Page 32 of The Chapel of Bones

Eager to follow this new lead, Wesley and Gerry left Judith in Trish’s care. She’d be remaining in the area for a few days to deal with the formalities, and Rachel had arranged for her to stay in one of the holiday apartments her parents had created in the outbuildings on their farm just outside Tradmouth. Given the circumstances, Wesley knew that Rachel’s mother would make sure she was comfortable

As soon as they returned to the CID office, Gerry called for attention. As well as getting on to Morbay University to find out about Aleric Donnal’s time there, they needed to find an artist called Jim who sold his pictures through a Tradmouth gallery. The job shouldn’t take long, he assured the team optimistically.

Wesley hoped he was right.

Aleric Donnal’s notebook

1 May 2011

I have visited the archives in Exeter and found abundant material relating to Brother Anselm’s monastic house in Neston. It was a house of Augustinian canons who ministered to their local community, acting as priests and confessors to the populace. I suspect this is how he heard the confession that appeared to trouble him so much. I wish I could find out what it was, but even today the seal of the confessional is sacred.

Anselm had freedom to come and go from his religious house (which must have aided him on his secret missions to Brittany). Few people in those highly religious days would question the motives of a holy monk travelling to a foreign cathedral or monastery. It was the perfect cover for what we would nowadays call a spy.

One interesting reference I found in his chronicle was to a chapel beside a holy well dedicated to St Catherine. The chapel was constructed in the late fifteenth century, early in the reign of Henry VII, as, and I quote, an act of penance.

But penance for what, I do not know – yet. The reference states that the chapel was to be dedicated to St Julian, and the well was from that time to be named for the same saint. I would like to discover the reason for this. For St Julian the Hospitaller is the patron saint of murderers.

21

During her break between seeing patients at work, Dr Maritia Fitzgerald made a unilateral decision. The matter of the ransom had been on her mind, and she couldn’t help playing the worst scenario over and over in her head. If the dog thieves caught sight of Mark noting down the number of their vehicle, they might well decide to take their revenge, putting the whole family in danger. And there was no way she was going to let him take that risk.

He’d received a call from the Waltons just before she’d set off for work, telling him that the dognappers had phoned them first thing and the drop was to be that night. Same time. Same place.

She needed advice and there was one person who could give it: her brother. She took out her phone and selected his number. Wesley would know what to do. But there was no answer, so she left a message.

Gerry had assumed that the job of tracing Sue Potter’s troublesome former neighbour would be easy, but it was taking a frustratingly long time. One of the galleries they’d contacted remembered him – or rather his whisky-scented breath. He’d been unpleasant to a young female member of their staff, so they’d decided to have nothing more to do with him. It hadn’t been a difficult decision because his paintings didn’t sell particularly well.

Eventually they had more luck with the letting agency who’d rented him the cottage in Belsham on a short lease. The manhadn’t been a model tenant, leaving the place in quite a state. At least the agency was able to give them a full name – Jim Baker – and provide a forwarding address in Morbay.

‘We should send someone round there,’ said Wesley, leaning on Gerry’s desk.

‘It’s not far away and I’d like to see this character for myself.’ Gerry shifted uncomfortably in his chair.

‘Sure your back’s up to it?’

‘Course it is, Wes. Stop fussing about like a mother hen, will you.’

‘My sister said you should see a physio.’

‘No need. I’m fine. Let’s get off to Morbay. Nobody from the university’s got back to us yet, but we can pay them a visit while we’re there.’

‘I think Timothy Fontescue-Burns and his commune is our most promising line of enquiry. But it’s not proving easy to track down who lived there. Even so, I think we should make that one of our priorities. If Donnal’s body was walled up while Fontescue-Burns owned the place . . .’

‘Which was May 2011 to his death in 2017.’

‘And going by the date he borrowed that book, Aleric Donnal probably died between the sixth and the twenty-seventh of May 2011.’ He thought for a moment. ‘But if Fontescue-Burns didn’t take the place over until later that May, Donnal could have been killed before he moved in. Pete Wolsey found the briefcase under the stairs while he was working for Fontescue-Burns. Think about it, Gerry. If Timothy was the killer, would he be so relaxed about letting the builder walk away with it?’

The suggestion grabbed Gerry’s attention. ‘You might have a point, Wes. Maybe we should widen the search. Have we managed to find out who was living at the house before Fontescue-Burns?’

‘Not yet. But there must be a record somewhere.’ Wesley hesitated. ‘It’s just a thought, but I wonder whether Jim Baker had any connection with Sycamore House.’ He checked the time. ‘Let’s set off for Morbay in half an hour.’

‘I can’t wait to see this Jim character. I’ll take my handcuffs,’ the DCI said with a wicked grin.

When Wesley returned to his desk, he found an email from Professor Dupont in his inbox. He read it carefully. According to the professor, Aleric Donnal had been researching Henry VII’s years of exile in Brittany, but he was also interested in the use of mythical beasts in medieval imagery. He had returned to Devon in 2010 to take up a post in Morbay, where he was intending to conduct research into the use of animal imagery in medieval ecclesiastical architecture. There were fine examples of carved misericords in Exeter Cathedral and Devon’s ancient parish churches, along with some impressive gargoyles and grotesques. Donnal had told Professor Dupont that he was planning to publish a book on the subject once his research was completed.

Wesley’s phone rang and he saw his sister’s name on the caller display. For a few moments he was tempted to ignore it, but he knew she’d keep trying. Maritia had always been a determined woman.

She came straight to the point. ‘Your colleague Trish’s parents came to see Mark yesterday.’