‘Yes, sir,’ they replied in unison.
‘Thanks for coming in, DS Jackson. I know you’re busy dealing with the forensics on a number of murder investigations, so I won’t keep you long. Can you bring us up to speed with what you have so far?’ Barnes asked.
Lloyd looked at Jane. ‘Your hunch about the nun’s cincture matching the fibres around her neck was spot on.’
‘What’s a cincture?’ Boon asked.
‘It’s the brown, rope-like cord the dead nun was wearing round her waist,’ Lloyd told him.
Boon looked at Jane with a bemused expression. ‘You think she was strangled with her own rope, then someone took the time and effort to tie it neatly around her waist?’
‘Of course not,’ she said, ‘though I suppose it’s not an impossibility. Nuns of the same order have the same cinctures.’
Boon twigged. ‘Ah, I get it. A nun using her own rope to strangle our victim, thus the matching fibres.’
‘Hemp fibres to be precise,’ Lloyd said.
‘What, as in cannabis?’ Boon asked.
‘Hemp is a variety of the same plant, used to make rope,’ Lloyd replied.
‘Would you two shut up and let Tennison finish?’ Barnes said.
Jane continued. ‘I saw a priest at the diocesan offices wearing a cincture like our victim’s.’
Barnes sat up. ‘Which means the fibres on the nun’s neck could be from Meade’s cincture.’
Lloyd shook his head. ‘The problem is that forensics can never match an individual rope to the hemp fibres on the nun’s neck. All they can tell you is that there’s a high probability a hemp rope was used to strangle her.’
‘That’s not much bloody use to us. Have you got any good news, Lloyd?’ Barnes said curtly.
‘We examined the broken knife tip under a high-powered microscope. There was a minuscule sliver of wood on it. Two further slivers were found on the hole in her clothing where she was stabbed in the neck. A forestry expert concluded from the cellular structure they were all birch tree fragments. This suggests the knife had recently been used for cutting wood.’
Barnes sighed. ‘The chances of us finding the knife now are virtually nil. Is that it, Lloyd?’
‘We’re still examining the stomach contents. It’s amazing how the food inside her has dried and solidified. Looks like her last meal was a vegetable stew with broccoli, cauliflower and seeded bread.’
Barnes was losing interest. ‘Are you likely to find anything forensically we can use as direct evidence against Meade?’
‘From what the scientists tell me, it’s unlikely,’ Lloyd admitted.
‘I’ll take that as a no,’ Barnes said. ‘How’d you get on at the diocesan archives, Tennison?’
‘Parkin, the archivist, confirmed there were no documents relating to the nuns or children at the convent. Meade lied; she didn’t tell him about the fire because it was the other way round. I’ve got a copy of a letter from the diocesan solicitors to the developers. All it says is the fire occurred in August 1962 and the buildings were damaged beyond repair. It raises the question of how Meade knew the fire started in the bakery and destroyed all the convent documents.’
‘Are you thinking Meade committed arson to destroy the records?’ Stanley asked.
Jane nodded. ‘I know it’s a long shot, but it might be worth getting a fire investigator from the lab to have a look at what’s left of the buildings.’
‘It’s worth a try,’ Barnes said.
‘I’ll get it sorted for tomorrow morning,’ Lloyd said.
‘Anything else of interest, Tennison?’ Barnes asked.
‘The list of priests who worked at St Mary’s has also mysteriously gone missing.’ Jane was glad she didn’t have to reveal she got the information from a priest.
‘That’s another coincidence with Meade’s name written all over it,’ Boon remarked.
‘The man is digging his own grave,’ Stanley added.
Barnes lit another cigarette. ‘I agree... but it’s not deep enough yet. I’ve no doubt he’s involved in the nun’s murder, but without a confession we don’t have enough to charge him. If he murdered the nun, he must have got someone to help him move and bury the coffin. If we can find that person and get them to roll over, we’ve got a good chance of convicting Meade.’ He turned to Jane. ‘Any other revelations from the archives?’
‘I obtained a couple of documents confirming the buildings and land were deconsecrated in 1964.’
‘Good, that’s put that issue to bed and should please the developers.’
Jane wondered if she should tell him Thomas Durham and Lee Holland had been acting strangely and might be hiding something that could be connected to the murder, but she decided to hold back until she had some hard evidence.
‘Anything else?’ Barnes asked.
‘Unfortunately, no, as I was escorted off the premises.’
They all looked at Jane, wondering what she’d done.
‘By Meade?’ Barnes asked, taking a sip of his whisky.
‘No, he was in Cambridge. But he’d heard about the News Shopper article and phoned the priest who’s his personal assistant. He must have told him I was in the archives. The priest told me Meade said I had deceived the Church and Archbishop Malone was returning from Rome, so—’
Barnes nearly choked on his whisky. ‘Did you say Malone?’
‘Yes. Andrew Malone is the archbishop of Southwark.’
Barnes wiped the whisky from his chin. ‘Andrew Malone was the name of the priest who took pleasure in beating Stephen black and blue. If it’s him, he will do everything he can to protect Meade and the Church. When’s he due back in London?’
‘I think he’s flying back tomorrow sometime,’ Jane informed him.
Barnes shook his head. ‘We need to act quickly. I want Meade arrested before Malone can get to him.’
Stanley worried Barnes was being impetuous. ‘I don’t want to appear rude, sir, but I suspect Malone has already spoken to Meade. No doubt he will have told him to say nothing until he gets back from Rome. It might be to our advantage to interview Dorton and evaluate the calls we get from the public after the six o’clock news first.’
Barnes frowned. ‘Why?’
‘Like you just said, we haven’t got enough to charge Meade. Arresting him now could be futile. If he made a no-comment interview, we’d have to release him. Julie Dorton may be able to identify Meade as the local priest and confirm he knew our victim. There’s also a chance someone watching the news might call us with more damning evidence. Waiting until the morning to arrest him might be a better option. I can also check what time the first flight from Rome arrives.’
Barnes rubbed his chin and thought about it. ‘Tennison, you and Boon skip the office meeting. Go and see Julie Dorton. Show her Eaves’ drawings. Then come straight back here. This could be a long night,’ he said. He downed his whisky, then poured another. ‘And get someone to check out the local dentists for nuns who had a fucking toothache!’
Chapter Twenty-two
While Boon phoned Julie Dorton from Barnes’s office, Jane went to the incident room to get her bag and coat. A few detectives were setting up their desks and others were looking at the photographs and maps on the walls. She overheard one on the phone to his wife, telling her he probably wouldn’t be home until late. She picked up the phone on an empty desk in the corner of the room and rang Nick’s office.
‘Hi, it’s me. How did it go with your dad?’
‘He’ll survive,’ he said.
‘Look, I don’t think I’ll be able to see you tonight. I’ve got to interview someone and I don’t know how long it’s going to take. My DCI wants me to report back to the incident room afterwards. I’ve a suspicion he’ll want us all in early morning as well. I don’t want to disturb you, so I’ll stay the night at mine tonight if that’s—’