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- Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
- Kategorie: Krimi
- Serie: Cathedral Mysteries
- Sprache: Englisch
May, 1941. One of the senior choristers at St Paul's, Edwin Roberts, is found beaten to death in the crypt of the cathedral and Detective Chief Inspector Coburg and Sergeant Lampson are called in to investigate. The dead man was far from popular. That, coupled with a small army of staff at work at the famous landmark, including those on the Night Watch striving to protect the cathedral from the worst of the Blitz, means that there is no shortage of suspects. The case is complicated further by links to the top-secret war work being carried out at Bletchley Park and by the black market in rare books and valuable art which casts its shadow over St Paul's. When the killer strikes again, St Paul's is in danger of becoming known as a place of death rather than worship, and Coburg and Lampson are under pressure to get to the bottom of a fiendishly complex investigation.
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3
MURDER AT ST PAUL’S CATHEDRAL
JIM ELDRIDGE4
5
As ever, and for ever, this is for Lynne.
6
CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
London, Tuesday 6th May 1941
In his office at Scotland Yard, Superintendent Allison listened attentively to the voice on the telephone, then said, ‘Please tell the Archbishop he can depend on us here at Scotland Yard. I shall be sending our top detective, DCI Saxe-Coburg, to St Paul’s immediately.’
With that, he hung up, then dialled the internal number for Detective Chief Inspector Coburg’s office. It was answered by DS Lampson.
‘DCI Coburg’s office,’ said Lampson.
‘This is Superintendent Allison. Please ask the chief inspector to come to my office. Is he there?’
‘He is, sir.’
‘Then I need to see him at once.’
He hung up, and shortly afterwards there was a knock at his door, then the figure of Chief Inspector Edgar Saxe-Coburg walked in.
‘You wanted to see me, sir?’
‘Yes. I’ve just had an urgent call from Lambeth Palace. There has been a tragic incident at St Paul’s Cathedral. The dead body of one of the Cathedral’s senior choristers has been found in 8the crypt. The implication is that he was murdered. It needs to be investigated with the utmost care and discretion. I have suggested you be the investigating officer.’
‘Thank you, sir. Have the local police attended?’
‘No, Lambeth Palace feel this case requires a more senior level.’
‘Usually, sir, the local force are the first called, and they decide whether Scotland Yard needs to be summoned,’ Coburg pointed out.
‘That may be, but this is St Paul’s Cathedral, Chief Inspector, which comes under the remit of the Archbishop of Canterbury. They are particularly worried about negative publicity. They have avoided informing the local police for fear of them, in turn, informing the press and word of this leaking out.’
‘Why are they so concerned about that happening?’
‘I’m sure they will tell you their reasons when you see them,’ said Allison. ‘I have told them you will be with them immediately. They have reserved a parking place for you beside the Cathedral steps.’
As they approached the Cathedral, their car winding up the hill towards the magnificent white building with its distinctive dome dominating the skyline of the City of London, Lampson commented, ‘Amazing it’s still standing, considering how many times it’s been hit by the bombing raids.’
‘That’s thanks to the St Paul’s Watch,’ said Coburg.
He was referring to the small army of volunteers, most of them staff at the Cathedral, who were tasked with protecting St Paul’s. Coburg remembered reading a magazine article about them. Effectively, the Watch was the Cathedral’s own 9fire brigade. St Paul’s was particularly at risk from the bombing because of the ancient timbers supporting the dome and indeed the whole Cathedral. The incendiary bombs dropped by the Luftwaffe burst into flames on impact. Coburg remembered newspaper reports about the heaviest raid on the Cathedral to date, on 29th December 1940 around twenty-eight bombs had hit St Paul’s that night, and all were dealt with by the Watch. Some of the incendiaries had even settled in the roof timbers, and the volunteers had crawled along smouldering beams to put out the flames.
When they arrived at St Paul’s, Coburg was pleasantly surprised to be greeted by Arthur Waterson, someone he had been at Eton with many years before, and who was now sporting a dog collar.
‘You’re a vicar,’ said Coburg, taken aback.
‘Actually, I’m a vicar general,’ said Waterson.
‘What’s a vicar general?’
‘He’s the first deputy to a bishop. In this particular case, I’m the vicar general of the Archbishop of Canterbury with responsibilities for the London parishes. I’m based at Lambeth Palace. I suppose you could describe me as the Archbishop’s chief executive. With something like this, a murder on Church property, I’m the one who liaises with the civil authorities.’
‘People like me.’
‘Exactly.’ He smiled. ‘A tragic situation, I admit, but it’s awfully nice to see you again after all this time. Twenty-four years.’
‘Yes, it must be,’ said Coburg. ‘It was 1917 when I left Eton and went straight into training. And a few weeks later I was in France.’ 10
‘And badly wounded at Sambre-Oise, I remember. It became quite a story at school.’
‘Others fared far worse,’ said Coburg. ‘But what about you? How did you get into this? I remember your father was a country vicar, but as I recall you were the school maths genius. I’d have thought you would end up as an economist, or something.’
‘I’d hardly say genius,’ smiled Waterson. ‘Adequate.’
‘More than adequate. You topped the maths exams two years on the trot, as I recall. There was talk of you being poached by Cambridge.’
‘Yes, I did read maths and economics there for a bit, but then I switched to theology.’
‘Why?’
‘Ah, that’s a longer story for another time. Right now, we have a dead chorister to deal with.’
He led the way up the steps into the interior of the Cathedral, then down a flight of stairs signed ‘To the crypt’.
