‘Mr Harvey, I don’t think you’re aware of what’s happened. We’ve a murder investigation underway in the crypt. We’ve had to secure it until all scientific investigations have been completed.’
‘A murder? In there? It’s got nothing to do with me and I want nothing to do with it, so I ask again, how long is the crypt likely to remain closed?’
‘I don’t know. No one knows at this stage. It will be reopened when we are sure it has been thoroughly examined.’ At that comment, Harvey banged his fist on a table just inside the doorway. The noise was amplified by the theatre’s acoustics and it caused DCS Napier to rush out of his room to see what had caused the commotion.
‘What’s going on? Who the hell are you?’ he demanded. His size and presence clearly impressed Harvey who halted momentarily, staring at the giant detective, before grinning widely.
‘Well, knock me down with a feather!’ shouted Harvey. ‘It’s Nabber Napier!’
Napier halted before the sculptor and stared at him for a few seconds before saying, ‘Well I’ll be damned! R.V. Carver in person … who let you out of the cage?’
All the detectives stopped work to observe this interesting exchange. It seemed there were some old rivalries here – and both men were about the same size and of a similarly powerful appearance.
‘I’ve been going straight, Nabber. For years and years. Did my time and learned my artistic skills when I was inside, now I’m out and doing good work. Earning an honest living … creating a life … so you did me a favour, nabbing me for doing-over that rapist who thoroughly deserved the thrashing I gave him—’
‘I arrested you for causing grievous bodily harm, RV, because that’s what you did. You can’t take the law into your own hands, no matter what. Self-defence is permitted in some circumstances and so is the use of reasonable force to prevent crimes, but you went over the top!’
‘I was just defending a girl, rescuing her—’
‘The way you did so was far from reasonable. I’ve told you this before! It was a brutal attack, a serious rape, but you attacked someone who was not attacking you….’
‘It was a villain who was raping a twelve-year-old girl. He deserved everything he got and I have no regrets even though you had me sent down for five years….’
‘The court sent you down, not me.’
‘It’s all over now, Nabber, let’s forget it. I’ve forgiven you as you were only doing your job. I’m man enough to admit that so tell me about this murder. Am I allowed to know?’
‘Come in and sit down, RV, we need to talk.’
‘You’re not going to nab me for something, are you?’
‘I sincerely hope I don’t have to. Now, let’s sit down – I want our discussion to be heard by everyone here then you will know you’ve been treated fairly and that you will not be falsely accused of anything. And neither shall I.’
‘I’m not sure I like this….’
‘Just sit over there, RV, and listen. Gather round everyone. I have known this man for many years, ever since he was a troublesome young tearaway in North Shields and I was a young copper. Am I right in thinking you’ve done time more than once, RV? Remember I can check your CRO record.’
I could now see how RV had became known as Harvey but wondered what his real name was. I wondered if Napier knew – he had called him Carver. Was that a pseudonym for his sculpting work? Or was it his real name?
And how much did Napier know about him?
‘I’ve been clean for a long time, Nabber. Twenty years or more, working hard and earning good money. I’m my own boss now, I do as I like and I keep out of trouble. I am making a success of my life and not every juvenile nitwit like I was can boast that.’
‘Where are you living?’
‘That’s not for public consumption, Nabber. My private details will remain private.’
‘And am I right in thinking you have a studio somewhere near?’
‘I’ve found a place I can use without people bothering me, but it’s only temporary. It’s not my home but it is also a secret. So what’s all this about? Are you serious when you say there’s been a murder? Like I said, I’ve not done anything wrong, dodgy or illegal so I’m not responsible for it. Why should I answer your questions?’
‘You were working on your sculpture this morning, were you? In the crypt?’
‘Doing a little, yes. Working on the rough, not the actual image. That comes later.’
‘What time did you arrive?’
‘Look, I keep asking whether I have to answer these questions. I haven’t done anything wrong.’
‘Then there’s no reason to avoid my questions, is there?’
‘Here we go again, a police interrogation when I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. This is like Kafka’s trial! I repeat – why should I answer your questions? You don’t think I’ve killed someone, do you?’
‘I don’t think anything. I’m trying to find out. I’ll tell you once more: if you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve nothing to fear. When I’m satisfied you may go.’
‘I’m not answering because you have not explained clearly. Do you suspect me? Do you think I’m guilty of murder?’
‘Listen carefully, RV. A man’s body was found in the crypt this morning and it’s a suspicious death. We are trying to establish what happened.’
‘You do think I’m responsible, don’t you? How did I manage to walk into this one?’
‘Just answer my questions. Did you visit the crypt on either Saturday or Sunday?’
‘No, I keep away at weekends, it’s too busy with visitors.’
‘What time did you arrive at the crypt today?’
‘Early, half-six perhaps, maybe a few minutes earlier. I wanted to get some work done before people started coming in. They notice me and then stand over me and ask daft questions as I’m trying to work. I can’t cope with it. I don’t like being crowded….’
‘I know that from the past, RV. You’ve bolted from me a few times. How did you get into the crypt? Have you a key?’
