Jesuit

into their lifestyles. The aura of the man hit them as one, causing both a slight intake of breath. He appeared so relaxed, so at peace with the world and so much in command.

Father McGiven waved an arm in the direction of the two visitors as he introduced them. “Please meet Detective Inspector Graham Sampler and Doctor Sallie Dunning — a pathologist.”

“Good afternoon, good people,” he said in opening. “You will be from the world famous, Scotland Yard, then. I hope I can be of assistance.”

Neither of the two had been addressed as ‘good people’ before, but they accepted it in some amusement. “Yes, Brother,” replied Graham as he stretched out his hand. He had already been advised of the correct term to use for a Jesuit. The Jesuit’s grip was firm and dry, filling the detective with over-all warmth, both in body and mind. He found himself wanting to genuflect before this sudden and unexpected ‘Holiness,’ but he manfully resisted the urge. “We are, indeed, here to meet you and I’m sure you will prove to be of some help in this terrible case.” He moved aside to allow Sallie to meet the Jesuit’s outstretched hand.

As soon as contact was made, Sallie’s smile faded. The warmth enveloped her instantly, from head to toe. A tingling sensation went through her body and she had an inescapable desire to grip the man, remove his clothes and let the light emanating from him be revealed. Of course, there was no real light but he shone into Sallie’s eyes as their hands held, neither one releasing their grip.

Take me now, my God. Take me here. Tear my sins from me and scourge my body and my soul. Let your beautiful body enter me! I am yours! Take me! The unsettling thoughts ravaged Sallie’s mind. From where they came, she could not tell. She did not even use such phrases.

Ignatious was fully aware of the effect. He commanded respect and subservience from men, but women were much more accessible: more aware, more perceptive beings altogether. At last he let go and Sallie returned to her seat, her eyes wide, staring unblinkingly at her God.

The group sat, Ignatious choosing an armchair facing his two interviewers. “How may I help you?” he asked, hoping he did not sound too much like the telephone receptionists when they put that insincere question, hoping they are not called upon to help in any significant way.

Graham started to respond as Mrs. Morgan arrived wheeling in a two-tier trolley loaded with a pot of tea, four cups and saucers, the same number of small plates, milk, sugar and a couple of teaspoons, with an array of delightful looking cakes and buns set out on the lower tier. “Help yourselves,” urged Father McGiven, smiling, as his cleaner left the room. “We don’t stand on ceremony here.”

Instinctively, following male acceptance built over many centuries, the men waited for Sallie to pour the drinks. After a brief pause, during which she entertained the idea of showing her indignation, she decided to follow routine and reached for the teapot.

“From all accounts, Brother,” Graham began again. “You have been able to bring a surprising amount of comfort to the stricken souls in their grief, following the tragic deaths of their loved ones.”

“Yes, that is so. My mission here is to do just that and I am pleased to have been fortunate enough to have brought hope to the empty lives of those I have met.”

Sallie was seated three feet from the Jesuit and his vibes were coursing through her as she gazed, entranced, at the God’s holy face. Take me now! Here, in front of these sinners! Rid me of my sinfulness! She was utterly powerless to stop the weird thoughts that were in danger of consuming her. As he stopped speaking to Graham, his eyes swivelled in her direction, a smile playing gently on his lips. It was as if a lance was being thrust into her.

Graham, also, was not entirely immune to the compelling aura of the Jesuit. Even through his hard-nosed experience, he found himself struggling to put his thoughts together, a state of confusion tending to invade. However, he concentrated on the task and continued to put his questions.

“How do you find out about the tragedies, Brother Saviour? You do seem to be around at the right time.” He smiled as his words probed.

“Oh, I keep my nose to the ground. It’s surprising what information one can gather just from local gossip. There is always someone who knows what is going on and eager to spread the news. I also take confessions and talk to my brother priests. Such as the dear Father McGiven, here.” He waved a hand towards the silent priest.

“Ah. I see.” The explanation was quite feasible. “What brings you to this area?”

“My mission. I had to begin somewhere. It could be any part of the country but I chose what I consider to be a charming part of England. I do not intend to stay as I am instructed to travel to different parts of the world with my work. The more people to whom I am able to offer solace, the greater the possibility of bringing them to The Almighty, or to renew their faith in Him. I see my role in life as fulfilling a quest, the ‘treasure’ being the acceptance of the one great God.”

“Do you see yourself as equally able to bring your word to persons of differing faiths; Hindu, Moslem and so on?”

Ignatious was fully in his stride now, speaking on his favourite subject. “Oh, yes. No matter the faith, we all believe in something. I would dearly love to see all the religions of the world joined in one universal Master, although I fear that will never be. Broadly, all religions have the same teachings and aims: love of fellow beings, succour, fairness, compassion, understanding, humility and sacrifice to the Lord.” His eyes now drifting towards the heavens, Ignatious did not want to stop.

Graham, spotting the danger of enduring a never-ending religious sermon, jumped in. “Yes, Brother, a very noble aspiration. I think we should all wish to see that come to be.” Returning to the questioning, he asked: “Do you hear of the deaths prior to arriving in a village, or town, or are you in the place already?”

Ignatious pondered this a moment before replying. “It is difficult to say, really, Detective Inspector, but I think I am usually in another place when I get to hear of the tragedies.”

“Where were you when you heard of the murder of the little girl? Kylie Johnson that would be.”

Again, the Jesuit pondered. “I would say,…” he said thoughtfully, “that I was…let me see…in…er…Aylesbury, I think. Yes. Aylesbury. I was on my way to this area and I parked up there overnight, after spending a little time in the town, talking to anyone who was willing to spare the time. I also read of the death in the local newspaper.”

“And what about the other deaths? Can you recall where you were then?”

Ignatious smiled. “Detective Inspector. You are questioning me as though I were involved!”

Graham looked into the Jesuit’s eyes, resisting the sudden urge to cry out for forgiveness. “Well, Brother Saviour, you are involved aren’t you?”

Puzzlement showed on Ignatious’s face. “In what way do you feel that I am involved?”

“By the fact that you visit the bereaved shortly after the deaths of their family members. You are involved with them almost immediately.”

“But, surely, Detective, you do not suggest that I have anything at all to do with the murders?”

Graham reacted with surprise. “Oh, no. I do not imply that,” he replied. “I merely feel that you might just have picked up on something said, when on your visits. Any little thing that may give us some kind of a clue.”

Ignatious relaxed. “Well, no. I have only made two visits in connection with the killings — no, three in all. I visited the mother of Kylie Johnson and the parents of Debbie Singleton. Then, later, I had a chat with the father of Debbie as he had regressed from the day of the funeral. I felt that I had helped to permanently drive the demons from his mind on the last meeting.”

“When was this, Brother?”

“Yesterday: at this church. Here, in this room in the presence of Father McGiven.” Father McGiven nodded.

“And how is the man now, Brother?”

“Fine. I feel certain that he is completely comforted and in the protection of The Lord.”

Graham continued the questioning. “What I am looking for is any mention of the victims arranging to meet someone — perhaps a friend, relative, or even a stranger. Was there any mention of any such persons?”

“Possibly. As I remember it, Kylie was simply out on a pleasant walk; something she did often, apparently. With Debbie, her mother did say that she had got herself ready to go out as though she were meeting some young man, but she told her mother nothing more than that she was going out. Mrs. Singleton’s intuition as a mother told her that Debbie was preparing for a romantic meeting but that’s all.”

There seemed no point in going further with this. The Jesuit was quite clearly a man in the right place at the right time. There was no suspicion of any wrongdoing attached to him. Graham thought he may visit Mrs. Singleton,