‘The dead man is Edwin Roberts, one of the senior choristers of St Paul’s Cathedral choir. He was found beaten to death. The body was discovered by the St Paul’s Watch, of which Roberts was a volunteer member, as are most of the staff at St Paul’s. We’ve left his body where it was found for you to examine the scene.’
They entered the crypt and Lampson stopped, awed by the enormous size of the large area and the imposing ornamental columns that held up the vast vaulted roof.
‘First time here?’ asked Coburg.
‘Yes,’ said Lampson.
‘It struck me the same way on my first visit,’ said Waterson. ‘It does fill one with a sense of awe and history. And not just 11ecclesiastical history.’ He pointed at a large boat-shaped tomb high on a stand in the centre of the crypt. Lampson approached it and saw the words Horatio Visc Nelson engraved on it.
‘Horatio Nelson’s tomb,’ clarified Waterson. He pointed at another tomb, a huge black stone memorial on which were engraved the words Arthur Duke of Wellington.
‘Two of Britain’s great military heroes,’ said Waterson. ‘If you go round the crypt you’ll find memorial tablets showing where other greats, the artists J. M. W. Turner and Joshua Reynolds, along with Florence Nightingale, are either entombed or remembered. But that’s for later.’ He was about to move further into the crypt, when he stopped and added, ‘But, as we’re here, Sergeant, there’s one you must see.’
They followed him to the south-east corner of the crypt, where a plain stone plaque was embedded in the wall.
‘The tomb of Sir Christopher Wren, the man who created this place. And over here …’ They followed him to a circle of black marble inset in the main floor, which bore a long Latin inscription in capital letters.
subtus conditur huius ecclesiae et vrbis conditor christophorus wren, qui vixit annos ultra nonaginta, non sibi sed bono publico lector, si monumentum requris, circumspice, it declared, followed by a date also in Latin.
‘“Here in its foundation lies the architect of this church and city, Christopher Wren,’ translated Waterson, ‘who lived beyond ninety years, not for his own profit but for the public good. Reader, if you seek his monument, look around you. Died 25th February 1723, age ninety-one”.’
‘Incredible,’ muttered the awed Lampson.
‘And now, to the business at hand,’ said Waterson. ‘My 12apologies for delaying, but, alas for Mr Roberts, he is dead and our arrival a few minutes earlier would not have changed that.’
No, but it might have given us a chance to examine the scene of the crime a bit sooner,thought Coburg. But, seeing the look of wonder on his sergeant’s face at being here, he decided to keep this thought to himself.
Waterson led the way to a corner at the back of the crypt and out through a stone arch to an area where a tall open-shelved cupboard and a shorter one had been pulled away from the nearest wall and left standing to one side. Thick ropes had been pulled across the area, separating it from the arch that led to the main crypt. The body of a middle-aged man lay beside the wall, and they could see at once that his skull had been caved in with a series of blows with a heavy object. The top of his head was matted with blood and brains, mixed with pieces of shattered bone.
‘This is the staff mess, an area for relaxation,’ explained Waterson. ‘The Watch found him behind the cupboards, pressed against the wall. They noticed that the cupboards weren’t in their usual place, flat against the wall, but were sticking out. They went to push them back in place, but found something was stopping them. They pulled the cupboards forward, and that’s how they found him. I arranged for the ropes to be put in place to protect the scene. I hope that was alright?’
Coburg nodded his assent, but the thought crossed his mind for the second time that Waterson seemed to have taken over the investigation, instead of informing the police and letting them take charge. This was obviously a case where he was going to have to tread carefully. High church and high politics were two areas he was never happy being involved with. 13
Coburg ducked under the rope and paced carefully around the body, examining the flagstoned floor, while Lampson watched, notebook and pencil at the ready.
‘Here,’ said Coburg, gesturing at what appeared to be smears of dried blood a few feet away from the cupboards. ‘He was beaten to death here, then the cupboards were pulled out and his body was stuffed by the wall, then the cupboards pushed back to hide him. Afterwards, someone attempted to wipe up the blood with a cloth.’
‘Yes,’ nodded Waterson.
‘We’ll need to talk to the members of the Watch who found the body,’ said Coburg.
‘Of course,’ said Waterson.
‘Who attended the discovery?’
‘Nurse Cochrane. She’s one of our volunteer medical staff at the hospital.’
‘Which hospital?’ asked Coburg.
‘Our own hospital here at St Paul’s,’ said Waterson. ‘You passed it as you came in. It’s underneath the grand staircase in front of the Cathedral. I’ll show it to you later. It’s staffed by volunteers and is fine for first aid. In this case, Nurse Cochrane was able to certify that Mr Roberts was dead. If there’d been a chance of saving him, we’d have called the nearest hospital, St Barts.’
‘We’ve been told the local police weren’t summoned,’ said Coburg.
‘That is correct,’ said Waterson. ‘Instructions from the Archbishop. Once you’ve finished here and the body can be released, I’ll arrange for him to be taken to St Thomas’s Hospital.’ 14
‘Why not one of the hospitals nearer to the Cathedral? St Barts for example. As you said, it’s the nearest.’
‘Because St Thomas’s are used to dealing with awkward situations. After all, it’s the local hospital for the Houses of Parliament, as well as Lambeth Palace. Discretion is second nature to them.’
‘It’s a long way to take someone if there’s a medical emergency,’ pointed out Coburg. ‘From one side of London to the other.’
