Unsurprisingly the monks at the monastery were all registered at the same local medical practice. Alice managed to track down the practice manager, and despite the fact that it was Easter Monday, persuade her to let her have Dominic’s records as well as his National Health Service number. In truth it hadn’t taken much persuasion, so shocked was she at his murder. His real name was Alexander Mount. Mackenzie immediately set about trying to track down his life before he entered the monastery. She began by making a note of all the other GPs he’d been registered with in his life. He was forty-five years old, had been in good health all of his life except for asthma and hay fever. He’d lived in London prior to joining St Eustace’s fifteen years before and taking the name Brother Dominic Augustus. The MCU now had his date of birth, National Health number and the various general practices he’d been registered with since birth. He’d been born in Macclesfield and lived there as a child and teenager. He’d been registered at a Cambridge practice from the age of eighteen which would seem to imply he might have gone to university there. He’d then registered with a surgery in Stoke Newington in north London.
Ottey and Mackenzie got hold of Alexander’s birth certificate then checked census entries in the Macclesfield area. His father had been a lecturer in a local teacher-training college. His mother was a part-time secretary. He had a younger brother Stephen, but no other siblings. Both parents were deceased, having died at what would now be considered a relatively young age, sixty-eight and seventy-one. It didn’t take too long for Mackenzie to find his last known address in Stoke Newington. He’d been there right up until the moment he joined the monastery in 2008. The property had been divided into two flats. Dominic lived on the ground floor. Going back to the 2001 electoral register and comparing it to the 2021 register she discovered that different people lived in the two flats now but the neighbours were still there. She gave them a ring.
‘The flat upstairs belonged to a young couple, Serena and Mark. They’re married now but have moved. Alex lived below them,’ said the next-door neighbour, Derek.
‘Do you know what happened to him after he sold the flat?’ asked Mackenzie.
‘I don’t. The first I knew of it was when the removals van arrived. I wasn’t as close to him as S & M – that was my nickname for them.’
‘So you didn’t stay in touch with him?’
‘I didn’t. S & M might have. They lived next door for another five or six years before they moved, got married and had children.’
‘Do you have a forwarding address?’
‘Are you kidding? Of course I do. I’m old enough to be their father and yet they still call me a friend. Lovely people.’
*
With his usual impatient need for progress in any kind on a case, Carson wanted them to set up a Zoom meeting with Serena and Mark, but Ottey and Cross wanted to go to London.
‘What is it with you two and your road trips all over the place? Am I missing something here? Is there something going on I should know about?’ Carson joked.
Whether it was the obvious inappropriateness of his comment or the sheer absurdity of the idea, the ensuing silence made Ottey’s ears pop like she was descending too quickly in a plane. Carson’s evident foot-in-mouth foolishness had occurred to him just as quickly as everyone else. As he couldn’t think of a suitable rejoinder to save what was left of his face quickly enough, he simply turned on his heel and left the room.
Cross wanted to make the trip because, despite the fact that he struggled to relate to people in life generally, he had learned how to read facial expressions in his typically thorough way. He’d had to do this in a way neurotypical people didn’t, as it came to them naturally. For him it was an acquired skill, like a second language. As such he had become something of an expert in it. Ottey herself felt it was important to be there because they were going to inform the couple about the loss of a friend, whether or not they had remained in touch. It was near enough policy to do this kind of thing in person.
*
Serena Birch and her husband Mark now lived in Crouch End with their three children. The house was detached and double-fronted. It had a long kitchen/informal family living room contained within a vast glass extension at the back of the house leading onto the rear garden. Serena took them into the slightly more grown up, formal living room opposite. Two large sofas faced each other. Contemporary, affordable art covered every inch of the walls. Fresh bright red roses in a vase on the coffee table between the sofas drew the eye deliberately from all the surrounding light furnishings. Serena’s clothing was as well thought through and put together as the room.
‘What a beautiful home,’ Ottey commented as she and Cross sat on one of the sofas. Cross had noticed recently that what started as a routine opening conversational gambit from his partner, when interviewing people in their homes, had become increasingly frequent and accompanied by a thorough examination of her surroundings. He wondered why this was.
‘Thank you,’ Serena replied.
Mark walked in with cups of tea.
‘You said that Alex had dropped out of your lives with almost no warning,’ Cross began.
‘We didn’t even know he’d sold the flat,’ Serena replied.
‘He managed to sell it off market,’ Mark explained.
