Steps to Heaven: A Sgt Major Crane Novel (11 page)

Chapter
Seventeen

At the meeting the following morning, Crane still couldn’t decide whether Keane was an ineffective investigator, just biding his time until he’d completed his 22 years, or if it was because he was badly affected by the case. Either way, Crane had to take the lead, as he did yesterday. The three men agreed to Crane’s proposal that each take their own case and report under various headings to compare each with the other.

“Okay,
let’s start with the most obvious, religious activity,” Crane began after they settled in Keane’s office. “We know that Solomon was drawn to the Church of Jesus is King in Aldershot, but we don’t have any evidence to put him inside the church yet, only that he was in possession of the pamphlets.”

“The
same here,” agreed Brown. “Sergeant was in possession of religious tracts, but again we found no evidence of him actually attending the church. In both cases the wives were also killed, so we don’t have any evidence from them to support this theory.”

“Keane?”
enquired Crane.

“Oh,
what? No, nothing here.” Keane absently leafed through a few pieces of paper. Keane looked worse today than yesterday, with the air of a man who needed a cold shower to wake him up. His complexion was grey and his eyelids drooped, almost completely covering his eyes.

“Sorry?”

Crane and Brown looked at each other in astonishment, Brown going rather pink around the ears, as though remembering his earlier blunder when up against Crane in Colchester.

“No
mention in the file of Fisher going to a local church,” Keane clarified, closing the file to make his point.

Crane
looked at the older man and made the decision that he was a pathetic excuse for a SIB investigator after all and not a man badly affected by the horrors of the case. Therefore his initial reaction was anger.

“Bloody
hell man, didn’t you examine the scene yourself?” Crane exploded as Brown hid behind his paperwork, raising the file in front of his face as if to shield himself from Crane’s diatribe.

“No,
I sent a couple of the lads,” was the weary response, muffled by the hand Keane placed over his face.

“Well
then, they were clearly following in the ineffectual footsteps of their Sergeant Major then weren’t they? Because they missed this!” Crane threw the colouring book onto Keane’s desk.

Lowering
his hand, Keane’s face crumpled and he looked at the front cover of the booklet, which had the words, ‘Christ our Savour’ emblazoned across the top.

Unable
to sit still, Crane stood and paced up and down the width of the office, waiting for a reply from Keane, which never came.

“Have
you interviewed Mrs Fisher?” Crane pointed a finger at Keane, although he knew full well what the answer would be.

“Not
personally, no,” Keane had to admit, seeming to shrink, as he hunched down into his chair.

“So
you didn’t ask her what her son and husband got up to on Sunday mornings?”

“Obviously
not.” Keane put his head in his hands, unable to face either Crane or Brown.

Taking
a deep breath, Crane continued with his attack. “What about forensics?”

“What
about them?” Keane mumbled.

“Have
you done forensic tests on his clothes?”

“No,
I didn’t think it was necessary.” Keane’s failure was now complete.

“Jesus
Christ man, that’s standard procedure. I ought to bust you from here to kingdom come,” said Crane, moving to lean his hands against the chair he had just vacated.

“Crane,”
warned Brown.

“Bloody
pathetic.”

“This
isn’t getting us anywhere, Crane,” said Brown as he stood. “Let’s take a break and then start again, eh?”

Crane
looked at both men and stalked out of the room, intent on finding a quiet corner outside where he could have a smoke.

The
nicotine, fresh air and movement calm him. The day had turned bright and sunny and was one of those typical English Indian summer days, when you want to stay outside for as long as possible, as it could be your only chance until next year. Crane turned his face to the sun and closed his eyes. When a cloud obscured the warming beams, he went back inside. He found Keane gone, replaced by the young Sergeant who escorted them to the crime scene yesterday.

“It
seems Sergeant Major Keane is indisposed at the moment,” murmured Brown, “so Sergeant Harris here has stepped in.”

“Very
well, let’s get on with it then.” Crane sat down and picked up his file.

For
the next few hours the three men went backwards and forwards through each case, with only a short break for lunch.

***

Before leaving the garrison the next morning, Brown and Crane took one last opportunity to see Mrs Fisher, with Sergeant Harris deciding to go along and observe.

They
found Mrs Fisher once more ensconced on the settee in her friend’s house, watching morning television. She refused to turn it off, but after some persuasion turned the volume down. As soon as the three men sat, she started on again about how badly the army was treating her. After letting off some steam, Mrs Fisher began to calm down.

As
she did, Brown turned the conversation to the relationship between husband and wife. “How well did you get on?” he wanted to know.

