A Journal of Sin

by Darryl Donaghue

  ‘I’m not suggesting anything, but I am considering every angle. There’s one more thing.’

  ‘Go on.’ He looked apprehensive and she almost wasn’t going to ask, but knew she had no other choice.

  ‘A favour. This situation isn’t ideal. A lot of things that need to be done during an investigation like this aren’t being done because of the storm. No forensic team, no staff to make house-to-house enquiries with the residents for information - the list goes on. So things are being missed and I’m having to make decisions knowing whatever I choose to do, something will be lost.’

  ‘You will find whoever did this though, right?’

  ‘Yes, I’m making every effort to do just that,’ she said, realising that wasn’t quite a yes in the traditional sense. ‘I need your help with something.’

  ‘Ok, I’ll help if I can,’ he said.

  She needed him to help. ‘I need you to do something for me. I don’t want to have to ask, but it’s very important.’

  ‘Okay, I get it, what is it?’

  ‘I need you to keep the body here.’ There were no other options. She needed to secure the body as best she could. Leaving him in the woods would leave him subject to the inclement weather and risk someone else finding him. She’d considered other options, but John was the only person she had any relationship with in the town. He was her only hope.

  ‘Wait. Father Michael’s body? Here in my house? Where would I put him?’

  ‘The shed? It’s away from the house that way. Once it’s in, you’ll never have to see it. I picked up a tent from Stockton’s; we’ll wrap him in it. It’ll only be until I can get in touch with my colleagues and they’ll come and collect him. Hopefully that’ll be in the next couple of days.’

  ‘What about the smell? The maggots? Surely it’s a huge health risk too?’

  ‘I’ll be honest, there’s little I can do about the smell. We’ll wrap the tent around him as tightly as possible; that’ll stop the maggots from getting into the house.’ She didn’t address the chance of him becoming ill. He was right to be concerned; there were clear health risks.

  ‘Is there really nowhere else?’ he said, trying to avoid this morbid responsibility.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, what about Stockton’s? He’s bound to have some storage space in the warehouse. Did you ask him? Or there’s the butcher’s, they’d have a cold room, wouldn’t they?’

  ‘I doubt they’d want a dead body rotting away near their food. Plus, the butcher’s fridges won’t be working without the electricity. I’ve also got to consider how many people I’m telling about this. There’s no way of softening a request like that. If word were to get around before I was able to make a formal announcement, people would be apt to panic. I’m on the back foot as it is; a town full of people panicking is something I’d rather avoid.’

  ‘Your mum’s?’

  ‘Mum’s? Mum was far too close to Father Michael. I couldn’t even bring myself to ask.’

  ‘Sam’s surgery?’

  ‘Sam’s … not up to it.’

  John paused for a moment before agreeing. The shed only contained an old washing machine and some shelves with rusty and probably broken tools. It had a heavy padlock on the outside. He made space on the floor for when the body arrived. He screwed his face up in pain.

  ‘You okay?’

  ‘That’s the hangover kicking in.’ He held the back of his head. ‘I’m going to jump in the shower to wake up a little, make yourself at home.’

  He walked upstairs and Sarah wandered into his home office next to the lounge. It was a small room, with a desk facing the window, on which was a computer and piles of papers and pens of various colours. The paper had numerous scribbled equations and some technical-sounding computer terms that she didn’t understand. She was a modern gadget user, capable of operating a smartphone, but with no idea how it all worked. A note stuck out from under the keyboard, one that appeared to be in plain English. She pulled it out and read:

  Elevation534@hotmail.com - Niagra2002

  JH_75@gmail.com - NiAgRa2002

  An IT guy should know better than to leave passwords lying around, she thought. The desk was covered in various documents, whiskey bottles and beer cans. Another photo of Jenny sat next to his computer. Just her this time, taken in a park, maybe St Peter’s; there wasn’t enough in the background to tell. She wore a thin, white jumper and a wide smile. Keeping pictures of his ex-wife in the two places he spent most of his time wasn’t healthy, she thought. The whiskey probably wasn’t helping the healing process. She placed the note back under the keyboard. The court’s letterhead poked out from beneath a pile of papers: a restraining order forbidding him to contact Jenny and any members of her family. He came downstairs and she quickly put everything back where it was.