‘But this was not a medical emergency,’ said Waterson. ‘Mr Roberts was dead. As I say, we have a special discretionary relationship with the staff at St Thomas’s. In the case of the unfortunate Mr Roberts, the mortuary there is his destination.’
Coburg nodded. ‘Very well. We’ll need to keep this area and the adjacent part of the crypt sealed until we’ve had everything examined.’ He gestured at the cupboards. ‘For example, I’ll send in a forensic team to examine these for fingerprints, as well as check the rest of the immediate area.’
‘Of course,’ said Waterson.
‘Next, I’d like to talk to the woman who examined the body. Nurse Cochrane,’ said Coburg.
‘She’s in the hospital. If you’ll follow me.’
CHAPTER TWO
They entered the hospital via a pair of double doors beneath a row of towering Grecian columns, to one side of the Cathedral entrance steps. Inside, they found it was not much more than a large room containing chairs and a table, and a stretcher on wheels. The walls were lined with cupboards with glass doors, behind which were ranged a variety of medicines and items of medical equipment.
A woman in her late twenties wearing a nurse’s uniform was sitting at the desk, making notes in a ledger. Coburg noticed her uniform bore the badge of St John Ambulance, the same volunteer medical organisation for which his wife, Rosa, drove.
She stood up as the three men walked in.
‘Welcome, Vicar General,’ she said.
‘Nurse Cochrane,’ smiled Waterson. ‘These are detectives from Scotland Yard. They’ve come to look into the tragic incident in the rypt.’
‘We understand you were the one who examined him,’ said Coburg.
‘Yes. I was called to the crypt. It was apparent he was dead, and had been dead for some hours. I imagine, as you’re from Scotland Yard, you recognise the different stages of rigor mortis?’ 16
‘We do,’ confirmed Coburg.
‘Then you know rigor mortis is noticeable in the face muscles about two hours after death, before it spreads to the limbs, and then the rest of the body.’
Coburg and Lampson both nodded.
‘When I examined the body, I assessed he’d been dead for perhaps two hours, possibly longer.’
‘What time did you examine the body?’
‘A quarter to seven this morning.’
‘So time of death would be about a quarter to five?’
She nodded. ‘That’s how it seemed to me. Though you should get an accurate time when the medical staff at St Thomas’s have examined him.’
‘What were your thoughts about the cause of death?’
‘Much the same as yours, I expect, as you’ve seen the body. Extreme blunt trauma force to the head with a heavy object. But I’m sure you’ll get more from the pathologist at St Thomas’s once they’ve examined the body.’ She looked at Waterson. ‘Will you arrange for the body to be transported to St Thomas’s, Vicar General, or are you happy for me to do it?’ And she tapped the telephone on her desk.
‘If you wouldn’t mind, Nurse Cochrane, that would be appreciated,’ said Waterson. He turned to Coburg. ‘Do you have any further questions for Nurse Cochrane?’
‘Not for the moment, but I’m sure we will have later as we begin our investigation. Thank you, Nurse Cochrane.’
As Coburg and Lampson left the small space and walked up the stairs towards the Cathedral, Coburg commented, ‘You call it a hospital, but in reality it’s not much more than a medical room.’ 17
‘It was called a hospital when it was first opened by St John Ambulance in 1890, to please Dr Edwin Freshfield, the philanthropist who paid for it. At the time it was quite innovative.’
‘Yes, I noticed the St John symbol. My wife, Rosa, drives a St John Ambulance based at Paddington ambulance station.’
Waterson smiled. ‘Ah, the wonderful Rosa Weeks. My wife and I heard her music programme recently on the wireless. Rosa Weeks Presents, with Vera Lynn and the Crazy Gang. I saw in the newspapers last year that you and she had got married.’
‘We did,’ said Coburg. ‘Being a musician and an ambulance driver is keeping her very busy at the moment.’
‘What would you like to look at next?’ asked Waterson.
‘I’d like to find out more about the St Paul’s Watch,’ said Coburg. ‘Who were the people on duty with Mr Roberts, for example. How the Watch operates.’
‘The best person to talk to is the Dean of St Paul’s, the Very Reverend Walter Matthews. He knows more about the Watch than anyone else, he instigated it in 1939 when we became aware that war was looming. If you wait here, I’ll go to the Deanery and see when he can see you.’
He left them standing just outside the entrance to the Cathedral while he made for a large Regency-style building which Coburg recognised as the Deanery, the residence of the Dean of St Paul’s.
‘Is everything alright, guv?’ asked Lampson. ‘I get the impression you’re not entirely happy.’
‘No, I’m not,’ Coburg confirmed. ‘Arthur Waterson seems to think he’s in charge of this investigation, not us. I don’t like the fact that the local police weren’t the first ones notified. Nor 18the fact that they’re choosing which hospital gets involved, rather than us.’
‘It’s the Archbishop of Canterbury,’ said Lampson resignedly. ‘I bet he outranks the Commissioner. And the Home Secretary.’
‘You’re possibly right,’ admitted Coburg ruefully. ‘But I’m going to keep my eyes on Arthur Waterson. This is a police investigation, not a Church one.’
‘Unless it turns out the murderer is part of the Church,’ said Lampson. ‘In which case I can see them putting in some heavy interference.’
There was the sound of approaching footsteps, then Waterson appeared.
‘You’re in luck,’ he announced. ‘The Dean is in and he says he’ll see you now.’
