Warren had barely taken his coat off before his first visitor of the day presented herself at his office door. He quickly rose to his feet and moved around his desk, snagging a chair as he went past. As a matter of courtesy, colleagues usually went to Rachel Pymm’s desk rather than the other way around. It must be important for her to travel across the office.
Warren leant her sticks against his desk, as Pymm sat down.
‘What can I help you with, Rachel?’
‘I’m so sorry, sir. I’ve made a mistake.’
‘Go on.’ Warren perched on the edge of his desk.
‘You asked me to cross-reference the abbey staff and residents against the PNC. I did, but as soon as we got a hit on Rodney Shaw, I got side-tracked and stopped probing.’
‘So there were other criminal records on the PNC?’
‘Not exactly. There was nothing on the national computer. Nobody else had any recordable offences, but I forgot to check the local forces’ systems. As you know, not everything gets uploaded to the PNC. When I dug further, I found that Father Daugherty had a “No Further Action” against his name, dating from 2005.’
Warren thought back. ‘When he was a school chaplain?’
‘Yes. There are almost no details, just a comment about him being questioned over allegations of improper behaviour towards a minor. No further action taken.’
The importance of the information hit Warren like a hammer blow.
Seeing the look on his face, Pymm started to apologise again. Warren stalled her with a raised hand.
‘Rachel, you are doing a sterling job. You know how information trickles into an investigation in dribs and drabs. The important thing is, we’ve got it now.
‘You say that the NFA was recorded in 2005, that’s not that many years ago. I wonder if the investigating officer remembers the case?’
Pymm handed over a page from her notepad.
‘I have the officer’s name. He’s still with Herts Constabulary, based at Hitchin nick. Here’s his direct line, he’s back on duty tomorrow morning.’
* * *
‘Stay away from Guest Road,’ said Grayson.
Warren blinked in surprise. Pymm had left only moments before and he still hadn’t finished booting up his laptop.
‘Sorry?’
Grayson flopped down into the recently vacated visitor’s chair. He also rarely visited Warren’s office.
‘The exact words of Chief Superintendent Brigstocke from Serious and Organised Crime. It turns out they’ve had their eye on number 68 Guest Road for the past few months.’
‘Why? What on Earth is Shaw mixed up in?’
‘It is believed to be an illegal gambling den, plus a hangout for drug dealers, pimps and other charming individuals.’
‘Well, that accounts for Shaw’s interest, although I didn’t think he was that big a gambler,’ said Warren.
‘He’s probably not, she’d never heard of Shaw. Brigstocke said that it’s a pretty amateur affair, however the gang that run it have aspirations to join the big league. Brigstocke’s team are looking at ways of infiltrating it whilst it’s still a small player and seeing if they can use it as a way into the wider network.’
‘Hence the warning to back off.’
‘Exactly. Brigstocke even suggested that Shaw might be useful to them, although I persuaded her to hold fire until we know if he’s actually a double-murderer first.’
‘Glad to hear it,’ said Warren. ‘I could really do without organised crime breathing down my neck, alongside everyone else.’
‘I’ll do what I can to keep them at arm’s length,’ promised Grayson.
Warren sighed philosophically. ‘Even if they could supply Shaw with an alibi, I’m not sure I’d believe them. Hell, the buggers could even have assisted him.’
‘Well if that’s the case, our investigation will take precedence,’ said Grayson. ‘In the meantime, how did yesterday’s visit to Vernon Coombs’ family go?’
‘Not well.’
By the time Warren had finished describing the visit, Grayson looked pained.
‘If you really need that research, then I’ll back you in obtaining a warrant to seize it. If necessary, we can use the fact that he appears to have access to confidential information as an indication that he may have closer links to the murders than would be expected.’
‘You mean treat him as a suspect, or a person of interest?’ said Warren.
‘If necessary.’
Warren puffed his lips out. ‘I agree that we could go in mob-handed, but that’s pretty dangerous. I did a bit of poking around and it turns out that she wasn’t making an empty threat; her husband is a reporter for the Mercury. We could find ourselves splashed across the front page.’
‘She’s right that the Chief Constable won’t be very impressed, but he’s a realist, it’ll blow over soon enough.’
‘I’m not worried about that, I’m more concerned that any story may speculate about a link between those fake suicides from the middle ages and the present-day murders. If Coombs is right, then our one advantage over the killer is that he doesn’t know that we are aware of any such link. If, as Coombs hinted, there were more killings to come, then not only might we be able to prevent more deaths, we might also be able to catch the killer in action.’
‘What do you suggest?’
Warren gave a sigh. ‘A fulsome apology and your smartest suit, sir.’
* * *
You could say what you liked about DSI John Grayson, but when he wanted to turn the charm on, he was a master. It also helped that Vernon Coombs’ granddaughter, Lilly, was present when Warren and Grayson next visited. Grayson had just become a grandfather himself, and was by all accounts a doting uncle to several nieces and nephews of a similar age to Lilly. It was another glimpse at the man behind the façade he usually presented at work.
‘It’s my granddad. He’s in Heaven,’ the little girl pronounced, when Grayson asked her what she was drawing. To Warren’s surprise, Grayson took the poignant statement in his stride. ‘I’m sure he’s very proud that you are such a good artist.’
Having at least passed that test, Warren and Grayson were allowed to say their piece, again apologising for Warren’s intrusion into her father’s final days and reiterating that they had only visited by invitation.
By the time they left it was getting dark and Coombs’ daughter had to switch on the security lights as the two officers carried three large boxes of research, and the lever arch folder containing the partially written manuscript, out of the garage. Warren also had a memory stick in his pocket that he’d promised to copy and return immediately.
‘Well, at least we won’t be needing this,’ said Grayson with satisfaction as the car pulled away, removing the search warrant from his inside jacket pocket.
* * *
‘Are you having a laugh?’ asked Rachel Pymm, when she saw the three boxes of photocopied research from Coombs’ room sitting on the table that had been moved next to her usual desk.
‘Hopefully, much of what you need will already be in the manuscript.’ Warren patted the lever arch folder. ‘Or failing that, in his computer files. Coombs’ daughter was unsure how complete the first draft was, so I suggest you read this first.’
‘And if it isn’t?’
‘I’m sure DSI Grayson will be happy to authorise the cost of a small team to go through the raw research.’
Pymm pulled the file over. ‘Remind me what I’m looking for?’
‘In the first instance, the deathbed confession of Simon Scrope. It should detail the ways in which he supposedly killed those that abused his younger brother, including his father, who apparently held the victim at least partly responsible for his own abuse.
‘Check for similarities between the murders of Father’s Daugherty and Nolan and those described in the manuscript. Let’s see if Coombs was correct, or if he was imagining things.
‘Then, see if you can find any other deaths. Coombs said that there were multiple abusers. If our killer really is re-enacting deaths from this story, then there may be clues to future killings. Scrope’s confession apparently ends abruptly, so if there is more to be found it’s likely to be recorded in the monks’ diaries.’
‘No pressure then.’
Warren smiled sympathetically. ‘I’ll speak to DSI Grayson about authorising a team to help you.’ He turned to leave. ‘Oh, one more thing. When handling the photocopied sheets, wear gloves. If Coombs is to be believed, he is the first person to delve into this story for hundreds of years. But it sounds as though at least some of the research was done with the help of others. Put anything that seems relevant to one side and we’ll get Forensics to see if anyone else handled the sheets. It’s a long shot, but we might find something.’
‘Great, sweaty hands as well,’ grumbled Pymm.