Mersey Murder Mysteries Collection - Books 7-9

Chapter 6

Sister Ariadne, technically the Prioress at St. Emma"s, looked to Izzie Drake to be well suited for the role. Despite her diminutive size, Drake guessed she wasn"t much more than five-feet tall. Something about the nun"s demeanour and the way she carried herself gave her an air of authority that sat perfectly well with the middle-aged woman as she sat opposite Drake, waiting for the questions to begin.

“Thank you for talking with me this morning, Sister,” Drake began, trying to put the nun at ease, but realising this was totally unnecessary.

“I didn"t really have a choice, Sergeant Drake, did I?” The nun smiled warmly as she spoke. There was no malice in her words.

“You"re right, of course, Sister, but thank you anyway.”

“Please do call me Ariadne, or you"ll wear out your voice calling me Sister Ariadne … if you call me Sister, before you know it, you"ll forget which one of us you"re talking to.”

Drake liked this woman and she relaxed into the interview. “How well did you know Brother Bernárd?”

“Not well, I"m sorry to say. Apart from occasions when we have cause to work with the monks, or at certain services in church and at mealtimes, we don"t engage in a great deal of social discourse with them. As for Brother Bernárd, I perhaps spoke with him on about half a dozen occasions, usually to pass the time of day.”

“That"s a shame.” Drake thought that the leader of the priory"s nuns might have had more contact than most with the monks. Obviously not.

“I do know he wasn"t English,” Ariadne said.

“We understand he was from Switzerland.”

“Ah,” was the nun"s quiet reply.

“Apart from being the … the Prioress? Is that right?

“Yes, that"s my official title.”

“Good, so what else does your role entail?”

“Apart from overseeing the spiritual needs and welfare of our small community of nuns, I take care of the administrative side of the nunnery within the priory. There isn"t a lot of work involved to be truthful, Sergeant, so I use much of my time helping out with various community projects. We try our best to assist the homeless, the poor—believe me there are still a lot of people living below the breadline in the city—and, naturally, we try to spread the word of God wherever and whenever the opportunity presents itself.”

Drake thought some of the Prioress"s duties were rather vague-sounding, but then, with such a small group of Sisters, she guessed there wasn"t an awful lot of work to do.

“I see, and do you do anything within the priory, like Sister Paulette working in the garden?”

“Ah, you think being the Prioress is a nice easy task, eh, Sergeant? No, please,” she smiled genially as she held up a slim hand. “I"m only joking in my own way. Yes, I am also in charge of the refectory. I"m quite a passable cook and together with Sister Rebecca and Brother Geoffrey, we provide the meals for our fellow Brothers and Sisters, and for any visitors who we may entertain.”

“And do you have many visitors here?”

“We do, yes. Quite often, there"s Bishop Charles, who is usually accompanied by his assistant, Father Michael. We also have occasional visits from our Brothers and Sisters from other areas who sometimes spend a few days, enjoying something of a retreat, a little peace and quiet.”

“I see. And, if I may, can I ask a more personal question?”

“Of course you can. We have no secrets here, Sergeant Drake.”

Drake looked a little embarrassed to be asking what followed, but she really wanted to know more about the Sisterhood. “Well, in the movie, Sister Act, for example, the nuns all had names that began with Mary, followed by another name. Why don"t you do that here?”

Sister Act,Sister Ariadne laughed. “Is that all? I thought you were going to ask some deep religious question about our order, or me in particular. I"ve seen that film; it made me laugh. We do have a small television set here, with which we"re able to keep up with international news and so on, and sometimes we do use it for entertainment. Once, it was common practice for nuns to be given a new name when they took their vows, and depending on the convent, or the order, they belonged to, this could be the name Mary, as an example, followed by a saint"s name or other religious figure. In these modern, enlightened times, however, it is now much more common for nuns to retain their baptismal or birth name, though if they wish, they can take a new name, but the choice is theirs. It"s not something we impose on new sisters here.”

“Thank you, Sister. So, is Ariadne …?

“My real name? Yes, it is. I was born Ariadne Schofield in Perth, Western Australia, forty-seven years ago. My parents were originally from Lancaster and when my grandmother on my father"s side was struck by a terminal illness, they decided to move back to the "old country", as they referred to England. I was eighteen and had always wanted to become a nun, so my career path would have been the same wherever in the world I"d ended up.”

