Something Evil Comes Read online

  ‘Were they, are they, still satisfactory tenants?’ asked Hanson.

  ‘They wouldn’t still be living at the house if they weren’t.’

  Hanson nodded. Looks like she doesn’t know about the marijuana. ‘Some tenants can be unwelcoming of landlords dropping by.’

  The blue eyes narrowed on Hanson. ‘They were fine with it.’ Diana Flynn lifted her coffee cup to her lips.

  ‘What’s William Graham like?’ asked Hanson.

  ‘Nice. Polite. What’s he got to do with what happened to my son?’

  ‘Maybe nothing. Tell me about Zach Addison.’

  The wariness was full on now, cup still raised. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

  ‘There was no falling out between Mr Graham or Mr Addison and your son?’

  ‘Of course not. They got on well.’

  ‘You sound very certain, Mrs Flynn. Did you get to know Mr Graham and Mr Addison well?’ Diana Flynn’s face was now rigid, watchful. She didn’t reply. ‘We understand that you took flowers to the house occasionally. A nice gesture but unusual between property owner and tenants.’ There was a heavy silence, filled by Hanson. ‘Did Matthew ever question your visits to the house?’

  Diana Flynn’s coffee cup met its saucer with an audible click, causing two or three other customers to look across at their table. She glared at Hanson. ‘I’ve got nothing more to say to you, except that if you repeat your accusation, I assure you, you’ll regret it.’

  ‘What accusation have I made, Mrs Flynn?’ asked Hanson. She watched her signal to a waiter. If she was going to get anything from this woman she needed to be explicit. And quick. ‘Mrs Flynn, I regret having to be direct but if there was or is anything between you and Zach Addison you need to tell me.’ The waiter appeared. Diana Flynn was getting ready to leave, her hands shaking as she reached for her bag. ‘My bill please. Now.’

  ‘Certainly, Mrs Flynn. I trust everything was satisfactory as always?’ She gave a curt nod and he went away. There was a short, tense silence until the waiter brought the bill and turned to go.

  ‘Wait,’ she said, searching her purse, taking out a ten-pound note and giving it to him. ‘Don’t bother about change.’ She dropped her purse into her bag and stood, giving Hanson a challenging look. ‘Do you know why I’m in town? I’ll tell you, shall I? I have to find something to wear to my son’s funeral.’ Her lips trembled. She got control. ‘Don’t contact me again and stay away from my family.’ Without a backward look she walked away from the table.

  Hanson watched her go. She hadn’t expected Diana Flynn to admit to anything but her behavioural and verbal responses told her all she needed to know: Diana Flynn and Addison had probably been involved in an intimate relationship at around the time Matthew disappeared. She frowned, chin supported on one hand. What might that mean in respect of his murder? Possibly nothing. Yet it might provide some leverage for her colleagues when they resumed their interviews of Graham and Addison.

  Leaving the city centre she made a brief detour to the university. Coming into her room she went straight to the flip chart and stood, hands on hips, eyes moving over positive descriptors of Matthew Flynn. She read Terri Brennan’s comment about how he had dealt with the difficult coffee shop customer. Honest, kindly Matthew who possibly wasn’t too good at judging situations which might be volatile and possibly dangerous to him. Hanson added notes, recalling the waiter addressing Mrs Flynn by name, her hasty exit from the hotel coffee shop. It was very possible that Zach Addison’s stance in interview might change once he realised that they knew about his relationship with Diana Flynn. She had no idea what it might add to their investigation of Matthew’s death, if anything, but they needed all the information it was possible to get.

  THIRTEEN

  Hanson walked into UCU the following morning to find her colleagues deep in discussion. ‘I say we should be a presence,’ said Watts. ‘And you can explain the technicalities of it.’

  ‘There probably won’t be any,’ said Corrigan. ‘Just a straight service but seven o’clock fits with my schedule. Armed Response finishes at six thirty. I’ll meet you there.’

  She looked from him to Watts. ‘You two have a date?’

  ‘One of Delaney’s deacons phoned,’ said Watts. ‘We’ve got an official invite to the re-consecration service at St Bartholomew’s tonight.’

