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Chapter 13

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‘I’ve been going through all of the past reports on the system that mention the abbey,’ Rachel Pymm had a list in her hand covered in a multitude of different coloured fluorescent markers. For the briefest of moments, Warren had a flashback of Gary Hastings; despite the man’s expertise with a computer, he’d still liked nothing more than a ream of paper covered in coloured pen.

He swallowed the lump in his throat. ‘Take me through what you’ve got, Rachel.’

The press conference had been relatively brief, with little in the way of details. Doubtless the tabloids would focus on the more sensational aspects of the death, but at the moment the team wanted to keep the fact that Father Nolan was likely to have been murdered to themselves.

‘The abbey and its surroundings are a bit of a crime magnet, so I decided to limit my search to the past five years. I can go back further if you want me to.’

‘No, I’ll defer to your judgement for the time being.’

‘Well most of the offences can be classed as low-level vandalism and anti-social behaviour.’

‘From the priests?’

‘Less than you’d expect,’ she said with a smile. ‘It’s mostly kids; reports of graffiti tagging, broken windows, large noisy gatherings etc. They had a spate of damaged headstones about two years ago, and someone tried to nick lead off the chapel roof. They scarpered empty-handed when Rodney Shaw turned up. There’s been no real pattern, other than a general increase after dark in the winter and a bit of a spike around October.’

‘Well, thanks for looking into that, Rachel.’

‘There is one report that might be worth looking at further.’

‘Hit me.’

‘On the ninth of January this year, Deacon Baines called the police after a man climbed over the wall and came into the grounds, shouting and being abusive.’

‘Abusive in what way?’

‘It’s hard to be sure exactly. He was drunk, possibly high, and likely had mental health issues. The officers involved weren’t able to talk him down and he was eventually arrested and stuck in the back of a police van. The report says that by the time he got to the nick he was ready to sleep it off.

‘The next morning, he was fit enough to be charged with being drunk and disorderly, but the abbey declined to press charges over the minor damage done to the wall. It was dealt with by caution.’

‘What do we know about him?’

‘Lucas Furber. 35 years old, of no fixed abode. A couple of historic convictions for drugs, but nothing recent.’ She passed across a headshot, taken in custody. Furber looked younger than his stated age, and poorly nourished. His skin was blotchy with acne, and his dark beard was straggly and matted, as greasy as his long hair. The bags under his bloodshot, blue eyes were like dark, purple bruises. The end of his nose was reddened. Drug use or a cold?

‘Hmm, it could be just what it seems,’ said Warren, ‘but I’d like to know what he was ranting about. Did he know Father Nolan or was it aimed at someone else at the abbey? Was it a general dislike of the church, or had he just read the latest Dan Brown novel? Or was it something else, or nothing at all? We should definitely try to eliminate him. See if you can track him down. In the meantime, Deacon Baines was the one who confronted him. Let’s see if he can tell us a bit more.’

* * *

Deacon Baines did remember the incident, when Warren called him.

‘Ah, yes, that poor young man, clearly a very disturbed individual. Such a shame we couldn’t help him more.’

‘Can you tell me what happened?’

‘Nothing too exciting, as I recall. It was late evening, shortly after we’d finished for the day. The last visitors had gone and the main gates had been locked. One of the sales assistants in the gift shop spotted somebody climbing over the wall as she walked back to her car – close to where those young people climbed over Friday night. We really need to get those spikes replaced, but there isn’t any money.’

‘And then what happened?’

‘She phoned Rodney Shaw, who called me as he went to confront the man.’

Shaw again; it could be a coincidence. Nevertheless, Warren scribbled the man’s name down on his pad.

‘The reports said he was abusive.’

‘Yes, he was being foul-mouthed and shouting at Rodney, who was trying to calm him down. When he saw me, he picked up a stick and started waving it about. That’s when we called the police.’

There had been nothing about violence towards Baines or Shaw in the police report.

‘It wasn’t really worth mentioning; neither of us were in any danger, we just wanted the young man to get the help he needed. He dropped the stick when the police arrived.’

‘Can you tell me what he was shouting about?’

Baines paused. ‘Nothing really. This and that, he was clearly disturbed.’

‘Can you be more specific?’

‘Not really, and I’d rather not repeat the man’s language.’

‘OK. Thanks for your assistance, Deacon Baines. You’re probably right, it was likely nothing.’

Warren hung up.

Baines clearly didn’t want to discuss the incident. Until this point, the man had been open and helpful. Why was he suddenly so vague? It also sounded as though the intruder had become more agitated when Baines had arrived upon the scene. Was that significant, or was the man just feeling an increased threat now that there were two men confronting him?

Warren drummed his fingers on the table, before getting up and heading into the main office.

‘Rachel, any luck tracking down Lucas Furber?’

‘The custody report said that Furber was going to the Middlesbury Outreach Centre when he was released. They might be able to tell us where he is.’

‘We’ll send someone down there, but before they go, can you track down the arresting officers? It’s a long shot, but they may remember what he was shouting about. I’d also like to speak to the person who witnessed him clambering over the wall. Find out who she is and arrange for her to come in.’

‘Will do.’

Warren continued his circuit of the office.

‘Hutch, what have you found out about our victim?’

‘Apparently, Father Nolan was a man of simple tastes,’ stated Hutchinson. ‘He walked into town a couple of times a week to The Cock and Lion, where he liked a pint and caught the footie on Sky. He was also known to have the odd flutter on the horses.’

‘Could he have had a gambling problem?’

‘There’s nothing in his bank accounts to suggest that he had any issues, but he could have been using cash. We don’t know where he placed his bets, so we’ll need to wear out some shoe leather,’ said Sutton. Warren remembered his conversation with Mags Richardson about the missing cash from the gift shop takings. Could there be a link?

Warren pictured his bulging in-tray. The arresting officers for Lucas Furber had clocked off, so he wasn’t expecting a call before the next day.

‘Leave it with me.’ He moved onto the next desk.

‘Moray? Fancy some fresh air?’

DCI Warren Jones

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