*
The Rolls Royce arrived at the front door of Beaumont Hall, having been driven, in stately fashion, along the drive. All the members of staff were standing in two ranks, formed up either side of the front door. Dressed in their best uniforms and wearing black armbands, they had assembled to show their support for Lady Fanny and pay their respects to the master, who had already joined Sister Margaret at rest in the mortuary. They sensed that this represented the end of an era and, quite apart from the sadness of losing his lordship, they all feared for their future.
Quite unexpectedly, after exiting the vehicle, and on the arm of her butler Jenkins, Lady Fanny addressed the staff. ‘Thank you, ladies and gentlemen. His lordship would have been extremely proud to see you all looking so smart today. We have all lost a fine man and it was an honour to have known him, but we have to carry on.’
Jenkins took her inside. She spent the rest of the day in her bedroom, and, as it was Sunday, she got Jenkins to take her to the evening service at St Saviour’s. He had made a point of telephoning Father O’Leary to inform him of his lordship’s passing.
The next few days would involve Fanny dealing with the family solicitor and making the arrangements for Lord Jeremy’s funeral. Jenkins was full of admiration for her as she appeared to be holding up remarkably well.
*
Just look at her. Bitch! Who does she think she is? Putting on her airs and graces. I don’t know who’s worse, that common tart or the so-called nun. I have half a mind to deal with her as well. Still, we will see. It won’t be long now.
21
DAY TWENTY-ONE
Monday 1st August 1949
‘Governor, guess what,’ said Pratt.
Cooper had that Monday morning feeling and was in no mood to play games.
‘Go on then, what?’
‘Lord Roding died on Saturday afternoon.’
Cooper was suddenly alarmed and, for a second, he believed they might have another murder on their hands.
‘Really? Who told you that?
‘Alf Lewis, the local beat PC.’
‘Why weren’t CID informed about it?’
‘Apparently, PC Lewis called out Inspector King, who attended Beaumont Hall, but as there were no suspicious circumstances it was just treated as a normal sudden death.’
‘How did that happen, then?’
‘He died in his bed during the afternoon and was found by his nurse, Adina Jenkins.’
‘Is that right? said Cooper, relieved. ‘Poor old devil. Sad. But it was no secret that he wasn’t a well man. He spent half his time in a wheelchair. Probably a welcome release for him. Not to be unkind though, it doesn’t help our investigation one little bit, does it?’
‘Blimey, governor. You had a bad weekend?’
‘No, not really. I’ll snap out of it as the day goes on. Go and get me a cup of tea, will you? That’ll cheer me up.’
‘Walked into that one, didn’t I?’
Not only had Cooper been losing sleep over the case, he had Linda Collins on his mind. He was worried that she might have received some stick from her parents over the fact that she had stayed out overnight. He had only just dropped her off at home with the bike, so she could get changed for work.
While Pratt went for the tea, Cooper thought about Jeremy Roding. Death certainly seemed to follow him around. His first wife, his son, Sister Margaret and now himself. He had not been a lucky man. It then dawned on him that, to add insult to injury, Lady Fanny, his wife of only a few years, was likely to inherit the entire estate. He imagined the lengthy queue of suitors and chancers who would soon be beating a path to her door.
Pratt, who had just come across Doris further along the corridor, reappeared with the two teas. He placed them on Cooper’s desk and sat down.
‘I’ve just been thinking about Lord Roding,’ said Cooper. ‘He didn’t have any blood relatives left, after the death of his son, did he?’
‘No, he didn’t. The Honourable Teddy was the last of the line.’
‘Now his widow is going to inherit the whole estate and she’s only been with him five minutes.’
‘Yes. Doesn’t seem right, does it? I’m thinking of pimping myself out around the House of Lords to see if I get lucky.’
‘You always have been a tart, Brian. Right, down to business. We’re in the coroner’s court at 11.00am for the preliminary hearing.’