  ‘Seems Delaney already had one planned in respect of the vandalism,’ said Corrigan. ‘Matthew Flynn’s body being found within the church building seems to have incentivised him. Come with us, Red.’

  Watts nodded. ‘The three of us should be there.’

  ‘I’ll think about it. I’m not sure how welcome I might be.’ She told them of Delaney’s comments about her profession.

  Corrigan didn’t look surprised. ‘Like I said, he’s on the traditional side.’

  ‘Come on, doc. You could do with an outing.’

  Is this what my social life’s come to? ‘OK. By the way, I’ve asked a Social Services contact to check out any information available on Matthew Flynn following his caution. If he was given support at the time we need to know who provided it. It could give us useful information about him and his life back then, plus any associates.’

  ‘And the likelihood of his sticking with the drugs,’ said Watts.

  She walked to the board and pointed. ‘Kind Matthew, honest Matthew. I can’t believe he was part of that marijuana scheme.’ She glanced at Corrigan. ‘Do we know if the Flynn family has been invited to the service? If so, that’s another reason I might not be welcome. I met with Diana Flynn yesterday and followed up the theory about her and Addison. I’m certain they were having a relationship.’ She returned to the table. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. We already have an indication that Matthew may have been a little naïve, not too skilled at dealing with challenging personal situations. How might he have reacted if he learned that his mother was having sex with one of his housemates?’

  Watts exchanged a look with Corrigan. ‘How certain are you about this relationship?’ he asked her.

  ‘Certain enough, short of actual proof.’

  ‘Works for me,’ said Corrigan. ‘We’ll ask Addison directly.’

  She looked from him to Watts. ‘When?’

  Watts pointed at the clock. ‘Five minutes from now. If we’re going to charge him we have to get a move on.’

  She looked up at the Smartboard and the depiction of Matthew Flynn’s throat injury. ‘My concern is what might have happened at that house if Matthew found out about his mother and Addison and challenged him. Matthew might have threatened to tell his father about it and about the marijuana. Such threats could have been enough to invite a violent response from Addison, possibly Graham, too. That whole rented house needs to be forensically examined.’ She saw Watts reach for the phone. ‘Tell the SOCOs they’re looking for massive blood loss.’

  Addison was sitting next to his solicitor, his face resigned. ‘Look, charge me, if that’s what you’re going to do.’

  Watching through glass, Hanson saw a look pass between Watts and Corrigan. ‘There’s something else we’d like to ask you about,’ said Watts. ‘How was your relationship with Matthew Flynn?’

  Addison’s heavy brows met. ‘There was hardly a relationship. I met him for the first time late last summer when he moved into the house. By October he was gone. Disappeared.’

  Watts studied him. ‘Long enough for a falling out.’

  Addison looked at his solicitor then back. ‘We got on OK.’

  ‘Did Matthew Flynn know about you and his mother?’

  Addison stared at him, started to speak then closed his mouth. His solicitor raised a hand. ‘A minute, please.’ They waited as he leant forward to murmur low words into Addison’s ear. Whatever was said resulted in some shoulder-shrugging from Addison and glared looks for Watts and Corrigan. The solicitor straightened and Addison folded his arms.

  ‘That’s got nothing to do with why I’m here so, no comment.’
r />   ‘Was there ever an altercation between you and Matthew Flynn?’ asked Corrigan.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ He got a warning look from his solicitor. ‘No comment.’

  ‘You don’t need to know, Mr Addison,’ said Corrigan. ‘Just answer the question. Was there ever any kind of physical altercation between you and Matthew Flynn?’

  Addison studied the floor. Watts proceeded to charge him with organising the growth of cannabis plants sufficient to produce significant quantities for commercial use. As Addison was escorted away from the interview room followed by his solicitor, Hanson came inside.

  ‘You’re going to charge Graham too?’

  ‘Yeah. The SOCOs are on their way to the house. Maybe we’ll be charging one or both with murder by the time they’ve finished.’