The Very Reverend Walter Matthews, Dean of St Paul’s, was a tall, muscular man in his early sixties. He welcomed Coburg and Lampson into the expensive-looking living room of the Deanery with a firm handshake and a friendly smile.
‘Thank you for coming. This is a terrible tragedy,’ he said, gesturing for them to sit in the comfortable armchairs. ‘I’m sorry my wife, Margaret, is out at the moment doing pastoral work, as befits the wife of a senior dean. She is a great admirer of your wife, as am I, Chief Inspector. Rosa Weeks. We’ve often heard her on the wireless. I’m sure most people think the Dean of St Paul’s only listens to religious music, but I am of the opinion that all music is a praise to God.’
‘Thank you, Your Grace. My wife will be delighted when I pass that on to her.’
Matthews waved his hand. ‘Please, let’s dispense with the 19“Your Grace”. Dean will suffice. It’s what I’m used to. Arthur said you wanted to find out about the Watch.’
‘If you would. We understand that Edwin Roberts was a member.’
‘Everyone associated with the Cathedral is a member, including myself. We all take our turns in firewatching and protecting the Cathedral during the air raids.’
‘I understand that it was you who instigated the Watch.’
Matthews smiled. ‘I’m afraid that sometimes my part in the formation of the Watch can be exaggerated. It is true that I put forward the idea of reinstating the Watch, as previously used during the first war, but the heart and soul of it has been Godfrey Allen, the Cathedral’s surveyor. When the Chapter first met to discuss the formation of the Watch, we realised that if the Cathedral was to be properly protected it needed more than a committee of elderly ecclesiastics to organise the nuts and bolts. Godfrey, as the surveyor, was the one man who knew the internal structures of the Cathedral intimately, where the weakest points were, the timbers, the roof supports, absolutely everything. We offered Godfrey the position of Commander of the Watch, and to our good fortune he accepted. With no payment, I hasten to add. Like the rest of us, he is a volunteer.
‘As it was obvious to all of us during the middle of 1939 that war was unavoidable, we began our preparations. These included strengthening parts of the structure, including the crypt. On the advice of the London Fire Brigade, water tanks were installed at various heights right up to the roof, so that water would be available to put out fires wherever they occurred.
‘At the same time as London’s schoolchildren were evacuated to safer parts of the country, we evacuated the boys of the choir 20school to a safe house in Truro in Cornwall.
‘In August we issued a notice to staff that volunteers were required for night duty for the St Paul’s Watch. Virtually the whole of the Cathedral personnel responded. Sixty-two men made themselves available, including gentlemen of the choir and minor canons. Of course, a lot of the men were on the verge of retirement and wouldn’t have the strength and energy for the heavier duties, so Godfrey asked the Secretary of the Royal Institute of British Architects if they would issue an appeal for volunteers to enlist as firefighters at St Paul’s during the night hours. Very generously, they did, and as a result we added a further forty members to the Watch. The volunteers offered their services for one or two nights every week.’
‘These included Mr Roberts?’ asked Coburg.
‘Indeed,’ said Matthews. ‘It was decided that the period from 9.30 p.m. to 6.30 a.m. would be the night shift.’
‘How were the night shifts organised?’
‘That was Godfrey Allen’s role as Commander. Initially the main headquarters were established in the crypt, with a second headquarters near the top of the stairs just below the Whispering Gallery. Two lookout posts were created at the exits to the main roofs, to be manned constantly during the shift. When an alert is sounded the lookouts take up their posts on the roof and everyone goes to headquarters. Two people are in charge of the telephone and the rest stand by to await orders.’ He gave a rueful smile as he added, ‘Invariably, when I’m on duty I’m given charge of the telephone. Not because I’m particularly good at it, but the others consider me particularly bad at the more strenuous activities. Old age and creaking joints, I’m afraid.’ 21
‘Once the Blitz began in earnest, we realised we were overstretched, so we sent out for more volunteers. Another appeal was made to the RIBA, along with other organisations, for ‘men between forty and sixty who can walk upstairs and have no fear of heights to act as volunteer firemen’. Our main concern was the timbers holding up the dome. The dome weighs 67,000 tons. If that came crashing down …’ He hesitated and gave an unhappy sigh, saying, ‘You can imagine the devastation that would result. Many hundreds would be killed and the building ruined, possibly beyond repair.
‘I must add that many of our volunteers come from different parts of London, which means travelling across the city at dangerous times during air raids. Many of those who live some distance away have forsaken public transport because it can be unreliable, and come by bicycle, which is exceedingly risky. Those of us who live in the Cathedral – myself at the Deanery, the canons at Amen Court – are much luckier.’
‘Except you are living in what is essentially a target,’ commented Coburg. ‘The Cathedral stands out, especially the dome.’
‘That may be, but I do not believe the Germans are targeting the Cathedral specifically. We are no more subject to air raids than any part of London. The East End, for example, has suffered far worse.’
‘Yes, that’s true,’ admitted Coburg.
‘Not that we haven’t had some narrow escapes. In September last year a high-explosive bomb fell early one morning very close to the south-west tower and penetrated deep into the subsoil. Gradually, the weight of it made it sink further into the clay. A bomb disposal team attended, but they encountered 22further problems. For a start, there was always the danger that the slightest movement might detonate the bomb. The bomb had penetrated deep enough to be close to the foundations of the Cathedral. It was found that the bomb had broken a gas main, and some of the bomb disposal team were overcome by gas fumes. Then it was discovered that the gas main was on fire.’
