Sallie was firm now; she had made her decision. “Yes. That will be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow, then”
His face colouring a deep red, Graham subconsciously blew a kiss down the phone and hung up hurriedly. He was behaving like a schoolboy and he felt foolish by it.
The morning began, thankfully, a little cooler than of late, but still warm, a slight breeze adding to the comfort, even though the breeze itself was warm. Sampler had told Bethany of his trip and that it was unavoidable. He failed to mention the company of the pathologist. Bethany was accustomed to such arrangements, however; a policeman’s job cannot guarantee regular hours. It is not a nine-to-five occupation.
The guilt he had felt on leaving home disappeared as soon as he saw Sallie, metal instrument case in hand, standing elegantly on the drive near to the entrance to Scotland Yard. She smiled as he approached and, leaning over the passenger seat, he opened the door for her.
As she got in and clicked the seat belt into place, she had to pull herself back from giving him a greeting kiss. What was she thinking of? Graham moved smoothly away, following the curve of the driveway out onto the road again. They stole a glance at each other, noting the excited gleam in the other’s eyes, and the flushed cheeks. The adrenalin was buzzing. As little as a week ago, neither one could have anticipated embarking on an adventure risking the happiness of their partnerships. This was all wrong; it was unnecessary; it was devious; it was thrilling!
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
It was as Sampler and Dunning were taking the route away from The Met, that Ignatious was arriving in the vicinity of the rendezvous for an assignation with Thomas Singleton, the grieving father of Debbie.
Although he and Elizabeth’s marriage had failed, Thomas still held a soft spot for her and whilst in shock at the untimely death of his daughter, whom he loved so deeply, he had progressively sunk to a depth close to utter despair. In this state, he had come to visit his ex-wife, feeling that, being with Elizabeth, he was near to Debbie. Elizabeth persuaded him to speak to Father McGiven and seek comfort and advice. She could never forgive him for his betrayal, but her heart went out to the broken man.
The visit to the church was not a complete success. Unable to console Thomas, the priest had suggested he meet Brother Ignatious Saviour, the man who had helped Elizabeth so much, following Debbie’s death.
When Thomas had finally agreed to this, Father McGiven had traced Ignatious and asked him to come over, if he could spare the time, explaining the situation to him. “There is always time to comfort the unfortunate.” Ignatious had boomed down the phone and arranged to come that very day.
Like everyone else, Thomas had come under the spell of this unusual priest, totally immersed in what he had to say. As Ignatious issued his new words of wisdom, Thomas felt his spirits rising again. The man seemed able to place everything in perspective. At the end of the meeting, Thomas was almost buoyant; he could not believe his present feelings. Father McGiven had sat in on the interview and had listened and watched in rapt awe, not saying a single word. Again, he felt in the presence of someone greater, not of this earth. Silly and impossible, but that was the feeling, beyond a doubt.
Ignatious led the now consoled man to his car, a friendly arm around his shoulders. In a low voice, he suggested that they meet on the following day, around ten-thirty if suitable, at the place where Debbie’s body had been found. This, he explained, would exorcise any remaining demons and give Thomas a chance to cement his newfound optimism, without fear of returning to the despair that had overtaken him since their last meeting. Thomas had readily agreed.
Back with Father McGiven, Ignatious decided to accept the kind offer of an evening meal, helped along with a small amount of red wine and he stayed chatting until eight in the evening. Whilst there, he allowed the parish priest to get in touch with Sergeant Flint in order to arrange a meeting with the detective investigating the recent spate of murders. He considered this to be a wise move, expecting to enchant the policeman as he did with all others, thereby allaying any suspicions the officer may be harbouring. An appointment was made for four o’ clock the next afternoon and it was to take place here, in the home of Father McGiven.
Instead of parking the motor home in a convenient lay-by, Ignatious chose to drive a little way off the road and find a suitable place, hidden by the surrounding trees. It did not take long. The road he took, though fashioned by countless feet over the years, was reasonably flat and wide and he moved along steadily. Two minutes into the woods, he spotted a flat, wide area with just sufficient space between the trees in which to guide the vehicle. He brought it to rest as close to the trees as possible, reckoning that it would not be seen from the path. As he got out and secured it, he took in his bearings and then set off to meet Thomas at the main road, near to the pathway leading to the scene of Debbie’s death. It took him a mere five minutes.
At twenty-five minutes past ten, by Ignatious’s watch, Thomas’s car came into view. Spotting the priest, he pulled into the lay-by and got out. Ignatious noticed the sprightliness of the walk as Thomas hurried towards him. His words had clearly had the desired effect.
On their way to the scene, the couple chatted about everyday things, both avoiding the subject of Debbie. Thomas had arrived wearing jeans, trainers and a blue sports shirt, with short sleeves. The arms were bare and showed the pattern of several small tattoos: a snake-like dragon with evil eyes, an English flag, crossed daggers and the words, “England for ev-,” the last two letters being indecipherable but the conclusion clear. Ignatious made a mental note to use the tattoos as entry, if no other suitable place could be found.
At last they reached the spot and, at the Jesuit’s suggestion, Thomas had a good look around, absorbing the atmosphere of the place.
“Now, Thomas,” the quiet, calm voice came to him. “You are taking in the ambience. You can feel the vibrations. Your daughter’s spirit is here, with us today. Do not be afraid of it.”
“But, Father, I let her down — and her mother. I went with another woman and, worse still, in our marital bed.”
Ignatious allowed the term, ‘Father.’ “Yes, my son. You did wrong but the Almighty has forgiven you. If
The kneeling man began to weep softly. “I do love you, Debbie. You know I do. Thanks for your forgiveness.” Although not a religious man, Thomas had clasped his hands as in prayer.
“Do not weep, Thomas. Debbie is truly happy. She knows that she will see you in her place together with her mother and you will be happy. Your new wife will share in that happiness, too. Heaven is not a tangible place; it is a state, an aura. Your soul will feel no pain, no sadness, no anger or jealousy. There will be nothing from this human world, except happiness and love. You will visit worlds past, times long gone. You will be invaded by all the sights you ever wished to see and many of which you have no comprehension.”
The soothing words were accompanied by the laying of hands on Thomas’s head. He felt the power of the Jesuit surge through him, holding him in a mental grip.
“Feel the air that God has provided. Feel it, enjoy it.” Ignatious raised his hands aloft, in prayer. “Take off all your clothes, my son. Fold them into a neat pile by that tree.” He did not point to the tree, merely indicated it with his mind. Thomas carried out his instructions, in a trance-like state, folding his removed clothing neatly and stacking them beneath a nearby tree. He then returned to the Jesuit and stood before him, arms by his sides, awaiting his next instructions.
The priest ran his hands gently over Thomas’s shoulders and arms, searching for inoculation marks. High on the right upper arm, he found what he was looking for. Without prompting and without any question being asked verbally, Thomas began to relate why the injection had been made. It was in preparation for a world cruise taken six months ago aboard a P amp; O Ocean liner. He went on to describe the luxurious cabin facilities, the first class services, entertainment and the exotic places visited. Ignatious listened patiently, as he withdrew the unusual hypodermic syringe and a small phial containing a clear liquid. Filling the syringe, he pressed gently to allow a small