  Hanson was aware of the heat as soon as they entered the church that evening. Unbuttoning her heavy tweed overcoat she picked up the low sounds of organ music. In front of them was a sea of heads, most members of the congregation conversing in hushed voices, their faces animated. The atmosphere felt heavy with anticipation. She looked for the Flynn family but didn’t see them. Her gaze was drawn to the far end of the church and the huge stained glass window. Lights mounted on huge metal rings suspended by chains from high crossbeams turned the window’s reds, yellows and blues to jewels. Lilies in tall vases stood at multiple places around the church. She looked at those nearest to her, pulsing out their heavy scent, fleshy, spotted petals furled back like trumpet-blares, stamens exposed.

  She and her colleagues made their way further inside, scanning the crammed pews for available seats. Amid the low murmurings of the congregation, plus a few finger-points in their direction, Hanson saw a space and went to it, Watts following. Taking a seat she looked round for Corrigan. He was still standing, his head bowed. She looked away, feeling like an intruder, trying to recall the last time she’d attended a service of any kind. A long time ago. Her eyes moved over the church’s interior. It was undeniably beautiful. She straightened to get a view of the altar. It was covered in white cloth deeply bordered with lace, the tall brass candleholders bearing slender, lit candles placed at either end, between them multiple items of brassware, light glinting off crucifixes and other more intricate designs.

  She looked up as Corrigan joined them. The murmurings of the congregation stopped. A door to one side opened and the congregation rose as one. A robed priest appeared holding a small brass object suspended by a chain. In the loaded silence Father Delaney came into view, his massive form clothed in red. He faced the altar and knelt. Hanson watched as the brass object was swung. Smoke billowed from it and rose upwards. Delaney also rose, turned to face the wrapt and silent congregation and lowered his hands. Everyone sat. Delaney’s voice flowed over them.

  ‘Oh, Lord accept this smoke as a symbol of our prayers rising to thee. May it purify all it touches.’ Surprised at the clarity of his voice, Hanson gave him a close look, saw the tiny microphone attached to his robe. Voices around them rose in an assent to his words. The heavy scent of lilies and the smoke were now inside her nose. Amid the bowed heads she watched and listened to Delaney. ‘This, your house has been tainted by those who seek only to despoil with the symbolism of evil. There has been damage to its fabric and the destruction of a young life which you with your all-seeing eyes know, oh Lord. We resist evil in all its forms, whether criminal or spiritual. Hear our prayers for a young life drawn cruelly to an end.’ Delaney’s arms rose along with his voice. ‘We beseech you, oh Lord! Take hold of the dragon, the serpent which is the devil and Satan,’ he intoned. ‘Cast him into the bottomless pit! Drive him from wherever unclean spirits hide.’

  Hanson stared, her mouth slightly open. She looked at the people nearby murmuring responses. Watts’s lips were pressed together. Corrigan’s face was closed. Delaney’s voice rose again. ‘Cast out all satanic powers, all evil doers, all the legions of the wicked! We live in godless times. The worried and the frightened seek salvation in the falsehood of activities they believe calm the spirit and ease the soul but we who are gathered here know the undeniable Truth! Christ himself cast out demons and he guides me now.’ He lowered his arms. ‘Let us pray to the Madonna to help us.’ After a minute of silence his voice climbed still further. ‘Oh, Lord, the devil has been at work here!’ The congregation murmured assent. ‘This assembly knows the true God, which is also here. We reject consumerism and the reliance on the individual, the psyche.’ Hanson’s eyes widened. His voice was thunderous now. ‘Oh, Satan! Lucifer! Beelzebub! Whatever name you choose, hear this. We do not doubt your existence.’ He flung his arms wide. Background sounds from the organ now swelled. ‘You are present yet in hiding. I say to you in the name of the Lord, be gone!’

  The congregation erupted, repeating his words. Hanson stared at Delaney’s reddened face, the lights and their reflection off the brasses making her eyes burn, the smell of lilies and smoke filling her head. Hanson had been shallow breathing for several minutes. Her forehead felt damp. She had to be away from this. She stood, squeezed past Corrigan, went to the door, passing several people holding collection plates and out.

  She stood on the grass, gulping cold night air, gazing at gravestones. The church door opened and her two colleagues emerged. She breathed deeply, pulling more cold air into her chest.

  ‘You all right, doc?’ asked Watts.

  ‘Fine now.’ She pressed the back of her hand to her forehead. It was clammy. ‘Just a bad case of sensory overload.’ She looked up at them. ‘What did you make of that?’

