The Mersey Monastery Murders (Mersey Murder Mysteries Book 7)

Book summary

"In 'The Mersey Monastery Murders,' a tranquil monastery is shaken by a monk's poisoning, drawing Detective Andy Ross into a web of intrigue. As a second victim meets a gruesome fate, Ross delves into an enigmatic cold case, unearthing ties to the Stasi, the East German Secret Police, in a thrilling tale of hidden secrets and unexpected alliances."

Excerpt from The Mersey Monastery Murders (Mersey Murder Mysteries Book 7)

Spring had arrived early, or so it appeared to the members of the community at St. Emma. The first week of April had begun with an unseasonal warm spell, temperatures creeping above average for that time of year.

With the clocks having gone forward an hour to British summertime the previous weekend, Brother Ignatius and Sister Paulette were taking advantage of the slightly lighter evenings to plant vegetable seeds in the kitchen garden. They were surrounded by borders of daffodils, mostly yellow, but some were an unusual white, tinged with pink, at the petal edges. These borders, as well as being decorative, helped protect the young seedlings when they began to appear, affording them protection from strong winds blowing in from the coast. The daffodils would soon be replaced by tulips, the bulbs having been planted by Ignatius three years previously. They now grew each year and maintained a constant splash of colour in the kitchen garden. Every few yards, rose bushes stood, as yet bare, but with new growth buds already showing, ensuring a supply of beautiful flowers as the spring turned to summer. The floral borders, interspersed with various hues of pansies and violas, would surround the well-laid out kitchen garden with dazzling colour.

For now though, cabbages and cauliflowers were the order of the day, and the older monk and slightly younger nun, utilising a couple of kneeling pads to protect their knees, chatted amiably as they worked.

“I do so love the feeling one gets from planting these innocuous little seeds and then seeing them grow into full-grown plants in just a few short months, don't you?” Sister Paulette asked her colleague as she tamped down earth over another row of cabbage seeds.

“Yes indeed, Sister,” Brother Ignatious replied. “Before I joined the order, I was a gardener by profession, and the way nature works has always fascinated me.”

“I always wondered if you had special skills in the garden,” the little nun, no more than five feet tall, said. “You always seem to know all there is to know about the best way to plant things and how to cultivate the growing crop.”

“I'm pleased you think so,” he said as he opened another packet of seeds. “Father Gerontius was quick to put me in charge of the kitchen garden once he became aware of my previous life.”

“Did you tell him about being a gardener?”

“Oh no, Sister, that would not have been the correct thing to do. The Father found out from reading my personal records once they arrived, and I was pleased to accept the responsibility when he offered it to me. I can be far more productive here in the soil than I could be, for example, working as a cook in the kitchens. I'd be more likely to poison someone than give them a healthy meal.”

The two laughed at Ignatius' remark.

“It's true that Father Gerontius always seems to find the right person for each job around the priory though, isn't it?” Paulette asked.

“Yes, it is,” the monk replied, “but then, I suppose that's why he was placed in charge of the place, after all. What did you do before taking the veil, Sister? You're very young, if you don't mind me saying so.”

Paulette smiled, and laughed softly at Ignatius' comment. “I think you'll find I'm older than you think, Brother,” she grinned. “I'm actually twenty-four, but I have always been taken for being younger than my years. For what it's worth, I always wanted to be a nun but, when I left school, they told me I had to be eighteen to begin my training to become a nun. So, wanting to make sure I could be useful when I eventually did take the veil, I went to college and studied horticulture for two years.”

“Aha,” said Ignatius, “so that's why you ended up out here planting seeds with me.”

“I guess so. Father Gerontius told me I could be very useful helping in the gardens and, to be honest, I love it. It makes me feel close to nature and to God's creation of earth itself.”

The pair continued the conversation for another ten minutes or so, until all the seeds in Ignatius' tray had been planted. Ignatius looked up and saw the last remains of sunshine slowly melting into the distant horizon. Evening had fallen and the work could wait until the next day before they moved on to the next prepared seedbed.