‘Never been to one of those. I’m quite looking forward to it, just to see what happens.’
‘It’s a short hearing, really. The coroner opens the case, there’s a bit of spiel, then it’s adjourned until a later date.’
‘Do you think the Church will send anyone?’
‘No. Not at this short notice. We only went to see them a couple of days ago, and they haven’t even claimed ownership of her yet. I think I’ll just call Father O’Leary anyway and see if he wants to come.’
Cooper dug out the telephone number from the file and picked up the phone.
Mrs Maloney answered the phone and went off to find the priest.
‘Father O’Leary speaking.’
‘Good morning, Father, this is Inspector Albert Cooper of Colchester CID. How are you today?’
‘Busy. I had Mr Jenkins from Beaumont Hall on the telephone to inform me of the passing of Lord Roding over the weekend and now Lady Fanny is pressing me because she wants to know if we can do the funeral. He’s only been dead a couple of days. Anyway, how may I help you?’
‘Yes. Obviously, we were made aware of that ourselves, but in this instance, I’m calling about Sister Margaret. I wanted to inform you that the coroner will be holding a preliminary hearing at the town hall at 11.00am today. It’s not essential, but we wondered whether you would want to be present?’
‘Thank you for the kind thought, Inspector. I could come in a private capacity, but I really can’t come as a representative of the Church as I haven’t been authorised to do so. I did send a telegram to the Vatican for the attention of Cardinal O’Mara to inform him about the situation and to seek his guidance. That was ten days ago, and they still haven’t done me the courtesy of an acknowledgement. I sometimes think the Catholic Church is run by bloody heathens!’
‘As a matter of interest. Will you be holding his lordship’s funeral at St Saviour’s?’
‘I don’t think we can, Inspector. He didn’t complete his conversion, you see. That is something else I need to take advice on. I must leave it there, I’m afraid. I’m halfway through a meeting with one of my parishioners. I will try to be with you at 11.00am.’
*
The inquest went exactly the way that Cooper had predicted, although he hadn’t expected there to be any representatives from the press. In the event, sitting in the well of the court, were Gladys Munson and her editor, the dark and swarthy Tony Swayze.
At 11.00am sharp, the coroner opened the hearing by giving the basic facts of the death of Sister Margaret. There were no witnesses called by the court, other than Cooper, who was asked by the coroner to provide an outline of the enquiry.
He did so, adding that there were doubts about Sister Margaret’s status. The plain truth being that they had not conclusively identified the deceased as the Catholic Church did not appear to recognise her. As for the murderer, nobody had been identified. The Catholic Church was not represented at court.
For the benefit of the few people present, the coroner read the pathologist’s report aloud, citing the cause of death. He then gave a summary of the case as it stood and adjourned it for three months.
*
On their return to the police station, Cooper phoned Stockwell to bring him up to speed on the inquest, after which he went over Saturday’s business with Brian Pratt and Ian Mills.
‘Well, chaps, the people at Westminster Cathedral certainly didn’t know her,’ said Cooper, ‘and Fat
her Thomas, the priest we spoke to, put no store by the notion that she’d come all the way from Rome merely to help Lord Roding with his conversion.’
‘So, what Lord Roding told us about them not knowing her was right after all then,’ observed Pratt.
‘Yes, it was, but Father Thomas is going to follow it up with the Vatican, to see if they know anything.’
‘One other piece of news,’ said Mills. ‘The shipping company have come back to us. It turns out that Monsignor Crecy did have a cabin on the boat, but she didn’t have one herself.’
‘You don’t suppose they shared it, do you?’ said Cooper with a mischievous smile.
‘Blimey! I wouldn’t have thought so, governor. But nothing would surprise me with this case. It would be a bit weird though, wouldn’t it? A nun and a priest sleeping in the same cabin.’
‘Perhaps they got to know each other in the biblical sense.’