“Okay
I suppose,” was the dull response.

“Is
that a good okay, or a bad okay?”

“Just
okay,” Mrs Fisher replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

“Was
it difficult when Peter was away?”

“Not
really no. To be honest it was more difficult when he was here. Ryan and I tended to have our routine, you know? And Peter kind of disrupted it when he came back. So it took a bit of adjustment that’s all.” Mrs Fisher began a minute examination of her badly painted nails.

“Was
it harder this time, after he came back from Afghanistan?”

“I
guess, but no not really. He was a bit quieter this time maybe, wandering around, lost somehow. Got under my feet he did. Wouldn’t talk much, just sat staring at the TV but not really watching it, you know?” she lifted her head to look at Brown.

“Mmm…did
it get any better?”

“Well
I don’t know about better. He got religion. Was always off at that Church the other side of town, couldn’t be doing with it myself. Not that I was invited,” she concluded, resentment making her stiffen and fold her arms.

“Did
he ever say what happened there?” Crane asked, unable to keep quiet any longer.

Turning
to look at him she said, “I asked, but he wouldn’t talk about it, said it was none of my business.”

“How
often did he go?”

“Let
me see,” Mrs Fisher looked up at the ceiling, “once a week on a Wednesday night and then all of Sunday morning. He took Ryan with him then. Insisted he had to go every Sunday, but Ryan was keen enough.” Talking about her son, Mrs Fisher’s eyes filled with tears and she scrabbled through the mess on the settee for tissues.

Despite
further probing Mrs Fisher knew nothing more, other than the Church was called Christ our Savour! and that services were held in a disused school. As the three men left the house Crane asked Sergeant Harris to see what he could find out about the Church and specifically what happens there on a Wednesday night and to keep him informed.

***

Crane drove home later that morning, mentally comparing and contrasting each case. The cases from Aldershot and Colchester were both deemed premeditated. Forensic evidence in both cases showed the knives were recently sharpened, with residue steel and stone on the men’s clothing. Also both houses had been secured. All windows and doors closed and locked.

The
other link was definitely religious and at least this time they had a more substantial lead, thanks to the information provided by Mrs Fisher. He resolved to try to find out more about his own local church link, with the help of the Padre.

As
far as other information went, Brown said that John Sergeant took out money each week for the household expenses, the same amount each time. When John was not there, if he had gone on exercise for a couple of weeks say, Mrs Sergeant continued with this habit and they found extra money stashed in the house, presumably because it was left over each week, as John had not been there to spend it.

The
only similarity with his case was that Solomon drew out £50 each Sunday, from the same cash machine and at around the same time. Their leap of thinking leading to the deduction that this money could be a donation for the churches, but again there was no hard evidence to support it.

All
three soldiers served in Afghanistan and each had been back in the UK about three or four months. Interviews with fellow combatants and officers told how each soldier had been withdrawn on their return to England, as though badly affected by the tour of duty, but everyone was loath to talk about it. In fact everyone seemed reticent to talk about the possible effects on the men of a tour of duty in Afghanistan.

As
Crane sat nursing an overpriced coffee during one of his breaks, he felt it was as if it couldn’t be acknowledged that a soldier couldn’t cope with war. After all, wasn’t going to war the whole purpose of an army? An army couldn’t function if the soldiers couldn’t cope with the after affects. So the consensus seemed to be, best sweep it all under the carpet and pretend that everything was alright and nothing was wrong.

Crane
knew how hard it was to cope with harsh conditions when serving overseas and missing family and friends back home. But somehow you have to cope. Put an invisible shield around your emotions and see it as a job. Maybe Crooks, Sergeant and Fisher hadn’t been able to do that. They weren’t the first and most certainly wouldn’t be the last, Crane decided. The question was, had they turned to a local church to find the answers? Crane was determined to find out, clearing his table and picking up his keys, ready for the remainder of the journey home.

Chapter
Eighteen

It was a beautiful October morning, the skies light blue and the sun’s rays bright if not warm, as Crane drove to work the next day. Light flooded across the playing fields and turned the dull grey granite of Provost Barrack walls, which were usually dark and foreboding, into an inviting building that sparkled in the sun’s rays. Even the kids walking to the local secondary school at the top of North Camp larked about instead of slouching. Everywhere Crane looked, people seemed to have a bit more hope about them. A sense of yes, I could make today count. Unusual for Aldershot, he thought.

Crane
breezed into the office and called a meeting in 30 minutes for an update on his weekend in Catterick. They met in Crane’s office, after he had returned from briefing with Captain Edwards. Kim looked smart, but as uptight as ever and Billy seemed relaxed after his weekend off, obviously having spent as much time in the sun as possible, from the fresh crop of freckles on his face.