‘Then he just vanished. Said he was going to go away for a while. Wouldn’t be in touch and that we weren’t to worry,’ Serena went on.
‘Had he seemed unhappy before he left?’ asked Ottey.
‘Not in the least.’
‘I got the feeling things were a little difficult at work,’ said Mark.
‘Difficult in what way?’ asked Cross.
‘Well, it was just before the financial crisis, so I think it was just the same as everyone else. Stress about what was coming,’ Mark explained.
‘But you’re telling us he became a monk?’ Serena asked in disbelief. ‘He’s been in a monastery all this time?’
‘Yes,’ Ottey replied.
‘And now he’s dead?’ she asked rhetorically. ‘It’s unbelievable.’
Mark now started laughing. His wife looked suitably shocked. But for Cross and Ottey this wasn’t an uncommon reaction in situations like this.
‘Mark, what are you doing? How is this in any way the least bit funny?’ Serena asked.
‘Oh come on, it’s classic. Absolutely classic Alex. He always did the unexpected, but this takes enigma to another level.’ He stopped suddenly. ‘I’m sorry, it’s not funny, but I know he’d forgive me for laughing.’
‘That’s true,’ Serena agreed quietly. ‘Not about his being dead though.’
‘No.’
‘What makes you say that? That it’s classic Alex?’ asked Cross.
‘Loads of reasons really,’ the young woman answered. ‘He was different to us and all of our friends. He saw the best in everyone and every situation. He was also amazingly forgiving.’
‘You couldn’t have an argument with Alex or pick a fight with him. It was impossible. A discussion, yes, but when it got at all heated, he managed to defuse the situation before it turned nasty,’ said Mark.
‘He had a weirdly spiritual side to him, looking back on it,’ said Serena.
‘He was quite soulful,’ said Mark.
‘Very left wing,’ added Serena.
‘Which was odd considering his job and where he worked,’ said Mark.
‘Which was what and where?’ asked Cross.
‘He was a banker,’ said Mark.
‘In the City,’ added Serena.
‘Which bank?’ asked Ottey.
‘Don’t know. He never said, or if he did, I can’t remember. Darling?’ He turned, asking Serena.
‘It was one of the really old ones like Hoare’s. Family business. Went bust,’ she said.
‘Cubitt’s. That was the bank’s name. Cubitt’s,’ said Mark.
Cross made a note.
‘When did this bank fold?’ he asked.
‘During the financial crisis, like all the other ones,’ she replied.
‘Probably couldn’t get the government to bail them out,’ said Mark.
‘That was a disgrace,’ Serena said sharply.
‘What was?’ asked Cross.
‘The whole government-bailing-out-the-banks thing. It just enabled them to carry on as if nothing had happened and then, when the upturn happened, behave just as badly as they did before.’
‘It doesn’t surprise me,’ said Mark.
‘I don’t think it surprised any of us,’ Ottey commented.
‘Sorry, I was thinking about Alex becoming a monk.’
‘He does that. Changes the subject when I get onto what he calls one of my pet rants,’ said Serena.
‘Never had a girlfriend,’ said Mark, thinking out loud.
‘Or a boyfriend,’ added his wife.
‘Or boyfriend. Just didn’t seem to interest him.’
‘Unless he was fabulously discreet,’ she pointed out.
‘Nor,’ said Cross.
‘What?’ asked Mark as Ottey raised her eyes.
‘Nor a boyfriend. Never had a girlfriend nor a boyfriend,’ he said quietly, unable to help himself.
‘Don’t worry, he has what I call grammatical Tourette’s,’ said Ottey.
‘He was a complex character, Alex. You were never really sure what he was thinking,’ Serena went on.
‘A difficult read,’ added Mark.
‘Mark always used to say that silence was the most powerful weapon in Alex’s armoury.’
‘That’s true. He had a wonderful way with silence. He could sit there for hours and not say a word,’ agreed Mark.
‘But it was much worse when he did it in the middle of a conversation with you. You couldn’t help but fill in the gaps and invariably sound stupid.’
‘You always felt he was judging you,’ Mark commented.
‘I did,’ she agreed.
‘But I don’t think he was. He was just a great observer of people and things around him,’ he said.
‘He was a good listener. People seemed to gravitate towards him with their problems, which he often managed to help with, by saying absolutely nothing,’ said Serena. Mark laughed at the truth of this statement. ‘They’d ramble on, he’d listen as they explained their issue, laid out all the different angles and points of view, play devil’s advocate with themselves, before coming up with the answer without his saying a word.’
