by Paul Gitsham
‘The other alternative is that he didn’t do something directly. Maybe he was a facilitator?’ suggested Sutton.
‘How do you mean?’ asked Warren as he took a quick sniff of the milk from the fridge. ‘I think we’re better off having it black.’
Sutton pulled over the sugar, and started spooning it in.
‘He and Fisher have been as thick as thieves for fifteen years. He helped set up the retirement home – could he have known Fisher’s ulterior motive?’
‘You mean keeping these men safely away from the rest of society? Why don’t you just tip it in?’ asked Warren, as Sutton added his fourth spoonful.
Sutton ignored him.
‘If he did know, then that implies that Fisher told him about what he heard in confession – which makes a mockery of that self-righteous crap about the seal of confession being absolute.’
Warren wasn’t in the mood to argue about that again.
‘Well, it’s speculation until we find Gabriel Baines and question him.’
‘You think we still might find him alive?’ Sutton looked sceptical.
‘I hope so, I think he could be the key to this whole thing.’
He glanced at his watch.
‘The early results from the search of his house should be in soon.’
‘Then I’ll see you upstairs,’ said Sutton as he headed towards the door.
‘Haven’t you forgotten something?’ asked Warren, shaking the honesty jar.
‘Sorry, I left my wallet upstairs.’
Warren sighed and chucked a pound coin into the container, to join the rest of the money contributed solely by him. Four bloody years he’d been trying to convince his colleagues to put their fifty-pence pieces in the jam jar. He had yet to succeed.
‘Oh the cheeky sods …’ He swore as he looked inside. Yesterday there had been twelve pounds worth of coins in the jar – every single one of them with his fingerprints on. There was still twelve pounds in there, but somebody had replaced most of them with a ten-pound note. His colleagues seemed to have selective blindness for the jar when it came to paying for their coffee, but as soon as they needed change for the vending machine …
In the distance, Warren could hear Sutton’s laughter echoing down the corridor.
Chapter 84
‘Early forensics are in,’ said Warren, heading towards the main briefing room.
Deputy CSM Meera Gupta had called at midday to update the team. Warren had placed her on hold as he assembled everyone then transferred her to speakerphone.
‘Alternative light sources identified blood on the kitchen work top, and some small spots on the wall. It’s been cleaned up and there are traces around the downstairs toilet bowl. Best guess, the blood was cleaned up with kitchen towel and flushed away. We’ve found smears along the laminated floor in the hallway leading to the front door and down the driveway, with some on the handle. Again, cleaned up. With your authorisation, we can fast-track the DNA.’
‘Do it. How much blood was there?’
‘Not enough to declare it a murder, but it looks suspicious.’
‘Off the record, what’s your interpretation?’
‘Purely speculation, but I could imagine someone with a dripping wound being dragged towards the front door and down the driveway.’
* * *
‘We’ve seized all of Baines’ footwear to check the tread patterns and for traces of petrol. For what it’s worth, he shares the same foot size as Rodney Shaw. We’ve also taken samples for DNA processing, and we’ve sent his laptop to Welwyn.’ Gupta looked weary behind her facemask.
It was midday and Warren was wearing a paper suit standing on plastic boarding in Gabriel Baines’ hallway
‘Aside from the unidentified blood, are there any indications whether he left of his own free will or was taken?’ Tony Sutton was similarly attired. Neither man was ready to go to bed, although Warren was going to insist on it as soon as they finished at the scene.
‘Difficult to say at this stage. His bathroom seems fully stocked, but he could have had a toilet bag. Unfortunately, unless you can find someone that spent a lot of time with him, there’s no way to know if there is anything missing from his wardrobe.’
‘Had his bed been slept in?’
‘Again, no way to tell. It was made, but that could have been from the previous day. We’ve taken the sheets to see if there’s DNA from anybody else.’
‘That would certainly raise a few questions,’ noted Sutton.
‘Boss, we’ve got a result back on those prints.’ The CSI passed over an iPad to Gupta.
