NO AGE TO DIE: The release of a dangerous prisoner leads to murder (DCI John Blizzard Book 9) by John Dean (digital ebook reader .txt) 📕

‘He may have had in the short time he was here,’ said Rose-Harvey. ‘We encourage the guests at our hostel to use the church as part of their rehabilitation.’

‘Guests!’ exclaimed Blizzard. ‘Macklin is a child-killer, dammit!’

‘Be that as it may, we believe that the restorative power of the Lord can shine light into the darkest recesses of any heart. That is why we take in people like Albert Macklin and why it is important that we let them use the church. We see prayer as the conduit through which that light can shine.’

‘Oh, spare me the mumbo jumbo,’ said Blizzard. ‘Do you know where Macklin is now?’

‘I am afraid not. Jacob Reed said that he had gone to see relatives in Derby but that’s all I know. How is dear Jacob?’

‘He’s got a headache.’

‘A somewhat uncharitable comment, Chief Inspector. I have to say that I find your attitude somewhat disappointing.’ Rose-Harvey stood up. ‘Now, will that be all? I do have other things to attend to, as I am sure you can imagine.’

Blizzard left the room without reply. As Colley closed the door behind them, he glanced back and saw through the frosted glass pane that Edgar Rose-Harvey had started to berate the vicar, jabbing a finger menacingly at him. There was anger in his voice.

‘The Lord does indeed move in mysterious ways,’ said the sergeant as they headed down the corridor.

‘He certainly does.’ Blizzard stopped walking and looked at him with a troubled expression on his face. ‘What the hell has happened here, David?’

‘I’m not sure,’ said the sergeant. ‘But whatever it is, it doesn’t feel right.’

Chapter eight

After leaving the vicar’s office, the detectives headed for the short passage that led into the church hall – a large, light room with plain-glass windows and shiny wooden floors. At one end stood a selection of children’s buggies and bicycles, used by the toddler group. Not far away was the store cupboard, its doors painted a shade of red that the officers recognised from the baseball bat. The uniformed officer who stood guard next to the cupboard nodded deferentially at Blizzard.

‘I thought it made sense to keep people away,’ said Colley. ‘Forensics are coming to do an examination. The lock had not been forced, which seems to confirm that the cupboard was already open.’

‘So, anyone could have taken the bat,’ said Blizzard.

‘Yeah, and there’s loads of possibilities. I looked on the noticeboard as we came in, there are all sorts of clubs and groups and Jamie was in the Scouts, which makes me–’

‘’Ere, what you doing?’ shouted a gruff voice. The detectives turned to see the caretaker striding across the hall towards them. ‘Get out! There’s been too many people traipsing round here this morning!’

‘It seems,’ said Colley, ‘that there is not much welcome from anyone in the house of the Lord today.’

‘Too right,’ said Blizzard. He held up his warrant card at the caretaker, a grey-haired man in his sixties, wearing a brown overall jacket and clutching a mop. ‘We are police officers. We’re allowed to traipse around.’

‘Yeah, I heard about the boy.’ The caretaker’s anger had left him as suddenly as it had erupted. He shook his head. ‘I’m sorry for shouting at you. Everyone is very upset. It’s a terrible thing that’s happened.’

‘Did you know Jamie?’ asked Blizzard.

‘I did, yes. Nice family. Well, nice mother. She’s here every Sunday, sometimes comes to all three services. Jamie was in the Scouts. Lovely young lad, he really was.’

‘And his father?’ asked Colley. ‘Did he come to the church?’

‘Steve? Na, he ain’t the type.’

‘Type?’

‘God-botherer.’

Colley suppressed a smile. It was not exactly the kind of response that he expected from a church caretaker but then St John’s was throwing up a lot of surprises.

‘I take it you don’t have much time for church folk, then?’ said Blizzard.

‘I don’t mind church folk,’ said the caretaker. He nodded in the direction of the passageway leading to the offices. ‘It’s them people I don’t like. The new lot. Rose-Harvey and his cronies. They turned up more than a year ago and they’ve taken the church over. They may come over as charming, all smiles, but they’re ruthless.’

‘Where did they come from?’ asked Colley.

‘Who knows? Him and half a dozen of the others appeared one Sunday morning; next thing we know there’s sixty or seventy of the buggers, all of them young’uns. Got themselves voted onto every committee and now they run the place. Changed it for the worst, if you ask me.’

‘But they saved it, didn’t they?’ asked Colley. ‘I heard that congregation numbers were so low that it was only a matter of time before the church closed, redevelopment or not. The new people brought in fresh life, didn’t they? Surely, they secured the future of St John’s?’

‘But at what cost?’ said the caretaker sourly. ‘Most of the old’uns have left. Some of them had been coming for more than fifty years. They can’t be doing with all that happy-clappy stuff. Besides, anyone as disagrees with the new folks gets the treatment.’

‘The treatment?’ asked Blizzard.

‘Sent to Coventry. I only work here. I don’t come to services no more. It ain’t the church I joined. There’s plenty as will tell you the same.’

‘And what do they believe?’ asked the inspector. ‘These new people?’

‘They believe every word of the Bible, for a start.’

‘Perish the thought,’ said Blizzard.

‘Yeah, well, I don’t mind that but then they opened up that hostel place. That was the final straw. It ain’t right. We don’t want people like that round here, especially not the likes of Albert Macklin.’

‘And the vicar?’ asked Colley. ‘Is he one of the new people?’

‘Henry?’