Murder at Maddleskirk Abbey (11 page)

‘What time did you arrive?’

‘Look, I keep asking whether I have to answer these
questions
. I haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘Then there’s no reason to avoid my questions, is there?’

‘Here we go again, a police interrogation when I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. This is like Kafka’s trial! I repeat – why should I answer your questions? You don’t think
I’ve
killed someone, do you?’

‘I don’t think anything. I’m trying to find out. I’ll tell you once more: if you’ve done nothing wrong, you’ve nothing to fear. When I’m satisfied you may go.’

‘I’m not answering because you have not explained clearly. Do you suspect me? Do you think I’m guilty of murder?’

‘Listen carefully, RV. A man’s body was found in the crypt this morning and it’s a suspicious death. We are trying to
establish
what happened.’

‘You
do
think I’m responsible, don’t you? How did I manage to walk into this one?’

‘Just answer my questions. Did you visit the crypt on either Saturday or Sunday?’

‘No, I keep away at weekends, it’s too busy with visitors.’

‘What time did you arrive at the crypt today?’

‘Early, half-six perhaps, maybe a few minutes earlier. I wanted to get some work done before people started coming in. They notice me and then stand over me and ask daft
questions
as I’m trying to work. I can’t cope with it. I don’t like being crowded….’

‘I know that from the past, RV. You’ve bolted from me a few times. How did you get into the crypt? Have you a key?’

‘No. The monks open up early, five o’clock I’ve heard. I’m never there that early to see. But the place was open when I got there.’

‘What time did you leave?’

‘Dunno, seven mebbe. Then I went to my studio but came back to look for a mallet I’ve mislaid. I got back here about
half-past
seven then stayed awhile to look for it but couldn’t find it. So I thought I’d finish off some other minor stuff while I was here.’

‘Which door did you use to enter the crypt? Each time?’

‘The south door. Both times. Why?’

‘That door is the closest to your work area, I believe? You have your roughs nearby, along with a bench full of tools?’

‘I don’t like the drift of this….’

‘They are your tools, are they? On that work bench?’

‘Of course they’re mine! Nobody else is sculpting in there.’

‘You’ve also got a cupboard where you keep some tools. In the crypt.’

‘Yes, I’m a sculptor, sculptors need tools. I need my tools to be available when I want to use them, just like a car mechanic
or a plumber needs tools, or even a surgeon. I know where they are and can put my hand on the one I want even in the dark.’

‘You’re very trusting, leaving them lying around like that.’

‘They’re no good to anyone else. I’ve never lost one – until now. My mallet’s gone missing, I use it for carving with stone chisels.’

‘And is a stone-mason’s mallet part of your normal tool set?’

‘It is. It wasn’t on my bench in the crypt this morning where I’m sure I left it, so I searched the whole area around the chapel without finding it. Then I went back to my studio to search there in case I’d forgotten where I’d put it – but it wasn’t there either. So I came back because I thought it must still be here in the crypt.’

‘You keep a set of tools in both places? Here, and in your studio?’

‘Yes, I can’t be bothered moving all my tools several times a day so I have a complete set in both places where I work. It makes life easier.’

‘But only one stone-mason’s mallet?’

‘I don’t do much carving in stone, it’s mainly oak now. I don’t need two mallets. My roughs are in clay, and I have wood carving tools here.’

‘So why did you need your mallet this morning?’

‘If you look in the chapel you’d see the estate workers have created a space in the depths of the wall to accommodate my work. When I did some test fittings last week I found the area was a fraction too small for one of the triptych pieces. It was necessary for a tiny bit of stone to be trimmed off around the edge, the left-hand side, so I brought my mallet and a stone chisel down from my studio and did the work.’

‘When was that?’

‘Last Friday I guess. I got it right, a nice tight fitting.’

‘So you came early this morning to look for your stonemason’s mallet after using it on Friday?’

‘That’s what I said.’

‘But you didn’t come looking for the mallet over the weekend?’

‘No, I’ve just told you that!’

‘So did you search for your mallet as soon as you arrived today?’

‘Yes, I looked on my bench and around the chapel. It wasn’t a very detailed search, more of a scan.’

‘So where exactly did you search?’

‘Just the area around where I work, I don’t go anywhere else, so my mallet couldn’t have got much further than my working area. But it wasn’t there and I found that very odd.’

‘Then you returned to your studio, searched there without result and returned to make another search?’

‘Right.’

‘So tell me again, RV, what time did you leave here this morning?’

‘After my first visit?’

‘Yes.’

