by Paul Gitsham
‘My client still denies that he is guilty of these thefts, and you have yet to show me any evidence otherwise, so talk of his cooperation looking good for him is premature.’ Shaw’s solicitor’s voice had an edge to it.
‘Father Nolan,’ muttered Shaw.
‘Father Nolan?’ Pymm injected a note of surprise into her voice.
Shaw nodded miserably.
‘Why didn’t you want to tell us?’
‘Why do you think?’ For the first time, Shaw made eye contact with two officers. ‘Father Nolan supposedly committed suicide last week. Suddenly you arrest the only abbey employee with a criminal record over some missing money. Why am I really here? Am I under arrest for his murder?’
Up in CID, Sutton and Grayson held their breath.
‘Careful …’ muttered Grayson. Pymm and Richardson were treading a fine line. They couldn’t flat out lie, yet they needed to avoid tipping off Shaw that he was a suspect in a suspicious death that hadn’t even been announced as one yet.
‘As previously stated, you were arrested on suspicion of theft …’ Pymm paused. ‘Unless you have information that you wish to share about the death of Father Nolan. Do you wish to make a statement at this time?’
‘No, of course not!’
‘Nicely done, Rachel,’ said Grayson. Sutton agreed.
‘Do you know if Father Nolan told anyone at the home about meeting you?’ asked Pymm, the interview back on track.
‘I don’t think so. Nobody said anything.’
Back upstairs in CID, Sutton and Grayson were leaning so close to the screen their noses were practically touching it.
‘Either he’s been lying all this time, or he’s telling the truth,’ said Sutton.
‘If he has been lying, he’s the best I’ve seen in a long time,’ pronounced Grayson.
Back in interview suite one, Richardson and Pymm had suggested another break; Grayson and Sutton hurried to join them.
‘It’ll give him a chance to have a think. He might cop to the thefts, if he thinks it’ll get us to back off about any involvement in the fire,’ said Richardson.
‘Even if he doesn’t, he’s admitted that Father Nolan met him in the bookie and he’s made it clear that he’s ashamed of his problem,’ said Pymm.
‘Ashamed enough to kill anyone who threatens to reveal his secret?’ asked Sutton.
‘People have killed for less,’ said Grayson.
‘Anything more from the house search?’ asked Hutchinson.
‘They’ve seized a bunch of keys, including some that look as though they would fit the chapel and the undercroft. We’ll identify the rest, although he’s already admitted to having access to most of the house,’ said Sutton. ‘We’ll check with Deacon Baines to see if he has any keys he shouldn’t.’
Grayson looked at his watch.
‘When he comes back, give him the opportunity to confess to the thefts. If he does that, then play it by ear and ask him if he thinks anyone suspected anything. It’d be great if he suggests a motive for killing Father Nolan, but I doubt he’s that daft. Either way, we still have plenty of time left before we need to release him or charge.’
‘What about the biscuit tin with the money in it? It also had Father Nolan’s fingerprints, suggesting that Father Nolan discovered the money and potentially confronted him. Should we bring that up if he doesn’t confess?’
Grayson rubbed his chin.
‘Bring up his fingerprints, but don’t mention Father Nolan’s yet. We need something to keep his solicitor sweet, pretty soon she’s going to start asking very loudly what justification we have for pulling him in here, other than his previous convictions. We can always mention Father Nolan’s fingerprints down the line, if we get as far as disclosure.’
* * *
Hopes of any sort of confession were in vain.
‘My client has admitted to a problem with gambling that he has realised needs specialist help. He is also willing to consider telling those that care for him at the abbey about his problem, in the hope that they can help him overcome his addiction.
‘That being said, he wishes to repeat his earlier statement that he knows nothing about these alleged thefts. Furthermore, you have yet to disclose any evidence, beyond Mr Shaw’s past conviction, that lead me to believe that this is anything more than a fishing expedition.’
Richardson opened the manila folder that had sat on the table since the interview started.
‘Do you recognise the object in this photograph, exhibit 2015/02/NH4352-1?’ she asked.
