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‘Call the lab and get it fast-tracked, I’ll authorise the cost,’ ordered Grayson.
‘If the bloods come back and show that he was so insensate that he could be covered in petrol and ignited without any signs of restraint or a struggle, then that raises questions about how he got in that state in the first place,’ said Sutton.
‘Go on,’ said Warren.
‘The way I see it, there are two possibilities. First, that he drank the whiskey and potentially took his sleeping pills in situ. That is more believable if it was a suicide, otherwise how would you convince him to do it otherwise? There was no sign of a restraint or struggle. And why on earth would he go down to the undercroft with somebody?’
‘He could have been threatened or coerced in some way?’ suggested Grayson.
‘In which case it’s likely a murder,’ continued Sutton, ‘or he took the whiskey and pills elsewhere, probably his room, as it is private, and was then led down to the undercroft by his killer, who left the bottle and pills there to mislead us.’
‘Or a combination of the two scenarios,’ interjected Grayson.
‘Either way, it implies that he must have known his killer, at least to some degree,’ said Sutton. ‘Not only would they need him to have been comfortable enough to drink with him in his room or to go down to the chapel with him, they would also need to know about his medication.’
‘Which means we need the results back from the forensics in his room, and the likely route he took down to the chapel,’ said Warren. ‘We also need to know the whereabouts of all of the other residents, staff and carers that night.’
‘Then let’s see what Rachel Pymm has for us,’ said Grayson, getting to his feet.
Chapter 10 (#ulink_dafc4f93-4cd0-5eed-9656-15813ea6ff56)
‘Preliminary results are back in from the forensic examination of Father Nolan’s room,’ said Rachel Pymm as Warren, Sutton and Grayson joined Ruskin around her workspace. In deference to the fact that her job was almost entirely computer-based, her desk was adorned with three large monitors, arranged in a horseshoe.
Warren felt a pang of sadness, quickly repressed. One of his last requisition requests from Gary Hastings had been just such a set-up. He’d largely taken over from DS Pete Kent as the unit’s expert user of the HOLMES2 crime management system and ‘officer in the case’, the person in charge of keeping track of the all the information flowing into a major inquiry, such as a murder. DS Rachel Pymm now did that job full-time.
‘Give me the highlights.’
‘First of all, surfaces that we’d expect to have Father Nolan’s fingerprints on, as well as whoever cleaned his room last, are completely clean,’ said Pymm.
‘What about the glass tumblers?’ asked Warren.
‘Again, suspiciously clean, with no observable fingerprints. Both glasses had also been well-rinsed. Tests are ongoing of the droplets of liquid in the bottom of the glass but early indications are that it was almost entirely tap water, with traces of ethanol and complex aromatic compounds of the type typically found in a grain-based spirit.’
‘Sounds like whiskey,’ suggested Grayson.
‘That’s what they think. More detailed tests should be able to confirm that and possibly identify the brand.’
‘So he shared a drink with his killer?’
‘Perhaps. They are doing their best to isolate any stray DNA from around the rim of the glass, but CSM Harrison says don’t hold your breath.’
‘Anything else?’
‘Nothing much. Just some residue in one of the glasses that may be an anti-depressant.’
Warren choked back a response; Pymm smiled sweetly.
‘They also found tiny polymer fragments in the sink trap that could be from the capsule surrounding a timed-release tablet, again consistent with the anti-depressant prescribed to Father Nolan. Identification has been fast-tracked.’
‘Bloody hell,’ breathed Warren. ‘Anything more?’ His tone suggested that the time for teasing was over.
‘Several different shoe prints have been isolated from the ground outside the fire exit and the corridor immediately adjacent to it. Their orientation suggests that people have walked both in and out of the exit. Some of the prints on the ground outside heading away from the house match examples in the footwear reference database for men’s size ten Clarks of the type Father Nolan was wearing the night he died. Obviously there was too much damage from the fire to make a definitive match between these prints and his shoes.’
‘So, Father Nolan could have exited the house via the fire exit. Is the door not alarmed?’ asked Ruskin.
‘The wires to the contacts that trigger the alarm if the door is opened look as though they may have been tampered with, although it isn’t conclusive. The crash bar on the door is also suspiciously free of prints, but a clear hand-print on the right-hand wall as you look towards the door could be from Father Nolan. They are looking for a better source for comparison prints amongst his belongings before they declare a positive match.’
‘So, Father Nolan walked out of the fire exit, without triggering the alarm. As he did so, he leant against the wall – which might be an indication that he was unsteady on his feet, from having consumed alcohol and prescription drugs,’ suggested Sutton.