‘Like I said, about seven. I didn’t find the mallet so I went back to my studio to check there, then I came back here and searched again … still no luck. I returned to my studio, had something for breakfast – cereals – and did another search without finding it so I came back here just now to try again. Now I can’t get into the place. I’m locked out.’

‘When was the previous time you visited the crypt? Apart from this morning?’

‘Friday. There are services in the crypt from time to time, mainly at weekends, so I try to keep away when they’re on, but Friday was reasonably quiet.’

‘How long were you in the crypt on Friday?’

‘Not long. Mebbe from half past nine in the morning to midday, something like that.’

‘Did anyone see you there?’

‘People come and go all the time, I get students sometimes, art students wanting advice. I had a young lad in on Friday, he’s been a few times to see my Virgin Mary; he says he loves
her face. Nice lad, interested in what I do. A college boy. Teenager, tall with dark hair. Wears specs. I don’t object to kids like that. It’s a genuine interest so I don’t mind explaining things to kids like that.’

‘Do you know his name?’

‘No, I’ve no idea.’

‘And was that the last time you saw your mallet here in the crypt?’

‘Yes, it would be. I didn’t miss it until this morning. I don’t think that lad would have taken it, would he?’

‘Who knows? Is the head made from wood?’

‘No, it’s iron, a solid chunk of iron, shaped into a
mallet-head
. It’s small enough to be used with one hand but very heavy, ideal for my purpose whether I’m carving wood or stone. Working with a stone chisel needs a delicate touch if it’s to be accurate.’

‘And which way did you exit the crypt on Friday?’

‘Up the stairs into reception. I go out that way so I can let them know when I’ve left.’

‘And you did not take your mallet with you on Friday?’

‘No, I intended to, but forgot.’

‘So it was lying in the crypt all weekend, not locked up and an easy target for a thief. You of all people should know you can’t trust all the people all the time.’

‘I’ve always left my tools on the work bench and nothing’s ever been taken. After all, this is a monastery, you don’t expect thieves here.’

‘That’s very trusting of you, RV.’

‘I’m a trusting sort of chap, Nabber. I’m trusting you now, I know you will not be dishonest with me. Not here in a monastery, surely?’

‘I have no intention or wish to be dishonest, RV, so now tell me this. When you hunted for your mallet in the crypt this morning, how far did you extend your search?’

‘I concentrated on the area where I work, my bench and so on. The light’s not very good so sometimes I bring my own. I
had a torch this morning, to get into the dark corners as well as under my bench.’

‘Did you search the entire place? It’s quite large, with all those nooks and chapels….’

‘As I told you, I didn’t search it all, simply because I would never have carried it there or put it down without thinking. I thought it might have fallen off my work bench or I might have put it somewhere near and forgotten where it was. But I didn’t find it. A sculptor’s tools are his friends, very important and personal. Barbara Hepworth said that.’

‘I’ll ask you again, Harvey. Did you search the entire crypt?’

‘Only in a very cursory way. I put the lights on and swept all the likely places with my torch, nothing more than that. I didn’t find it. So I went back to my studio – and it’s not there either. I’ve told you all this….’

‘And you don’t think that boy took it?’

‘No, I’m sure he didn’t.’

‘Did you look behind a big black curtain that hangs towards the north of the crypt?’

‘No, I thought about it, but while I was here, some people came in and went over to the curtain – they were hard to see, the light’s poor and I thought they were monks. I looked behind it some months ago when I first started work here but there was nothing but a stone coffin on a plinth. All carved from one piece of granite … amazing! How long did it take to do that? I wondered if I could have carved such a thing. One of the monks once told me some time ago that there was a tale that the coffin should never be moved so it was curtained off, but there was no prohibition about entering the place where it is kept. Let’s face it, no one could move it without some kind of powerful lifting gear or a tractor. It’ll never be nicked by a tourist!’

‘Did you look behind the curtain this morning?’

‘No, maybe I should have done, but I hadn’t been in there recently, so I knew I hadn’t left my mallet in there. Unless
somebody took it because they fancied chipping a chunk of stone off the coffin … that never occurred to me then….’

‘You said some people came in and went over to the curtain? What time was that?’

‘Eight o’clock or thereabouts. Just after mebbe. One was a monk, the prior in fact, and the other was that gentleman over there,’ and he pointed to me.

‘Right, that’s true,’ smiled Napier. ‘Now, did you see anyone else in the crypt this morning?’

‘No, not a soul. Look, what’s all this about? Quizzing me like this….’

‘RV, listen, I can tell you why they looked behind that curtain. There was a man’s body in the coffin and he died from head injuries inflicted by a blunt instrument which the
pathologist
reckons might be a mallet of some kind.’