For the first time since the interview had begun, Shaw picked up the reading glasses on the table in front of him.
‘Yes. I think it’s the shortbread biscuit tin from the tool shed.’
‘Could you tell us what is in it?’
Shaw looked up at the ceiling briefly. ‘Bits and pieces, screws and stuff.’
‘Would anybody else be likely to use them?’
‘I doubt it. I use them for odd jobs. Repairing broken window catches and things like that.’
Richardson pushed another photograph across the table.
‘This is a photograph of the inside of the tin, exhibit 2015/02/NH4352-2. It can be clearly seen that in addition to screws and wall plugs, there is a wad of twenty-pound notes held together with an elastic band. Total amount, two hundred and sixty pounds.’
Shaw’s breath caught in his throat.
‘Can you tell me how this money got in the tin?’
He shook his head vigorously, ‘No idea. It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘The tin has your fingerprints on it.’
‘My client has already established that he has handled the tin previously, therefore that is not conclusive.’
Pymm ignored the solicitor.
‘I think we can guess what has happened here, but it would be a lot better coming from you, Mr Shaw.’
Shaw looked pale. ‘No, definitely not. I wouldn’t steal from them, you have to believe me.’
‘Did anyone else know about your habit, Mr Shaw? Did anyone else know that you were helping yourself to the takings from the till to fund it? Perhaps somebody else was working with you?’
‘No. No, I wouldn’t do that.’
‘Then how did you fund your habit, Mr Shaw? And please don’t tell me you never lost. Nobody wins in gambling except for the bookie.’
‘I sold my wife’s jewellery.’ It was almost a shout. ‘I pawned my wife’s favourite necklace and her father’s gold watch.’ The tears were now flowing down his cheeks. ‘I was down a few hundred and I’d missed some mortgage payments. I just needed a good win to sort myself out. So I borrowed the jewellery temporarily to raise some cash. I had a great tip on a thirty-to-one outsider that was under-priced. If it came in, I’d be able to buy back the jewellery, pay off the mortgage and still have enough left for my wife’s birthday. I couldn’t lose.’
‘But you did, didn’t you?’
‘It stumbled on the last furlong. Dropped from first place to fifth.’
‘Then what happened?’
‘I had no choice. I told Yvonne that night what I’d done. She managed to buy back the jewellery, but that was it. The money we’d been saving for our summer holiday and Christmas cleared the mortgage debt.
‘The thing is, she knows my history. She knows that I have an addictive personality. She says she can handle that. It’s the lying that she couldn’t live with. Yvonne was worried that I could really screw things up if I didn’t stop gambling. She’s an estate agent, she’s seen what happens when people don’t keep up with their mortgage. It really frightened her.
‘I agreed to move out for the time being and give up access to the joint accounts. If I can successfully keep a roof over my head and get help, then she may take me back.’
‘And are you getting help?’
Shaw stared at the table top again, before shaking his head.
‘I wanted to. But I can’t,’ he raised his eyes, ‘everything in my life is so sh
it right now, the buzz is the only thing that keeps me going. I’m worried that if I lose that buzz, there’ll be a hole. And I’m scared of what I’ll fill it with.’
* * *
Warren had returned from Rodney Shaw’s house, leaving the CSIs to finish up. After watching the recordings of Shaw’s interview he agreed with the rest of the team and DSI Grayson’s assessment.
‘He doesn’t feel like a killer.’
‘He comes across as open and honest throughout the interview, even admitting that he needed help with his addictions,’ offered Richardson.
‘But then psychopaths are often charming individuals who understand human nature – he could be playing everyone,’ countered Sutton.
‘We clearly can’t arrest him as a suspect in the murders yet,’ decided Warren, ‘but let’s keep him on the suspects board, at least until we’ve confirmed his alibi. We’ll get Forensics to process everything we seized; I think we’ve reached the limits of the search warrant and we’ll need more before we can get a new one.’
‘What about the thefts?’