‘We found some clear latents on the door handle,’ she explained. ‘I photographed them and sent them off as a rush job against the prints we already had on file for this case. Looks as though we’ve had some hits.’
She scrolled through the results.
‘Most of them were too smeared to be any use, but we have five positives. Three match Deacon Baines. The other two are from Rodney Shaw.’
Sleep could wait.
Chapter 85
It was the third time that Warren had found himself travelling to Rodney Shaw’s house to arrest him. His solicitor was going to be furious, and unless they charged him, Warren knew that he was likely to be facing a wrongful arrest lawsuit.
However, there was no choice. If Shaw was involved in the disappearance of Gabriel Baines, they had to arrest him immediately, both for the sake of Baines and to stop him destroying evidence.
‘Shaw’s car is outside his house, I can’t see any sign of Baines’ vehicle.’ Tony Sutton was talking into a radio as he and Warren performed a quick drive-by of Shaw’s house. The atmosphere in the car was tense; Sutton hadn’t even teased Warren when the car radio had burst into life with Tears for Fears’ ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ as he started the engine.
‘What do you reckon the chances are that he’s here waiting to be arrested?’ muttered Sutton.
Warren didn’t answer.
* * *
Early afternoon, and there was an air of crisis in the main briefing room. Two men were missing, and it was unclear if either or both of the men were killers or victims. Yet another forensics team had been dispatched to process Shaw’s home. His neighbours weren’t even attempting to hide their curiosity now, and both Sky and BBC News had reporters standing as close to as they could to the scene, speculating furiously about the third search of Shaw’s home in as many weeks.
‘Here’s what we know so far,’ said Warren. ‘Deacon Baines was missing from his house when we raided, a “Forgive me Father” note was on his kitchen table and there are blood stains leading out of the house. Rodney Shaw’s fingerprints are on the door jamb. Baines’ car is missing.
‘Rodney Shaw is also missing. He too has a “Forgive me Father” note on his dresser, with signs of a struggle. His car is present in the driveway. What has happened here, folks?’
‘Rodney Shaw has kidnapped Baines from his own home,’ said Sutton immediately. ‘He either killed him, or subdued him by force, and used Baine’s car to take him away.’
‘Why use Baines’ car?’ asked Hutchinson. ‘And how did he get to Baines’ house? They live on opposite sides of town.’
‘He wanted to cast suspicion on Baines. He could have driven to Baines’ house, kidnapped him and put him in his own car. He could even have borrowed Baines’ car to pick up those copied keys. Then hidden that car somewhere else and …’ Sutton stopped as he realised how convoluted it was starting to get. Ruskin picked up the narrative.
‘They worked together for years, they were probably friends. Baines might have just picked Shaw up on his way home from work and driven him back to his own place. That might also explain why Baines let him borrow his car; “my cars being serviced, mate. You couldn’t let me borrow yours to do some chores?”’
‘Of course, we could have it the wrong way around,’ said Hutchinson.
‘You mean Baines could be the one to have kidnapped Shaw?’
‘Why not? Twenty-four hours ago we were ready to pin it all on him. All of the above scenarios still work if Baines kidnapped Shaw. We haven’t had the forensics back on the blood yet, so we don’t know who it belongs to.’
‘Then we need to know the movement of Baines and Shaw’s cars,’ said Warren. ‘If Baines killed Shaw, then he would have presumably needed to pop back to Shaw’s house to plant the “Forgive me Father” note. There’s no way he could have done that without passing at least one traffic camera. Do we have any ANPR data yet, Mags?’
She held up her iPad. ‘They’re working on it, top priority. You’ll know when I know.’
‘What about tracking their mobile phones?’ asked Ruskin.
‘The warrant’s being processed. Again, you’ll know when I know.’
‘There is a third possibility,’ said Ruskin. ‘They could have been working together.’
There was a pause whilst Ruskin’s statement sunk in.
Sutton went first.
‘So what’s with the “Forgive me Father” notes, then?’
‘A way of muddying the waters whilst they escape?’ suggested Ruskin.