RV said nothing. He stared at Napier in deadly silence, his brow furrowing as his dark eyes never left Napier’s face.

‘You’re not suggesting I’m responsible, are you?’

‘You’ll have to tell me where you were between Friday
afternoon
when you left and six thirty or so this morning when you first returned to the crypt. A pupil of the college is missing too – he was last seen on Sunday morning. His description fits that of the lad you have just described. You can see why I’m
interested
….’

‘God Almighty, Napper, you don’t think I’m responsible, do you? A murder and a missing lad?’

‘Then convince me of your innocence. That story about the mallet might be a figment of your vivid imagination. You might have thrown it away—’

But, acting like lightning, the big man rose to his feet, picked up his chair and hurled it at Napier before bolting out of the door and racing down an adjoining alley into some dense trees. It was all over in a matter of seconds. Several police officers gave chase with some tripping over the chair, then reached the doorway at the same time and got jammed, albeit only
momentarily
. But those precious few moments of disorder as they 
extricated themselves were enough for RV to run free. Within moments he had vanished into the dark shadows of the dense woodland that cloaked the hillside immediately behind the abbey.

D
ETECTIVES WORKING AT
their desks and computers rushed to the doorway but succeeded only in adding to the
confusion
. In those few moments while the officers extricated themselves, Harvey had disappeared into the shadows of the woodlands whose branches, in full leaf, brushed the rear of the building. His black clothing enabled him to speedily vanish deep into the shadows. And there was no sound of him crashing through the wood; he knew the value of stealth.

‘Get him!’ bellowed Napier who was outside. ‘I want that man … he must be caught. Don’t just stand there like a lot of Charlies!’

‘Sir, he’ll be lost among those trees,’ pointed out DI Lindsey as three detectives gave chase. ‘If we follow him he’ll hear us and keep his distance. He could be anywhere in that woodland. We’d be wasting our time.’

‘We can’t just let him go!’ snapped Napier. ‘Get more coppers on his tail!’

‘The dog section will be here soon,’ I reminded them. ‘It should be possible for them to follow his trail wherever he’s gone.’

‘We need the dogs to find that missing lad.’ Napier’s voice had dropped into almost a whisper. ‘That man’s escape should never have happened … heads will roll! So, where is
everybody
else? You can never find a copper when you want one!’

‘They’re out working on their actions.’ Lindsey was calm and I think it was his peaceful attitude that allowed Napier to
calm down a little as he began to take a measured response to his dilemma. Lindsey continued, ‘He hasn’t escaped, has he, sir? He wasn’t a prisoner; he wasn’t violent—’

‘He’s done a runner, Brian, which says everything! I know him of old,’ he snapped back. ‘We’ve got to find him.’

‘Did you intend arresting him, Mr Napier?’ I asked.

‘He was pushing me strongly towards it,’ he admitted. ‘I was very seriously considering arresting him on suspicion of murder.’

‘We’ll find him,’ DI Lindsey said quietly. ‘It’s obvious his studio is fairly close, so we’ll find him. I don’t think it’s sensible to swamp those woods with police officers and dogs; their presence will simply drive him deeper under cover. He’ll hear us crashing through the undergrowth and he knows where to hide. Let’s leave it to those on his tail, and the dogs. His track will be fresh enough.’

‘And he does have a white van,’ I pointed out. ‘He could have reached it by now and be well away from here. Its number is in the monkstables’ records.’

‘All right, Nick. Circulate that number but get a search organized – I still need to talk to him. As Brian says, he wasn’t under arrest so we can’t treat him as an escaped prisoner.’

‘But we can say we believe he can help us with our inquiries!’

Napier, now much calmer, turned to his detective inspector. ‘Recall the teams from their actions, get them to assemble here in, say, half-an-hour, provided they’re not in the middle of something that they can’t leave. I’ll brief them about him then they should all take an early lunch. But it’s vital we talk to Harvey. You say the monkstables have details of his van, Nick?’

‘Yes. Brother George had the registration number and we traced it to a garage in Leeds, and then linked RV to a Salvation Army hostel in Hull. They say they don’t know him.’

‘Well done that Brother George! Give the number to Brian Lindsey, tell him what you know and we’ll put out an alert for
RV and his van. God, that was an awful moment. No copper likes a prisoner to escape.’

‘He wasn’t a prisoner, sir,’ Lindsey reminded him gently.