‘I’d be interested to know how mobile Father Nolan was,’ said Warren. ‘Assuming these footprints are from when he left the house with his killer, then he was still on his feet at that stage – the drugs and alcohol hadn’t rendered him entirely helpless. What about by the time he made it to the chapel? Was he still upright or did he need carrying? That might indicate if there was more than one killer.’
‘Forensics are still examining the most likely routes between the house and the chapel, but the pathways up by the house are pretty well-trod and weren’t immediately closed off,’ said Pymm.
‘Why aren’t Father Nolan’s footprints inside the hallway?’ asked Ruskin.
Pymm answered, ‘The footprints outside are impressions in the soft earth. The footprints inside are transfer from the dirty soles of somebody’s shoes. They were only visible using electrostatic transfer.’
Ruskin paused, before blushing slightly. ‘Oh, I see. Father Nolan only walked out of the fire exit. The killer entered from outside, tracking mud inside, then walked back out with Father Nolan.’ He paused again. ‘Do any of the unknown footprints head in as well as out?’
Sutton clapped the young constable on the shoulder. ‘Exactly the right question to ask, Moray. Rachel?’
‘Yes, two sets.’ She smirked. ‘We’ll make a detective out of you yet, junior.’
‘Bugger off,’ the Scotsman muttered as everyone chuckled.
‘Bugger off, Sergeant, show some respect,’ responded Pymm primly.
‘What next, Moray?’ asked Warren.
‘We should try and identify who the other shoe prints belong to and find out who has access to the fire exit. Was anyone spotted nearby in the hours before and afterwards?’
‘Anything else?’ prompted Sutton.
‘Who would know about his medication, and who would he be comfortable enough with to let his guard down in their presence, assuming he wasn’t taken against his will?’
‘And what else?’
The young constable thought for a moment, ‘We should also speak to a forensic pharmacologist about the likely effects of the amount of sedatives and alcohol found in his system.’
‘Good,’ said Warren. ‘As luck would have it that’s exactly who we are waiting to get back to us.’ He turned to the rest of the team. ‘You all heard the man, let’s get going.’
Tuesday 24
February (#ulink_66c399bd-2663-5160-b798-d25abad929f6)
Chapter 11 (#ulink_19ccfc9d-8def-58c6-a5a5-fea8cab8baf3)
The report from the forensic pharmacologist was waiting in Warren’s email inbox when he arrived at work that morning. He took one look at it and headed to the coffee urn. He’d slept poorly the night before; suddenly, the journey that he and Susan were about to embark upon seemed real. For months, the couple had undergone endless tests, spoken to numerous specialists and now the time had come. At exactly 8 p.m. the previous night, Susan had injected herself with a shot of hormones, triggering the start of the IVF process. The injection had been over in a matter of seconds, yet Warren couldn’t clear his mind of what was happening inside his wife’s body. All being well, her ovaries should now be gearing up to produce mature eggs, ready for the fertility specialists to harvest.
Amazingly, an hour or so after the injection, Susan had simply gone to bed, falling asleep within moments of her head hitting the pillow. Unfortunately for Warren, sleep wasn’t as forthcoming. He’d lain awake for hours listening to his wife’s breathing, picturing the next nine months with an alternating combination of excitement and fear. When he’d finally dozed off, his dreams had been fractured and muddled, his over-stimulated imagination mixing the investigation with his impending fatherhood. He’d awoken earlier than normal, with a feeling of disquiet.
Even after a second mug of coffee, the report still meant nothing to him and so he was forced to elicit the assistance of Ryan Jordan to interpret it; he called Moray Ruskin in to listen in on the conference call.
‘They measured his blood alcohol level at 152 milligrams per millilitre, although there is some margin for error given the trauma he suffered before he died. That volume of alcohol would have made him a bit unsteady on his feet, but probably wouldn’t have made him insensate.’
‘What about the drugs tests?’ asked Ruskin.
‘The level of doxepin in his system was significantly higher than would have been expected if he had taken his prescribed amount, even allowing for the fact that Father Nolan was in the habit of ignoring medical advice and taking a nightcap to amplify its affects. However, I found fewer fragments of the pill’s capsule in his stomach than I’d expect for such a large amount. I’d even hazard a guess that the fragments represent his prescribed dosage of one tablet.’
‘Suggesting that he took his usual pill, but then additional capsules were opened and the contents poured into his drink?’ suggested Warren.
‘Entirely plausible. Doxepin is soluble in alcohol, and a lot of patients report dysgeusia, an alteration to their sense of taste, so he may not have noticed it. It also means that the drug would be absorbed much faster. That’s why you shouldn’t ever grind up pills unless told that it is safe to do so. Plenty of people have given themselves overdoses that way.’
