Father Prior and I went our separate ways as I headed for the cop shop. Its normal times of opening were listed outside the door. When the duty monkstable was not in the police office, he would be patrolling the grounds and buildings in uniform to deal with whatever occurred – litter dropping, foul language, lost and found property, trespassing in secure areas, inconsiderate car-parking, noisy motor bikes roaring past the abbey during mass, or any other nuisance or problem. There was a POLICE sign complete with an illuminated blue lamp above the doorway and, as I arrived to make my call, a woman rushed to the counter. I stood back to allow her to complete her business for I had no wish to have my call overheard at this stage. I recognized the woman as Miss Dawson, one of the teaching staff.
It was already approaching nine o’clock and the enquiry desk was staffed by Constable Will Stutely – Father Will Stutely – whose shoulder number was 14. At Maddleskirk, each of the constables’ shoulder numbers began with figure 1 because they were the first of Britain’s monastic constables. As duty officer, Monkstable Stutely would spend his scheduled time behind the desk dealing with queries and problems and, in between times, he would patrol the buildings and grounds.
‘Good morning, Miss Dawson,’ he greeted his visitor.
‘I never know whether to address you as Father or Constable….’ she began.
‘As part monk and part constable, I answer to anything, but a lot of people call us monkstables. You could always call me One-Four. That’s how they used to address police constables. Numbers instead of names. Anyway, how can I help?’
She told the boyish-looking fair-haired monk about the non-appearance at class this morning of one of her pupils, Simon Houghton, and expressed her concern. None of his classmates had seen him and none knew of any reason for his absence.
‘You’d better hear this, Nick,’ suggested Father Stutely, beckoning me forward. I realized he must be aware of the mystery in the crypt – the note had been pushed through the cop shop letter box and he would have read it before contacting Prior Tuck. ‘Miss Dawson, this is former police inspector Nicholas Rhea, he’s the adviser to our monk-constables. He may be able to help organize a search for the boy around the campus by using our officers.’
‘Thank you. That would be a big help. I do hope he is not in any danger.’
‘So what can you tell us about him?’ asked Constable Stutely. ‘We’ll deal with his absence as low-key at this stage. Certainly it’s not yet within the realms of a missing person. He’s just one teenage lad who hasn’t turned up for lessons.’
‘I hope it’s nothing more than that. I’ve allowed him time to get here – quarter of an hour – but with him not appearing and no word, I’m concerned.’
‘Has he done this before?’ I asked.
‘No, never. It is most unlike him. He’s never late, not like some boys, and always turns up even when he’s not feeling well. If there is a problem, he sends a message.’
‘You’re sure there’s been no word from him? Could he have asked one of his pals to tell you?’
‘I’m sure. I’ve asked around. Usually if Houghton can’t turn up for any reason, he lets his tutor know. But I haven’t checked his room….’
‘Leave that to me,’ Father Stutely assured her. ‘I’ll go and check and if it’s locked, or if there’s no sign of him around the college, I’ll contact his housemaster. We’ll find him. He can’t be far away.’
‘Thank you, that’s a relief.’
‘I’ll let you know the outcome as soon as I have news. He’s probably got his head stuck into a book in the library and forgotten the time. You go and deal with your class.’
‘Thanks. I’d better get back before they wreck the place.’
When she was out of hearing, he smiled his understanding and said, ‘I’ll set things in motion, Nick. He’s probably crashed out in his bed, fast asleep in the land of Nod after a hectic weekend. Boys do that sort of thing. Oversleeping on a Monday morning isn’t exactly a matter of great urgency. Now it’s your turn, so what can I do for you?’
‘I’d like to make a phone call to police headquarters, Father Will. But first, I need a word. I believe you received a curious note this morning?’
‘Yes, it had been pushed through the letter box before I opened up. It was on the floor. I’ve kept it—’
‘You must keep it very safe, Father,’ I said.
Taking it from a drawer, he handed it to me. On a piece of lined writing paper, I read the handwritten words in black ballpoint: Look behind big curtin in cript. I noted the mis-spellings and passed it back to him.
‘Can you make sure no one else handles it? Keep it secure as the CID will want to examine it. Do you know who sent it?’
‘No idea, sorry. I can’t tell you exactly when it was delivered, but it was here when I opened up at eight this morning, but it wasn’t here when we closed the office last night at eleven.’
‘The paper looks rather like the sort you’d find in a cheap writing pad or notebook of some kind.’
‘It does; you can see where it was torn from its spiral binding. There are some small jotting pads like this in the school shop. Here’s a ruler, Nick, you might want to measure it.’
It was 125 mm x 100 mm (5” x 4”), the sort of small notebook that a schoolboy or even a hiker might carry in a pocket or handbag.
‘Thanks, Father. This could be an important piece of evidence….’
‘Evidence? You mentioned the CID just now. What’s happened?’
