A Journal of Sin (22 page)

‘No. He didn’t.’

As expected. Father Michael must have had it easy being the Lord’s shepherd in a town with so many sheep. ‘Most of the people outpouring sympathy never said a word to him when he was alive.’

‘Doesn’t make it less of a tragedy.’

I’d clearly offended him; hardly an achievement these days. When did we become so soft? Landlords used to be the hardy sort; I can picture this one dribbling crocodile tears at the funeral and ignoring his own loved ones from the very next day as life gets back to normal. He didn’t know Father Michael, none of them did. They only had their perceptions – a priest? Must be a good man. Don’t be so sure.

‘People paid him far less attention when he was alive. Far less attention than he paid them.’

‘You talking about his books?’

‘His books?’ Let’s see what this dullard knows about the books, these supposed records of our sins.

‘I hear he wrote down people’s confessions. Well, it depends who you talk to; some say confessions, others say just a general moans and groans about the townsfolk. Makes me glad I stopped going to church; who knows what I’d have confessed over the years.’

‘Years? Well, what do they say?’

‘No idea.’

‘No idea? Weren’t you in the least bit curious?’

‘Nope. Doesn’t affect me.’

Getting any useful information out of this gormless cretin was going to be a chore. ‘Well, who were the people talking about them?’

‘There were quite a few in and out. Didn’t catch any names.’

‘You didn’t catch their names? I thought landlords had an ear for these things?’ He knows more than he’s letting on.

‘Look, enough. I doubt they’d want me putting their names to it anyway. Especially if it’s something Father Michael shouldn’t have been doing. You got some secret you’re hiding?’ The cocky shit smiled at me like he was onto something.
You have no idea,
I thought. I finished my pint and took my wallet out. ‘It’s on me. No one else drinks it anyway.’

Father Michael kept a journal. A journal of confessions I’m sure to be in. Not that I ever confessed anything to the self-righteous prick, but I’m sure that’s how he’d see it. Like I was the one that needed saving. There I was, right in front of him, telling him everything, and he couldn’t do a thing about it. Nothing but pray, nothing but impotence. His own rules forbade him doing anything; that was the real torture. Not what I did; what I did was try to wake him up. It seems killing him wasn’t enough to keep his mouth shut. There’s only one place those journals are going to be.

SIXTEEN

‘This is ideal. Are you sure you don’t mind?’ asked Sarah.

‘It’s fine. I don’t intend on reopening the place for a while yet. Stocks are low and people are far too concerned about repair costs and insurance policies to spend much money. I’m glad for the break in a lot of ways. Got to take the positives from these things.’ Louise let out a loud sneeze from the dust. ‘Sorry, it’s not been cleaned in a while. I can dust it if you like? It’s no bother.’ She took a cleaning cloth out from the front pocket of her blue gingham apron.

‘No, no, you’ve done enough. We’ll cover the electricity. Just pop a copy of the bill in the mail.’ Dales handed her his business card.

‘Oh, don’t be silly, I’m happy to help. If there’s anything you need, just let me know.’

‘There is one more thing. It’s a little personal, so I hope you don’t mind me asking,’ said Sarah.

‘Oh, okay. What is it?’ Dales rearranged the chairs whilst Sarah continued their conversation.

‘It’s about this place. Who financed it?’ All the better ways of asking that question involved letting on to why she wanted to know. Sarah preferred to let Louise introduce Tom into the conversation.

‘The cafe? It’s not behind on any payments is it? My husband told me he’d paid all the bills off.’

‘It’s nothing to do with the cafe itself. And you’re not in any trouble.’

Louise paused, giving Sarah the impression she was waiting for the follow-up sentence, the one that would explain why she wanted to know her financial history, but it wasn’t forthcoming.

‘I borrowed the money. From Tom, Tom Bletchard. It’s all being paid on time; he didn’t mention this, did he? Didn’t ask you to ask me about it?’ Louise’s pale face flushed red. ‘I can’t think why he would.’

‘Louise, relax. Tom didn’t say a thing. That’s a big gesture. You must know him well?’

‘He’s always invested in the town. He knew Chris and I were looking at starting up our own café – well, it was a restaurant at first – and he offered to lend us the money. Free of charge too, not a penny of interest. They’re a nice couple.’

