A Journal of Sin (11 page)

‘This seat taken?’ Suzanne sat down before waiting for a response.

‘Oh, no, go ahead,’ replied John, ‘Nice to see you again.’

‘I wasn’t sure I would after you took off the other morning.’

‘I just felt a little. You know.’

‘It’s okay.’ She put her hand on his forearm.

‘It was good timing. Sarah was banging on my door.’

‘Oh I see, from one woman to the next, is it?’ she said, with a coy smile. ‘What was she after?’

‘Can’t say. Cop stuff.’

‘Ahhh, I forgot you’re her Deputy Dawg.’

‘Not quite, I’m just helping out here and there. She doesn’t really know anyone and can’t have too many people knowing the ins and outs of the case. It’s all top secret, need-to-know basis and all that.’ He joked, but thought very carefully about every word that came out of this mouth so as not to let slip any more information than was absolutely necessary. He had a scant memory of the other night and wondered if he’d said anything he shouldn’t have. Asking would only get him into more trouble.

‘Don’t you go turning into a cop, now. Cops can’t be trusted.’

He turned his shoulder to look directly at her. ‘What possible gripe could a lady of your wealth and status have with the police? Speeding tickets? Parking on double yellows? Or maybe just the fashion police?’

‘Hey, there’s no need for that. We have a local bobby around here who tends to stick his nose in from time to time.’

‘You mentioned Father Michael did the same. So, why do the good guys keep slapping you on the wrist?’

‘It’s got nothing to do with my wrist, let’s put it that way. That priest took a disliking to me spending time with men who weren’t my husband. Every so often, he’d come to the house and give me a speech about my marital vows. We’re not even a religious family.’

His smile dropped a little. ‘You’re married?’

‘With a kid too, whilst we’re filling in my CV. I don’t see him for months at a time. A marriage is a partnership for life, not just something to please your parents and impress your friends. He’s never around like he said he’d be; that’s not a marriage. He’s nothing more than a pen pal.’

‘And a pay packet.’

‘Fuck you. Oh, what? One night doesn’t make us an item. Not you too.’ She folded her arms, turned away and looked at the empty podium.

‘Oh, sure. I know.’ He knew deep down, but that didn’t stop it hurting a little. Other men? It made the memory of the other night in the bar a little less exciting. She’d been so forward about it as if she expected him to know already, as if everyone was at it. Someone elbowed past him as they walked through the row behind. The jab caught him right between the shoulder blades. Sean sat down in the row behind. John couldn’t tell if it was just his girth or a deliberate nudge, but he leant towards the latter. Suzanne looked over her shoulder at Sean, who nodded a greeting at her, ignoring John.

Tom saw fit to introduce her. It wasn’t a show, Sarah thought, I don’t need a compere, but something told her he couldn’t stand playing second fiddle. He pressed her on what she was going to tell them under the pretence that, as he knew them better, he could advise her how best to break the news. She simply told him the same thing she told everyone who’d asked her before the meeting had begun – there were some new developments.

Her main aim was to avoid panic. There would be the grief to deal with, of course, but grief was easier to manage than the thought there was a killer in the village. Possibly a killer in this room and, in a town this insular, more than likely someone they knew. She drank a full glass of water and topped it up again before starting her speech, ready for another barrage of questions. She looked out onto the hall. The killer was right here in this room and they’d be paying more attention than anyone.

‘Ready, officer?’ He was doing it again. She didn’t give him the satisfaction of mentioning it. She nodded and he took to the podium. ‘Hello everyone. PC Gladstone wanted to bring us all together to let us know what she’s been doing to find Father Michael. We know he is in all of our thoughts and it is a very upsetting time for a lot of people who are very close to him. Let’s take a couple of moments in silence to think about our friend and pray for his safe return.’ He stepped down from the podium and sat between Sarah and Anne in the front row. ‘That should quieten them down for you. Up you get.’ She didn’t reply.

She took to the podium, a little more confident than she had been the last time. ‘Good morning. There has been a serious and distressing development in my investigation into Father Michael’s disappearance. Father Michael’s body was found in St Peter’s woods. I am treating it as a suspicious death,’ she said, not wanting to use the m-word. The crowd gasped and wailed. Tom put his arm around Anne and whispered in her ear as she cried into her tissues. There were shocked looks and heads shaking in disbelief. Suzanne held on to John’s arm. ‘I am now conducting an enquiry into the circumstances leading to his death.’

