Part 28 (1/2)

CHAPTER 13.

From the report of John Tregonwell, King's Commissioner, November 1535 'The monks spend much time at the seyney house in Stow Barton which is a goodly house and the rule is there relaxed, encouraging much worldliness amongst the brothers. The brothers there delight much in playing at dice and cards and therein spend much money. It was confessed and proved that there was a frequence of women coming to this Stow Barton and I heard of one event so terrible that the brothers and the servants would not speak of it. But I may yet discover the truth.'

Brother Francis sat in the chair opposite Father Joseph, head bowed in silent prayer.

'What was it you did, my son?'

'Something terrible.' The answer came out in a whisper.

'Tell me.' Father Joseph leaned forward, his sad brown eyes full of concern.

Brother Francis slowly rolled back the left sleeve of his habit. There was a faint scar just above the wrist. Father Joseph looked at him, shocked. 'You tried to take your own life? Is that what you're trying to tell me?'

Brother Francis bowed his head. 'I was sixteen. Little more than a child. There was this other boy. He ...'

'What did he do, my son?'

'He chose us. It was like a madness. I can't explain.'

'Go on,' Father Joseph prompted gently.

'He cut us. We had to drink each other's blood. It was a ritual he thought up to prove our loyalty to the group.'

Father Peter smiled. 'Becoming blood brothers? It's not unknown in certain tribes, I believe. A rite of pa.s.sage. Is that all you have to tell me?'

There was a long silence. But Father Joseph was a patient man and he knew there was more to come.

'One day it all went too far and the bleeding wouldn't stop. We ran away. Something terrible happened and we did nothing. We ran away.'

Father Joseph could see there were tears in the brother's eyes. He touched him gently on the shoulder, a gesture of rea.s.surance. 'What was this terrible thing that happened, my son?'

A tear trickled down Brother Francis's face and glistened on his chin.

Trish Walton watched as Steve Carstairs preened himself in the small mirror he kept in his desk drawer, well away from Gerry Heffernan's gaze. If the boss had seen him, he wouldn't have heard the end of it.

'Going somewhere nice this lunchtime?' Trish said, trying to make the question sound innocent.

'No.' Steve sounded defensive. He looked at his watch. It was coming up to one o'clock. 'Just to the sandwich shop meeting my dad.'

'Your dad gives you a discount, does he?'

'Something like that,' he replied quickly. He didn't mention that the real attraction at Burton's b.u.t.ties was Joanne. But Trish could see right through him.

'How is she, then?'

'Who?'

'Joanne. The one who works with your dad in the b.u.t.ty shop.'

'She's fine. And for your information the shop job's just temporary. She's after a career in marketing.'

'Selling sandwiches, you mean?' she said with a grin.

Steve turned away. He wasn't having his ex-girlfriend belittling his latest. But there was always the possibility that Trish was a bit jealous and he found this thought rather gratifying.

He hurried out of the office. 'Enjoy yourself,' Trish called to his disappearing back. But he ignored her. Or perhaps he was just too preoccupied to hear.

'Trish, have you got those statements from Simon Tench's colleagues?' Trish looked round. Wesley Peterson was coming towards her, a frown of concentration on his face. 'I'd like to speak to them again and his widow. Can you see to that first thing this afternoon, please? And Chester police are going to e-mail a photograph but they're having problems with their computers. See if it's come in, will you? When it does I want Rachel to take it over to Barty Carter's as soon as possible.'

Trish smiled sweetly. More work. As Wesley walked away, she checked the computer. Chester's e-mail was coming in and she clicked on the attachment. A smiling group of young people suddenly appeared on the screen, probably in a pub on a night out. Trish stared for a while. Then she rushed after Wesley, a worried look on her face.

'The picture's come in.' She took a deep breath. 'I recognise one of the people on it. But it can't be. It doesn't make sense.'

Wesley looked her in the eye. 'Well, aren't you going to let us into the secret? Who is it?'

Wesley had been hoping to get home at a reasonable time but with Trish's revelation, everything had changed.

Gerry Heffernan had sent Rachel along to Barty Carter's smallholding with a copy of the photograph. Carter had told Rachel that he'd seen someone he recognised from his schooldays in Tradmouth. According to Rachel, he'd been quite certain but Wesley, who had never been very good with faces, had his doubts. However, if Carter confirmed that the face on the photograph belonged to the person from his distant past, everything might begin to make sense. Or not as the case may be.

Steve was still out and Wesley was just about to try his mobile number when the phone on his desk rang. It was Neil again. 'Look, Neil, can it keep till later? All h.e.l.l's broken loose here and ...'

'Wes, I need to see you ... it's about that skeleton in the woods.'

Wesley tried to keep the impatience he felt out of his voice. There were times when Neil let his imagination run away with him. 'Can it keep, Neil? I'm just in the middle of ... I could send someone from uniform round to take a statement. Is that okay?'

'No,' Neil said quickly. 'I don't want some plod coming round with a notebook and a blunt pencil. I need to talk to you.'

Wesley hesitated for a moment. If Neil was willing to wait, his information couldn't be that urgent. 'Sorry. I'll call you as soon as I can. Okay?'

'She's not turned up for work.'

'Who hasn't?' Wesley asked, puzzled by Neil's sudden change of subject.

'Diane.'

'Have you called her?'

'Not yet but ...'

'Why don't you call her if you're worried? Look, Neil, I really have to go. I'll talk to you later.'

At that moment Gerry Heffernan came stomping out of his office. 'Where's Steve? Try and raise him on his mobile, will you someone?'

'I've already tried. There's no answer,' said Wesley.