‘Father Keenan?’
‘Well, of course, who else would it be in Father Keenan’s house dressed like this?’ His voice was a light tenor, his tone sarcastic, his accent faintly Irish.
Karim introduced himself again and proffered his ID.
‘What does the Regional whatsit want with me? I’m just an ordinary parish priest.’ Keenan frowned, three deep parallel lines between his eyebrows.
‘I’d like to talk to you about your time as resident chaplain at the Order of the Blessed Pearl in Bradesden. I’m sure you’ve seen the news coverage today?’
Keenan cocked his head to one side, like a puzzled hen. ‘What news coverage? I’ve got better things to do with my time than watch TV.’
‘If I could come in?’ Karim took a step forward. ‘This isn’t something we should discuss on the pavement, Mr Keenan.’
‘It’s Father Keenan, son.’ He sighed and stepped back. ‘You can come in, but keep it brief. I’ve got parishioners to visit, letters to write.’ He led the way down a hall whose parquet flooring smelled of lavender polish, into a small room. A sofa and a pair of upright chairs sat around a low table. The walls were painted a soft green. A crucifix hung over a simple wooden fireplace with a fake coal gas fire. A pair of faded reproductions of Italian Renaissance paintings were the only other decoration. Karim had no idea what they represented, except that one of the figures had wings and so was presumably an angel.
The priest sat on one of the chairs and primly crossed one leg over the other, gesturing to Karim that he should be seated. ‘So now presumably you can tell me what this visit is in aid of?’
‘I’d like to establish some background information before I go into the details,’ Karim said, phone at the ready. ‘I’d prefer to record our conversation, it’s more reliable than notes. And it’s always better to be accurate.’ He produced his most winning smile. He’d spent long enough with Paula to have picked up one or two of her tricks. He pressed the red record button as inconspicuously as he could.
‘What kind of background information?’ Keenan wasn’t making this easy.
‘How long were you the resident chaplain at the convent in Bradesden?’
He gave a long-suffering sigh, a man used to tedium. ‘I was there for five years and seven months. Right up until the closure of the convent and the refuge.’
‘And were you also responsible for the spiritual well-being of the girls in the St Margaret Clitherow Refuge?’ Karim wasn’t sure if that was the right expression but he’d heard it in TV dramas and films.
‘I was.’
‘What did that consist of, exactly?’
Keenan rolled his eyes. ‘The usual duties of a priest. But I suppose you know nothing of that, Constable. I took services in the chapel, I heard confession, I engaged in spiritual discussion with the Mother Superior. Where the girls were concerned, I also prepared them for their first communion. And I gave them religious instruction within a school context. I can assure you there was nothing untoward in my interactions at the Blessed Pearl.’ His voice was haughty, but now he was confident in his superiority, his posture relaxed a little.
‘As you rightly say, I don’t know how things work in the priesthood. How did you come to be the priest at the Blessed Pearl? Did you apply for the job?’
Keenan screwed up his face in disdain. ‘The priesthood is a vocation, not a job. We go where we are sent. My bishop sent me to the Blessed Pearl and so it was my duty to work with the community there.’
‘Had you worked with nuns before? Was that why you were chosen?’
‘I was a priest in an inner-city group practice in Glasgow, then I was chaplain for a couple of years at Deeside University in Aberdeen. So I had experience of chaplaincy but not within a convent.’
‘Did you enjoy it?’
He seemed offended by the question. ‘I didn’t become a priest to enjoy myself. I found it fulfilling to work in that community. It was a unique opportunity for a practical ministry as well as the contemplative life.’
‘Not much time for contemplation as a parish priest, I imagine.’
‘Indeed.’ Keenan was apparently determined to keep his own counsel. ‘I think it’s about time you told me why you are here. Has someone made allegations about my conduct?’
‘Would it surprise you if they had?’
‘It would astonish me. Because any such claims would be utterly baseless. But we in the church have become easy targets in recent years for unscrupulous people seeking to make money from lies and false allegations.’ He held a hand up to stop an interruption Karim had no intention of making. ‘I’m not denying there have been appalling cases of child sex abuse committed by priests. But the scale is of it is wildly exaggerated. And I’ve never laid an inappropriate hand on a child.’
The very vehemence of the denial made Karim wonder whether Keenan had even more to hide than he’d first thought. ‘Are you aware that the convent and its grounds were sold to developers?’
The change of tack startled Keenan. ‘Of course. We all knew that. It happened very shortly after it was decided to close the convent.’
‘Why was that decision made?’ Keep moving around, don’t let them settle. Karim could hear Paula’s voice in his head.
‘Not for any sinister reason, I assure you. The numbers entering holy orders have been falling lately. We’d reached a point where very soon there would