‘Father Prior obeyed the instructions in that note and looked behind the curtain in the crypt. He found a dead man lying in that stone coffin.’
‘Dead?’
‘Yes, with a head wound. Almost certainly it’s murder,’ I said. ‘I’m going to call the CID and Prior Tuck is notifying the abbot, the headmaster and the procurator. As it’s murder, Father Will, things are soon going to get very hectic.’
‘So what can I do?’ The shock was evident on his face.
‘You need to remain here until further notice to deal with calls and visitors. We’ll need you to act as our focal point.’
‘I understand. You’ll keep me informed? Help me to deal with things?’
‘Of course. Ask if you need help.’
He didn’t speak for a moment or two, and then said, ‘A missing boy, and now this. Are they connected? Murder investigations are out of our league, aren’t they?’
‘They are, but our services might be called upon, Father Will. At the moment, the crypt is locked because it’s a crime scene. Father Prior has the keys. The sculptor will not be allowed access and neither will anyone else. I know you keep a crypt key here that you share with reception but don’t let anyone have it whatever reason they give. Perhaps notices on all three doors until the police give the all-clear?’
‘We’ve got some “No Entry” signs, I’ll use those. One of the estate workers can place them.’
‘That sounds sensible.
Now I’ll call the CID but they’ll also want to find that missing boy … in their books, he’ll be either a suspect or another victim.’
‘Dear God, this gets worse.’
I telephoned the CID and asked to speak to Detective Chief Superintendent Napier whose name I knew from his regular appearances in newspapers and TV broadcasts. I had never met him – I retired before he transferred from the Northumbria Constabulary to the North Yorkshire Police. I must admit I was surprised when I found myself speaking directly to him as I had expected an introductory conversation with a secretary or his deputy.
‘Napier,’ a strong voice answered.
‘My name is Rhea,’ I responded. ‘Former Inspector Nicholas Rhea, I used to be the press officer for North Yorkshire Police. I’m retired now.’
‘Right, Mr Rhea. I’ve come across your name in our files; so what can I do for you? I hope you don’t want me to speak to a group of sleepy pensioners?’
‘No,’ I assured him. ‘I have a murder – or at least a suspected murder – to report.’
‘Have you, by jove! Tell me what’s happened but keep it brief.’
‘I’m ringing from Maddleskirk Abbey and College. There’s a male body lying in an ancient stone coffin in the undercroft beneath the abbey church—’
‘You’re making this up! Is it a modern male body?’
‘Yes, he’s not just a pile of old bones, nor is he made of stone. I know it sounds like a crime novel, but it’s true. It looks as if he has a head wound, and furthermore, we don’t know who he is.’
‘Been confirmed dead, has he?’
‘Yes, by a doctor.’
‘Is the killer still around?’
‘I don’t think so, we searched the crypt—’
‘The what?’ he interrupted.
‘The crypt, it’s under the abbey church. A very old place. That’s where he was found. Some call it the undercroft. There’s more.’
‘You’re not going to tell me a monk has seen the Virgin Mary, are you?’
‘No, but I am going to tell you that I’ve just learned that a schoolboy is also missing from the college, it adjoins the abbey, We’re just about to begin a search for him in the grounds and buildings.’
‘Are you saying he’s a suspect?’
‘I’m just saying he’s missing, Mr Napier.’
‘Another victim then?’
‘Clearly we can’t rule it out.’
‘You said “we” are going to begin a search for the lad. Who are “we”?
‘The abbey has its own private police force. They know their way around the place; they’ll be conducting the search.’
‘Well, that’ll keep your own cops busy, but make sure they keep away from the murder scene. I don’t have to tell you why. Right, I’m not one for believing in coincidences so leave the suspected murder to me. Don’t foul up the murder scene. I’ll get my DS from Scarborough to come along and make a preliminary investigation but before I do that, can I ask what all this has got to do with you, a retired copper?’
‘I helped to create and train Maddleskirk Abbey’s private police force of monks – monkstables, we call them. The prior called me when the body was found as they didn’t know what to do about it. They had no idea it was a murder. I learned of the schoolboy’s absence when I arrived.’
‘You have been busy, haven’t you? Right, well, I hope you and your pious police haven’t messed up any of the evidence at the scene.’
‘We haven’t, apart from being there when we examined the body. I’ve sealed the crypt, Mr Napier. It’s locked and the keys will be at reception or at the cop shop.’
‘Cop shop?’
‘The abbey’s own police office, it was a tuck shop before its current use.’
‘Good for you. My sergeant will be with you in a few minutes, he’s just been to a burglary not far from Ashfordly and is on his way back to his station. I’ll divert him directly to you. His name is Sullivan, Jim Sullivan. A useful chap.’
‘Thanks. Ask him to report to the police office in the reception area of the abbey. I’ll be there. Is there anything I can be doing in the meantime?’