‘Perhaps it’s a joint suicide note? They’ve done what needed to be done, now they’re going to kill themselves?’ said Hutchinson.
‘If they were going to escape,’ said Warren, ‘they probably need funds. I imagine Deacon Baines is a wealthy man, given the money that he inherited from his late wife. Get DSI Grayson to authorise a warrant for the release of Baines and Shaw’s financial records.’
Richardson nodded, tapping the request into her iPad.
‘The signs of a struggle can be faked easily enough,’ said Ruskin. ‘The forensics report didn’t indicate life-threatening volumes of blood at the scene. Either of them could have taken one for the team and cut themselves.’
The table fell silent as the team digested the ideas presented; Warren was conscious of the passing of time. Whilst they sat here waiting for more information, potentially at least one person was in mortal danger. The problem was, they just didn’t know who or where that person might be, or the nature of the threat. Regardless, they needed to be ready to move the moment more information came in.
‘In all of these scenarios, what is the motive?’ asked Warren.
‘Both men have been involved in the retirement home since before it was even built. Could either or both of them known the secrets of the residents?’ said Sutton. ‘Perhaps a bit of vigilante justice?’
‘They could even have been victims themselves. Rodney Shaw became addicted to heroin as a young man. You only need to look at Lucas Furber to realise that drug use can be a coping mechanism for a traumatic childhood,’ suggested Hutchinson.
‘And that scribbled note in Vernon Coombs’ notes, reminding him to “buy Father GB a pint” suggests that Gabriel Baines at least helped with his research and would have been familiar with the stories from the abbey’s past,’ said Richardson.
‘For that matter, Rodney Shaw could also have attended the talk that Vernon Coombs gave, last summer,’ said Ruskin.
‘So where does Lucas Furber fit into all of this?’ asked Sutton.
‘Well, we know from his friend that he was abused as a kid, probably by a priest at his boarding school. He could have hooked up with Baines and Shaw after their confrontation,’ said Ruskin.
‘Wasn’t Furber supposedly in contact with the brother of his old school friend who killed himself because of the abuse they suffered?’ asked Richardson.
‘So the story goes,’ said Ruskin.
‘Could this brother be either Shaw or Baines?’ asked Hutchinson.
‘Unfortunately, no. Neither of them have – or rather had – a brother, as far as I can tell and according to their employment files, neither of them went to a boarding school,’ said Ruskin.
‘If they were working with Furber though, why would they kill him?’ asked Sutton.
‘Assuming that they were the source of the doctored heroin, maybe they were worried that Furber would give the game away? His behaviour was increasingly erratic during that time,’ suggested Warren.
‘And presumably Rodney Shaw knows about heroin overdoses,’ said Ruskin.
‘Didn’t Furber get clean over the summer? We know that Rodney Shaw is involved in outreach work with young people, trying to steer them away from drug use and crime. Is he involved in drug rehabilitation?’ asked Hutchinson.
‘We can find out,’ said Sutton.
‘But that means that Shaw would have known Furber when he broke in to the grounds back in January. Why would he have called the police? Surely the last thing he’d want is Furber sitting in custody, potentially telling anyone who’d listen about their intentions?’ said Hutchinson.
‘Do we know who called the police that night, and when?’ asked Ruskin. ‘If Bethany Rice phoned Gabriel Baines directly, he could have called the police before he even realised it was Furber,’ asked Ruskin.
‘Check the interview transcript and find out,’ ordered Warren.
‘You know, whilst we have been talking about the motives of Shaw and Baines, we haven’t looked at who else definitely knew about the secrets of those priests,’ said Pymm.
‘Bishop Fisher,’ said Warren.
‘I suppose he could be faking his frailty, but he’s well into his eighties,’ said Ruskin dubiously.
‘I doubt he was physically involved.’ Rachel Pymm smiled. ‘Sometimes us weaker people just need somebody big and strong, and not very clever, to carry out our dastardly plan. Isn’t that right, Moray?’
‘She’s bullying me again,’ complained Moray as the team chuckled.