  ‘You know you should be more careful with your passwords,’ she said, ‘Your email accounts are out there for all to see.’

  ‘Oh, those. Yeah, no one really comes here,’ he said, his eyes widening. ‘I guess telling a police officer to make themselves at home is an invitation to rifle through your stuff. I’ll remember that next time. And nobody would break in either, before you say it. There wasn’t any crime in Sunbury before you showed up.’

  ‘Very funny. Is this your dad?’ Three black-and-white photos were pinned to the noticeboard behind his PC. The first was a close-up of a white-haired man with a soft, friendly face, wearing a collared shirt. In the next one, the same man stood in front of an old-fashioned Morris Minor, arm in arm with a younger man and in the third, he cradled a baby.

  ‘Yeah. That’s me in the last one. Recognise that guy?’ He pointed to the photo in middle. Sarah squinted.

  ‘Tom.’

  ‘They were business partners for a while. Tom loaned Dad the money to set up a small newsagent. Nothing too fancy, but it had always been his dream to run something of his own. Years working in a paper factory would make anyone feel that way. Didn’t bring in much, but it all helped. Tom was born into money and has been involved in a lot of the local businesses around here in some way or another.’

  ‘Your dad still around here?’

  ‘He passed away a few years ago.’

  ‘Sorry to hear that.’

  ‘We weren’t close. After the shop went under, he moved away for work. I didn’t see much of him growing up.’

  ‘You close with Tom?’

  ‘Our families were, he babysat us from time to time, but we drifted apart. We’ve only spoken a few times since I’ve been back.’

  An empty whiskey bottle hid a picture of a little smiler in a blue hoody. She moved it. ‘And that little handsome devil?’

  ‘That’s Josh.’

  ‘He’s a sweetheart.’ She twisted the bottle around so the label faced them. ‘There’s a lot of these around here.’

  ‘I was wondering when you’d say something.’ He took the car keys from the hook and opened the door. ‘Right, let’s just get this done, shall we?’

  ‘Probably for the best. So, where did you spend last night?’ Now that business was out of the way, she couldn’t resist any longer.

  He’d been heavier than expected, but they’d managed to get him from the woods to John’s boot, then into the shed intact and, as far as they were aware, without being spotted. John had struggled to lift the body, so it’d taken longer than she’d hoped. He’d driven the car to the edge of the woods, reducing the distance they had to carry him, but Sarah could feel that her back would ache in the morning.

  They collapsed in the lounge. She was happy to be off her feet after only having an hour’s sleep. They reeked of decay’s pungent stench, a smell that would linger for a while yet. He changed his clothes, vowing to burn the other set in the back garden once he had the chance. Sarah changed into one of his t-shirts and pairs of jeans, which were far too big for her, but smelt of cupboard dust rather than dead bodies.

  ‘Do you ever get used to that?’ he asked. He’d gone from picking up a woma
n in a bar and having a wild night of passionate sex, to picking up a dead body and having it as a house guest.

  ‘It’s strange, but you do. I didn’t think I would. I remember my first one. Most aren’t murders, most are untimely deaths caused by illnesses, natural causes, with the occasional suicide or accidental overdose. My first was a woman in her seventies. Neighbours noticed the milk building up outside and saw piles of post through the glass door. We found her on the toilet. She’d died mid motion and her body had slumped off onto the floor. Judging by the post, she’d been there for days. I’ll never forget that smell. My tutor took a backseat; I got hands on. There weren’t enough pairs of gloves in the world that could have made that process any easier.’

  ‘Once is enough for me. I couldn’t do your job.’

  ‘It’s not for everyone.’

  ‘You’ve got to tell people about this. They need to know what’s happened to him.’

  ‘I know, I’m going to call a meeting. A lot of people spend their time milling around the church hall. I’ll inform them and they can spread the word.’