‘Was it someone from Sunbury?’ shouted a voice from the crowd.

‘I’m not ruling out anything at this early stage.’

‘Who could have done this?’ asked a female resident, looking more at the crowd than at Sarah.

‘The enquiries are ongoing and I will find out what happened. Let me handle it. I’d ask that you pass any information you may have, however small, directly to me. Acting on anything yourselves may jeopardise the case. I can’t stress that strongly enough.’ She hoped to avoid people acting on hunches and speculation. A hunch was something coppers developed over years of experience making tough calls, and were definitely not explosive reactions to rumours and hearsay, things that an announcement like this may well trigger if handled incorrectly.

‘But there’s only you here. What are the rest of the police doing?’ asked Sean.

‘I’ve not been able to contact them, but as soon I do, they’ll send support.’ She was certain they would. No matter how busy they were with the flood, a murder would surely take priority.

‘Officer.’ Tom stood up. ‘Where is his body?’ He had a persuasive tone that made it easy to give him the answers he wanted. She caught herself before doing so.

‘It’s safe, somewhere I can’t disclose,’ she replied, as bluntly as she could.

‘Well, we’ll need to give him a proper burial? No?’

‘Yes, that will happen in good time, but the body will need to be examined for forensic evidence first of all.’

‘Another “soon, I promise” deadline?’

‘Unfortunately, yes.’

‘Well, what else do you have to go on? The only person here who isn’t a resident of Sunbury is you. You’ve just accused someone from this town, all decent folk I’m sure you’ll agree, of murder. Not just murder, but the murder of a man of God, a man of God who has been a part of this town for nearly as long as I have. You might want to start piecing together what happened a little faster than soon,’ he said. There was a mixed reaction: some jeering in agreement; others muted, suggesting they felt it was a distasteful attack. Nobody spoke up in her defence.

‘I’m not accusing anyone of anything. It’s a difficult time and there are still lots of unanswered questions about what happened,’ replied Sarah as diplomatically as possible. She didn’t like Tom. Didn’t like the way he spoke to her or the way he acted with an undue sense of superiority.

‘Unless there is some bogeyman hiding out in the woods until the flood lifts, you’ve effectively accused a resident of Sunbury of murder.’

‘That’s not what I said at all, what I said was given the location and the timeframe, I’m not ruling out anything.’ She reaffirmed her point. There was nothing controversial about it. The roads had been out since the storm and everyone aside from Michael had been accounted for. Anne tugged on Tom’s arm to get him to sit down and he glared down at her until she stopped.

‘It’s madness. You have to be mistaken. How was he murdered, Officer?’ asked Tom. It was a gruesome question and the crowd reacted accordingly, with sharp intakes of breath and muttering coming from all over the hall. ‘Are you sure he wasn’t struck by a branch in the winds? I think we should see the body.’ She paused before answering, knowing that if she spoke too soon, her reaction would be coloured by his deeply insulting and condescending suggestion that she would announce a murder without being sure. Not all bodies were so easy to categorise. Murders were sometimes mistaken for accidents and written off, only to be reviewed by senior officers and reopened. On this occasion, the multiple stab wounds and the other injury she couldn’t bear to think about made it an easy call. Her bosses wouldn’t face questions like this, but this wasn’t a standard police press release. This wasn’t a room full of journalists clocking on to do a job. This was a room full of frightened people looking to her for answers.

‘Tom. No one is seeing the body. He was stabbed in the stomach. It wasn’t an accident.’ Anne gathered up her bag and coat and left the hall. Tom watched her go and, although poised to ask another question, followed after her. Sarah finished up by again warning people not to take things into their own hands and to give her any information they had, especially if anyone knew if Father Michael had had any problems with anyone in recent months. No more questions were asked; Tom had said everything that was on their minds.

‘Did you know?’ asked Suzanne as they shuffled out of the hall.

‘She doesn’t tell me everything,’ said John.

‘Are you sure? You’ve pretty much been joined at the hip until this whole thing started, except for one night at least.’

‘Then that’s when she must have found him.’

‘Do you know where the body is?’

‘Don’t be so morbid. What are you going to do? Take selfies with it?’

‘No. I’m just wondering if you can be trusted. You searched his house and didn’t find any books, now you’re telling me you didn’t know he was dead after pretty much being an honorary member of the CID for the past few days.’