‘I suppose you and your pals could be asking around to see who the victim is, that would be a good start. There’ll have to be a thorough search of the entire campus to see if the villain is hiding anywhere or has topped himself, so if you’re looking for that missing lad, you and your monkstables can carry out a dual search.’
‘I’ll inform the prior.’
‘I’m not used to working with monks and priests but you could also ask whether anyone has recently noticed anything out of the ordinary. In a quiet place like your abbey, I would imagine someone must have seen the killer moving around.’
‘It’s not a quiet place, believe me. But I’ll get them started straight away.’
‘That’s what I like to hear. I think your constables could prove very useful but don’t let them get into a dangerous situation. Hunting murderers can be dangerous. And we need to know where that schoolboy has got to and whether he’s responsible. Or whether he’s another victim. We’ll need a suitable room we can use as a murder room – maybe you can find one for us? You know the drill. It means your officers are going to be very busy, Mr Rhea. I’ll join you as soon as I get a situation report from my DS.’
As I settled on a bench in reception to await the return of Prior Tuck, probably accompanied by the abbot and other officials, I realized it would be a good idea to summon all the monkstables to a meeting to explain what was going to happen, and to encourage their co-operation. I had no doubt they would be an asset to both investigations and so asked Father Stutely if he would contact them. I suggested they assembled in the Postgate Conference Room (named in honour of a local martyr) where I could address them pending the arrival of Detective Sergeant Sullivan. I had used that room during their training and it was ideal for such a meeting. Then I must get them to search the entire campus as soon as possible. Having got things moving I settled down to await Abbot Merryman. He soon arrived together with Prior Tuck, Father Bede Templeton, the headmaster, and Father Sixtus Gold, the procurator, an ancient name for the financial director.
‘I’ve called on the monkstables to assemble in the Postgate Room,’ I advised them. ‘They’re all expected anytime now.’
‘Then let’s join them as this affects us all.’ Business-like and brisk, Abbot Merryman set off at a fast walk with the rest of us trying to keep pace. I asked Father Stutely to inform the detective sergeant of my whereabouts when he arrived. The monkstables responded very quickly, all dressed in their uniforms and within twenty minutes everyone was seated. The room was quietly located in the basement below the main entrance to the abbey church but it was too small to serve as the police murder room.
The abbot said, ‘Prior Tuck, you’re in charge of our police officers, perhaps you can tell us what’s going on?’
‘Thank you, Father Abbot.’
Prior Tuck provided a brief but lucid account of the discovery of the man’s body and the action we had already taken, and then asked me to inform the group about events since that time. I told them about the missing Simon Houghton, adding that his housemaster was arranging a search of his room and other likely places, and if the boy was not quickly found, the monkstables would be required to search the entire abbey and college campus. I ended by saying I had called the county CID, adding that a detective sergeant would arrive at any moment and that our part in searching for Simon had been welcomed by the detective chief superintendent.
Detective Sergeant Sullivan arrived during my address, accompanied by Father Stutely who introduced him. For the sergeant’s benefit, I was asked to outline events, but before inviting the sergeant to visit the crypt, I took the opportunity to ask Father Stutely whether there was any news about Simon Houghton.
‘Nothing.’ He gestured with his hands to illustrate his words. ‘His room has not been used overnight, his bed is made, he did not attend breakfast this morning and it se
ems he was away from here all day yesterday in that terrible storm. We’re continuing to search for him, but I fear it is more than just a boy missing a lesson. Once the monkstables have finished here, perhaps they could join me in the cop shop and we can issue plans and maps for them to broaden their searches.’
‘Consider it done,’ said Father Prior.
‘Thank you,’ said the abbot. ‘And now, Sergeant Sullivan, you will want to hear our story?’
‘Can I do that in the crypt together with the monk who found the body, and also ex-Inspector Rhea? My boss mentioned a head wound. It will help if I am looking at the scene as the story unfolds.’
‘I’m sure it will,’ I added my own opinion.
The abbot said, ‘Whilst you are doing that essential task, Sergeant, I will return to my office. No doubt Mr Rhea will keep me and my colleagues informed.’
‘Of course,’ I agreed, and so the headmaster and procurator followed him out.
‘One thing before you go, Father Abbot,’ said Sullivan. ‘Is this missing lad causing great concern or is such an event rather normal here?’
‘At this stage, it seems to be nothing more than a pupil skipping Monday morning lessons. It happens all the time, except that this pupil isn’t the sort to dodge lessons. We’ve no reports of anyone else missing.’
‘Well, like most detectives, I don’t believe in coincidences. I think we should treat his absence with genuine concern.’
‘We’ll do all in our power to help,’ smiled the Abbot but I detected just a hint of a frown on his face.
Murder at Maddleskirk Abbey Page 3