Confession at Maddleskirk Abbey Read Online Free PDF

No one said anything as the party toured the area around the corpse, sometimes checking the ground before standing on it and sometimes moving aside ferns and other undergrowth.
    ‘Where’s the famous wishing well in relation to this site?’ Napier asked of anyone who might be listening.
    Nick pointed through the trees to a higher site. ‘A five-minute climb up there, Mr Napier,’ he said. ‘There’s a reasonable footpath. It’s a pond rather than a mere well or spring.’
    ‘On a hilltop?’
    ‘That’s right.’ Nick gave him a brief explanation.
    ‘Thanks, we learn something every day. We’ll need a look up there. A pond is a good place for hiding weapons and other evidence. So where’s the blood you mentioned?’ asked Napier of Sullivan, without bothering with polite formalities. ‘Show me.’
    As the body’s head was carefully elevated, Napier looked at the back of the victim’s head.
    ‘There’s a lot of blood on the ground. Dead people don’t generally bleed but with this chap lying like this with his head lower than his carcase, I’d say much of it has drained away rather than being pumped out with his heartbeats. It looks like a deep puncture wound to me,’ Napier told Detective Sergeant Sullivan. ‘In the back of the neck. A deep round hole. Is it a bullet wound? Have you found a discarded firearm? Handgun, I’d guess. Large calibre if the size of that wound is anything to go by. Or discarded bullet cases? This undergrowth is dense enough to conceal a lot of stuff. Or is this a dagger wound?Bayonet even? Recently there has been a spate of stiletto wounds in some parts of the country. Drugs barons at war and still using stilettos. A sort of trademark … they’re available if you know where to look. So we must find out more about this chap. We need to be sure who he is and how he died, and we need to find the weapon. I don’t think he died in a fall; those wounds suggest otherwise. I reckon he was dead before he landed at the bottom of that cliff.’
    ‘We searched the undergrowth but found nothing.’
    ‘So there’s nothing to show who he is or where he’s from?’
    ‘No, boss. Not a thing.’
    ‘Right, listen hard. I believe this is a high-priority case; it smacks of a very professional killing. When we’ve finished searching the scene, the next thing is to get this chap into the blood wagon and off to his post-mortem. It’s murder, Sergeant. No doubt about it. Probably killed up there and thrown off the cliff. Not the sort of killing you’d expect in such a quiet, remote place. If you want to know what I really think, I’d say this has all the hallmarks of a drugs-related gangland execution.’

Chapter 3
    T HE UNACCUSTOMED ACTIVITY in the college corridors, abbey precincts and now the woodland across the valley made Father Will feel very isolated in the cop shop. He needed something to take his mind off the woman’s confession, but he couldn’t stop wondering whether it had any connection with the body in the wood.
    And then there had been another dimension, not part of that woman’s confession. She had whispered that she knew his secret. Except it wasn’t his secret – obviously she thought she was speaking to Father Attwood. So who was she to know Father John’s secret? That thought reminded him that Father John had not yet returned from hospital, neither had there been any news about him. He had not attended any abbey functions or meals since Saturday and no one had mentioned him or seemed particularly concerned. Had he been detained in hospital? Surely someone would know? The abbot or prior probably. He decided to try and find out.
    He was aware that the woman’s confession would trouble him for the rest of his life. There was no one with whom he could discuss it, share it or from whom he could seek advice. In retrospect, he believed he had done everything he could and should have done. He had followed the rules in a difficult situation. And because the woman had