‘No, I was not. If I had seen either of them treating a child improperly, I would have done something about it.’
‘Did you give the children sweets?’ Barnes asked.
‘Yes. What’s that got to do—’
Barnes interrupted. ‘Why did you ask them not to tell the Mother Superior?’
‘Because I knew she wouldn’t approve. I really don’t see what that has to do with Sister Melissa’s death.’
‘Sometimes an act of kindness towards a child may have an ulterior motive,’ Barnes said.
Meade scowled at Barnes as he interrupted. ‘I resent your insinuation. I certainly did not give the children sweets to gain their affection or trust for any immoral purpose.’
Barnes could tell he’d touched a nerve. ‘I never said you did... but thanks for answering my next question.’
‘Don’t insult my intelligence, officer. It’s clear you think I was involved in Sister Melissa’s death.’
‘Were you?’ Barnes retorted.
Meade’s eyes narrowed as he stood up. ‘No. I was not! I didn’t even know who she was until now. I’ve had enough of your unfounded and outrageous allegations. I’d like you both to leave.’
‘Why did you go to the mortuary on Saturday morning?’ Barnes pressed him.
Meade licked his lips. ‘I wanted to pray for her.’
Barnes eyes narrowed. ‘Even though you thought there was nothing untoward and the body could have been in the convent grounds since the 1850s?’
‘Yes. I felt it was my duty under the circumstances.’
‘According to the mortuary technician, you got very emotional and fell to your knees in tears.’
‘That’s ridiculous. I knelt to pray for her departed soul. And I had some grit in my eye.’
Barnes shook his head. ‘You got emotional because you knew it was Sister Melissa Bailey in that coffin. You know what happened to her and who’s responsible. You shed tears of remorse for what you’d done.’
‘How many times do I have to tell you? I never knew Missy Bailey!’ Meade banged his hand on the desk.
Barnes was about to push further when he heard a voice behind him.
‘What is going on here, Bishop Meade?’
Barnes turned round and saw a tall man wearing a purple skull cap, a black cassock with a purple sash and an ankle-length black silk cape standing by the door. It was like a flashback in time for Barnes as he recognised the unblinking eyes, pale skin and pock-marked face of Malone.
Meade instantly composed himself, then bowed. ‘Your Grace, these police officers forced their way into the building. They have been most underhand in their questioning and are accusing us of trying to cover up the death of the sister who they say was murdered. I’ve asked them to leave twice now.’
Malone frowned, looking at the two police officers. ‘In future, if you want to speak to Bishop Meade or anyone connected to the Church, please make a formal request to my office. That way I can arrange for them to be represented by one of our solicitors. Tell your senior officer I will be in contact with him.’ He smiled condescendingly.
‘This is Detective Chief Superintendent Barnes. He’s in charge of the investigation, Your Grace,’ Meade cut in.
Barnes stood up and looked Malone in the eye. ‘You don’t remember me, do you?’
‘Should I?’ Malone replied dismissively.
‘You might remember the name Stephen Phillips,’ Barnes said.
Malone shrugged and shook his head. ‘Can’t say I do.’
‘Let me refresh your memory, then. He was the twelve-year-old you beat with a belt so frequently he lost the will to live and then hanged himself.’
Malone’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Barnes. ‘I will be contacting the commissioner about your aggressive and underhand behaviour.’
‘I’m sure you will, Archbishop Malone. But let me tell you this, murder is a crime the police investigate, not the Church.’ Barnes turned to Meade. ‘Your halo is slipping, bishop. If you wish to confess your sins, I suggest you do it to me... not Malone.’
‘Get out, now!’ Malone said through gritted teeth.
As he walked out, Barnes stopped by Malone and whispered, ‘You may not have murdered Sister Melissa, but I know you were involved in her murder. Believe me, this time I won’t let you cover up the truth!’
Malone waited until Barnes and Stanley had left the room, closed the door, then turned sharply to face Meade.
‘What did you tell them?’ he asked tersely.
‘Nothing, Your Grace. I did as you told me and denied knowing Sister Melissa.’
‘Well, they clearly didn’t believe you. Mark my words, they’ll be back, and Barnes will be out to destroy me as well. If you hadn’t had carnal desires for her, we wouldn’t be in this unfortunate mess.’
‘I’m truly sorry, Your Grace...’
‘I protected you from the start and promoted you because you had repented. I’ve been told I will be made a cardinal after the Pope’s visit. I’m not going to let you jeopardise my future. It might be best for you move to an overseas mission in Africa as soon as possible.’
‘But I don’t want to leave here.’
‘If it wasn’t for me you wouldn’t be here at all! Did you find the letter of dispensation in the archives?’
‘Not yet, Your Grace.’
‘Why not?’ he scowled.
‘I thought it best not to speak with Mrs Parkin personally. I didn’t want to make her suspicious...’
‘It’s a bit late for that now!’
‘I’ll tell the police the truth and say you knew nothing about my relationship with Melissa.’
‘You’ll tell them nothing. You’ve done enough damage as it is. We’ll discuss the matter further after I’ve spoken with the police commissioner. You had better hope I can persuade him to call his hounds off! Now get out of my sight.’
Out in the street, Barnes inhaled deeply, then lit a cigarette. ‘I feel a lot better after that.’
‘I don’t think we’ll be on their Christmas card list anymore, let’s put it that way,’ Stanley joked. ‘The look on Malone’s face when he heard Stephen Phillips’ name and realised who you were was priceless,’ Stanley remarked.
Barnes grinned. ‘Did you notice Meade’s little screw-up just before Malone walked in?’
‘No. It’s clear he’s lying but he seemed to have a plausible answer for everything you put to him.’
‘In his fit of anger, he blurted out that he never knew Missy Bailey. If he didn’t know her, how on earth did he know her nickname?’ Barnes said, taking a long drag on his cigarette.
Before leaving for Canvey Island, Jane popped into Bromley and spoke with the SOCO. She asked him to take the negative Scott Davies had given her to the Met’s photographic department and have an A3 enlargement done of the group, as well as an individual photo of Meade and Missy and a close-up of their hands.
As Jane drove, Boon flicked through the 1963 flower calendar Davies had given them.
‘There’s a flower in here called Camellia japonica, commonly known as Sweet Jane. There’s also Digitalis purpurea, which is foxglove and—’
‘I didn’t know you were into plants?’ Jane remarked.
Boon held up the calendar with a grin. ‘I’m not. I’m just reading out the photo captions.’
Jane shook her head, smiling. ‘Right. We’re in Canvey Way. Can you grab the map and give me the directions to the convent?’
He put the calendar away and picked up the AA route map. It wasn’t long before they got to their destination.