‘He would have been if I’d quizzed him just a little longer. He has to be a prime suspect, Brian – we’ve placed him at the scene and he’s admitted he’s disposed of what could be the murder weapon. Do we honestly believe he’s lost it? Thrown it away more than likely. What more evidence do we need? You saw him blow his top; that shouts of an inability to control himself. Now we must ask what he knows about the
disappearance
of Simon Houghton. Are we talking of a kidnapping? Followed by a ransom demand? We’ve got to consider all that. The man’s a villain. Remember, I know what he’s capable of doing.’

‘We also need a motive,’ I suggested. ‘We haven’t
established
a link between Simon and the murder victim, have we, apart from the timing of these events? The question of timing is important – do Harvey’s movements in and out of the crypt coincide with what we know about the victim’s presence there and his time of death, not forgetting the disappearance of Simon Houghton? We know that he also visited the crypt on occasions. He liked the Virgin Mary’s face!’

‘The timings are all pretty damned close, Nick, we need to analyse them in detail.’

‘Is there any evidence that Harvey has been behind the curtain?’

‘No evidence, but he must have searched behind it if he was genuinely looking for his mallet! Could he be lying about that? If so, why? If he did go back there he must have seen the body. Can we believe he didn’t look behind the curtain or into the coffin? I think he’s lying. And another thing, Nick, we need to check his handwriting against that note.’

‘So you’ve lots of new actions awaiting your detectives, Mr Napier. I’ll get out of your way and update Prior Tuck and the monkstables.’

‘Any help will be appreciated!’

‘If they’re still seeking Simon in the grounds and buildings, they might have seen Harvey galloping away or noticed his van on the move. And I want to revisit the old barns to see if we can pick up Simon’s trail from there.’

Napier sighed heavily. ‘You’ll need the dogs for that, a missing pupil is more important that a witness absconding during questioning. We’ll find Harvey, so I’ll direct the dog unit to you. Where will you be?’

‘I’m going to update Father Will and then I want to find Prior Tuck so I’ll return to the Postgate Conference Room. Prior Tuck might be there and the constables’ searches should be complete by now. But we must extend our enquiries – quite simply, we need to know where Simon went after leaving that bike in the barns.’

‘OK, Nick, keep asking! And keep in touch,’ and Napier turned abruptly on his heel and returned to the murder room as his subdued staff followed him inside.

After briefing Father Will, he told me that Prior Tuck had recalled his monkstables and volunteer searchers and would now be addressing them in the incident room. I hurried along and entered just as Prior Tuck hammered on his desk and called for silence.

‘Ah, Nick, just in time. Find a seat and you’ll see what we are doing.’ He turned to address his audience, who I realized, included staff from both the College and the Abbey, including the abbot and headmaster. ‘Thank you all for your efforts in the search for Simon. Now it’s time to pool our knowledge. I’m going to start with our monk-constables. Father Bowman?’

One by one the eight officers gave their detailed reports as a co-opted secretary recorded their reports on a Dictaphone and also highlighted their areas of search on the whiteboard. It was invaluable as a visible display and, as the meeting progressed, it showed that every part of the abbey had been searched twice by different teams, but with no positive result. Local bus companies and taxi operators had been contacted but none had
reported seeing anyone matching Simon’s description at the material times. Staff members and even the contractors had been interviewed with no sightings. Prior Tuck now addressed me.

‘Nick, have you any comments at this stage?’

I referred briefly to Harvey’s flight, adding the CID were continuing inquiries into the murder and were interested in any information we discovered.

‘There are lines of enquiry to pursue,’ I suggested. ‘One involves people who should have been on the premises today or yesterday and who have not turned up. We must include the contractors and employees working on the construction sites, staff members, whether permanent or part-time, domestic staff and freelancers who would normally have been here today or Sunday. They need to be cleared of any involvement. That’s something we could do to help the murder inquiry whilst continuing our search for Simon.’

‘That’s not going to be easy,’ offered the headmaster who was sitting quietly in the back row. ‘We have hundreds of people on campus every day and that includes visitors whom we don’t know.’

‘We must do our best and not be afraid to ask questions, and ask again if we are not satisfied.’ I was adamant. ‘If anyone is known to be absent, we want to know why and where they were. Anyone without a feasible explanation must be
questioned
in depth, more than once if necessary. And if we are still not satisfied with their answers or feel they are evasive, then we must inform Detective Inspector Lindsey in the murder room. His officers will then question them. And don’t be afraid to ask Brother George if you need the registration numbers of any vehicles seen on the sites.’

‘Some construction workers wouldn’t be operating yesterday, being Sunday,’ pointed out Prior Tuck.