‘My God!’ erupted Lampson, deeply shocked. Then, embarrassed at what he’d just said, he apologised profusely. ‘Forgive my language, Your Grace. Your Deanship.’
‘Just Dean will do,’ Matthews reminded him with a smile. ‘And don’t worry, Sergeant – when the seriousness of the situation was fully understood, I can assure you that words much riper were aired by members of the disposal team.’
‘What did you do?’ asked Lampson, agog to find out what had happened.
‘As you can see by the fact that the Cathedral is still standing, fortunately it did not explode. But I believe it was a close thing. The bomb had penetrated almost thirty feet beneath the surface, and underneath the Cathedral. As you can imagine, the action of it sliding through the clay soil had made it slippery and awkward to handle, and at any second, as the disposal team tried to extract it, we expected it to detonate.
‘In the end steel hawsers were fixed to the end of the bomb and pulleys attached to two motor lorries, which brought it out. When it was out, we saw that it was about eight feet long and weighed at least a ton.
‘Because there was still a danger of it exploding as it was transported away, the police cleared all the roads to Hackney Marshes in East London, which was where it had been decided to take the bomb. The driver of the lorry was a Lieutenant 23Davies, who was in command of the bomb disposal squad, a tremendously brave man.
‘When the bomb was blown up at the Marshes it left a crater a hundred feet in diameter, so you can imagine the impact it would have had if it had gone off beneath the Cathedral.’
CHAPTER THREE
As Coburg and Lampson headed back to the Cathedral, Coburg asked, ‘Well, what did you think of the Dean?’
‘Incredible,’ said Lampson. ‘I wish more churchmen could be like him.’
They found Waterson in the small ante-area of the crypt, where the body had been found. During the detectives’ time with the Dean, an ambulance had arrived and taken the body of Edwin Roberts away to St Thomas’s. Waterson was now engaged in supervising the securing of the area with more ropes.
‘It’s all ready for your forensic people now, Chief Inspector,’ he said.
‘Thank you,’ said Coburg. ‘I’ll arrange for them to come. Do you have a telephone I can use?’
‘There’s one in the administration office, although the nearest is the one in the hospital,’ said Waterson. ‘I’m sure Nurse Cochrane won’t mind you using it.’
Coburg turned to Lampson and said, ‘Would you mind seeing Nurse Cochrane while I talk to Mr Waterson?’
‘Forensics to be called in,’ Lampson nodded, and left.
Coburg turned his attention to the vicar general. ‘I’m interested in the area where the body was found. You said it was 25called the mess and was a place for the Watch to relax. I assume that’s like the mess in the military.’
‘Exactly the same,’ said Waterson. ‘In fact it’s thanks to the Dean the mess exists. A place to play games.’
‘I’d have thought the Watch wouldn’t have had much time for them, when dealing with the bombs.’
‘That’s partly right,’ agreed Waterson. ‘But the truth is that, even in wartime, there come times of inactivity on the part of the enemy.’
‘That’s true,’ said Coburg. ‘It was the same in the trenches during the first war. We were often being lined up to attack, but a great deal of time could be spent just hanging around, waiting for things to happen.’ He looked at Waterson. ‘What sort of games? And why there?’
‘When the Dean first arrived here – this was in the thirties, before the war – he observed that there was no place for the Clerk of Works and the ordinary staff to eat their lunch or go for a smoke,’ explained Waterson. ‘You may have noticed he’s very much a man of the people.’
‘Indeed,’ said Coburg approvingly.
‘So he persuaded the Chapter to build a mess room where people could relax. When the Watch began night duties firewatching, it meant there was somewhere they could go without contravening the rules of behaviour in the Cathedral. A dartboard appeared, then chess sets and dominoes. A wireless was also brought in.’
‘A real social club,’ said Coburg. ‘Would Mr Roberts have got involved with it?’
‘I must admit, I don’t know,’ said Waterson. ‘It’s possible. You need to speak to the people who use it when they’re on night 26duty. I’ll get a list of the duty rotas, see who was on the same shift as Edwin Roberts.’
‘Thank you,’ said Coburg.
Just then Lampson reappeared. ‘All done,’ he said. ‘Forensics are on their way.’
‘Good,’ said Coburg.
‘I expect you’ll be looking for motives,’ said Waterson.
‘Yes,’ said Coburg, at the same time thinking here we go again. The vicar general trying to take charge and run things.
‘It struck me that the sheer force of violence used in the attack showed great anger,’ said Waterson. ‘Almost unbridled fury. Would you agree?’
‘Possibly,’ said Coburg. ‘Although I’ve seen such violence inflicted as the result of fear.’
‘Fear?’
‘Let’s say a criminal is caught red-handed by someone like Mr Roberts, doing something he shouldn’t. Afraid of disclosure, the person strikes out, intending to silence him. But fear takes over and the battering becomes a terrified onslaught.’
Waterson nodded thoughtfully. ‘It would need to be something very serious for that much fear to be generated.’
‘Maybe he was caught stealing something. Let’s face it, there are lots of very expensive relics here.’
‘True,’ nodded Waterson. ‘However, as far as I know none have been stolen. But then, the most precious are the bulkiest, harder to move. A section of Roman pavement, an Assyrian stone, the original model for the rebuilt Cathedral created by Sir Christopher Wren during 1673 and 1674. It’s made of oak, plaster and lime, and is on display in the triforium.’
‘But, as you say, difficult to move,’ mused Coburg. ‘If theft 27was involved it would be of more portable objects. Books, for example. Rare books fetch high prices among collectors, especially unscrupulous ones. I believe the Cathedral library has some of the very rarest books.’
