Bethany hated the term ‘sweetheart’ at that very moment. It was a term she normally loved but the presence of that woman, so close, made it seem the utmost in insincerity. Instead of leaning to Graham for the expected kiss, she turned and left. Graham was only mildly puzzled by the action and put it down to PMT, or something. Returning to his seat, he began to plan the next moves in the chase for the deranged killer who was still at large.
Outside, Bethany hailed a taxi, one of the robust looking black cabs, commonly known as ‘Bombers,’ and fumed all the way back, pictures of the pretty rival filling her thoughts, images that beat and destroyed the loveliness.
The cabbie looked into his rear mirror with the intention of carrying on polite conversation but, noting the thunderous expression on the face of his passenger, he decided otherwise and spent the rest of the journey in unaccustomed quietness. At least, he received a handsome tip as the lady paid the fare. His last glimpse was of an obviously furious woman stamping up the drive to her front door.
Meanwhile, Graham had called his sidekick, Clive, into the office to show him the interim autopsy report handed to him by Sallie. All the usual signs were there showing that the murder had been carried out by the same man, with one significant difference — this time, the poison could not be identified. The feathers had been confirmed as being from the hummingbird and that just about tied it all together.
Several times during the day, Graham had tried to contact the Jesuit on his mobile phone, but without success. However, he felt certain of one thing — the Brother would make contact with the bereaved as soon as the story hit the streets, and that would be in the evening editions of the newspapers. Acting on this, he telephoned the priest at the church of St. Cecelia, followed by a call to the Reverend Francis Beesley at St. James The Less — was there a James the Greater? he wondered — in the village of Pangbourne. At that time, neither had had any contact with the Jesuit but agreed to let Graham know if and when there was.
Other murders were being investigated, also, and it was Graham’s responsibility to oversee them and direct the course of action to be taken. Whilst not being directly involved in the other cases, it took time to organise and issue his directions, relying on officers of lesser authority to make sure they were carried out.
The day passed quickly enough, the amount of work keeping the detective fully occupied, but he was impatient to conclude the main investigation and prevent more murders being committed. His mind continually drifted to the case and the awaited call from the clergy.
At five-fifteen in the afternoon, Graham was ready to clear up and leave, pondering whether to go home, as he should, or to engineer a sexual meeting with Sallie in the pathology lab. Sallie was just about winning the argument when the phone on his desk shrilled. Picking it up, wearily anticipating a request for further advice on one of the inquiries he had been dealing with during the day, he became suddenly alert. The call was from Father Edward McCahill, head priest at St. Cecelia’s and he had been contacted by Saviour!
Apparently, the Jesuit had read of the awful discovery of a young girl’s body and wondered if the family was Catholic. On being told that they were, indeed, he had asked for an audience with the priest, prior to a visit to the parents to offer solace and advice. The time of the meeting had been arranged for ten-thirty in the morning, following completion of the morning Mass. Graham and Clive would be there.
Replacing the phone, he attracted Clive’s attention and told him of the development. “Yes!” he exclaimed, “At last we can get him!”
“Get yourself off home, now, Clive,” instructed Graham, “And get a good night’s sleep. We need to be fresh and alert tomorrow.” The broad smiles on the men’s faces seemed in danger of becoming a permanent fixture.
As Clive left the still busy office, Graham picked up the internal telephone to speak to Sallie. His adrenalin was pumping now — and he needed sex! Another excuse to Bethany for his lateness home.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
The following morning, at ten twenty-five, the two detectives observed the approach of a motor home as they sat parked outside the Catholic church on Horseshoe Road in Pangbourne.
As the vehicle came to a halt a few yards from their position, the Jesuit could clearly be recognised through the windscreen. Graham and his Sergeant moved out of their car and walked casually toward the Brother as he alighted.
Recognising the policemen, Ignatious greeted them with an open smile.
“Ah, detectives,” he boomed. “So nice to see you again.” He held out his hand. “What brings you here?”
Ignoring the extended arm, Graham spoke. “Brother Ignatious Saviour, I am arresting you on suspicion of the murder of Kylie Johnson, on, or about, the tenth of June two-thousand and one. You do not have to say anything…” The usual caution was issued as Clive snapped the handcuffs into place. Then, first checking that the motor home was secured, Clive led Ignatious to the police car and sat beside him in the rear. Before setting off, Graham contacted the Met. and arranged for someone to collect the motor home and take it back for inspection by himself and forensics. After all this time, all the investigating, all the soul-searching, the arrest had been completed so easily and quickly.
Later, after securing the brother in a cell, Graham and his assistant searched the now impounded motor home, together with a couple of forensic officers. In a cupboard, they found two bags containing bunches of hummingbird feathers, while in another cupboard, they discovered a number of small bottles containing fluids labelled with the names of various poisons; names that had become familiar to Graham from reading the pathology reports on the recent victims.
In the same cupboard, Clive spotted an unusual container, around six inches in height with a widening body to approximately twelve or fourteen inches circumference at the base. It resembled a bag of some kind and appeared to be made from leather or something like that. The smell of the container was of burnt timber. He removed the stopper, his hands protected by fine latex gloves, and sniffed. A bitter and unpleasant aroma invaded his nostrils causing him to recoil momentarily.
“What do you make of this, Graham?” he asked. Moving to his colleague’s side, the Inspector sniffed at the bag, his mind trying to locate the scent from deep into his subconscious. It was like nothing he had previously encountered. He thoughtfully replaced the stopper and told the forensic boys to mark this one as urgent and to have it analysed as quickly as possible. “I strongly suspect that it’s another one of the Jesuit’s poisons,” he remarked to Clive.
In a drawer, one of the forensic team found a batch of unusual implements, decided to be hypodermic syringes, beautifully fashioned, with dozens of carefully packed, small reed-like slivers next to them. They were carefully labelled and bagged along with all the other samples. The bed coverings were also removed and placed into larger plastic bags and, again, labelled.
Having seen nothing to otherwise link the Jesuit with the victims, the detectives left. They decided to have a quick lunch in the canteen and then interview the prisoner. Ignatious had already said that he did not have a solicitor but accepted the services of a local one, suggested by Graham, although he did not really care if he was represented or not.
By the time Graham had arrived at the interview room, fitted with all the necessary recording equipment, Ignatious’s solicitor, a Mr. Dennis McArdle, had arrived at the cells and taken brief notes from his client.
Joined by Clive, Graham rang through for the prisoner to be brought up.
Several minutes later, Ignatious was ushered in, flanked by two police officers and accompanied by his brief. Once everyone was seated, one of the officers left while the other remained close to the door, stood at ease, hands clasped behind his back.
McArdle lit up a cigar, without first seeking permission, as Graham explained to Ignatious what they were about to do. The interview was to be conducted on a question and answer basis, recorded, and Ignatious was free to explain his actions in fuller detail if he desired.
The recording equipment was switched on using two tapes, one for back up, and Graham began by stating the date and time and then detailing the names and ranks of those present.
He then moved to the questioning.
“Are you Brother Ignatious Saviour?” He looked into the Jesuit’s eyes and immediately regretted it. His head
