Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey (14 page)

‘This could be interesting,’ breathed Napier. ‘Thanks, Nick. For a moment I’d forgotten my elementary tuition in searching. Always look under the bed! So what have we here?’

The top was not sealed so it was easy to open it and see neatly stored files. Napier eased one out; it held dated newspaper cuttings of the Jacobson trial. Others contained more cuttings, each file representing a day at the trial, with evidence in detail. And there were print-outs from his computer with several hand-written notes.

One said, ‘It was raining whilst Michael was at the off licence but he wasn’t wet when he returned. …’ There was no explanation for that comment. Another said, ‘I remember being in the Goddards’ house and hearing the ground floor toilet being flushed. … I thought I was alone but realized I wasn’t. And I heard the loft floor creaking above, as if someone was up there. …’

‘This could be very important.’ Napier’s faced showed a glow of pleasure. ‘He’s gone through the newspaper reports and picked holes in the evidence that was presented in court, then added his own observations. Friar Tuck, we’re seizing this box of papers as evidence.’

‘I understand,’ said the prior softly.

Napier continued, ‘I’ll need someone to take this computer to the murder room. We can carry this box of papers between us. I think Detective Inspector Lindsey will have to make time to go through this lot in detail. …’

They left with the box and locked the door, Napier taking the key.

D
ETECTIVE
C
HIEF
S
UPERINTENDENT
Napier managed to make space on a shelf in his cramped office and they pushed the large box of papers into it.

‘I’ll get Brian to go through this – it needs to be done very soon.’

‘Maybe I could help?’ offered Nick.

‘That might be a good idea; you’re familiar with the case. What are you doing next?’

‘I’ve no commitments other than dealing with the inputs that arrive in the Postgate Room. The monkstables are very active with local enquiries, they seem to relish interviewing people and taking statements.’

There was a knock on Napier’s partially open door and Detective Sergeant Salkeld appeared.

‘Yes, Sarge, what can I do for you?’ Napier asked.

‘Father John’s computer has been delivered. Our boffins will get busy on it straightaway but we’ve had a breakthrough of sorts, Mr Napier. I thought you should know.’

‘Too right I should know! What’s happened?’

‘The woman who met Father Attwood outside Scarborough’s Beach Hospital. We’ve got her car reg. She’d parked outside the hospital grounds in the shadows of a row of trees. The parking area belongs to the hospital and they’ve a CCTV camera there. It
shows her and Father John getting into the car and moving off towards the town. She was driving. There was no one else in the car. We’ve checked the registration number – it’s a hire car.’

‘That means we can trace her through the hire company.’

‘We’re on to that right now. It’s a local firm with an office in Scarborough.’

‘Good, let me know the result the minute it’s available. And another thing, circulate that car reg all around Scarborough and district, let every copper on duty know about it. We need sightings, details of occupants, direction of travel, fuel being bought, stopping places with times being noted. Anything and everything. Check local traffic control cameras too, sometimes they can produce results. Somebody must have seen that car.’

‘I’ll make sure the town patrols get busy!’

As Detective Sergeant Salkeld returned to her duty of managing the murder room, Napier felt proud of his continuing deception as he summoned a detective constable and said, ‘DC Simpson, you’re a strong young man, give Mr Rhea a hand with that box, can you? It’s heading for the Postgate Room.’

‘Sir.’ And the deed was done.

The Postgate Room was almost deserted when Nick arrived, save for Father Will, who was checking some papers he’d not read due to his duties in the cop shop. As the monkstables had gone off to fulfil their allocated tasks, he’d taken this opportunity to update himself. He looked up and smiled as Nick and the detective bore the heavy box into the room and placed it on the central table. The detective departed with Nick’s thanks as Father Will said, ‘That’s Father John’s box of papers, isn’t it?’

‘You recognize it?’

‘Yes, I do. I often helped him with his filing. That box contains files from his murder trial. It’s a very comprehensive account of the whole sorry affair with his own observations.’

‘He must have trusted you. Did you get the impression he was not guilty?’

‘Certainly! There’s stuff in that box that I’m sure could prove
his innocence. He’s not a bitter man, Nick, just very disappointed with British justice.’

‘Then we need to help him all we can. How did you come into contact with him?’ asked Nick.

‘Just a chat in the grounds one day, not long after he joined the monastery. He didn’t know anyone, didn’t have friends here, and quite often we found ourselves walking together across the valley in our private times. Eventually, as the days passed, we grew more friendly and he discussed his past with me. I was shocked to say the least but he demanded my silence until he decided to make more people aware of events that led to his trial. Whenever I had the time, I helped him to sort through all these papers and notes. I helped him to record all the facts and information. I showed him how to use a computer to make things easier, even to downloading newspaper reports from old newspapers, then checking and indexing their contents.’

