Forgive Me Father. Paul Gitsham
out with Father Nolan.’ He paused again. ‘Do any of the unknown footprints head in as well as out?’
Sutton clapped the young constable on the shoulder. ‘Exactly the right question to ask, Moray. Rachel?’
‘Yes, two sets.’ She smirked. ‘We’ll make a detective out of you yet, junior.’
‘Bugger off,’ the Scotsman muttered as everyone chuckled.
‘Bugger off, Sergeant, show some respect,’ responded Pymm primly.
‘What next, Moray?’ asked Warren.
‘We should try and identify who the other shoe prints belong to and find out who has access to the fire exit. Was anyone spotted nearby in the hours before and afterwards?’
‘Anything else?’ prompted Sutton.
‘Who would know about his medication, and who would he be comfortable enough with to let his guard down in their presence, assuming he wasn’t taken against his will?’
‘And what else?’
The young constable thought for a moment, ‘We should also speak to a forensic pharmacologist about the likely effects of the amount of sedatives and alcohol found in his system.’
‘Good,’ said Warren. ‘As luck would have it that’s exactly who we are waiting to get back to us.’ He turned to the rest of the team. ‘You all heard the man, let’s get going.’
The report from the forensic pharmacologist was waiting in Warren’s email inbox when he arrived at work that morning. He took one look at it and headed to the coffee urn. He’d slept poorly the night before; suddenly, the journey that he and Susan were about to embark upon seemed real. For months, the couple had undergone endless tests, spoken to numerous specialists and now the time had come. At exactly 8 p.m. the previous night, Susan had injected herself with a shot of hormones, triggering the start of the IVF process. The injection had been over in a matter of seconds, yet Warren couldn’t clear his mind of what was happening inside his wife’s body. All being well, her ovaries should now be gearing up to produce mature eggs, ready for the fertility specialists to harvest.
Amazingly, an hour or so after the injection, Susan had simply gone to bed, falling asleep within moments of her head hitting the pillow. Unfortunately for Warren, sleep wasn’t as forthcoming. He’d lain awake for hours listening to his wife’s breathing, picturing the next nine months with an alternating combination of excitement and fear. When he’d finally dozed off, his dreams had been fractured and muddled, his over-stimulated imagination mixing the investigation with his impending fatherhood. He’d awoken earlier than normal, with a feeling of disquiet.
Even after a second mug of coffee, the report still meant nothing to him and so he was forced to elicit the assistance of Ryan Jordan to interpret it; he called Moray Ruskin in to listen in on the conference call.
‘They measured his blood alcohol level at 152 milligrams per millilitre, although there is some margin for error given the trauma he suffered before he died. That volume of alcohol would have made him a bit unsteady on his feet, but probably wouldn’t have made him insensate.’
‘What about the drugs tests?’ asked Ruskin.
‘The level of doxepin in his system was significantly higher than would have been expected if he had taken his prescribed amount, even allowing for the fact that Father Nolan was in the habit of ignoring medical advice and taking a nightcap to amplify its affects. However, I found fewer fragments of the pill’s capsule in his stomach than I’d expect for such a large amount. I’d even hazard a guess that the fragments represent his prescribed dosage of one tablet.’
‘Suggesting that he took his usual pill, but then additional capsules were opened and the contents poured into his drink?’ suggested Warren.
‘Entirely plausible. Doxepin is soluble in alcohol, and a lot of patients report dysgeusia, an alteration to their sense of taste, so he may not have noticed it. It also means that the drug would be absorbed much faster. That’s why you shouldn’t ever grind up pills unless told that it is safe to do so. Plenty of people have given themselves overdoses that way.’
‘OK Ryan, cards on the table; would this combination of alcohol and drugs have left Father Nolan sufficiently mobile to get down to the chapel, largely under his own power, but rendered him compliant enough not to need restraint?’ Warren held his breath.
Jordan sounded reluctant as he answered.
‘I spoke to the forensic pharmacologist myself. She says that most people would have been on a steady downward spiral towards unconsciousness within thirty minutes to an hour after consuming that mixture. The rate would depend on the person’s individual physiology, how quickly they drank it and how much they had eaten etc.
‘It is possible that Father Nolan could have been confused enough to be led into the chapel, presumably by someone he knew, where he then slumped in the chair. The shock of the fire may have been enough to rouse him temporarily.
‘It is equally possible that the drugs may have rendered him unconscious in just a few minutes, meaning he would have needed to be carried down to the chapel or transported another way.’
‘Could he have taken himself down there, doused himself in petrol and then ignited himself with a box of matches, in the dark?’
The pause was even longer.
‘When it comes to human behaviour, Warren, never say never, but I think it unlikely.’
The decision the day before to change the cause of death for Father Nolan from suicide to homicide, led to an immediate shift in tempo. Murder investigations didn’t come with a blank cheque – nothing did these days – but requests, in particular for forensics, were more likely to be granted than for suicides. Appeals for support from headquarters in Welwyn Garden City would typically be approved, and more colleagues could be co-opted to help speed up and expand enquiries.
However, Warren had already been assigned as Senior Investigating Officer to Nolan’s suicide and DSI Grayson wasn’t going to change that.
‘Mags, I know that there is precious little CCTV on the site, but I want you to extend the seizure to cover all the cameras available, including internal areas. We have reliable sightings of Father Nolan, apparently alive and well, from after the evening meal that night. At some point he met his killer or killers. Did that happen in his room, or did they meet elsewhere in the grounds? Did he know them? They could have been waiting on site for him, so cross-reference visitors arriving that day with those leaving. There is a camera near the main entrance. It’s unlikely that the murderer came in that way, but let’s not miss the low-hanging fruit.’
‘Could be a big job, sir. Ticket sales were a couple of hundred that day, and the cameras aren’t great,’ warned Richardson. ‘The good news is that most visitors either have English Heritage membership or pay with a card. The regular parishioners coming to worship at the chapel are all known to the staff, and are let in for free. That should make identification of any unknowns a lot easier.’
‘I’ll authorise support from Welwyn. Focus on the day of the murder initially, look for anyone who comes in but doesn’t leave. There’s only one public entrance. The killer may also have visited before to recce the site, so pull in footage from the month preceding the murder, if it’s available – that way we’ve got it if we need it.
‘If they didn’t use the entrance,