‘No. The monks open up early, five o’clock I’ve heard. I’m never there that early to see. But the place was open when I got there.’
‘What time did you leave?’
‘Dunno, seven mebbe. Then I went to my studio but came back to look for a mallet I’ve mislaid. I got back here about half-past seven then stayed awhile to look for it but couldn’t find it. So I thought I’d finish off some other minor stuff while I was here.’
‘Which door did you use to enter the crypt? Each time?’
‘The south door. Both times. Why?’
‘That door is the closest to your work area, I believe? You have your roughs nearby, along with a bench full of tools?’
‘I don’t like the drift of this….’
‘They are your tools, are they? On that work bench?’
‘Of course they’re mine! Nobody else is sculpting in there.’
‘You’ve also got a cupboard where you keep some tools. In the crypt.’
‘Yes, I’m a sculptor, sculptors need tools. I need my tools to be available when I want to use them, just like a car mechanic or a plumber needs tools, or even a surgeon. I know where they are and can put my hand on the one I want even in the dark.’
‘You’re very trusting, leaving them lying around like that.’
‘They’re no good to anyone else. I’ve never lost one – until now. My mallet’s gone missing, I use it for carving with stone chisels.’
‘And is a stone-mason’s mallet part of your normal tool set?’
‘It is. It wasn’t on my bench in the crypt this morning where I’m sure I left it, so I searched the whole area around the chapel without finding it. Then I went back to my studio to search there in case I’d forgotten where I’d put it – but it wasn’t there either. So I came back because I thought it must still be here in the crypt.’
‘You keep a set of tools in both places? Here, and in your studio?’
�
�Yes, I can’t be bothered moving all my tools several times a day so I have a complete set in both places where I work. It makes life easier.’
‘But only one stone-mason’s mallet?’
‘I don’t do much carving in stone, it’s mainly oak now. I don’t need two mallets. My roughs are in clay, and I have wood carving tools here.’
‘So why did you need your mallet this morning?’
‘If you look in the chapel you’d see the estate workers have created a space in the depths of the wall to accommodate my work. When I did some test fittings last week I found the area was a fraction too small for one of the triptych pieces. It was necessary for a tiny bit of stone to be trimmed off around the edge, the left-hand side, so I brought my mallet and a stone chisel down from my studio and did the work.’
‘When was that?’
‘Last Friday I guess. I got it right, a nice tight fitting.’
‘So you came early this morning to look for your stonemason’s mallet after using it on Friday?’
‘That’s what I said.’
‘But you didn’t come looking for the mallet over the weekend?’
‘No, I’ve just told you that!’
‘So did you search for your mallet as soon as you arrived today?’
‘Yes, I looked on my bench and around the chapel. It wasn’t a very detailed search, more of a scan.’
‘So where exactly did you search?’
‘Just the area around where I work, I don’t go anywhere else, so my mallet couldn’t have got much further than my working area. But it wasn’t there and I found that very odd.’
‘Then you returned to your studio, searched there without result and returned to make another search?’
‘Right.’
‘So tell me again, RV, what time did you leave here this morning?’
‘After my first visit?’
‘Yes.’
‘Like I said, about seven. I didn’t find the mallet so I went back to my studio to check there, then I came back here and searched again … still no luck. I returned to my studio, had something for breakfast – cereals – and did another search without finding it so I came back here just now to try again. Now I can’t get into the place. I’m locked out.’
‘When was the previous time you visited the crypt? Apart from this morning?’
‘Friday. There are services in the crypt from time to time, mainly at weekends, so I try to keep away when they’re on, but Friday was reasonably quiet.’
‘How long were you in the crypt on Friday?’
‘Not long. Mebbe from half past nine in the morning to midday, something like that.’
‘Did anyone see you there?’
‘People come and go all the time, I get students sometimes, art students wanting advice. I had a young lad in on Friday, he’s been a few times to see my Virgin Mary; he says he loves her face. Nice lad, interested in what I do. A college boy. Teenager, tall with dark hair. Wears specs. I don’t object to kids like that. It’s a genuine interest so I don’t mind explaining things to kids like that.’
‘Do you know his name?’
‘No, I’ve no idea.’
‘And was that the last time you saw your mallet here in the crypt?’
‘Yes, it would be. I didn’t miss it until this morning. I don’t think that lad would have taken it, would he?’
‘Who knows? Is the head made from wood?’
‘No, it’s iron, a solid chunk of iron, shaped into a mallet-head. It’s small enough to be used with one hand but very heavy, ideal for my purpose whether I’m carving wood or stone. Working with a stone chisel needs a delicate touch if it’s to be accurate.’
‘And which way did you exit the crypt on Friday?’
‘Up the stairs into reception. I go out that way so I can let them know when I’ve left.’
‘And you did not take your mallet with you on Friday?’
‘No, I intended to, but forgot.’
‘So it was lying in the crypt all weekend, not locked up and an easy target for a thief. You of all people should know you can’t trust all the people all the time.’
‘I’ve always left my tools on the work bench and nothing’s ever been taken. After all, this is a monastery, you don’t expect thieves here.’