“Thank you for that information.” Drake felt she"d learned all she could from the Prioress for the moment and saw no reason to question her further as her contact with the dead monk had appeared to have been minimal. She allowed the Prioress to leave and go about her duties, which she"d said would include making preparations for the midday meal.

* * *

Sam Gable was talking with Sister Rebecca, and Sofie Meyer was engaged in a deep conversation with Sister Letitia, who, they"d discovered, was like Sofie, German by birth. Their shared language gave them a good platform for open communication.

Ross, meanwhile was already nearing the end of his interview with Brother Gareth, who, as his name suggested, hailed from Wales, a small village on the West Coast, named Aberporth, located on the beautiful coastal area of Cardigan Bay. He excused himself when his phone rang and he found himself being informed by Ferris of the rumours of some long-lost treasure relating to the original monastery of St. Basil.

Pressing the "end call" button, he turned to Brother Gareth, thinking there was no time like the present to try out Ferris" theory of the treasure. “Tell me Gareth, if you"ve ever heard of a mystery treasure being located here.”

“Treasure … here … at St. Emma?” The monk looked more amused than surprised.

“At St. Basil actually, when the monastery first stood here, back in the days of good old Henry VIII.”

“You"re pulling my leg, boyo,” said Gareth in his sing-song Welsh lilt.

Ross had got used to being addressed as "boyo". Gareth seemed to have no intention of addressing him as "inspector" or anything else denoting his status as a police officer. “It"s a serious question.”

“I can only say no, I"ve never heard of such a thing. Then again, I"ve not done what you"d call a lot of research into the history of St. Basil while I"ve been here, see.”

“And your main job, apart from your time spent in prayers and contemplation, is driving the priory"s minibus, as you mentioned earlier?”

“That"s it. You"ve got me in a nutshell. I used to be a taxi driver once, look you, so they trust me to ferry the others around when they"re doing fundraisers or attending bazaars, and so forth. We have a nice, second-hand bright-blue Mercedes Sprinter, 17-seat minibus that was donated to the priory by a well-wisher. I love driving it. Although I haven"t done much research into the priory, I"ve been doing a whole load of research into the history of the Benedictines since my arrival.” He met Ross" intense gaze with a fleeting smile. “You"d be amazed at how interesting it is, boyo. Some really exciting stuff happened during the Middle Ages, I can tell you, but no mention of treasure, look you. Sister Ariadne has been here the longest. If anyone has heard rumours of a long-lost treasure associated with the old monastery, she"s the one to ask. As for Bernárd, God Bless his soul, I spoke to him maybe half a dozen times. He was a very private sort of person, perfectly suited to monastic life.”

“Thank you, Gareth,” Ross said to the amiable, somewhat eccentric fellow, and he shook his head as the monk shuffled away, humming a hymn, one that Ross had recollections of from his time in grammar school, but couldn"t put a title to.

Ross rose and took himself off to talk with Brother Gerontius about the treasure rumour, knowing that Drake was already talking to Sister Ariadne. The treasure question could wait where she was concerned.

Brother Gerontius was as much in the dark about the supposed treasure as Brother Gareth, though the thought did come to Ross that, if for any reason there was some important religious relic associated with the old monastery site, and the monks knew about it, they could easily hide such knowledge from the police and anyone else. That, however, would mean the monks and sisters were collectively lying to the police. Would they do that, Ross wondered?

As he was leaving Brother Gerontius" priory office, his phone rang once again. “Doc,” he said as he recognised the pathologist"s number. He"d given it a specific ringtone and the sounds of Darth Vader"s theme from Star Wars could belong to no other caller. “I wasn"t expecting you to call so soon.”

Star Wars“Aye, well, with the Chief Constable and the Chief Super hovering in the background, I thought you might need all the help you can get. I"ve been working on your victim since seven a.m., ably assisted by young Francis, to come up with the preliminary results of the autopsy for you.”

Ross silently blessed the rotund medic, who he"d worked with for many years. Their relationship was one of friendly but witty repartee, with irony and sarcasm thrown in to the mix. In short, they worked bloody well together. He also knew that Nugent rarely began work before eight a.m. so he doubly appreciated the early start he"d made to help Ross with his case. “You"re a saint, Doc. So come on, tell me what you"ve got.”

“Ah think yon place ye"re at now is more likely to produce a saint or two, Inspector.” The fact his Glaswegian accent was evident meant the pathologist was excited about something. Ross knew better than to push him too hard however, or he"d drag things out just for devilment"s sake.

“Okay, I"m listening.”