  Corrigan looked at the church. ‘It’s still going on. I said he was a traditionalist but I never saw anything so over the top.’

  ‘I don’t go for that fire-and-brimstone stuff, myself,’ sniffed Watts. ‘But they’re lapping it up in there.’

  ‘It’s more exorcism than anything,’ said Corrigan. ‘I didn’t see the Flynn family.’

  Hanson shook her head. ‘Just as well, given the tone, the drama.’

  They walked away from the church in silence. When they got to their vehicles Hanson called to them. ‘Come back to my house and say hello to Charlie. Have something warming.’

  Across the city, white-suited figures entered the Erdington house carrying their forensic equipment and cases. Reaching the top of the house they put on eye protectors and face masks and moved in silence and minimal lighting, actions smoothly orchestrated as one officer sprayed a section of each room’s floor and wall whilst another recorded it on video and yet another took photographs. They were on a quest for blood. A lot of blood. Once an area was sprayed a forensic light source was activated and all other light extinguished. The light source was drawn slowly, methodically over the sprayed area. The process was painstakingly repeated in each room on each floor.

  After two hours of careful examination, they packed their cases and left the house to darkness and silence.

  Charlie reached into a high cupboard for small glasses which he handed to Hanson to put on the tray next to a bottle of brandy. ‘How did it go at the church?’

  ‘A good night out for anybody who likes a religious rant,’ said Watts.

  Hanson looked at the kitchen clock then at Charlie. ‘It’s only nine o’clock. Did Maisie say why she wanted to go to bed so early? Did she seem unwell?’

  ‘She didn’t say, so I didn’t ask, but she did look tired.’ Hanson carried the tray to the table, listening to her colleagues describe their experience at St Bartholomew’s. ‘An exorcism?’ Charlie’s eyebrows rose. ‘Does that kind of thing still happen?’

  ‘Apparently it does and it was an experience, I can tell you.’ Hanson poured brandy and offered glasses. ‘You know The Crucible. It was like that, with Father Delaney finger-jabbing the congregation, roaring and railing at the “evil within”.’

  Watts took a glass. ‘Say what you like, they were all enjoying it.’

  ‘Is that what usually happens in a re-consecration?’ she asked Corrigan.
r />   ‘I never went to one and I never saw that kind of fervour in any church I attended, back home or here. But as Watts says, it seemed to work for Delaney’s parishioners.’

  Watts sipped brandy. ‘It would have upset the Flynn family, you can bet on it.’

  Hanson nodded. And Diana Flynn has had enough upset. Caused by me. A thought occurred to her. If Brad Flynn was unaware of his wife’s affair with Addison, would Diana Flynn tell him about it, now that she was aware that the police knew? She recalled what her colleagues had told her about Brad Flynn: entrepreneur, controller, a man with a large ego. No. Diana won’t tell him. She sighed at the assumption she’d made. For all we know, he might already have known.

  ‘The family doesn’t have a connection to that church?’ asked Charlie.

  Corrigan shook his head. ‘None at all.’

  ‘So why was this victim’s body left there?’

  Hanson and her colleagues exchanged glances. ‘We don’t know,’ said Watts. His phone buzzed. He brought it out of his pocket. ‘Yeah? What did you get?’ He listened, all eyes turned on him. ‘Thanks.’ He ended the call. ‘Forensics. They’ve tested the whole of the Erdington house.’ Hanson and Corrigan waited.

  ‘No blood in the quantities we were expecting. In fact, no blood full stop.’

  Hanson was at the door, seeing her colleagues out. ‘What have you got planned for tomorrow?’

  ‘Once Corrigan’s finished with Armed Response, he’s searching databases, everything we’ve got for information on Spencer Albright and keeping me updated on anything he finds while I’m out checking the places Albright’s known to frequent. We need to find him. He knows that church. He’d been there before Chivers even knew about it. For all we know, he could have decided to make himself scarce because he knows something about Matthew Flynn’s body being left in that crypt.’

  ‘Still no news on the bits of trace evidence Chong vacuumed from Matthew Flynn’s clothes?’ asked Hanson.

  ‘I would have let you know if there was, doc. Chong’s got a lot on but tomorrow morning I’ll risk getting chewed up by asking her.’