Линда Ла Плант - Unholy Murder

‘Where to, sir?’ she asked.

‘Meade’s office, to arrest him and find out what he was doing yesterday afternoon. Arrange for a uniform car to take us there on blues and twos,’ Barnes said.

‘Is that advisable after what the commissioner said?’ Stanley asked.

‘Right now, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about the commissioner. Finding Becky is all I care about,’ Barnes said, putting on his jacket.

Barnes said nothing during the high-speed journey to Archbishop’s House. Jane knew there would an uproar after Meade was arrested and Barnes might well find himself suspended from duty. He also risked being sacked for disobeying the commissioner’s orders and even losing his pension. Jane sighed to herself. She knew nothing and nobody was going to stop Barnes in his quest to bring down Meade and Archbishop Malone.

Arriving at their destination, Barnes asked the two uniformed officers to accompany him. He knocked on the door and the young priest answered.

‘Where’s Meade?’ Barnes grunted.

‘The archbishop said you are not allowed on these premises. I’ll have you know he’s presently with your commissioner.’

Barnes’s eyes widened. ‘I couldn’t care if he’s with God himself.’ He grabbed the priest by the front of his cassock. ‘Is he in Malone’s office?’

The priest looked terrified and frantically nodded.

Barnes raced up the stairs followed by Jane and the uniformed officers. He tried to open the door, but it was locked from the inside.

‘Open the bloody door now, Meade, or I’ll kick it in!’ Barnes shouted.

There was no reply from within. Barnes nodded at the burly uniformed officer, who knew what to do. It took him two running shoulder charges to force the door open with a crash.

‘Robert Meade, I am arresting you—’ Barnes stopped, aghast at what he saw.

A motionless Meade, eyes bulging and tongue protruding, was hanging from the tall bookshelf, his red cloth cincture tied round his neck as a noose.

‘No!’ Barnes exclaimed, grabbing a pair of scissors off the desk. He quickly climbed up the library ladder. The uniformed officers supported Meade to ease the tension on the cincture as Barnes hurriedly cut through it.

Jane noticed a six-by-four-inch photograph on the desk. Looking closer she could see it was a copy of the 1962 Sisters of Mercy group photograph, where Meade was standing next to Sister Melissa with their little fingers entwined. She turned it over and was shocked to see ‘May God forgive me my sins’ written on the back. Jane put the photograph in her coat pocket.

As Meade was laid on the floor, Barnes jumped down from the ladder.

‘Don’t you dare die on me!’ Barnes said, kneeling beside Meade. He started mouth-to-mouth resuscitation and chest compressions.

Jane knew Meade was dead. She placed two fingers on his wrist to feel for a pulse, then looked at Barnes.

‘He’s gone,’ she said softly.

‘No, he’s not getting away with it like this!’ Barnes said, continuing the resuscitation attempt.

Jane gently put her hand on Barnes’s arm. ‘Sir, I can assure you he’s dead... you can’t save him.’

Barnes clenched his fist and slammed it down on Meade’s chest in anger. ‘That bastard was our best hope of finding Becky Rogers.’

He stood up and walked over to the young priest who was in a state of shock. ‘Did Meade leave this building yesterday afternoon?’

The priest nodded.

‘He left here just after two. He didn’t say where he was going.’

Jane recalled Boon saying Becky had left her office at about the same time to meet someone from the diocese.

‘I want you to remember his exact words,’ Barnes said.

‘He asked me to hail him a cab, then said, “I’m going out to see someone. I’ll be back in a few hours.”’

‘Did you hear him say to the cab driver where he wanted to go?’

‘No.’

‘Did you see him when he got back?’

‘Yes, it was between seven thirty and eight.’

‘Can you be more exact with the time?’

‘I went to his apartment just before seven thirty to see if he wanted some supper, but he wasn’t there. I called on him again at eight and he was there. He said he didn’t feel hungry, so I left and didn’t see him again until this morning in his office.’

‘What sort of mood was he in last night?’

‘He was fairly quiet and looked tired.’

‘And this morning?’

‘He seemed all right. He had a meeting with Archbishop Malone before he went to see your commissioner. He remained in the archbishop’s office on his own and said he didn’t want to be disturbed. That was the last time I saw him... until now.’

‘What was he wearing when he left here yesterday afternoon?’ Jane asked.

‘His clerical suit, purple shirt and white collar.’

She knew Meade would stand out dressed like that, particularly if he had met Becky in a public place.

‘Does the name Becky Rogers mean anything to you?’ Barnes asked the priest.

He nodded. ‘She called yesterday and asked to speak with Bishop Meade.’

‘What did she say?’

‘Just that she wanted to speak personally with him about a delicate matter.’

‘Did Meade speak to her?’

‘I put the call through to him. A minute or so later he came to my office. He seemed annoyed.’

‘Why?’

‘She never told me she was a newspaper reporter. I thought it was a personal call when I put her through. Bishop Meade told me who she was. He said if she ever called again, I was to put the phone down on her.’

‘Did she call again?’

‘Not to my knowledge.’

Something didn’t add up for Jane. She very much doubted Meade would agree to meet Becky in the first place, much less harm her, as she posed no direct threat to him. Although Melissa’s death had been brutal, there was no direct evidence that Meade was ever violent or abusive. Malone, on the other hand, regularly beat children.

Barnes looked at the uniformed officers. ‘I want this room treated as a crime scene. Get on your radio and ask for DS Johnson from the lab to attend. Also ask for four detectives from the incident room. I want Meade’s office and apartment searched top to bottom. I need one of you to drive me back to Orpington, and one to guard the scene until DS Johnson and my detectives arrive.’ He turned to Jane. ‘Let’s go, Tennison.’

‘Can you give me a couple of minutes please, sir? I just want to nip down to the archives and speak with Mrs Parkin.’

‘What for?’

‘She might know something about the letter of dispensation Malone purportedly signed. If she says there wasn’t one in the archives, then the letter he’s taken to the commissioner must be a fake.’

‘Good thinking... I’ll come with you.’

‘She might be a bit tetchy after our first meeting — even more so if there’s two of us. It might be best I go on my own.’

‘I’ll wait for you in the car then.’

As Jane entered the archives, she knew Mrs Parkin would not yet be aware of Meade’s death.

‘What do you want?’ Mrs Parkin asked with a stern expression.

‘I need your help, Mrs Parkin.’

‘You tricked me into helping you last time. Archbishop Malone said I was not to speak to the police. So please just go away and leave me alone.’

‘I’m sorry I was underhand. I regret not being upfront with you. At the time I believed Bishop Meade was lying to me and wouldn’t let me speak with you personally,’ Jane explained.

‘Bishop Meade is as honest as the day is long,’ she said primly. ‘He wouldn’t—’

‘Bishop Meade is dead. We just found his body in the archbishop’s office.’