Crane
told them of his findings in Catterick and advised that as a result of these, Captain Edwards had authorised more investigation on the case. Crane wanted to focus their efforts on the Church of Jesus is King.

“What
are we going to do then, boss?” Billy wanted to know.

“Well,
it’s a bit tricky that one. We can’t do much, so I want to enlist the help of the Padre again.”

“Anything
I can do, sir?” asked Kim.

“I
want you to go out and about on the garrison, visit the NAFFI, talk to the wives, pop into welfare and ask if anyone knows anything about this Church. See if you can find anyone who attends it. Also I want to know if Solomon ever went to see anyone about his mental health. In Afghanistan, we deploy highly skilled and experienced mental health nurses, to provide the necessary in-theatre care and treatment for all our personnel. See if you could find out if he saw anyone whilst in Afghanistan. Also talk to the local Department of Community Mental Health here.”

“Yes,
sir,” Kim smiled and looked pleased with her assignment. “I’m sure I can come up with something.” She began scribbling notes on the pad she kept ready on her lap.

“Yeah
right, but you’ll have to be a bit more friendly if you want the women to confide in you,” sneered Billy.

“I
can be perfectly friendly when I want to Staff Sergeant Williams,” countered Kim, pausing in her note taking to fix Billy with an icy stare.

“See,
that’s just what I mean, colder than an arctic wind.”

“Oh
for God’s sake, shut up you two,” Crane snapped. “Now, Billy, I want you to get as much background information as you can on the church. How long it’s been established, what affiliations it may have, that sort of thing.”

“Oh
right. Shall I contact the Church Commissioners or whatever organisation looks after evangelic churches, that sort of thing?”

“Contact
whoever you like, just not the actual Church, alright?”

“Understood,
sir.”

“There’s
an article in the local paper.”

Crane
and Billy looked at Kim.

“And
the relevance of that is?” Billy was quick to ask.

Shaking
his head at Billy, Crane said, “Ignore him, Kim. What article?”

“About
the Church, Jesus is King. I just thought Billy might want to look at it if he’s doing background. It was written by that woman.”

“What
woman?” Crane asked.

“The
one that kept pestering us about Solomon. Diane Chambers.”

“Interesting,”
mused Crane. “Kim, get a copy for Billy and also one for me. Right then, off you both go. I’m going over to see Padre Symonds.” Crane got up from behind his desk.

“Do
you want me to phone him, sir. Let him know you’re coming?” asked Kim, as they all left Crane’s office.

“No
thanks Kim. Appointments aren’t really my style,” smiled Crane.

***

Crane was banking on finding the Padre somewhere in the church or in its vicinity and he wasn’t disappointed. As Crane walked into the small office, located at the back of the Church, it seemed that tidiness wasn’t the Padre’s style. This time there was even more paper strewn across the desk, spreading across the small office like large pieces of confetti.

“I
see you’re hard at it then, sir,” said Crane.

“Ah,
Sergeant Major Crane, just the person. Come in and sit down. Oh maybe not, standing would be good.” The Padre was sitting behind his desk and the other two chairs in the room held towers of papers and books, which were threatening to topple over.

“Sir,”
agreed Crane suppressing a smile and remaining standing.

“This
is all really rather exciting, you know,” said the Padre, spreading his hands out to encompass the papers on his desk. “I’ve learned so much about cults and their ways. There are large organised religious movements, sects and those we would more appropriately describe as cults. Cults are where everyone lives on a commune and works for the good of the organisation.”

Crane
frowned at this piece of information. “I’m not sure that’s what we’ve got here, Padre,” he said.

“No,
quite,” agreed the Padre, leaning back in his swivel chair. “But there’s one interesting fact I came across. Did you know that a cult could comprise just a handful of people? It doesn’t need to be a large recognised movement, more of a one man band, as it were.”

“Really,
sir?” asked Crane, not awfully sure where this was going.

“Oh
yes, just one man with a big idea who persuades vulnerable people to his way of thinking. And that’s what I think we might have here,” the Padre banged his hands down on his desk to accentuate his point.

“You
do?” Crane replied, moving backwards to lean against the stone doorway and putting his hands in his trouser pockets. If this was going to take some time, he might as well make himself a bit more comfortable.