‘They’d then go away thanking him for his brilliant advice when he had in fact said nothing,’ added Mark.
‘The monks at the abbey said he was a great listener,’ said Ottey.
This made Serena start crying. Mark comforted her. They all sat saying nothing as she gathered herself.
‘Who on earth would do this to him? To a monk?’ she finally said. That question again. But the way she put it made Cross think. Maybe there was validity in the first part of the question. Who would do this to Alex? That was certainly more relevant than asking who would do it to a monk.
‘Is there anyone from the time you knew him, before he entered the monastery, who had an issue with Alex, that might lead to them doing this?’ asked Cross.
‘No,’ Serena answered indignantly.
‘He just wasn’t the type of person who caused or attracted trouble,’ said Mark. ‘He was a fixer, a conciliator, a defuser.’
‘Who were his friends?’ asked Ottey.
‘Well, us and our friends really,’ answered Serena.
‘He did have one friend we met. From uni,’ said Mark.
‘Can you remember who?’ asked Ottey.
They looked at each other as if their faces might hold a clue.
‘No, sorry,’ said Mark.
‘No one at work?’ Ottey went on.
‘It didn’t sound like the kind of environment where you made a lot of friends,’ Serena commented.
‘Quite the opposite, in fact,’ said Mark. ‘He gave me the impression they were all at each other’s throats, which was part of the reason he wanted to leave.’
‘That and the hours,’ added Serena.
‘Did he actually say that?’ asked Cross.
‘Oh yes, definitely. The hours made it impossible to make friendships. He worked till all hours. At weekends, and often did all-nighters,’ said Mark.
‘He was working in their new investment division, I think, so the pressure was on to make it work,’ said Serena.
‘He told us the only reason we were friends was by geographical accident,’ said Mark.
‘He lived in the downstairs flat,’ explained Serena, forgetting that this was how the police had managed to track them down in the first place.
‘So, no friends at work. How about enemies? Any issues at the bank?’ asked Cross.
‘Like I keep saying, it’s difficult to think of Alex having enemies anywhere. He just wasn’t like that. He was generally so unprovocative and easy-going,’ said Mark.
‘But he wasn’t particularly happy at work,’ Ottey confirmed.
‘No,’ they both said in unison.
‘But I would say it was more with his work than at his work that he was unhappy, if that distinction makes any sense,’ Mark qualified.
‘It makes complete sense and is a very good distinction,’ Cross said.
‘He hated it by the end,’ said Serena.
‘Well, he hated the City as a whole, is more accurate. He loathed what he saw going on there, which is part of why he left I, suppose,’ Mark reflected.
‘He hated the investment division. He thought it was designed totally for the benefit of the bank rather than their clients,’ said Serena.
‘Hardly news,’ Ottey commented.
‘No, but I think it was the extent of the greed that got to him,’ Mark pointed out.
‘And the vacuousness of the lives those people were leading,’ said Serena.
‘They were doing nothing, creating nothing, being of no use to anyone other than themselves by making money for themselves out of their clients’ wealth,’ Mark said.
‘How about family?’ Cross asked.
‘His mother was alive back then, but his father was dead,’ Serena replied.
‘He had a younger brother, Stephen,’ Mark added.
‘We met him once. They were so very alike. Wait a minute, wasn’t he going to join a seminary?’ Serena said.
‘That’s right. Obviously runs in the family,’ Mark joked.
‘I always thought Alex would be a godfather to one of our children,’ Serena reflected.
‘Really?’ her husband asked.
‘Yes, I think he would have been a good person to have in their lives. A good influence.’
They talked about Alex for a little longer, but it was mostly the nostalgic musings of a couple who were now faced with the death of an old friend and so had a lingering regret that they hadn’t stayed in touch. Despite Cross’s obvious desire to leave, Ottey let the couple reminisce until they came to a natural conclusion.
Serena showed them to the door.
‘He was a little odd, looking back on it. But good odd, if that makes sense,’ she said.
‘It doesn’t,’ replied Cross.
‘It was almost as if he didn’t belong in this world. Maybe the abbey was the best place for him,’ she reflected.
‘In the circumstances that bring us to see you, I would have to disagree,’ said Cross before turning and walking to the car.
Serena was a bit shocked.
‘Ignore him,’ said Ottey.
‘No, he makes a good point,’ Serena replied.
‘Oh, he makes a good point. Always does. His problem is knowing when to make them and when not to.’