“Rightio, here we go. Your victim was most definitely murdered. Now, here"s the thing. I found a small pinprick on the inside of his right arm. Whoever killed your monk made sure he died quickly by injecting him with a massive dose of sodium cyanide, enough to have killed at least four, maybe five people.”

“Bloody hell, Doc. So surely Brother Bernárd must have been incapacitated before being injected. I can"t believe he"d have simply stood there and allowed someone to inject him with a lethal dose of cyanide poison.”

“Aye, and ye"d be quite correct in your assumption. Brother Bernárd was struck over the head with a heavy, blunt object prior to him receiving the injection. There"s a large indentation in the rear of his skull, indicating he was hit with something heavy and fairly flat, like maybe a flat iron or something like that.”

Ross had a thought, based on where the body was found. “Or how about with a garden spade?”

“Aye, that could account for the indentation in the skull. If ye can come up with a potential weapon I can soon determine if it was used to strike the blow. Oh, one more point of interest for you. There"s every chance the blow to the head might have been enough to kill Brother Bernárd without the need for the poison. The damage to the skull was extensive. As I say, it might have been enough to cause his death, but would certainly have led, at the very least, to extensive brain damage.”

without“So, it looks like whoever did it wanted to be sure the poor bugger was dead. A definite case of overkill.”

“Aye, I was thinking the same thing myself. One last thing. At some time in the past, your victim has undergone some kind of reconstructive surgery, maybe to correct some facial deformity or for cosmetic reasons. I cannae say for sure. So, if I find anything else, I"ll be in touch.”

“Thanks, Doc. I really appreciate you moving Bernárd to the top of your list for me.”

“Nae problem, Inspector. Ah hope it helps. Get back to me if ye find yon shovel, spade or whatever.”

“I will. See you.” Ross hung up, grateful to Nugent, who could be a grumpy old sod sometimes, was one of the best in the business; he fully appreciated having him available to cover most, if not all of his cases. When the Specialist Murder Investigation Team had been established, it had been agreed that, whenever possible, the area"s chief pathologist, William Nugent, would handle their cases if available. Over time, Nugent and his cadaver-like assistant, Francis Lees, armed with his trusty camera, had become synonymous with the investigations carried out by Ross and his team. Ross found himself smiling at the thought that over the years, he and Nugent had always maintained a certain reserve in their relationship, never having progressed any further than "Doc" and "Inspector" in their conversations. First-name terms? God forbid, he chuckled.

Ross needed to talk to his partner and as luck would have it, when he approached the library building where the nuns were being interviewed, he saw Drake coming out of the building. He waved and called to her.

Drake waved back and walked briskly towards him. His body language was enough to tell her he had something important to share. “At least there"s no doubt about it being murder,” she said, after being informed of Nugent"s findings.

“And now, we need to search for the weapon that laid him out,” Ross responded grimly.

“The body was found right next to the kitchen garden, too,” she commented. “If I remember rightly, didn"t we see a small tool shed near the end of that path?”

“We did,” Ross agreed. “Let"s go take a look while you tell me what you"ve learned from Sister Ariadne. Any of the others finished their interviews yet.”

“No,” she replied with a quick shake of the head, “and what I learned from Ariadne wasn"t enough to fill the back of a postage stamp.”

“Ah, we might have to speak with her again later. For now, let"s go take a look at that tool shed.” Ross led the way towards the kitchen garden, striding in front like a bloodhound on a scent.

“Hey, not so fast!” Drake jogged along in his wake.

Ross felt determined. If the weapon used to strike down Brother Bernárd was located quickly, they stood a chance of achieving an early resolution to the case, thereby placating both the Chief Constable and DCS Hollingsworth.

“There it is.” He pointed as they turned the corner onto the path at right angles to the one where the body was found. He slowed down, allowing Drake to catch up with him a few yards from the shed. Even before they reached it however, they could clearly see that the door was firmly held shut by a large padlock.

Ross took hold of the padlock and found it locked, barring entry. “Damn,” he cursed as frustration got the better of him.

“I suppose we"d better go and ask the Prior for the key.” Drake stood beside him, almost breathless.

“I suppose you"re right.” He sighed. “The fact that a garden spade might have been used to batter the poor monk about the head, might lead us to suspect the two people who were actually working out here in the garden at the time—who then conveniently found the body and raised the alarm, don"t you think?”

“Or is that just the way someone wants us to think?”

“Standing here staring at a locked padlock isn"t going to answer any of our questions is it? Let"s go see the Prior.”