“Absolutely.”
The Padre was becoming more agitated in his enthusiasm, jiggling up and down in his chair and Crane believed he would roam around the office if there was enough space. “You see there’s no evidence to suggest that the Church of Jesus is King is behind these killings. Especially as they’re spread around the country. So I was wondering if it was one man travelling around but using the different churches as a front.” By now the Padre was swinging around in his chair like an excited child.

But
Crane simply stared at the Padre, a chill creeping across his shoulders, making him shiver.

“Are
you alright, Sergeant Major?” the Padre asked, falling still.

“Oh,
what? Yes, sir. Sorry. Could you just say that bit again please?”

“What
bit?” asked the confused Padre, rifling through the papers on his desk. “Oh you mean the one man travelling around but using the different churches as a front?”

“Exactly,
you know you could have hit upon something there, Padre. Although there’s no evidence to suggest that yet.”

“I
know,” agreed the Padre. “So I thought I could help with that bit. But the trouble is I don’t know how or what I could do,” he finished.

“Don’t
worry, sir.” Crane smiled. “I’ve got an idea about that.”

Deciding
Crane really needed to sit down, they cleared one of the chairs and, surrounded by books and papers, Crane outlined his idea to the Padre. By the end of the meeting they had a plan. The Padre would instigate an Army Liaison Scheme, aiming to foster relations between all the different churches in Aldershot. This would involve the Padre attending the church services and various groups run by each church and of course he would start with Jesus is King.

Whilst
attending these, the hope is the Padre would come across some information about a visiting preacher, or another Church Elder who only attended occasionally. Also he would have an opportunity to see what regular meetings were held, such as Bible Studies. Crane was mindful of the fact that John Sergeant attended some sort of meeting once a week and wondered if that might have been the case in Aldershot with Corporal Crooks.

The
two men agreed that the Padre would set this in motion as soon as possible and Crane again urged caution.

“I
can’t see any problems with this,” said the Padre. “It’s just normal ecclesiastical practice, fostering good relations with the local community etc etc,” he waved his hand around in a foppish gesture. “Let’s just hope something good comes out of it.”

“My
thoughts exactly,” said Crane, not sounding as happy as the Padre, as he was fervently hoping that nothing bad would come of it.

***

Billy wasn’t happy about it either, Crane could tell, when he got a chance to talk to him about the plan. They were sitting in the open office area, Billy lounging in a spare chair and Crane sitting on the edge of a desk.

“I’m
not so sure about this, with respect, sir.” Billy leaned forward his arms on his knees. “What does the Padre know about investigations?”

“Nothing,
but then he’s not really investigating, just information gathering.”

“Exactly,
and I think we should be investigating,” he pushed a thumb onto his chest to make his point, the tone in his voice bordering on insubordination.

“Do
you indeed?” Crane couldn’t keep the sarcasm from his voice. “You know we’ve got nothing on the Church and absolutely no jurisdiction either.”

“Sorry,
sir,” Billy mumbled, but then rallied. “It’s just that I’ve had a thought about an undercover type operation,” he blurted sounding like a recalcitrant adolescent.

“Okay,
let’s hear it,” Crane said after a pause, deciding not to dampen all the boy’s enthusiasm or willingness to go that extra mile. “In my office.”

Crane
settled back in his chair while he listened to Billy outline his plan to infiltrate the Church of Jesus is King. His theory was that as the three cases have involved a father and young son, Billy would attend the church with his young nephew posing as his son and see where things go from there.

“There
must be some sort of programme or study group focused on fathers. If I can find one and join it, then maybe we’ll get somewhere.” Billy leaned forward in his chair to emphasise his keenness. “What do you think, sir?” the eagerness shone from Billy’s eyes like a beacon.

Pausing
for a moment, Crane came out from behind his desk and paced around his office, settling on the corner of the desk, close to Billy.

“That
is probably one of the worst and yet best ideas you’ve ever had, Billy.”

“Thank
you, sir, I think. Um, which was which? I mean, which was good and which was bad?”

“The
infiltration part was good but using your nephew was bad. So because of that, I can’t authorise it.”

“But,
sir!” Billy started to rise in protest.

“Sergeant!”
warned Crane.

Billy
subsided into his chair, once more mumbling, “Sorry, sir.”

“Look,
let’s be realistic. You can’t do anything that would put a civilian at risk, particularly not your nephew. You’d never forgive yourself if anything happened to him and come to that neither would your sister.”

“But
we really need to do something sir!”

“I
know, lad, and we will, just not that. Now get back to your desk and let me have your update on the background of the Church as soon as you can.”

“Yes,
sir,” was the dejected response.

Crane
watched Billy move slowly through the office back to his desk. And for the second time that day, hoped things don’t turn out as he feared they could.