Warren tapped his teeth thoughtfully. ‘Most of what we have is circumstantial, and his lawyer is right that his fingerprints could have found their way quite innocently onto the biscuit tin. It’s going to take time for the twenties to be fingerprinted. If his lawyer knew that Father Nolan’s fingerprints were also on the tin, I’m sure she’d be drawing the obvious conclusion.’
‘If Father Nolan stole the money,’ said Ruskin, ‘how would that fit with his murder?’
‘It might not,’ suggested Pymm. ‘It could just be a coincidence.’
‘Bail him?’ asked Richardson.
Warren agreed. ‘We won’t get any results back before the custody clock runs out tomorrow, and we’ve no grounds for an extension. His solicitor is probably already wondering why he’s still sitting in a cell three hours after his interview terminated. You did a good job of deflecting his suspicions, but let’s not push our luck. If he is our killer, we don’t want him thinking he’s under suspicion for anything more than some missing cash. Hopefully he’ll slip up.’
Saturday 28th February
Chapter 26
Saturday morning marked the start of the second week of the investigation. Furthermore, a new tranche of officers from Welwyn had been seconded to the team, and so Warren decided to hold an extended 8 a.m. briefing.
‘We identified twelve suitable properties to visit in the area where Rodney Shaw’s mobile phone was stationary for so long on the night of the fire, as well as a pub, newsagent and off-licence,’ stated David Hutchinson. ‘Neither the offy nor the newsagent recognised the photograph of Shaw. The tills for both businesses are at the rear of the shop, away from the entrance, so they’ve no idea if his car was parked outside.’
‘CCTV?’ asked Warren.
‘Seized from both, but they cover the shop, not the pavement outside. I’ll fast forward through the period of interest later on and see if they missed him, but they’re sole traders and pretty much only serve the locals.’
‘What about the pub?’
‘One of the bar staff thought he might look familiar, but couldn’t be sure. I have their CCTV also.’
‘What about the neighbours that you canvassed?’
‘All little old ladies, you’ll be pleased to hear, so unless Shaw has been buying surplus Temazepam from them, I can’t see them tipping him off that we’ve been asking questions about him.’
‘This isn’t Glasgow, so we’re probably OK on that score,’ said Sutton.
‘Hey, watch it with the stereotypes,’ said Ruskin. ‘My gran and her friends only sell good quality homemade crystal meth.’
‘Anything from those houses?’ asked Warren after the laughter had died down.
‘Nothing much. One woman thinks that a strange car matching Shaw’s may have been parked up that evening, a couple of doors down from the pub, but she can’t be sure, and she has no idea if anyone was sitting in it. Nor did she see the driver.’
‘Any idea about the time?’
‘No, she thinks it was getting dark.’
‘So, still no idea why, or even if, Shaw was there when the murder took place,’ summarised Warren. ‘Thanks Hutch. We’ll see what Forensics come up with.’ He flicked over his pad to the list he’d scribbled.
‘We’re still awaiting forensic document analysis of Father Nolan’s note. I’ve authorised fast-track for it, so we should hear back soon. Any news back from Forensic IT, Rachel?’
Pymm pushed her glasses back onto her nose.
‘The retirement home is set up for wireless broadband, and some of the residents are keen computer users, including social media. Father Nolan wasn’t. He didn’t own his own computer, or a smartphone. On the rare occasions he needed computer access, he used a communal desktop PC in the lounge, which Pete Robertson and his team have finished analysing. There’s no record of who was using it at any particular time, but the internet browsing history shows nothing suspicious. It’s pretty much the sort of thing you’d expect a group of elderly priests to be accessing: BBC News, a few theological websites and sports pages. The hard drive is largely empty, mostly Word documents of sermons or personal correspondence.’
‘Is there any indication that he borrowed anyone else’s computer?’ asked Sutton.
‘Not that anyone’s admitted. From what we’ve heard, he wasn’t especially technically minded.’
‘What about his mobile phone?’ asked Ruskin.