‘Was the computer record downloaded into this box, or is it still in his computer’s memory?’

‘Both, he’s a belt-and-braces man, Nick. Even though we managed to assemble the information on his computer, he insisted on paper records as well. Maybe it is easier to read them on paper, as he suggests. But everything’s available. I hope it helps to prove his innocence.’

‘Before that happens, Father Will, we’ll need him to explain things in person. He was there, remember. We weren’t.’

‘I just hope we find him before anyone else does. I’ll be pleased to help. I’m familiar with that material and I know his system. It’s a bit quiet in the cop shop at the moment – everything seems to be happening elsewhere!’

‘I’ll talk to Mr Napier,’ said Nick. He picked up the phone and dialled Napier’s number, then explained the situation.

‘That’s brilliant. Get Father Will to help as much he can. I know he’ll be discreet. Can you both work out of sight in the cop shop? It’s not exactly crowded in there, is it? Lock the door and put a closed sign up! Don’t let all and sundry read Father
John’s files.’ Napier rang off.

Nick and Father Will returned to the cop shop to scrutinize Father John’s records.

Meanwhile, Detective Inspector Lindsey and his officers were trying to locate people called Goddard who lived in the York area, or in York city itself. They knew that would not be the name they’d be using now but they had to start somewhere. The first point of reference was the local telephone directory but there were more than two dozen references, three listed as M. Goddard and one as G. Goddard. Lindsey rang them all. Two of the M. Goddards were at home but none was Michael. G. Goddard was a woman but her name was Grace. None of them knew of a family Goddard who had moved from Manchester.

As his officers worked, DI Lindsey decided to seek assistance from the BT Criminal Investigation Branch. His office and the BTCIB were in regular contact about crimes and offences that impacted upon both organizations.

He rang a dedicated number. A voice answered: ‘Temperley.’

‘Good morning, Joe, it’s Lindsey, North Yorkshire CID.’

‘Hi there, Brian. How’s things in that great wilderness called Yorkshire?’

‘Busy as ever. Criminal investigation is endless! Sorry to trouble you but we’ve a tricky murder investigation ongoing at the moment. I could do with your expertise.’

‘Always willing to help the constabulary. What can I do?’

Without releasing too much sensitive detail, Brian explained he was trying to trace some Goddards who had moved to the York area from Manchester, probably to establish a small family business. He wanted to know if such people had recruited the assistance of BT for their telephone, internet or any other service. Brian explained that he could not be certain about the date of their arrival but it could have been several years ago.

‘Things are changing all the time, Brian. Our technology has moved on and our older files are obsolete. Mind, we have kept
some which we can still access. I’ll run all your local Goddards through the computer which will highlight the dates when their BT phones or any other devices and services were connected. We can take things from there. Give me a couple of hours then I’ll email you with the result.’

‘That’s a good start, thanks.’

‘You realize, don’t you, that an ever-increasing number of people and businesses are no longer using our network? For one thing, they’re turning to mobile phones, and that includes businesses, not just individuals. There are other servers so you’ve a lot of digging to do if you’re to find those people, especially if their business is not under the proprietor’s name. Most are probably under the company name or names.’

‘I realize that. If it’s any help, I’ve been told my target has ventured into the world of waterproof and shockproof cases for portable items, cases that would bear an elephant standing on them in ten fathoms. Indestructible by all accounts. Good stuff!’

‘You say he was called Goddard from Manchester? Our technical branch does get bags of publicity material, spam most of it, but now and again something more interesting pops up. He might have tried to interest us in his products. Having said that, individuals are getting more difficult to trace. Everyone moves around a lot these days and there are people and businesses with more than one mobile phone and no landline, some operating from different venues, some overseas. Anyway, leave it with me. I’ll see what our computer wizardry can turn up. We’re not known as the Investigation Branch for nothing!’

‘Thanks, and if I can return the favour, just let me know.’

‘There’s no doubt I will sooner or later. See you, Brian.’ And he ended the call.

Next, Brian Lindsey made a similar call to a friend and colleague who worked from York Police Station as a detective inspector. He was DI Malcolm Ainsley. After the usual introductory chat, he said, ‘We’ve received circulars about your murder inquiry, Brian. Sounds like a tricky one.’