‘Indeed,’ said Waterson. ‘The Cathedral’s library includes such rare volumes as the William I Charter from 1099 and Tyndale’s New Testament. But I can assure you they are safe. If you come with me to the library, I’ll show you why.’
Coburg and Lampson followed him up the stairs and into the main body of the Cathedral itself. The two detectives stopped and looked in horror at the pile of masonry rubble that obscured the Cathedral’s magnificent organ. Waterson caught their expressions and explained, ‘Despite our best efforts, some of the bombs came straight through the roof and into the transept and the choir.’ He pointed upwards, and they could see ragged holes in the roof. ‘Fortunately, none have penetrated into the crypt so far, which means the foundations have held. As has the dome. The dome weighs 67,000 tons, and if that were to come down …’
‘Yes, the Dean told us,’ said Coburg, looking up apprehensively for any signs of cracks in the masonry holding the dome in place.
‘Remarkably, the daily services continue, despite the damage,’ said Waterson. ‘While the organ is out of action, the choir have had accompaniment from musicians who have offered their services.’
‘But the choir still sing?’
‘Oh yes,’ said Waterson. ‘The Dean is very insistent on the Cathedral carrying out its religious duties. It’s a tradition going back hundreds of years and the Reverend Matthews has no intention of it ceasing now.’ 28
They followed him through the Cathedral, past the wreckage of broken pews and piles of rubble as a result of the recent bombing, then through a series of twists and turns in ancient corridors, and up and down stairs, before they arrived at a double door.
‘The Cathedral library,’ said Waterson.
He produced a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and pushed it open for them to enter. Coburg and Lampson stared in astonishment at the rows and rows of empty shelves.
‘What’s happened to the books?’ asked Coburg.
‘Like many of Britain’s cultural institutions, when we became aware war was imminent, steps were taken to protect these precious items from the bombs,’ replied Waterson.
‘Yes,’ said Coburg. ‘We’ve seen the British Museum’s treasures hidden in the tunnels of the abandoned Aldwych tube station.’
‘In the case of the Cathedral, it was decided to send our precious books to the National Library of Wales. The Library of Wales sought safe refuge for them, and many of them are currently in a disused slate mine near Blaenau Ffestiniog. However, some of the older, rarer books were too large or in too delicate a condition to be moved to Wales. Those books that weren’t evacuated have been moved to the crypt.’
‘Where the body of Mr Roberts was found,’ pointed out Coburg. ‘It might be worth us having a word with the librarian, just to confirm that all the books left in the crypt are still there.’
‘The senior librarian and assistant librarian are both in Wales. They travelled with the books.’
‘Is there anyone here who is associated with the library, who’d know if the books here are all in order?’ 29
‘I’d need to find out,’ said Waterson. ‘If you leave it with me, I’ll get back to you.’
He made for the door, the two detectives following him.
‘And the duty rotas,’ Coburg reminded him.
Waterson nodded. ‘It will take me about an hour. Where will you be? Here, or back at Scotland Yard?’
‘Here at the Cathedral,’ said Coburg. ‘We’ll be in the crypt, examining it.’
Waterson nodded again, then locked the door to the library.
‘Can you find your way to the crypt from here?’ he asked.
‘We can,’ Coburg assured him. ‘Thank you.’
Lampson waited until Waterson had gone, then asked warily, ‘Are you sure about that, guv? Us finding the way to the crypt? It seemed a bit of a maze to me.’
‘I’m sure we can. It will give us a chance to explore the interior workings of the Cathedral as we go.’
‘You’re not keen on Waterson, are you?’ commented Lampson as they made their way from the library.
‘I must admit, I was pleased when I saw him initially – he was always such a cheerful and friendly boy when he was at school. But, let’s face it, twenty-four years has an effect on people, me included. I don’t know whether it’s the position he’s got as the right-hand man to the Archbishop of Canterbury, but he’s become more officious.’ Then he relented. ‘But there’s still something about him I like. He’s taking his role seriously, which is a good thing.’
The forensic team arrived at the Cathedral and found their way to the crypt, where Coburg and Lampson were waiting for them.
‘Big place,’ commented Inspector Jerry Stevens, the leader of 30the team, looking around at the vast subterranean space. ‘How much of it do you want us to check?’
‘Mainly the area where the body was found,’ Coburg told him.
He led them to the roped-off area, showing them the blood smears on the floor and the two cupboards. ‘Fingerprints from the cupboards,’ he said. ‘Check to see if there are any heavy objects with blood stains on them. Rocks, stones, mini-statues, metal objects, the usual thing.’ He gestured at the mess area and the wireless on one table, and the chess and domino sets stacked up. ‘Let’s find out who used them recently.’
‘The newest prints,’ nodded Stevens.
‘Sergeant Lampson and I will be wandering around in the crypt, if you need us,’ Coburg told him. ‘The vicar general’s due to bring us some information.’
‘The vicar general? Is that some kind of senior army padre?’
‘In a way,’ said Coburg.
While Stevens and his team got to work, Coburg and Lampson moved around the crypt, looking for any signs of things out of kilter.
‘Not much here, guv,’ said Lampson.
‘No,’ agreed Coburg. ‘Let’s hope that Jerry and his crew find something to help us.’
Arthur Waterson was as good as his word. He reappeared in the crypt accompanied by a short, thin, bald, worried-looking man in his fifties.