‘We were reluctant to take it at first. It all seemed a little too good to be true. Our credit wasn’t great, so we couldn’t borrow from the bank until we improved it and saved a huge deposit. We’d saved, and we’d planned to keep saving, but if it wasn’t for his generosity, I’m not sure we’d ever have made it. Now here we are, three years on and still going strong. Some days are better than others, but it’s something we can be proud of.’

‘Know his wife well?’

Dales turned around and shot Sarah a questioning look over Louise’s shoulder.

‘Used to. She’s not well and Tom doesn’t like us visiting. It used to be nice. We’d take them some cake from the cafe and spend the afternoon chatting. He doesn’t even like her walking the dog on her own anymore. We hardly see her these days.’ Louise looked flustered and glanced at the door. ‘You must be busy; I should get out of your way.’

‘Are you worried about her?’

‘No. Why would I worry? She’s in good hands. She’s at that age; it’ll happen to us all. ’ Louise laughed, rubbed her forehead and fidgeted like the room’s humidity had rocketed.

‘Do you believe that?’ She felt Dales looking at her and imagined the speech he’d be giving her after this, but her curiosity wouldn’t let the situation go.

‘I believe he wants what’s best for her and sometimes things aren’t as simple as they look from the outside. I have to get back; lock up when you go.’ She choked a little saying the last few words, before walking out the door. Sarah wanted to follow her, ask a few more questions and drill down into the details.

‘You’ve got to let that go. She’s let us have her place and you leave her nearly in tears?’ Dales stood behind the till with a range of cleaning cloths and sprays on the counter in front of him, his blue shirtsleeves rolled up and his tie thrown over one of the white chairs.

‘You’ve got to agree it’s strange. Tom goes around lending people money for no reason other than good will? For the benefit of the town?’

‘It’s strange, but still possible. A lot of rich folk give away their money as they get older. Come on, we’ve got work to do. The team will be here soon.’

The cafe was more than enough. They moved the white wooden tables aside and arranged rows of matching chairs in preparation for the initial briefing. Two long tables were placed by the far wall near to the plug points, leaving the left corner free to place any seized exhibits, in lieu of any lockable cabinets.

‘It’s worth a once-over before the boys arrive,’ said Dales.

‘You’re well trained.’ Sarah flicked the lights on. Then off again. Then back on.

‘What are you doing?’ He gave her a deadpan look as he dusted the top of the coffee bar.

‘It’s just nice to be able to do it.’ She started to laugh uncontrollably and continued flicking the lights. Dales set the microwave for twenty seconds with nothing in it, before going back to his dusting. He tried to keep a straight face, but it didn’t last. ‘I think the dust is getting to you.’

‘Then maybe you should pitch in.’ He threw her a cloth and she rubbed down the chairs.

‘When are the team arriving?’

‘In a couple of hours. We’ll clear up here and head back to yours for a cuppa before then.’

‘Mine for a cuppa? We’re in a coffee shop. I’ve no doubt the MCT’s expenses budget can stretch to a couple of teabags.’

‘Have you ever had a tea in a place like this? It’s not the same. It’s probably all that fruity stuff anyway.’ He turned around and looked at the chalkboard drinks list. ‘Roeyboos? What’s that? Elderflower? If I wanted elderflowers, I’d go to a vegan commune.’

‘You should try it. There are plenty of health benefits to herbal and fruit teas.’

‘I’ll pass for now.’ He picked up a broom and swept the floor. Sarah finished up the chairs and wiped down the tables.

‘You know, when we first met, I never expected I’d see you sweeping the floor. I almost want to find you an apron and some marigolds. A pair of pink ones would suit you down to the ground.’ She enjoyed the much needed light-hearted moment.

‘No mentioning this to the boys. Are we done?’

‘I think so. The Gladstone and Dales Cafe is open for business.’

Dales locked the door behind them and they drove back to Sally’s place. All she wanted to do was to rush inside, charge her phone and call the girls.

‘I can’t wait to get home and call the kids.’

‘I’m sure they’ll be chuffed to hear from you.’

‘Chuffed? Kids haven’t been “chuffed” about anything since Oliver Twist’s day.’

They pulled up outside. Dales stepped out of the car and looked at the door. He held his hand up for Sarah to stay where she was.

‘What is it?’ she asked.

‘The door’s ajar and the front gate’s off the top hinge. Stay here.’

‘What? I’m coming in.’

‘There may be something you don’t want to see. Stay here.’ He shook his pepper spray.