‘It is,’ Brian stressed, adding a brief summary. ‘We’ve managed to keep it under wraps without any media interest. That’s one of the benefits of working in a massive rural area but in any case, our local reporters are very co-operative when the need is there. One line of inquiry is that drugs might be involved. We need to trace the Goddards without them being aware of our interest.’

‘Mum’s the word, as they say,’ promised Ainsley. ‘My team knows what’s going on, nothing much gets past them. We have some fairly new business and industrial parks on the outskirts and in any case I’ll run a check through our local intelligence files to check the drugs situation. I’ll call you if we turn up anything.’

And so Detective Inspector Lindsey, knowing these activities would soon reach the ears of the local criminal fraternity, worked steadily through all his reliable contacts as he resorted to the old-fashioned way of crime investigation – you told as many detectives and police officers as possible and so recruited dozens of pairs of extra ears and eyes to help in your work. In so doing, pressure was exerted on the criminal fraternity. He had no doubt that the newspapers, local radio and television stations could also help but at this juncture Napier would not agree to that. He had not informed PA or any other press agency and there was no guarantee how they would treat the facts if they were alerted. Indeed, widespread publicity might cause the targets to run for cover. Napier did not want that – he wanted to flush out the villains so that they scuttled about like startled rabbits, to be led eventually into his trap.

DI Lindsey knew that if the Goddards
had
moved to live and work in or near York, someone must have encountered them or done business with them; in short, they would be traced. In view of their past notoriety, some of those encounters could have been with police officers.

As the well-oiled machinery of the wider investigation got into its stride, masses of information flowed into the murder
room from officers busy with external enquiries. Working in the Postgate Room, Nick was also aware of the valuable input from the monkstables, whose area of operations had now spread to local villages. As the wealth of information steadily accumulated without producing a much-needed breakthrough, Nick decided to get some fresh air.

He needed some thinking time and so, in the bright sunshine of that September day, he excused himself temporarily from Father Will and the box of papers. Will said he would take a break too – too much close concentration gave him headaches. As Father Will relaxed by standing near the cop shop counter to deal with any customers, Nick went outside.

For ten minutes or so he walked around the grounds, because he found one matter increasingly worrying. That concern had been intensified by his brief scrutiny of Father John’s papers. There was no doubt that Father John had been cleverly framed for the Jacobson murders, and consequently strong contradictory evidence was needed. Father John’s handwritten notes had been compiled long after the trail. Too late for the jury to consider them.

John’s notes were, in reality, a gathering of very small matters that had escaped the notice of his defence counsel. Those flaws seemed trivial against the might of the accusation levelled against him and the cross he’d had to bear. However, one area for examination was the precise timing and locations of John’s movements in the house when Michael Goddard swore he was at the off licence. There was the matter of rain falling heavily but when Michael returned from the off licence his hair and clothing were dry. John claimed he had heard noises in the house, such as movements in the loft and the ground floor toilet being flushed, when the house was supposedly empty apart from the girls who were upstairs in bed. But how could he prove that? And what was the design of the house? It could be a factor.

According to Father John, Michael Goddard had been to the off licence – that was not in doubt - but the file indicated that
the counter assistant had thought it was some time earlier than Michael had stated. She couldn’t be sure but the time had never been analyzed.

Michael was a regular customer whose visiting times varied considerably. Michael had insisted his timing was accurate – after all, he had used their own special message system by tapping on the window to signal John’s presence was needed as a child-sitter. John would know what time those tapping noises had occurred. But that was not all that troubled Nick.

As he pondered the tumble of events, he felt that not enough was currently being done to search for the missing monk. For one thing, there was no publicity. That could be done without any reference to the murder inquiry – they would be portrayed as quite separate incidents. In fact, a monk not returning from hospital was not really newsworthy, and at this stage the murder could be billed as nothing more than an unidentified body found in woodland. With no police cars and ambulances with flashing blue lights, public interest would not yet have been ignited.

It could be said that on Saturday night no one had found cause for alarm, even though Father John had not returned to the monastery. The truth was that no one had expected him back until later that night, especially if he used the public bus service, and the campus was sufficiently large for such a return, however late, to go unnoticed. Indeed, it was very likely he may have been required to remain overnight, the hospital providing the necessary attire and toilet requisites. Sunday had passed without any cause for alarm and it was not until yesterday, Monday, that any kind of concern had surfaced. So had anyone rung the hospital to check these events? Nick had an uneasy feeling that his colleagues in the murder room were not exerting sufficient effort to find the missing monk. Did they simply believe he had run off with a woman after a rendezvous at the hospital gates, and then vanished in a hired car? Hardly matters for the police!