Линда Ла Плант - Unholy Murder

‘Yes, guv, point taken,’ an embarrassed Boon replied.

Jane was somewhat surprised by DI Stanley’s remarks, especially as he’d never been a stickler for the rules as a detective sergeant when they worked together on the Flying Squad in North London. However, she was aware that he’d ‘blotted his copybook’ whilst awaiting promotion to DI, and he regarded his transfer to Bromley CID, on the quieter outskirts of the Met, as a punishment posting.

Stanley nipped into his office and returned with an umbrella, which he handed to DC Boon with a grin.

‘You might need this. Keep me informed.’

Jane picked up the keys for the maroon Hillman Hunter CID car and tossed them over to Boon.

‘You can drive.’

He tossed the keys back. ‘Sorry, sarge, but I’m still suspended from driving ‘job’ motors after the POLAC I had last month.’

Jane frowned, remembering that he’d driven into the back of a privately owned Mercedes at a roundabout. ‘Right. I’ll drive, then.’

‘So where exactly are we going?’ Boon asked as they walked down the stairs.

‘What used to be a convent in Bickley.’ Jane then repeated what Stanley had told her.

Boon sighed. ‘And there was me thinking it might be something exciting for a change. It’s obvious why DI Stanley didn’t fancy dealing with it.’

‘I suspect the miserable weather might have had something to do with his decision to send us instead,’ Jane said.

‘And they say a good copper never gets wet,’ Boon chuckled.

As Boon directed Jane to the site of the old convent the rain got heavier. There was a sudden flash of lightning in the distance. Boon looked at his watch and started counting the seconds. He got to five and there was a loud crack of thunder.

‘Why are you counting?’ Jane asked.

‘I’m doing a flash, bang count.’

‘A what?’

‘You take the number of seconds between the lightning and thunder, divide by five and it tells you how far away the lightning is... which at present is roughly a mile.’

‘A meteorologist as well as a detective,’ Jane smiled.

‘They say you should take cover if the time between the lightning flash and the rumble of thunder is thirty seconds or less.’

‘Talking of cover, where’s that umbrella Stanley gave you?’

‘Shit, I left it in the locker room toilets when I went to the loo.’

‘Why am I not surprised,’ she sighed.

‘Sorry, sarge, I’ve got a plastic bag in my coat pocket if you want to use it to cover your hair.’

Jane raised her eyebrows and shook her head in disbelief. ‘Thanks but no thanks.’

She’d only known Boony a few weeks, but found him to be polite and cheerful, though somewhat scatty. He had been a detective for two years, was in his early twenties, tall, dark-haired and good-looking. He was always smartly dressed, and Stanley felt he had the makings of a good detective, but needed guidance, which from her first impressions Jane considered to be a fair assessment. He was also a good footballer and played for the Met’s first team, to the annoyance of some of his CID colleagues because his duty shifts were often arranged to enable him to play and train.

‘St Mary’s Lane is next right. It’s a dead-end,’ Boon said, putting the small London A-Z street atlas back in the glove box.

Jane followed his instructions, passing two small cul-de-sacs on either side of the road, each with six large detached houses, some of which were mock Tudor in style.

‘Those houses look new and expensive,’ Boon remarked.

Jane nodded. ‘Looks like a lot of this area was old land that’s been built on recently.’

Just past the second cul-de-sac, on the left, was a small brick-built parish church with stained-glass windows and a large double wooden door. On the church wall next to the door was a six-foot concrete statue of Christ on the cross and underneath it a large green sign saying ST MARY’S CATHOLIC CHURCH, along with holy mass and confession times. Beyond the church there was a long hedgerow and woodland.

‘I can’t see any convent. Are you sure you’ve got the right road?’ Jane asked.

‘I’m just going by what’s written on the duty sergeant’s note — that you gave me,’ he said cheekily. He pointed down the road. ‘There’s a high brick wall way down there on the left, maybe the building site is on the other side of it.’

‘I’ll drive on a bit,’ Jane said. ‘There may be an entrance further down. If not, then you can nip into the church and see if there’s anyone about you can ask.’

A hundred metres down there was an open metal gate leading onto a gravel drive.

‘That big house in front of us with a statue of what I assume is the Virgin Mary looks like a convent to me,’ Jane said.

The impressive two-storey grey stone and brick building had a seven-bay front, comprising a shallow gabled entrance flanked by a bay either side, with a further gabled two-bay projection on both ends. The large bay on the right had a holy cross on top of it and a large, pointed arch, with a stained-glass window, making it look like a chapel. A high brick wall with wooden gates abutted either end of the building.

‘I can’t see any building site. Bloody Stanley’s having a laugh and sent us out on a wild goose chase just to get wet,’ Boon said.

‘There are obviously people living or working in there and, judging by the expensive cars out front, I doubt it’s nuns. If a coffin’s been dug up, it might be somewhere else on the grounds,’ Jane suggested.

Jane parked the car, then she and Boon ran through the rain to the front entrance, where two stone steps led up to the timber-panelled door, next to which was an intercom with thirteen buzzers.

‘Looks like the convent might have been converted into flats,’ Jane said as she pressed the visitor buzzer and waited for a reply.

‘Can I help you?’ a well-spoken, deep-voiced man asked as he approached them from behind.

He was tall, well-built, looked to be in his late fifties, with a rugged complexion and a dimpled chin. He had a large golf umbrella in one hand and wore an ankle-length green waxed coat. By his side was an unleashed golden retriever, which suddenly jumped up at Jane, depositing muddy paw marks on her raincoat.

The man grabbed the dog by the collar and pulled it back. ‘Heel, Bella,’ he said firmly. ‘Sorry, she’s young and I’m still training her,’ he added, as he attached a lead to the dog’s collar.

‘I’m Detective Sergeant Tennison and this is Detective Constable Boon. We were wondering if there’s any building work occurring on the grounds,’ Jane said.

‘Yes, out the back of this building down the far end of the gardens. The site access is off a lane over the back of here. Has something happened?’

‘Nothing for you to be concerned about, sir,’ Jane replied.

‘They dug up a coffin,’ Boon said casually, and Jane frowned.

‘On the site?’ the man asked, looking worried.

‘We don’t know the full details yet, sir,’ Jane told him.

‘Is this building still a convent?’ Boon asked.

‘No, all the Sisters of Mercy nuns have long gone now. The buildings have been converted into private apartments.’

‘I like how they’ve kept the outside like an old building, especially the stained-glass window there,’ Boon remarked, pointing.

The man nodded. ‘It’s a listed building, so the exterior remained as is, though obviously the stone and brickwork were cleaned up and some double glazing put in. The stained glass is original, and that part of the convent was the oratory.’

‘What’s an oratory?’ Boon asked.

‘It was the chapel used by the nuns.’

‘I bet a flat in there costs an arm and a leg,’ Boon said.