Graham disagreed mentally with the view that Saviour had come through unscathed. It was his growing opinion that the Jesuit’s experiences had left permanent scars; indeed, rather than scars, open wounds with the blood dripping onto his unfortunate victims. “Yes, Father,” he said. “I have met Brother Saviour and I must agree, he is a most remarkable person. I have to confess, his presence had an unnerving effect on me, in the sense that my thoughts were frequently confused. That is something I am not familiar with. In my work, it is essential to have a clear mind.”
“Quite,” said Father Cobb. “Even though I am accustomed to speaking with people in the clergy; the Pope himself on more than one occasion, I have to say that I was similarly affected. I can only describe it as being in the presence of God Himself, ridiculous though that may sound.”
Graham then asked if Saviour had spoken in any detail of his jungle adventures and if there was anything particular that he had referred to. Again, the story of the tribes was related with the same startling evidence emerging as from Father Rafferty.
As the priest spoke, his eyes widened and took on a rapturous look. He even joined his hands as in prayer. Clive and Graham exchanged concerned glances. How could a single human being impress his personality on people to such an extent? It was truly uncanny.
On ending his tale, Father Cobb licked his wet lips, lips that were near to salivating. He swallowed hard, his expression now vacant, staring ahead not seeing. It was several minutes before Graham’s three-times repeated question pierced his brain. “When did you first meet Brother Saviour, Father?”
“Er — when? When? Oh, let me see.” He was gradually regaining his full sensibilities now. “I got an e-mail message from Cardinal Patrick O’Leary around about the first of June to advise me of the Jesuit’s visit and he arrived two days later.”
“Can you be more certain of the dates, please, Father?”
Getting up from his seat, Father Cobb went to the nearby desk and consulted the diary that lay there. “Ah, Yes,” he said, thumbing the pages back and forward. “The e-mail was received on the first and Brother Saviour arrived here on the third.” He turned to his guests. “He called merely to introduce himself so didn’t stay for long — half an hour perhaps.”
“Did he visit you again?”
“Yes. He called again on the fifth and this time he stayed a while. He even took confessions on that day. Over evening meal, he regaled me with his tales of adventure and I could only sit, enthralled. He explained his mission here and I was pleased to see that The Church was moving a little with the times.” He smiled. “The wheels of the Catholic Church mechanism move very slowly, you understand. One change in twenty years is rather adrenalin- pumping!” He chuckled at this observation.
Graham chuckled with him, Clive joining in a little late, not particularly appreciating the humour. “Is that the last time you saw him?” enquired Graham.
“No. He called after the awful murder of the young girl to tell me how he had got along with the poor parents. I had contacted him earlier on his mobile to ask if he would pay the couple a visit. It had been suggested by their vicar, Reverend Gutteridge.”
All this talk of e-mails and mobiles seemed strangely at odds with Graham’s idea of religion. Then it struck him! Mobile? That meant that the missing Jesuit could be reached! “Do you have Brother Saviour’s mobile number, Father?” he asked, suppressing the excitement that tended to overtake him.
The priest went again to the desk. “Why, yes. I have it right here,” he said, opening the diary. He read the eleven-digit number out and Clive jotted it down in his notebook.
Graham rose, followed by his assistant, “Thank you for allowing us so much of your precious time, Father; it is very gracious of you. And thank you for the food, too. I reckon we will have added a few pounds to our weight today,” he laughed.
“Nice to have the company, detective. It’s not every day that I have a visit from the police, let alone the Metropolitan force.” He led them to the door, remaining to wave as their car moved into the sparse traffic and off back to London. The topic of conversation on the way back was, predictably, about the evidence now beginning to build against the Jesuit — the prime suspect. It was eminently clear that Graham’s suspicions had been well founded and that Brother Ignatious Saviour was, indeed, the killer.
Before making an arrest, though, the evidence had to be sifted and analysed. Circumstantial evidence and hard evidence were two quite different things. It was considered that all the circumstantial evidence they now had would become very powerful once a DNA test had been carried out on the Jesuit and it would then allow them to obtain a search warrant for the motor home. Many cases had been completed once a suspect had been held on such evidence and a warrant obtained. A person’s home almost always revealed the vital hard evidence required. Stolen goods, insignificant items picked up, hairs, soiled clothing, particles of glass or soil; all these things could lead to a successful prosecution. The two men journeyed on, each smiling contentedly, more than happy with the day’s work.
Tomorrow would be soon enough to sort out the various clues and their value. Then, a call to the Jesuit’s mobile and they would have him! Yes, tomorrow was to be another good day. That was the thought, anyway — until the finding of a young girl’s body was reported.
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
Bethany Sampler sensed that something was going wrong with her marriage; a marriage she had assumed was near perfect. During the last week, she had awakened each morning with an uncomfortable gnawing in her stomach leading to an unshakeable feeling of apprehension. The first suspicion of a problem had begun about three weeks ago and had built gradually to the present state.
Although outwardly Graham was the same, attentive and loving person, there was an almost imperceptible reaction to any physical contact with her. Enough, though, for her to realise that a change had come about. At first, Bethany had told herself that it was Graham’s work. The current case was truly awful and there seemed no way of finding the killer so it would be a great worry to him.
However, her instincts, usually reliable, told her that the problem was of a different nature — an age-old one — another woman. She had thought the situation through, knowing that Graham loved her deeply and would not be attracted by another; yet, the instincts. Yesterday, Bethany had sat down and let her mind drift to her first suspicions. Every day together and every move he had made. She thought back to their lovemaking, which was still regular and satisfying. A smile played on her lips at the sexy thoughts but it quickly gave way to an expression of concern, then sadness. It was then she had known for certain that, unbelievable though it may seem, Graham had found someone else!
She sat on the rug beside the fireplace, staring at nothing, her mind in turmoil. A trickle of a tear slid from her eyes, running slowly down her cheek and lodging at the chin. Then another, larger tear sprung from her large and staring eyes, swallowing up the clinging ones and falling onto her shuddering breasts. The floodgates opened as Bethany allowed the emotion to overtake her, the wetness covering her face, the endless cascade dripping from her with no attempt being made to stem the flow.
At that time, Graham, together with his assistant, Clive, was rushing to Pangbourne On Thames, their worst fears being realised — yet another body and again a young girl. With all the gathered information on the Jesuit, Graham had dearly hoped to have had his man under lock and key by now. However, locating his man had proved to be difficult; he had simply disappeared from the scene.
The journey was completed in relative silence, both men with their individual thoughts on the case in hand. Graham had spared only a fleeting thought to his lover, Sallie, and that was business, knowing that she would already be at the scene with her team of forensic officers.
On finally arriving, he was greeted by Sallie, as the forensic team was about to set off back with their little plastic bags of suspected evidence, including various grubs and insects. An ambulance stood by, waiting for the detectives to carry out their work before removing the corpse.
“Hello, Detective Inspector,” she began, smiling warmly at Graham. “My boys have finished their work so it’s safe to enter the area now.”