‘Trust? You cheat on your husband like it’s nothing and you wonder if you can trust me?’ He caught himself raising his voice, conscious that anyone in the crowd shuffling out with them could hear. Just how many of them have slept with her, he wondered and was he the only one who had believed it was more?

‘I told you, he’s only legally my husband. I need to trust you, because I want you to do something for me.’ Her fingers tickling his lower back caused his legs to weaken, taking him back to the night he’d spent with her. She’d asked him to keep quiet from the minute they’d walked through the door. She’d held his hand and led him upstairs in the dark. The excitement had clouded his thoughts, so it hadn’t occurred to him why a single woman would be concerned about noise in her three-bedroom detached house, but now he knew: somewhere in that house, a child was sleeping. He hadn’t lasted long. The lack of sexual contact, nerves and constantly visualising his cum staying in his balls for as long as possible, led to a three-minute thrusting session that left him exhausted. The booze erased any disappointed look she may have had. They left the church hall and she pulled him to one side of the double doors. People continued to shuffle out, their conversations low in mood, some talking about Father Michael, others lamenting about police incompetence.

‘Get me those books.’ She held his elbow, her thumb pressing into the crook causing a dull pain in the spot she’d previously given pleasure. ‘I know they exist, so don’t give me your bullshit. You know where they are and I want them.’

‘Is this what the other night was about? So I’d get you something?’

‘Those books are important.’

He took that as the only answer he’d ever get, and the only one he’d ever need. ‘Look, even if they’re real, what do you want me to do, steal from a police officer?’

‘Name your price. My husband’s a cash cow; you’ll have whatever you ask. If it’s not money you’re interested in, I’ll give you anything else you want.’ She stepped closer and slid her finger inside his waistband, starting at the side and moving behind his buckle.

‘Why are you so bothered by the scribbles of a priest you hardly spoke to?’

She pulled back. ‘I’ve not always been a little angel. It’s possible people – men – confessed certain things they did with me.’

‘Talk straight, Suzanne.’

‘It’s my son. Billy can’t find out. Can’t find out about me, my past. You probably think I’m some sort of slut, but my son was conceived in a loving relationship. Our wedding day was beautiful and within a week I was pregnant. I was the happiest woman alive – in a loving relationship with a baby on the way – who wouldn’t be?’ She was protecting something important. Her confidence had gone. Back at the bar, she’d come over and taken him home. That night, she could have had anyone she wanted simply by deciding to do so. Now, with a quieter voice, shoulders rolled forward and eyes that couldn’t maintain contact with his, she was an entirely different woman. One that looked like she would crawl into a ball and huddle into a corner if she could.

‘It didn’t stay that way. My husband took a job in the States. He was offered it before we wed and turned it down, promising to stay and raise a family. Within eighteen months of Billy being born, he’d signed the contract. He saw it as a reason to celebrate. Came home with flowers, champagne, as if it was something I wanted too, as if the conversations we’d had deciding against it never happened. That was that, he flew out the following week and now I see him twice a year at best. Yes, there’s the pay packet, and I’m sure some people would love it; money in the bank every month, living at home not having to work and spending time with your son sounds like an ideal life, but not for me. I’m not bothered about having a career, but I want a family.’

Maybe she’d opened up in the hope he’d understand. Her self-assured cockiness had gone. The confident exterior peeled away leaving a vulnerable woman on show – a vulnerable woman who wanted her family back, who wanted to be loved. He struggled with emotional conversations. He’d never expressed to Jenny how he felt when they split up, or when they were together for that matter. Suzanne’s story was a tragic one. It was hard to sympathise with someone who led a financially comfortable life. Society holds money up and asks us all to stretch for it, forsaking all else. Some go through life in a constant state of striving, wanting more and more, thinking that seeing a few more zeros on the cashpoint screen would solve all their woes. Listening to the wealthy complain of loneliness, isolation and the desire for a simpler life garnered little sympathy. Suzanne’s husband had chosen the pursuit of money over her and their son. He may have had the best intentions, to provide for them, offer a secure future, set up savings accounts and university funds … or maybe starting a family was scarier than he thought and he just wanted to escape. John would never know, but whatever his reasons, he’d left behind a broken-hearted woman and a child who may never really understand why his father wasn’t around. He thought about Josh, wondering what he’d think of his father as he grew up, if he’d think of his father at all.