‘I haven’t got a home address for him. He was leaving the site as we arrived. Me and Boony were going to nick him tomorrow morning.’
‘You’re meeting Barnes. Get Boony to do it with a couple of the lads and some backup. If Barry resists arrest, they’ve my authority to give the scumbag a good right-hander.’
Jane felt a bit miffed at not being able to take part in Barry’s arrest, but knew her meeting with DCS Barnes was more important, especially if she could persuade him to form a murder squad. She nodded and went back to the CID office.
‘How did it go with mispers?’ she asked Boon, who was sitting at his desk doing some paperwork.
‘Do you know they get about 25,000 misper reports a year. Nearly fifty per cent of them are under eighteen, with thirty per cent in the eighteen to thirty age range, of which females make up—’
‘Anyone matching our nun’s description?’ Jane interrupted, wanting him to get to the point.
‘The officer I spoke with said it will take a few days to trawl through the sixties females aged eighteen to thirty. He’d never heard of a nun being reported missing and he’s been working there for fifteen years.’
‘That’s an interesting point,’ Jane remarked.
‘What is?’
‘That he’s never heard of a nun being reported missing. If a nun did suddenly disappear from a convent it should have been reported, and would then in turn attract press attention.’
‘So, there might have been a previous investigation into her disappearance, years ago?’
‘It’s possible, if there were any suspicious circumstances, so we might get lucky with mispers.’
‘Not if it happened in the late 1800s or early 1900s. We can only go as far back as 1929 when the Missing Persons Bureau started. Plus, she may not even be from the convent,’ Boon replied.
‘Whatever the case we need to do all the necessary checks to try and find out who she is. When you were at the building site, did the manager mention what time they started work?’
Boon shook his head. ‘Not to me personally. Dermot asked if he should come in tomorrow and the manager said yes as there was a big brick and breeze block delivery. I think he suggested they start at seven thirty. Obviously Barry wasn’t there, so it’s unlikely he’ll turn up if he thinks the site is still shut down.’
‘The manager must have his home address, though.’ Jane worked out some timings in her head. ‘Right, I’ll meet you in the bottom lane by the site at seven. Get a couple of uniformed officers to come with you. Hopefully Barry doesn’t live far away. We should be able to search his premises in an hour or so.’
‘Why the rush?’ Boon asked.
‘I’ve got to be at DCS Barnes’s office in Orpington with my report by ten.’
‘I can deal with Barry if you want,’ he offered.
‘I know you could, but I’d like to be there and hear what he has to say for himself. You can make the arrest.’
‘Thanks, sarge. If Barry admits nicking the crucifix, you’ll have plenty of time to spare.’
‘Somehow, I don’t see him putting his hands up and saying, “Fair cop, guv.”’
‘Do you want any help with the report?’
‘No, thanks. You’ve done a good job today. Get off home and have an early night.’
‘Thanks, sarge. Sorry about the incident with the nun’s head.’
‘Don’t worry about it. I’m sure she didn’t take offence.’
Jane sat at her desk, put a piece of paper in the typewriter and opened her notebook. She noticed Father Floridia’s name and phone number and remembered she had promised to call and update him about the coffin. She leaned back in her chair and sighed. Jane realised she knew very little about St Mary’s Convent, or the practices of the Catholic Church, and Father Chris’s knowledge could prove invaluable in trying to identify the nun. She went to Stanley’s office.
‘Sorry to bother you, guv. There’s quite a bit of distraction in the office and it’s hard to concentrate. Is it OK if I type up my report at home?’
‘I don’t care where you do it as long as it’s done by ten in the morning.’
‘Thanks. I’ll see you in the morning after my meeting with Barnes.’
‘You’ll be fine. Whatever happens, he knows he can’t brush a nun’s murder under the carpet. It’s just a question of manpower and the cost of investigating something which may never be solvable.’
‘I know,’ Jane said. ‘I shouldn’t have reacted like I did at the mortuary or here earlier.’
‘It’s all right. I get why you’re upset over the way you’ve been treated in the past. There’s many an officer who would have handed in their warrant card by now.’
She gave him a wry smile. ‘It’s crossed my mind a few times.’
‘That’s the thing I most admire about you, Jane. You’re a fighter, not a quitter.’
‘It’s good to know you’re on my side.’
‘I always have been, Jane. I remember the first time I met you in the back of an observation van in the early seventies.’
She laughed. ‘So do I! You told me to keep watch and then went to sleep.’
He grinned. ‘Happy days. For what it’s worth, my advice is not to bottle things up and let them eat away at you. Listen to other people’s viewpoints, then speak your mind calmly and objectively.’
Jane knew he was right, though it seemed odd coming from Stanley. This wasn’t the scatterbrained man she’d worked with when he was a DC and DS. Promotion to DI seemed to have somehow made him a lot more thoughtful.
Chapter Seven
There was a slight drizzle of rain falling as Jane knocked on the door of the old Victorian presbytery, tucked round the back of St Mary’s Church. The paint on the timber sash window ledges was peeling away and in need of repair, as was the slate roof which was missing a few tiles and covered in moss.
As she waited, Jane knew she should have asked Stanley’s permission to tell Father Chris about the murdered nun, and he probably would have told her to wait and see what Barnes had to say. But as she’d told Father Chris she would update him after the coffin was opened, Jane felt it only right that she did it personally.
Thirty seconds passed and there was no answer. Jane wondered if he was out and knocked again a little louder. She was about to leave when the door opened a bit and Father Chris stuck his head round. Jane could see his hair was dripping wet.
He seemed surprised to see her. ‘Detective Tennison. Please excuse the state of me... I was just having a shower.’
‘No need to apologise, Father. I should have phoned ahead to let you know I was coming.’
‘Is it about the coffin?’
‘Yes, but I can call back tomorrow.’
‘No, please come in. Give me a minute to get dressed and I’ll be right with you. The living room is first on the left,’ he said.
The door creaked open, allowing Jane to see Father Chris holding a thigh-length towel round his slim waist. He had broad shoulders with muscular arms and his calf muscles flexed as he briskly climbed the stairs two at a time. When he got to the top, he started to remove the towel and Jane smiled to herself as she glimpsed the cheeks of his backside.
The small living room was tidy, but sparsely furnished, with two shabby grey armchairs, a side cabinet, and an old oak writing desk with matching chair by the window. The green-painted plaster walls had numerous cracks and the carpet was threadbare in some places. The smoke from the log fire gave off a nice woody smell, reminding Jane of her family home when she was a child. She was surprised that the only religious objects in the room were a wooden crucifix above the fireplace and a large bible on the writing desk.
She also noticed there was no television. A transistor radio was on the side cabinet, alongside some framed photographs, which Jane presumed were of Father Chris’s parents. She noticed a picture of him suspended in mid-air, in a hitch kick position, about to land in a long-jump pit. He looked to be in his early twenties, and she could see a large, terraced stadium in the background, filled with spectators.