‘This is Harold Chaplin,’ he introduced the man to the detectives. ‘I’ve already told him we’d like to check the books that have been left here.’
‘They’re kept over here,’ said Chaplin, leading the way to a 31tall, anonymous-looking cupboard in a shadowy corner of the crypt. He produced a ring with two heavy-looking keys on it, with which he opened the cupboard’s two locks.
‘These are the volumes which are particularly fragile,’ Chaplin told them.
There were about a hundred books in the cupboard. Only a few of them appeared to be bound with hard covers; the rest were rolled-up scrolls, wrapped around with cloth or thick paper. Chaplin produced a list.
‘This was the inventory of the books that remained when the rest were transported to Wales,’ he said. ‘I’ll need to check the numbers on the individual books with the list. It might take some time.’
‘In that case Sergeant Lampson and I will stay here with you while you do that,’ offered Coburg.
‘Excellent,’ said Waterson. ‘Two detectives from Scotland Yard will ensure security while the books are exposed.’ He handed Coburg some sheets of paper. ‘The duty rota lists for this week,’ he said. ‘We average forty people per night. You’ll see Edwin Roberts’s name on the list for last night. You’ll also see his name on the roster for tonight.’
‘Thank you,’ said Coburg.
Waterson produced another list, a longer one.
‘These are the contact details for the Watch volunteers,’ he said. ‘As I’m sure you’ve been informed by the Dean, only a handful of the volunteers are resident here at the Cathedral. The majority live out.’
‘Were any of the Cathedral residents on duty last night, along with Mr Roberts?’
‘Three,’ said Waterson. ‘All canons. The Reverend Charles 32Mason is the Canon Liturgist. The Reverend Simon Hope is the Canon for Congregational Life. Martin White is the Cathedral organist and Canon for Music. All three live at Amen Court, off Ave Maria Lane.’
‘Martin White would be interesting to talk to. I assume, as the organist and Canon for Music, he’d have been involved with Edwin Roberts?’
‘Of course,’ said Waterson.
‘Will he be available?’ asked Coburg. ‘I ask because I expect those who were on duty last night may well be catching up on some sleep today.’ He looked at the duty roster again and commented, ‘Especially because I see he’s down for duty tonight.’
‘Some prefer to do their two nights on successive nights,’ said Waterson. ‘Martin is one such.’
‘In that case we’ll have a word with him. Thank you,’ said Coburg. And he meant it. Waterson had done an excellent job.
‘I’ll leave you to it,’ said Waterson. ‘I have to get back to Lambeth Palace.’ He handed Coburg a card. ‘Here are my contact details in case you need to get hold of me.’
Coburg looked at Lampson. ‘If you stay here with Mr Chaplin, I’ll go and talk to this Martin White.’
Lampson nodded. ‘No problem, guv.’
Coburg told Jerry Stevens what was happening, then he made his way to Amen Court, where the canons lived.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Reverend Martin White was in his late fifties and was wearing a dressing gown over civilian clothes when he opened the door to the detective. Coburg introduced himself, and White invited him into his small but neat flat.
‘Excuse the informality of my dress,’ he said. ‘But I was on duty all last night and we had quite a lot of activity. Usually I manage to grab a few winks, but the Luftwaffe seemed intent on disturbing us. I assume you’re here about Edwin.’
‘Edwin Roberts, yes.’
‘Dreadful,’ said White with a shudder. ‘I was one of those who discovered him, you know.’
‘No, I didn’t know,’ said Coburg.
‘Yes. It was about six-thirty, the end of the shift, and I saw the two cupboards were not where they should be. I’m a bit of a busybody, I’m afraid, about things being in their right place. They call me the pedant here because of my attention to even the smallest of details.’ He gave a rueful smile. ‘I think some people find me quite irritating.’
‘In this case it was very fortunate,’ said Coburg.
‘Charles Mason, the Canon Liturgist, was there and I asked him to give me a hand to push the cupboards back. When we 34tried and couldn’t, and looked into it, there was poor Edwin.’ He shook his head at the memory. ‘It was an awful sight. We called over others of the Watch who were getting ready to leave, and they dragged the cupboards away. Then Charles went to the hospital and brought Nurse Cochrane over to examine the body, although we’d both agreed he was dead, his skull smashed in like that.’
‘How well did you know Mr Roberts?’
‘I really didn’t know him at all, in truth. We had separate duties in the Night Watch.’
‘He was in the choir.’
‘He was, indeed.’ Coburg was aware of a slight hesitation before Martin added, ‘He had a superb bass delivery.’
‘But …?’ prompted Coburg.
White regarded him warily.
‘Why should there be a “but”?’ he asked.
‘Perhaps I’m wrong, but I thought I caught a note of contradiction in your voice.’
‘No contradiction, I assure you,’ said White. ‘He had a wonderful voice.’
‘How did you get on with him?’
Again, Coburg was aware of a slight hesitation before the Canon said, ‘As well as with anyone else. We didn’t really socialise. Our mutual interest was the choir. There’s been a choir here at St Paul’s for over nine centuries. In normal times the choir resides at the Cathedral throughout the year. However, these are not normal times. Usually the choir consists of thirty boy treble choristers, eight probationers and twelve vicars choral, of which Edwin Roberts was one. The vicars choral are all professional singers, who sing alto, tenor or bass. Roberts 35was a bass. However, with the coming of the war, the choir school was evacuated to Truro in Cornwall.’
‘Yes, so the Dean informed us,’ said Coburg.