Warren let the moment of levity pass, before returning to the subject in hand.
‘He’s certainly in a strong position to manipulate events,’ said Warren, ‘but why now? Some of these priests have lived there for years.’
‘He’s getting old,’ pointed out Sutton. ‘If he has created this community specifically so he can keep an eye on these men, then maybe he’s worried about what will happen when he’s no longer there.’
‘Which suggests that Survivorsonline is just a coincidence,’ said Ruskin. ‘Obviously, he wouldn’t need to use that site, he’d already know who was guilty from the confessions that he heard.’
‘Then why target Father Daugherty? Surely, if he was innocent, he wouldn’t have anything to confess?’ said Richardson.
‘Unless he didn’t believe him,’ said Hutchinson.
Warren rubbed his face.
‘This is getting too complex. We need to start ruling out some of these theories.’
He looked at his watch. ‘OK, folks. We’ve got plenty to be getting on with. Mags, let us know when the ANPR and mobile phone data arrives. Moray, where are you with identifying Lucas Furber’s friend and his brother?’
‘Welwyn have ruled out most of the suicides on the Underground. There are three names left, all homeless, none with a verifiable surname. I’m waiting for the Department for Education to run those first names through the pupil rolls at Lucas Furber’s old school, Thomas Tichborne, for the years that they were likely to have attended the school. Some poor civil servant is giving up their Saturday as we speak,’ said Ruskin, ‘but assuming the names are real, they shouldn’t create too many hits. I can’t imagine there were that many people called Keith, even as far back as the Eighties.’
‘Keith Chegwin,’ said Pymm, immediately.
‘Who?’
‘Probably a bit before your time,’ she conceded.
‘Keith Floyd,’ said Sutton.
‘Nope.’
‘Keith Harris,’ said Hutchinson.
‘Was he a footballer?’
‘Keith Richards,’ said Pymm.
‘Now him I have heard of, he was the drummer with The Who,’ said Moray.
‘Tell me you’re not serious,’ groaned Sutton.
‘OK, leaving aside Moray’s woeful knowledge of pre-millennial pop culture, let’s move on. Rachel
, any more insights from Vernon Coombs’ research?’ interrupted Warren.
‘We’re into the last part of the last box, two more collections of diaries to go. We’re getting quicker, you get used to the eighteenth-century English, although last night I dreamt I was in a BBC costume drama.’
‘Any more suicides or suspicious deaths?
‘Plenty of deaths, some more gruesome than others, no apparent suicides as yet.’
The door to the briefing room opened, and a civilian support worker popped her head around the door.
‘Urgent phone call, from the Social Media Intelligence Unit, DCI Jones. Do you want it transferred to here or your office?’
‘I’ll take it in my office.’
The handset started ringing, the moment he entered his office.
‘I’ve sent you an email with links to a channel that popped up on YouTube a few minutes ago. Its metadata is full of tags that our system flagged. We’re trying to track down the owner of the page, but no luck yet. It’s not pretty, sir.’
Chapter 86
The videos were horrific; even more so projected onto the large, wall-mounted screen in the main briefing room.
‘The recording must be the second half of the confession. The “Forgive me Father”, note was just the first bit,’ said Ruskin. He looked pale and shaken and had not even made a joke when Rachel Pymm had slipped a comforting arm around his shoulder.
‘Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.’ Father Cormac Nolan’s voice was slurred and his head lolled forward. The camera had been identified as a Samsung Galaxy mobile phone, but the user had turned off the location data, so there was no more useful information in the uploaded file.
The seat that the elderly priest was slumped upon was easily identified as the wooden kneeler that his burnt corpse would later be found beside. His mouth moved, but there was no sound for several seconds, until it suddenly returned.
‘I think the killer has muted the soundtrack so we can’t hear his voice prompting Father Nolan,’ said Warren.
The priest’s voice was getting weaker, his eyes now closed. He was barely hanging onto consciousness as he gave a rambling account of weekends away with the choir and the things he made the boys do. Twice more the sound dropped out, as someone off-camera helped him.