‘OK Ryan, cards on the table; would this combination of alcohol and drugs have left Father Nolan sufficiently mobile to get down to the chapel, largely under his own power, but rendered him compliant enough not to need restraint?’ Warren held his breath.
Jordan sounded reluctant as he answered.
‘I spoke to the forensic pharmacologist myself. She says that most people would have been on a steady downward spiral towards unconsciousness within thirty minutes to an hour after consuming that mixture. The rate would depend on the person’s individual physiology, how quickly they drank it and how much they had eaten etc.
‘It is possible that Father Nolan could have been confused enough to be led into the chapel, presumably by someone he knew, where he then slumped in the chair. The shock of the fire may have been enough to rouse him temporarily.
‘It is equally possible that the drugs may have rendered him unconscious in just a few minutes, meaning he would have needed to be carried down to the chapel or transported another way.’
‘Could he have taken himself down there, doused himself in petrol and then ignited himself with a box of matches, in the dark?’
The pause was even longer.
‘When it comes to human behaviour, Warren, never say never, but I think it unlikely.’
Chapter 12 (#ulink_b217a4ab-99ee-5a99-a341-0f569c905ebb)
The decision the day before to change the cause of death for Father Nolan from suicide to homicide, led to an immediate shift in tempo. Murder investigations didn’t come with a blank cheque – nothing did these days – but requests, in particular for forensics, were more likely to be granted than for suicides. Appeals for support from headquarters in Welwyn Garden City would typically be approved, and more colleagues could be co-opted to help speed up and expand enquiries.
However, Warren had already been assigned as Senior Investigating Officer to Nolan’s suicide and DSI Grayson wasn’t going to change that.
‘Mags, I know that there is precious little CCTV on the site, but I want you to extend the seizure to cover all the cameras available, including internal areas. We have reliable sightings of Father Nolan, apparently alive and well, from after the evening meal that night. At some point he met his killer or killers. Did that happen in his room, or did they meet elsewhere in the grounds? Did he know them? They could have been waiting on site for him, so cross-reference visitors arriving that day with those leaving. There is a camera near the main entrance. It’s unlikely that the murderer came in that way, but let’s not miss the low-hanging fruit.’
‘Could be a big job, sir. Ticket sales were a couple of hundred that day, and the cameras aren’t great,’ warned Richardson. ‘The good news is that most visitors either have English Heritage membership or pay with a card. The regular parishioners coming to worship at the chapel are all known to the staff, and are let in for free. That should make identification of any unknowns a lot easier.’
‘I’ll authorise support from Welwyn. Focus on the day of the murder initially, look for anyone who comes in but doesn’t leave. There’s only one public entrance. The killer may also have visited before to recce the site, so pull in footage from the month preceding the murder, if it’s available – that way we’ve got it if we need it.
‘If they didn’t use the entrance, then the killer had to get on site somehow, so widen the net around the abbey site to a mile, check if any of the nearby residential properties or businesses have CCTV. If the killer accessed the abbey by climbing over the wall, they may have been caught on camera. Prioritise video from immediately adjacent to the abbey and work backwards from the day of the murder. Again, we’ll look at the wider area if needed.
‘Get traffic to pull in ANPR cameras from the previous month and have them cross-reference the plates with locals. If the killer did arrive by car, he or she may have parked a few streets away.’
‘Got it,’ replied Richardson.
‘Hutch, I need you to go back and re-interview all the residents, staff and volunteers from the abbey. It looks as though somebody may have spiked Father Nolan’s drink with his own medication. That person may well have been in his room with him, which suggests that he may have not only known them but will have been comfortable enough with them to have them in his room. I’ll get DSI Grayson to authorise some extra bodies and sign off on any overtime. This murder wasn’t some chancer, or a robbery gone wrong. It took planning and forethought; whoever did it is not only smart, they also had a motive. Nobody is universally loved – not even the Chief Constable – so let’s see who might have had a grievance with our victim.’
‘I agree, sir. But what if the motive has nothing to do with Father Nolan himself?’
Warren could see where the experienced detective was headed.
‘That’s where DS Pymm comes in. Rachel, I want you to trawl the records and see if there is anything beyond Father Nolan. Perhaps a person with a grievance with somebody else at the home, or a wider upset with the church as a whole.’
‘Take a ticket, and join the queue,’ grumbled Sutton. ‘That list grows longer every day.’
Pymm nodded. She already had her notepad out, scribbling down ideas.