  Telling everyone about the murder was likely to cause a panic, but it may also draw out the suspect. The killer was still there and, for now at least, had no means of escape. It was tragic enough when someone who is so well loved dies in non-suspicious circumstances, but a murder adds another layer of questions for people to deal with. Questions that, for the moment at least, only the killer had the answers to.

  ‘Don’t tell anyone about this, ok? Absolutely no one. No one must know he’s here.’ She was confident he wouldn’t say anything, although she was also acutely conscious that as she started to ask more and more people to keep quiet, the thinner and thinner her veil of secrets became. Amy was a wreck and despite assurances from her and Steve, there was really no telling what a person in that mental condition would do. And now John. She was putting a lot of faith in a man she hardly knew, a man with a clear drink problem and an unhealthy obsession with his ex.

  ‘Have you read through the other notebooks?’

  ‘No. I’ve not had the time.’

  ‘I can help you go through them.’

  ‘Do you think that’s a good idea? After what happened at Father Michael’s place?’ She wasn’t going to entertain the idea.

  ‘I’ll be okay. I’m prepared now. I know what’s coming,’ he said, taking a slow breath as if he were preparing himself for a punch in the gut.

  ‘We still don’t know if that note has anything to do with Jenny anyway. It could be about anyone.’

  ‘I do. And it does.’ He looked her straight in the eye.

  ‘Either way, no.’ She looked straight back.

  ‘What if something else comes up? Will you tell me?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘But I’m helping you with the body?’ That’s why it hadn’t been a tougher sell; he expected something in return.

  ‘It doesn’t work like that. These aren’t my rules. I’ve made enough compromises so far, I can’t make any more. Every corner cut is an avenue for a good barrister to blow open a trial. A judge won’t look at the circumstances and give us any leeway; if it’s not done properly, it can’t be used.’ She may be past that point already. With her limited experience, she wasn’t even sure if there were glaringly obvious things she’d missed, or if the decisions she’d made along the way had already jeopardised any serious chance of locking someone up.

  ‘Okay. I get it.’ He wasn’t happy, so she changed the subject as soon as she could.

  ‘So, there’s still a question you’re avoiding.’

  ‘Suzanne.’

  ‘Ahhh, the posh lady from the search?’

  ‘Yes. She’s a little posh, I suppose.’

  ‘How’d that come about? Get chatting in the woods?’

  ‘No, we didn’t say a word then. Just started talking in the pub last night.’ He relaxed a little, unfolded his arms and scratched his cheek.

  ‘Well, aren’t you a smooth operator. Seeing her again?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe. Hopefully. I can’t invite her round here any time soon.’ He smiled, nodding in the direction of the shed.

  ‘Maybe that second date will have to wait a little while.’

  A knock at the door startled them both. John peered from the window and saw a chubby lady in her eighties standing on the doorstep. ‘It’s Grace.’

  ‘Don’t let her in.’ Grace was the last person Sarah wanted to see, especially now.

  ‘Too late, she’s seen me.’

  ‘Damn it. Close the kitchen door. Got any air freshener?’ she said, not expecting a positive response. John rummaged through a cupboard in the kitchen and threw her a tall can before closing the door behind him. She unloaded the air freshener in the hallway and lounge.

  Grace knocked again.

  ‘Hello? John? Open the door, it’s important, dear.’

  Sarah ran upstairs, picked up their fetid clothes and threw them out of the back window.

  ‘John? I need to speak to you.’ Sarah came back downstairs, composed herself with a slow, deep breath and nodded for him to open the door.

  ‘Ahhhh, hello dear. Hello Sarah,’ she said, seemingly unsurprised at her presence. She looked her up and down. ‘Did I interrupt something?’

  ‘No, you didn’t. I fell in the mud, so had to change clothes is all.’ Grace was best dealt with directly and with unambiguous language, leaving no doubt as to what was being said, as she had a habit of filling in the gaps herself.

  ‘Rolling around in the mud? Or rolling around in the hay?’

  ‘What can I do for you, Grace?’ said John. Grace stepped forward into the hallway, but he didn’t move, keeping her as close to the front of the house as possible. Sarah hoped her sense of smell had degraded over the years.