‘I don’t think you’re going to go to heaven now, governor,’ laughed Pratt. ‘Oh, and the other thing was that he booked both their fares in his name and paid for them by cash at the terminal at the Hook of Holland.’
‘Good. So, that clinches it, as far as the question of their travelling together is concerned.’ Cooper was pleased with the revelation.
‘Anyway, whatever our dirty minds might suggest, governor, we can only speculate about who used the cabin. Perhaps he was just being a gentleman.’
‘Maybe so. But, again, it begs the question, where did they meet?’
‘What do you mean, governor?’
‘Let’s just think about the passport stamps. They both have one entering the Netherlands on the 16th May. If you examine the stamp it tells us this was at a road crossing. A place called Venlo. I looked it up in the atlas and I discovered that Venlo is on the border with Germany. He landed at Vienna Airport two days before that on the 14th May and the passport shows nothing in between. So where did they meet? Did they both travel from Vienna, or did he meet her somewhere else in Austria or Germany?’
‘And, governor, if they met somewhere between Austria and the Netherlands. What form of transport did they use?’
‘A car would be obvious, I suppose, Brian, but I wonder how readily available the fuel is over there these days. The railway is another option or perhaps they used a combination of the two. And then, of course, there is the possibility that somebody else drove them.’
‘But why were there no date stamps in the passport covering that stage of the journey?’
‘Given what we have been told about Crecy, I’m starting to think she was actually smuggled across borders.’
‘Why on earth would she have to do that?’
‘Use your loaf, Brian! Isn’t it obvious?’ said Cooper, a large penny starting to drop.
‘Not really governor, no.’
‘Well, given what Special Branch have been telling us about Crecy and what the Church have said about her, I think we can safely assume that she wasn’t a nun at all and she never was a fucking nun!’
They were both sat in silence trying to come to terms with the reality that was now facing them. Cooper started the self-flagellation.
‘I should have worked it out long ago, with her attitude to those around her. The fact that nobody in the Catholic Church in London has heard of her at all. The association with Monsignor Crecy, who was of interest to Special Branch for moving wanted people. And, according to her ladyship, she hardly ever went to church for Christ’s sake! Am I getting thicker as I get older or what?’
‘So, if she wasn’t a nun, what was she?’
‘What indeed. We know she wasn’t Irish; she was from Switzerland. So, I doubt that it has anything to do with Irish Republicanism. But somebody was after her.’
‘Her passport shows she was born in Austria, though. So where are her family? Where is the child she gave birth to?’ said Pratt.
‘Of course, we only have Father O’Leary’s statement saying she was born in Switzerland. That either could have been a lie on her part or down to poor memory on his.’
‘I’m inclined to go by what it says in the passport, Brian.’
‘What about Father O’ Leary? Do you think that he knows about her real status, governor?’
‘No, I don’t think he really knew what was going on.’
‘Surely he must have suspected something was amiss?’
‘Cardinal O’Mara of the Special Assignments Unit of the Vatican contacted him, and he told him to expect the arrival of Sister Margaret, who was on an assignment. O’Mara is apparently a man he holds in high regard and he was proud to serve. He simply did as he was told and didn’t question it.’
‘I mean, it wasn’t much of an assignment, was it, just preparing Lord Jeremy Roding for conversion to Catholicism? What is so special about that?’
‘Well you have to realise that he was a peer of the realm. It still carries a lot of influence, even today. There aren’t that many Roman Catholic peers in the House of Lords. The more the better as far as the Catholic Church is concerned.’
‘Yes, I suppose so.’
‘So, Lord Roding consulted Monsignor Crecy on the fact that he wished to convert to Catholicism. Crecy obviously saw it as an opportunity to move Sister Margaret and he discussed it with Cardinal O’Mara. It seems they exploited the situation to get her over here for a few months, so that she could hide in plain sight.’
‘But why?’
‘That’s what we need to find out, Brian. Do you remember the other day when I said to you her death looked like a punishment?’
‘Yes, I do. You could be right.’