‘Have a look at the PNC and see if anyone associated with the abbey has a file on the system. Whilst you’re at it, cross-reference with the probation service and see if anyone interesting has either been released recently or moved to the area. Be creative, contact the Social Media Intelligence Unit for assistance.’
With that, the meeting broke up. Warren watched his officers leave with a touch of envy. Most investigative work was a repetitive, long slog. He knew from experience that the twentieth person he interviewed would become muddled up with the thirtieth, unless he took scrupulous notes. Similarly, a day staring at grainy CCTV footage would leave him with a headache – a week of it and even his dreams would take place in a jerky, faded world.
But there was no denying the sense of purpose that it brought. The feeling that you were at the very heart of the investigation, an essential part of a team and that what you stumbled across might just be the vital clue that moved the case forward.
Warren supposed he should count himself lucky. So many of his peers, upon reaching the rank of inspector or above, retreated into their offices, their time filled with meetings, budget reports and people management. That came with the job, and it was an essential role in modern policing. But he’d seen the wistful looks on his fellow DCIs’ faces as he left the latest management away day, and headed back to his team, whilst they scurried to their next meeting.
This unusual position was a result of Middlesbury CID’s unique history. Tucked away in the very north of the county, about as far from Hertfordshire Constabulary’s headquarters in Welwyn Garden City as it was possible to be and not cross the county borders, Middlesbury CID had remained a local first-response unit dealing with issues as they arose in Middlesbury and the surrounding towns and villages. The unit had survived the consolidation when Hertfordshire and Bedfordshire moved all of their major crime units into a single building in Welwyn Garden City.
Maintaining Middlesbury’s independence had been the personal mission of Warren’s predecessor, DCI Gavin Sheehy. Unfortunately, the man’s uncompromising attitude had won him as many enemies as admirers, and when he was arrested for corruption, many saw that as vindication of the view that Middlesbury needed to be disbanded and absorbed into the main unit in Welwyn.
Whether DSI John Grayson had been appointed to save or bury Middlesbury CID was still unclear four years on. Tony Sutton maintained that the fate of Middlesbury CID was directly related to its usefulness in securing Grayson’s next promotion and corresponding final salary pension; Warren felt that whilst his theory wasn’t entirely without merit, it was a bit unfair to the man.
Of course, none of this was made clear to Warren as he was parachuted in to fill the vacancy left by Sheehy. Warren’s first weeks as a newly promoted DCI had seen him walk unprepared into a maelstrom of politics that he’d been forced to deal with as he headed up his first major murder investigation. Over the next few months, Warren had found himself chasing a serial rapist and murderer, and embroiled in a cold case that had soon become all too personal. That investigation had led to the resolution of many of the issues surrounding the death of Warren’s father when he was a teenager, but had led to new and unexpected betrayals.
When he had been interviewed for the role, Warren had made it clear that he wanted to use his time at Middlesbury to segue from an active Senior Investigating Officer to the more managerial role that a senior officer such as a DCI would typically fulfil. Grayson, it turned out, was more than happy to pass over anything investigative to Warren, assigning him as SIO to everything that came their way. Grayson, for his part, spent much of his time down at Welwyn.
On a good day, Warren was grateful that his Superintendent shielded him and his team from much of the administrative side of policing; on a bad day, Warren wished the man would do a bit less schmoozing, play a little less golf and actually get his hands dirty, instead of simply taking all the credit for the team’s hard work.
That aside, there was one aspect of the job that Grayson could keep to himself. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to be possible today. With a sigh, Warren slipped on his best jacket, checked his hair in the mirror, and headed for the car park.
He hated press conferences.
Chapter 13 (#ulink_048a30a4-93bc-51a7-adc4-6254b11da8a9)
‘I’ve been going through all of the past reports on the system that mention the abbey,’ Rachel Pymm had a list in her hand covered in a multitude of different coloured fluorescent markers. For the briefest of moments, Warren had a flashback of Gary Hastings; despite the man’s expertise with a computer, he’d still liked nothing more than a ream of paper covered in coloured pen.
He swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘Take me through what you’ve got, Rachel.’
The press conference had been relatively brief, with little in the way of details. Doubtless the tabloids would focus on the more sensational aspects of the death, but at the moment the team wanted to keep the fact that Father Nolan was likely to have been murdered to themselves.
‘The abbey and its surroundings are a bit of a crime magnet, so I decided to limit my search to the past five years. I can go back further if you want me to.’
‘No, I’ll defer to your judgement for the time being.’
‘Well most of the offences can be classed as low-level vandalism and anti-social behaviour.’
‘From the priests?’