  ‘Oh.’ She looked past him on the floor and tried to peer round into the lounge. ‘I just saw the two of you driving around town and wondered how the search for Father Michael is going?’ She’d seen them driving around and was now here, casting her eyes over the hallway looking for something. Maybe something wrapped in a dark blue tent. Sarah got the impression she’d seen more than she was letting on to.

  ‘No, nothing. I wanted to check whether the car was still working. It’d been sitting there for a few weeks, so I thought I’d take it for a short drive and picked Sarah up on the way.’ Quick thinking, thought Sarah, although she wasn’t sure Grace was going to buy it. Most gossips were veteran bullshitters themselves and this one was no exception.

  ‘And you’ve both changed clothes in the past half hour?’ said Grace, determined they were up to more than they were giving away.

  ‘We walked in the woods. It was muddy,’ said Sarah.

  ‘And, how about all this air freshener?’

  ‘Listen, you can’t just come to my door and start firing questions at us. You’re going to have to leave,’ John said. The smell wafted through the house and it wouldn’t be long before the air freshener – a poor cover in any case – lifted, and Grace would smell the decay.

  ‘I’ll find out, you know.’ She turned to leave, having made it no further than the doormat.

  ‘Grace. Who do you know around here who owns a claw hammer?’ Sarah asked, out of the blue.

  ‘Oh. I don’t know. A lot of people, I expect.’

  ‘Ok. Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Why? Is it important?’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing. Just something I was interested in.’

  ‘To do with the case?’

  ‘Yeah, a very small part really. Never you mind,’ she said, happy she’d hooked her prey. If she kept Grace in the dark entirely, she’d just hound them for some kind of information, but giving her a little was enough to keep her dangling on the hook and not having too many wild, and worryingly accurate, ideas.

  ‘I could find out if you wanted. It’s not something I’d really notice unless asked.’ She was eager to please, at least.

  ‘It’s okay. Although there may be some other
little things along the way, so if you can keep this one quiet, I may ask you to do some bits and bobs for me later.’

  ‘Oh, okay, if I can help. I’d like to help if I can,’ she said, a broad smile spreading across her face. ‘What’s that smell?’

  ‘Drains. Backed up due to the storm. Well, do take care, Grace,’ said John, as he ushered her out of the door.

  FIVE

  Word of the announcement spread rapidly and by six o’clock that evening, the hall was packed once more. She’d prepared a speech this time, compiling bullet points on small cards and rehearsing what to say a few times in the mirror before arriving. As far as she knew, the murder was still a secret, and she was glad for that one small victory. The news wouldn’t be well received at any time, but it was best coming from her and best they all heard it at once. Sally had asked around and Father Michael didn’t have any family nearby, so there was no one else who needed to be informed in a more sensitive manner, no one she could reach at the moment anyway. The bags under her eyes and lapses in concentration gave away her lack of sleep. She hadn’t had a good night’s sleep all week and her announcement was about to crank the pressure up even further.

  ‘This seat taken?’ Suzanne sat down before waiting for a response.

  ‘Oh, no, go ahead,’ replied John, ‘Nice to see you again.’

  ‘I wasn’t sure I would after you took off the other morning.’

  ‘I just felt a little. You know.’

  ‘It’s okay.’ She put her hand on his forearm.

  ‘It was good timing. Sarah was banging on my door.’

  ‘Oh I see, from one woman to the next, is it?’ she said, with a coy smile. ‘What was she after?’

  ‘Can’t say. Cop stuff.’

  ‘Ahhh, I forgot you’re her Deputy Dawg.’

  ‘Not quite, I’m just helping out here and there. She doesn’t really know anyone and can’t have too many people knowing the ins and outs of the case. It’s all top secret, need-to-know basis and all that.’ He joked, but thought very carefully about every word that came out of this mouth so as not to let slip any more information than was absolutely necessary. He had a scant memory of the other night and wondered if he’d said anything he shouldn’t have. Asking would only get him into more trouble.