‘One thing that does occur to me is that I think we would be far better off just concentrating on the name Irma Caro. This bloody “Sister Margaret” lark is wearing a bit thin, don’t you think?’
‘What about the enquiries with the Vatican?’
‘I think Father Thomas is genuine enough. He’ll do his best, I’m sure. But I don’t think the “powers that be” at the Vatican will have heard of her, and the only issue they are likely to be interested in is the misappropriation of one of their diplomatic passports.’
‘Yes. How did that come about, I wonder?’
‘My money is on the probability that Cardinal O’Mara arranged to get someone in the Vatican to steal the passport and have it forged in her name. As for him, naturally, he’ll deny all knowledge of the passport and the sister.’
‘Anyway, Brian, I’ve got to go to see Mr Stockwell and bring him up to date with how we’re getting on.’
Fifteen minutes later, Cooper and Stockwell were sitting in the comfy chairs in the superintendent’s office. Coffees were on the table in front of them.
‘A few things to tell you, sir. I went with Miss Collins up to Westminster Cathedral on Saturday where I saw Father Michael Thomas. I spoke to him about the letter you sent to the archbishop and explained the situation. He told me he would chase it up. But, on the face of it, they have no knowledge of our nun.’
‘And what do they say about this man Crecy?’
‘Apparently, Monsignor Crecy was something of a liaison man between London and the Vatican. Father Thomas is going to discuss the matter with the archbishop and make enquiries with someone senior at the Vatican.’
‘What about Cardinal O’Mara? I hope they’ll make their enquiries with somebody senior to him and more trustworthy.’
‘One would hope so.’
‘I made some enquiries of my own with the Foreign and Commonwealth Office. They told me about a man they hold in high regard, a Cardinal Maglione, who is the Vatican secretary of state.’
‘I’m told they’ll also speak separately to Cardinal O’Mara.’
‘Good, Albert. I’ll be interested to see what comes back from that.’
‘Perhaps the Foreign Office might speak to their contact for us?’
‘I hope that it won’t come to that, but it’s something we might have to fall back on. I don’t know about the Catholic Church, it seems that it’s more like we’re dealing with the Mafia.’
Cooper then went on to explain the basis for the suspicion that Sister Margaret was not in fact a real nun. Stockwell was aghast.
‘I think that, in light of what you have managed to learn in recent days, you need to contact DCI Lloyd-Davis at Special Branch and bring him up to date. I agree this situation doesn’t sound like it’s connected to the IRA, but he may have a view on the circumstances and how you might take your enquiries forward. They have contacts on the continent who could prove useful.’
‘Thank you, sir. I will do so.’ As if I haven’t already thought of doing just that, thought Cooper.
He then went on to explain that he had also delivered the Tatler letter, and that he had asked them to search the archive for Monsignor Crecy and was awaiting a result of their search.
The superintendent expressed his satisfaction at the apparent progress of the investigation and thanked Cooper for his efforts.
‘So, Irma Caro it is then.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘One other thing before you go, Albert. How is Miss Collins getting on?’
‘She’s doing very well, sir. I’ve found her to be keen, bright and hard working. I know she’s not been with us for long, but, on what I’ve seen of her work so far, I would be happy to have her remain with us with a view to her being a permanent member of the department.’
‘I am pleased to hear that, Albert. I trust your judgement. Thank you.’
A lump formed in Cooper’s throat. He liked the girl a lot. Apart from fraternising with a junior female officer off duty, he hadn’t done anything wrong, but he wasn’t going to tell “Uncle Tom” that he and Linda were getting on well or that he had taken her sailing at the weekend. As he walked back to the police station, Cooper considered the possibility that, if things were to really take off, one day he might even marry the girl. He chided himself for being silly. All the same, if it were to happen, would he have to call Stockwell “Uncle Tom?” Cooper laughed out loud, and a lady passer-by crossed the road to avoid him.
Devotion to Murder Page 21