‘We’ve got his records. Like I said, it’s not a smartphone and apparently he rarely took it out with him, so the location data never shows it leaving the house. He only phoned a half-dozen numbers, which we’ve identified as a cousin back in East London, and some others back in Ireland. The remainder included his local GP surgery and his dentist. You can count the number of text messages he’s sent in the five years he’s owned the phone on the fingers of both hands and the toes of one foot.’
‘It doesn’t sound as though he had many friends,’ commented Ruskin.
‘That fits with the description of him,’ said Hutchinson. ‘Pleasant enough, but quite a self-contained, quiet man.’
‘What about the initial forensics report from the search of Rodney Shaw’s house?’ asked Warren. ‘Please, tell me it’s good news, and that he’s our man.’
‘Sorry, Chief, it’s inconclusive at best,’ replied Pymm, passing over her iPad.
Warren skimmed the reports from the tests, reading aloud as he did so.
‘No traces of petrol on his work clothes or work shoes. The keys all fit locks around the site, including the chapel, undercroft and vestry but Baines has confirmed that it was perfectly legitimate for Shaw to have those keys.’
Warren scrolled further.
‘Impressions of his boot prints match prints found around the chapel and the undercroft, as well as the fire exit. However, Shaw does a monthly fire inspection of the house and all buildings on site, including the chapel and undercroft. According to the log, his last inspection was six days before the fire – no violations found. The weather has been poor enough that he would probably have left footprints. Since the fire exit next to Father Nolan’s room is at an unused end of the corridor, it is only cleaned occasionally, so the footprints could have been there for some time.’
Warren continued scrolling, he could feel the increasing disappointment in the room.
‘No conclusive evidence of Shaw’s footwear in front of the vestry safe, although there are too many overlapping shoeprints to be conclusive. The digital key pad is negative for his fingerprints.’
‘Bugger,’ said Sutton. ‘He works all over the site, so there’s nothing here that rules him out or rules him in for either the murder or even the stolen money.’
Warren agreed. ‘What about his background? Is there any overlap between him and Father Nolan before they met at the retirement home? What about his school days?’
‘Nothing yet. He did go to a Catholic school, but it wasn�
�t even in the same diocese as any that Father Nolan worked at,’ said Pymm.
Warren considered everything that had been said. Sutton was right, the evidence was still circumstantial, but by the same token, they still hadn’t managed to clear him from the investigation.
‘His name stays on the board whilst we keep digging.’
Chapter 27
Later that afternoon Crime Scene Manager Andy Harrison swung by the office, on his way home from Welwyn. He declined a cup of coffee, saying he needed to go to sleep as soon as he got in, ready for his next early shift.
‘We’ve got our forensic document analysis back for the suicide note found on Father Nolan’s dresser,’ he stated, handing over his iPad.
‘What’s the conclusion?’ asked Warren, preferring the team to hear the CSI’s summary, before going through the report in detail.
‘First of all, the examiner believes that based on the handwriting samples submitted for comparison, the author of the note was indeed Father Nolan. However, the writing shows some evidence of impairment.’
‘Such as alcohol and drugs?’ asked Sutton.
‘The examiner wouldn’t be drawn on specifics – he said that’s straying into the realms of forensic graphology and he’d rather stick with science – but he would be willing to speculate off the record and say that the handwriting strayed markedly from Father Nolan’s typically neat and quite pedantic style.’
‘What else is there?’ asked Warren.
‘The paper was probably torn from the A5 spiral-bound pad on the dresser. The fibres match, indicating that they come from the same batch of paper. Chromatography tests on a small sample of the ink match that of a biro also found on the dresser.’
‘What about fingerprints?’
‘They used alternate light sources on the paper, the pad and the pen, and found latent prints matching Father Nolan, but nobody else.’
‘Could it have been wiped clean? Surely there would be fingerprints from the shopkeeper or other customers that handled it before he bought it?’ asked Ruskin.
‘That’s a good question, but this type of pad comes wrapped in disposable plastic wrapping, so we wouldn’t expect anyone else to have touched the actual paper other than Father Nolan.’