Читать книгу Forgive Me Father - Paul Gitsham - Страница 16

‘I’ve completed those PNC checks.’ Pymm drained her glass tea cup. Sutton looked at the dregs with dismay.

‘Are those twigs in there? Comic Relief raises millions so that people in Africa don’t have to drink water that looks like that. Would you like me to email Lenny Henry for you?’

‘Piss off, it’s chamomile and rosehip. Caffeine-free, organic and 50 per cent off this week. It’s a hell of a lot better for you than that over-priced coffee that you and the rest of the team guzzle all day.’

‘Palpitations are a small price to pay for the performance boost,’ sniffed Sutton. ‘Anyway, enough of the backchat, Sergeant, let’s see what you’ve got.’

‘I’ve run the names of the residents, Inspector, and as you’d expect, nothing’s come up. I’ve also done the volunteers and staff. Most of them are in the clear too. Nothing more exciting than a couple of driving offences and one old caution from thirty years back for being drunk and disorderly.’

‘You said “most”.’

‘Well spotted. Rodney Shaw, the groundsman. He was sentenced to twenty-eight months back in 1984 for possession of class A drugs, multiple counts of burglary and wounding with intent.’

Sutton let out a whistle.

‘When did he start working there?’

‘1996. He did casual work in the abbey grounds at first, before becoming groundsman shortly before the home opened in 2004.’

‘Anything since?’

‘Nothing, not so much as a speeding ticket.’

‘Would his employers have known about his convictions?’

‘Not necessarily, they would have been classed as “spent” under the Rehabilitation of Offenders Act, so they couldn’t ask about it at interview.’

Sutton scratched his chin. ‘A history of violence from decades ago, hidden from his employers – a connection or a coincidence?’

‘If he hadn’t voluntarily disclosed it to his employers and it looked as though it was likely to come out, he could have been worried that he was going to lose his job. Could Father Nolan have got wind of it and tried to blackmail Shaw?’ The look on Pymm’s face showed her own scepticism.

‘Why? What would he have achieved? And how could he have found out? Blackmail’s not exactly priestly behaviour, is it?’

The pair lapsed into silence, before Sutton straightened.

‘Well, good work anyway, Rachel. See if you can find out any more details about his original conviction. I’ll take it to the boss and see what he thinks. It’s our only lead so far.’

* * *

Rodney Shaw officially became a ‘person of interest’ an hour later when DS Hutchinson returned to the office.

‘Father Nolan was generally popular,’ started Hutchinson. ‘Nobody had a bad word to say about him. At least not directly.’

‘Go on,’ Warren blew across his mug of coffee. He’d forgotten to buy milk and was slurping the coffee black; the caffeine hit was good, but Warren had already burnt his tongue that morning.

‘Apparently, Father Nolan had a loud disagreement with Rodney Shaw a couple of weeks ago.’

‘About what?’

‘Well, that’s where we have a problem. It seems the disagreement is common knowledge amongst the staff and residents. A couple of the sisters also mentioned it, but nobody is sure what it was about, or even who overheard them. To be honest, it has the feel of a bit of gossip; I guess small communities are all the same, even those based on holy orders. So much for “thou shalt not bear false witness.”’

‘It depends if it’s false, I suppose,’ said Sutton.

Warren puffed his lips out.

‘It’s still pretty tenuous. It seems a bit far-fetched that Father Nolan would suddenly discover Shaw’s murky past, then threaten to expose him. For what reason? Blackmail? If it was murder it wasn’t a spur of the moment thing so this threat, if it existed, hung over him for at least as long as it took to plan it. Why would Father Nolan hold onto that knowledge?’

‘And if it was blackmail, what did he want in return?’ asked Sutton, playing Devil’s Advocate against his own theory.

‘What does any blackmailer want?’ asked Hutchinson.

‘Most obvious is monetary or material gain,’ answered Sutton.

Warren shook his head slowly. ‘Shaw is two steps up from a gardener. Before then, he was a homeless drug addict, stealing to maintain his habit. He’s hardly going to be rolling in money.’

‘He could be dealing again,’ suggested Hutchinson. ‘Besides, how much money does a Catholic priest need or want? You’ve seen Father Nolan’s room, he was a man of frugal tastes. His food and board is paid for. He has no family to speak of and so far we’ve found no evidence of expensive mistresses.’

‘What about vices? He wouldn’t be the first priest who developed a taste for Communion wine outside of church,’ said Sutton.

‘The autopsy was inconclusive in terms of liver damage, although the fire makes the results unreliable,’ said Warren. ‘Do a bit more discreet poking around, Hutch. Find out if he had any expensive habits.’

‘Will do.’

‘Why else do people blackmail?’ asked Warren.

‘Control? Is there something that Shaw could do for Nolan that he couldn’t do himself?’ said Hutchinson.

‘Again, what does a retired Catholic priest need or want?’ asked Warren.

‘I can’t imagine Father Nolan standing around on street corners buying drugs,’ said Sutton, ‘although you never can tell.’

‘Hopefully the toxicology screen will answer that question,’ said Warren, ‘but if it’s not booze, drugs, money or favours, then that leaves secrets. Keep your mouth shut about my transgressions, or I’ll expose yours.”

‘And what might Nolan’s transgressions be?’ asked Sutton. ‘With all of these ongoing inquiries into abuse and cover-ups in the Catholic Church, you have to wonder …’

The silence stretched as they contemplated the uncomfortable implications of Sutton’s statement.

‘This is all speculation,’ said Warren finally. ‘We need a lot more before we even treat the death as suspicious let alone make Shaw a suspect. Hutch, see what you can find out about Father Nolan’s finances and carry on looking into his background. Keep an eye out for any hints or allegations of inappropriate behaviour. Meanwhile, I think a discreet chat with Bishop Fisher may be in order.’

‘Good luck with that,’ muttered Sutton.