‘It means our boy trebles are still practising and being taught, but too far away from London to be available for the Cathedral’s Sunday choral services. Their place is taken by boys from four choirs close to London who appear in rotation. Next weekend, for example, we have a choir from St Mary’s Parish church in Reigate, Surrey. Mid-week services are still sung by the men in the choir. Of course, we have to find a replacement for Mr Roberts, which isn’t going to be easy. We’ve recently lost our tenor vicar choral, Gerald Noakes, so we’re already short.’
‘What happened to him? Another death?’
‘No, he was headhunted by Bletchley Park.’
‘Do they have a choir at Bletchley Park?’
‘No. It’s some sort of top-level security work they’re doing. I don’t know the whole details, but it’s vital for national security, so when Noakes told me he’d been asked to join them, we could hardly stand in his way. It was due to him being a chess master, I believe.’
‘A chess master?’
‘Yes, Bletchley are desperate for them.’
As he made his way to the flat where Charles Mason lived, one flight of stairs up from Canon White, Coburg reflected on his conversation with Martin. There had definitely been a note in his voice. As if he had something more to add, but didn’t like to. Something about Roberts that may not have been very nice, thought Coburg. It had been interesting how keen White 36had been to go into full flow on the history of the choir, as if relieved to change the subject. Let’s see what Canon Mason has to say about Mr Roberts, Coburg mused.
Canon Mason professed the same lack of personal knowledge of Edwin Roberts as Martin White had.
‘We were part of the Night Watch, but one never felt Edwin wanted to allow people close to him. I don’t want to speak ill of the dead, but I suppose I’d describe him as somewhat aloof.’
‘He was in the choir.’
‘Yes, but I believe the other choristers had the same opinion about him. At least, those who talked about him after we’d discovered his body. I remember one saying, “He was an arrogant so and so, always upsetting people”.’
‘In what way?’
‘I don’t know. I didn’t ask. I was too shocked to think of anything except that he’d been killed. And in a very brutal manner.’
Coburg returned to the crypt, where Chaplin informed him and Lampson that he’d examined all the books, and nothing seemed to be missing. Jerry Stevens also informed Coburg that they’d got samples of everything and the forensic report would be with Coburg the next day.
‘It’s strange,’ observed Coburg. ‘Apart from that canon saying he was arrogant, no one’s really got an opinion about Roberts. Not one they want to express, anyway. The most people say about him is that he kept himself to himself.’ He mused on this, then said, ‘I’m sure that whoever killed him was either part of the Watch, or the reason for him being killed is to do with the Watch. A few of the men who were on duty last 37night will be back again for tonight’s duty. I’m going to join the Watch tonight.’
‘That could be a bit dangerous,’ said Lampson, concerned.
‘No more dangerous than many people experience when they’re firewatching. Like you and your dad in Somers Town.’
‘Yes, but St Paul’s is more of a target that Somers Town. You heard what the Dean said. If that dome comes down, that’s 67,000 tons.’
‘It hasn’t done so far,’ said Coburg.
‘Do you want me with you?’ asked Lampson.
Coburg shook his head. ‘You take care of Eve and Terry,’ he said. ‘If anything does go wrong, it will make sure that one of us is around to carry on the investigation.’
Coburg made his way to the Deanery, where he told the Dean of his intention to join the Night Watch for that evening’s duty.
‘In that case you’ll need to arrange it with Godfrey Allen,’ said the Dean. ‘As I said before, he is the man in charge of the Watch. If you come with me, I’ll take you to see him. I believe he is in the storehouse checking equipment. He’s very particular and highly efficient. Without him in charge of the Watch, I doubt the Cathedral would be still standing.’
The Dean led Coburg back into the Cathedral and down to the crypt, then along a short corridor to a door marked ‘Stores’. He knocked and they entered. Whatever purpose the small room had previously been used for, it was now most definitely a store with equipment for the Watch. Shelves filled with dark blue one-piece boiler suits, steel helmets, stirrup pumps, gas masks.
Godfrey Allen, a man in his fifties, was busy checking the shelves. 38
‘Mr Allen,’ said the Dean brightly.
‘Dean,’ said Allen. ‘What can I do for you?’
‘This is Detective Chief Inspector Saxe-Coburg from Scotland Yard.’
‘Poor Edwin Roberts,’ nodded Allen.
‘Indeed,’ said the Dean. ‘As part of his enquiries he has suggested he’d like to join the Watch tonight, and hopefully find out from them what sort of man Roberts was.’
‘He was very private,’ said Allen. ‘A man who kept himself to himself.’
‘Yes, so I understand,’ said Coburg. He held out his hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr Allen.’
Godfrey Allen shook his hand. ‘You too, Chief Inspector. I just wish it was under different circumstances.’
‘Well, I’ll leave you two together,’ said the Dean.
With that, he left. Allen regarded Coburg and the chief inspector saw the wariness in his face.
‘One issue of concern for me, Chief Inspector,’ said Allen, ‘is that although I accept and am grateful for your enthusiasm to join the Watch and help in protecting the Cathedral, you have no experience of working as part of the Watch. This building has many peculiarities, stairways and corridors that can be a bit of a maze to anyone unfamiliar with them. Usually, with new recruits, we like them to spend time here during the day before they into go action, being shown the various routes through the Cathedral. I understand you fought in the first war.’
‘I did.’
‘Then you’ll understand the importance of people in dangerous situations being knowledgeable about the terrain. The Cathedral is our terrain, and it is not just linear – it has 39