‘That’s very trusting of you, RV.’
‘I’m a trusting sort of chap, Nabber. I’m trusting you now, I know you will not be dishonest with me. Not here in a monastery, surely?’
‘I have no intention or wish to be dishonest, RV, so now tell me this. When you hunted for your mallet in the crypt this morning, how far did you extend your search?’
‘I concentrated on the area where I work, my bench and so on. The light’s not very good so sometimes I bring my own. I had a torch this morning, to get into the dark corners as well as under my bench.’
‘Did you search the entire place? It’s quite large, with all those nooks and chapels….’
‘As I told you, I didn’t search it all, simply because I would never have carried it there or put it down without thinking. I thought it might have fallen off my work bench or I might have put it somewhere near and forgotten where it was. But I didn’t find it. A sculptor’s tools are his friends, very important and personal. Barbara Hepworth said that.’
‘I’ll ask you again, Harvey. Did you search the entire crypt?’
‘Only in a very cursory way. I put the lights on and swept all the likely places with my torch, nothing more than that. I didn’t find it. So I went back to my studio – and it’s not there either. I’ve told you all this….’
‘And you don’t think that boy took it?’
‘No, I’m sure he didn’t.’
‘Did you look behind a big black curtain that hangs towards the north of the crypt?’
‘No, I thought about it, but while I was here, some people came in and went over to the curtain – they were hard to see, the light’s poor and I thought they were monks. I looked behind it some months ago when I first started work here but there was nothing but a stone coffin on a plinth. All carved from one piece of granite … amazing! How long did it take to do that? I wondered if I could have carved such a thing. One of the monks once told me some time ago that there was a tale that the coffin should never be moved so it was curtained off, but there was no prohibition about entering the place where it is kept. Let’s face it, no one could move it without some kind of powerful lifting gear or a tractor. It’ll never be nicked by a tourist!’
‘Did you look behind the curtain this morning?’
‘No, maybe I should have done, but I hadn’t been in there recently, so I knew I hadn’t left my mallet in there. Unless somebody took it because they fancied chipping a chunk of stone off the coffin … that never occurred to me then….’
‘You said some people came in and went over to the curtain? What time was that?’
‘Eight o’clock or thereabouts. Just after mebbe. One was a monk, the prior in fact, and the other was that gentleman over there,’ and he pointed to me.
‘Right, that’s true,’ smiled Napier. ‘Now, did you see anyone else in the crypt this morning?’
‘No, not a soul. Look, what’s all this about? Quizzing me like this….’
‘RV, listen, I can tell you why they looked behind that curtain. There was a man’s body in the coffin and he died from head injuries inflicted by a blunt instrument which the pathologist reckons might be a mallet of some kind.’
RV said nothing. He stared at Napier in deadly silence, his brow furrowing as his dark eyes never left Napier’s face.
‘You’re not suggesting I’m responsible, are you?’
‘You’ll have to tell me where you were between Friday afternoon when you left and six thirty or so this morning when you first returned to the crypt. A pupil of the college is missing too – he was last seen on Sunday morning. His description fits that of the lad you have just described. You can see why I’m interested….’
‘God Almighty, Napper
, you don’t think I’m responsible, do you? A murder and a missing lad?’
‘Then convince me of your innocence. That story about the mallet might be a figment of your vivid imagination. You might have thrown it away—’
But, acting like lightning, the big man rose to his feet, picked up his chair and hurled it at Napier before bolting out of the door and racing down an adjoining alley into some dense trees. It was all over in a matter of seconds. Several police officers gave chase with some tripping over the chair, then reached the doorway at the same time and got jammed, albeit only momentarily. But those precious few moments of disorder as they extricated themselves were enough for RV to run free. Within moments he had vanished into the dark shadows of the dense woodland that cloaked the hillside immediately behind the abbey.
CHAPTER 11
DETECTIVES WORKING AT their desks and computers rushed to the doorway but succeeded only in adding to the confusion. In those few moments while the officers extricated themselves, Harvey had disappeared into the shadows of the woodlands whose branches, in full leaf, brushed the rear of the building. His black clothing enabled him to speedily vanish deep into the shadows. And there was no sound of him crashing through the wood; he knew the value of stealth.
‘Get him!’ bellowed Napier who was outside. ‘I want that man … he must be caught. Don’t just stand there like a lot of Charlies!’
‘Sir, he’ll be lost among those trees,’ pointed out DI Lindsey as three detectives gave chase. ‘If we follow him he’ll hear us and keep his distance. He could be anywhere in that woodland. We’d be wasting our time.’
‘We can’t just let him go!’ snapped Napier. ‘Get more coppers on his tail!’
‘The dog section will be here soon,’ I reminded them. ‘It should be possible for them to follow his trail wherever he’s gone.’
‘We need the dogs to find that missing lad.’ Napier’s voice had dropped into almost a whisper. ‘That man’s escape should never have happened … heads will roll! So, where is everybody else? You can never find a copper when you want one!’
Murder at Maddleskirk Abbey Page 12