‘I’m coming in. If something’s happened to Mum, I’m coming in.’ She clambered out of the car and scanned the windows looking for any movement. Nothing, no sign of Sally or anyone else.

Dales opened the door. Silence.

‘Mum?’ Nothing. She ran into the lounge. The shelves were face down on the floor, draws pulled open and the sofas moved. Dales ran upstairs, whilst Sarah burst into the kitchen.
Mum must be upstairs, please God be upstairs,
she thought.

‘Sarah!’ She ran up the stairs like a stone skipping on water.

‘Where are you?’

‘Back bedroom.’

Dales was crouched down on the far side of the bed. Everything had been pulled out of the drawers and the contents of the wardrobes were all over the room. She stepped over clothes, old jewellery boxes and various other trinkets.

‘Mum? Is she?’ He listened at her chest. She lay on her back in the few feet between the edge of the bed and the wall. Her head was at angle, an inch away from the radiator. Had she struck it, the bone on metal contact may have been fatal.

‘She’s breathing; starting to rouse.’

‘Mum?’

‘Sarah, dear? What happened?’ She spoke with a clear voice, an encouraging sign.

‘You’re at home, Mum. You’ve had a fall.’ The less she knew the better at this stage. Being told she’d been burgled could send her into shock, or worse. ‘Are you hurting anywhere?’

‘This is DS Steve Dales of the Major Crime Team. I need an air ambulance to Sunbury, 16 Hawthorne Road. We have an elderly female who has taken a fall …’ His voice drifted onto the landing as he gave further details to the operator on the other end of the line.

‘How about in your back, mum? Any pain in your back?’

‘No, dear, I’m fine.’ Sarah saw a dark, wet patch on the carpet to the side of her head. She dabbed her fingers on it; her tips were covered in blood.

‘Ok. Try not to move. You’re going to be fine. We’ll get some help.’ Dales came back in. ‘Have they given an ETA?’

He sighed. ‘They said as soon as they can. They’ll have to find a spot to land nearby too.’

‘There’s a junction at the top of the road which should be enough space.’

‘How’s she doing?’

‘She’s able to focus and speak clearly. No mention of any pain, but I’m reluctant to move her.’ She didn’t want to mention the blood in front of her mother; there was no way of telling how much blood she’d lost.

‘Hello Sally, it’s Steve Dales here. I’ve called an ambulance. They’ll be here very soon, okay. Try not to move.’

‘Sarge, I need that phone.’ He passed it to her and she dialled 999 as she went onto the landing for more privacy. ‘Hello, you received a call from this number just now from a DS Dales.’ The operator confirmed the log and said an air ambulance would be on its way. ‘I’ve an update on injuries: she’s bleeding from the back of her head. It’s hard to say how much or the type of wound as I don’t want to move her.’ Despite frantically panicking underneath, she had to deliver the information in a clear and concise way. She’d been taught the ABC of radio transmissions: Accuracy, Brevity and Clarity. It was easier said than done when the injured party was your own family.

‘We’ll update the crew. Thank you.’

‘Is there an ETA?’

‘It’ll be as soon as we can.’ Who knew how long that would be? Sarah walked back into the bedroom and passed the phone to Dales.

‘I’ll wait downstairs,’ said Dales, touching her arm in a supportive and comforting gesture. ‘Stay up here with her.’ Sarah crouched over her mother.

‘Oh, I’ll be okay dear. It’s just a fall. I don’t want to bother a doctor.’ She moved as if to try to stand up, but Sarah stopped her.

‘It’s no bother, Mum, that’s what they’re there for.’ She was from the generation that didn’t make a fuss, so Sarah had no way of knowing where she was hurting and she wasn’t likely to tell her. ‘What happened?’

‘I can’t quite remember. I know I was here, in the bedroom and then. Then there was someone else here too.’

‘Someone else?’

‘A strange man. A strange man was in here, dear.’

‘Slow down. I can only write so fast.’ Will’s hand ached. He’d written page after page of shorthand notes, untidy diagrams and so many symbols and markers he’d forgotten what they all meant. If she was telling the truth, it would all be worth it. He’d have the story of his career.

‘Oh, sorry, I do get carried away when I know I’m doing the right thing.’ Grace adjusted her blouse and powdered her cheeks in her compact mirror. ‘Police officers can’t just go around doing they what want. Someone needs to keep an eye on them and thankfully I’ve been doing just that.’