‘Thanks, Father Prior. We’ll bear that in mind. So what about domestic workers? Teaching staff? Clerical workers, estate workers?’ I asked. ‘And I’ve heard that Simon might
have been secretly seeing a girl who works in the infirmary – a schoolgirl on work experience. Technically, I suppose she’s not a member of staff and so he’s not breaking any school rules. I don’t have her name yet but we need to find her and ask what she knows.’

‘Some domestic staff are required to work on Sundays – pupils are here around the clock. The personnel department is checking all records and we will locate and interview that girl. So far as casual workers on the site are concerned, timesheets will tell us a lot. After this meeting, I will allocate actions to each of the constables. It shouldn’t be too difficult or
time-consuming
to carry out staff checks but I fear the tracing of casual visitors won’t be easy – unless Brother George produces more car registrations from his vast collection!’

‘So what do you suggest next, Nick?’ asked the headmaster.

‘Before I make my suggestions, there is one matter than needs attention,’ I pointed out. ‘Has Simon’s mother been informed?’

‘Not yet.’ He shook his head. ‘It’s early days. We’re hoping to find him. We don’t want to cause undue concern if he is unharmed and likely to turn up.’

‘It’s a difficult decision but it might be no more than a pupil dodging lessons,’ I admitted. ‘I have no idea whether she is the sort of woman to make a fuss, or to allow us to take things more quietly.’

‘I’m sure she knows not to risk any adverse publicity about Simon,’ the abbot now entered the discussion without revealing the reason for his statement. ‘However, she can be very determined – and she has a great deal of responsibility for ensuring the safety of her child.’

‘So have we,’ muttered Father Bede, the headmaster.

Because this search was steadily becoming inextricably linked to the murder investigation, I decided to help the chief superintendent’s officers by adding, ‘There is something the monkstables can do to help both inquiries to move forward. I suggest the officers extend their searches to nearby villages.
Teams comprising of two each should visit Maddleskirk village, Elsinby and Aidensfield and, if necessary, place posters on notice-boards. They should make enquiries in shops, post offices, pubs and places of public resort. We need to get the villagers talking about Simon and persuade them to contact us if they’ve noticed anything unusual. At the same time, we could ask whether anyone has noticed a boy and girl together. And we could provide a description of the murder victim in case anyone has seen him. We should provide the phone number of the cop shop too. Do you agree, Prior Tuck?’

‘A good idea, Nick,’ he replied. ‘I’ll make the arrangements and will organize transport. They’re all small communities so shall we say a couple of hours in each village? Then back here to give a full report?’

‘Thanks, Father Prior, that’s great. Now,’ I went on, ‘there is another slight problem. If Simon returns of his own accord when we have all dispersed, how will we know? He could creep back unnoticed and lock himself in his room.’

John Saxby, Simon’s housemaster spoke up. ‘I’m making a point of visiting his room every half-hour. If he returns, that’s where he’ll go. I’ve left a very large handwritten note on his bed ordering him to report to me the moment he returns. Clearly if that happens, I’ll inform you immediately.’

‘Do you know Simon very well?’ I put to him. ‘Is there anything we’ve missed?’

‘He spends a lot of time on his own,’ John Saxby reminded me. ‘It is not unusual for him to go out alone on a Sunday. He enjoys spotting birds and exploring the countryside. Some think he’s a twitcher, but he’s not
that
keen. He knows a lot about wild birds without being manic about them. He enjoys the out-doors walking the moors or exploring rivers. He’s not a swot or book-worm, he likes the outdoor life. He’s a really nice, decent lad, Nick, and to disappear like this, without a word to me or anyone else, is out of character. It worries me deeply.’

‘The role of that young girl in the infirmary is becoming very
important,’ observed Prior Tuck. ‘One of us must speak to her. I think I know the girl you mean. I’ll arrange an interview.’

‘Thanks,’ I said, turning to John Saxby. ‘So, John, can I ask what your worst thoughts were when you learned of his
disappearance
?’

‘Kidnap. It happens overseas, children and indeed adults are kidnapped for ransom, and it can happen here. Most of our students are from rich or important families. I’ve been expecting a ransom demand.’

‘There’s still time.’

‘I know, which is why we mustn’t give up our search. He can’t have vanished into thin air so let’s hope our abbey
constables
can trace him. But there is something, Nick, which may or may not be important. When I searched his room, I noticed a couple of batteries in his wastepaper bin. Torch batteries.’

‘Used ones, you think?’

‘I think so.’

‘Which means he intended using a torch during his outing yesterday?’

‘Just what I thought. I couldn’t find a torch in his room so thought he expected to be out late or in an area where he might need light during daytime hours.’