“Time to give up for the day, I think,” the monk said, rising to his feet, placing his hands on his hips, and stretching his back to ease the stiffness that had formed in his muscles.

Sister Paulette gathered her small collection of gardening tools and placed everything in an old-fashioned wicker basket. Together, the two gardeners made their way from the kitchen garden to the refectory, where they'd partake of the evening meal ahead of taking part in evening prayers, before retiring for the night to their own rooms, or cells, where they would usually remain until morning.

The priory very much adhered to the standard layout of a typical Benedictine monastery, with most of the building situated within a cloister, or courtyard, which served as an area through which everyone passed on the way to various locations within the priory. The rebuilt church stood on the north side of the cloister, facing east, this being important in preventing the church from blotting out the sun from the courtyard. Next to the church stood the sacristy and the chapter house, where the monks and nuns held chapter meetings. In one marked difference from the traditional layout, the dormitories, one each for the monks and the nuns, stood to one side; the latrines were located close by, for obvious reasons. Apart from the church, the rest of the buildings had a more modern appearance as they'd been built with practicality in mind, not aestheticism, and the whole site had been created in an overall L-shaped formation.

The kitchen garden stood aside from the main buildings of the priory. To reach the refectory, Brother Ignatius and Sister Paulette had to exit the garden by walking to the end of the path they'd been working beside, and make a sharp left turn onto another gravel path that led through an archway of ornamental ivy to the gateway that led back into the courtyard.

As they turned, walking slowly and enjoying the sky, tinged pink by the setting sun, they could make out a shape on the path twenty or so yards ahead. As they drew closer, they could clearly see that it was the figure of a man. Worried, in case one of their brethren had fallen and been hurt, they increased their pace.

Brother Ignatious called out as they drew close. “Hello, are you alright? Is something wrong?”

They could see that it was indeed a member of their order, or at least a man dressed in the habit of the order, his back towards them, and his body curled up in a foetal position. Fearing the worst, that one of the brothers had fallen and hurt himself, or worse still, suffered a heart attack or similar, Ignatius placed a hand on Sister Paulette's shoulder, and instructed her to stay where she was while he checked it out first.

Paulette did as asked, remaining five yards back from the prone figure, and placed her hands together in prayer as her companion arrived beside the curled-up individual, and knelt on the path. Slowly, he turned the figure. One look was all he needed and Ignatius quickly laid the body back in its original position, made the sign of the cross and uttered a quick whispered prayer to God before turning to the young sister.

“Please, Sister, go and fetch Prior Gerontius. We have an emergency on our hands.”

Unable to hold back, the nun made to walk closer to the body on the ground, but Brother Ignatius urged her to stay back.

“Who is it?” she asked. “Please, I must see him.”

“Sister, please, no.”

“I've seen death before, Brother,” she said, pushing his restraining arm away and walking around to the front of the man on the ground. She wasn't quite prepared for the sight she beheld however and a gasp escaped. “Brother Bernárd,” was all she could say as she recognised the man. The expression on his face spoke to her of sheer terror, frozen in the moment of death. “That look! It's as if he saw the Devil himself.”

“Please Sister, there's nothing you can do for him. Please, go quickly and bring Prior Gerontius.”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Paulette said as she scurried away to bring the head of their community to the scene.

Five minutes later, she returned with the Prior at her side. Brother Ignatius was still kneeling, praying beside the fallen body of their fellow brother. He rose as the pair approached.

“Please, allow me to see what has happened to our brother,” Gerontius spoke softly, but with authority.

Brother Ignatius gave way to the Prior, who conducted a brief examination of their fellow monk. One look at the face of Brother Bernárd was all he needed to make an important decision. The horror Brother Bernárd had suffered in his last moments as a living servant of God told Gerontius there was only one choice open to him.

“Ignatius, please be kind enough to go the office, dial 999, and summon the police. Whatever has taken place here has not, I believe, occurred through natural causes. If I'm not mistaken, the Devil has been at work here. Brother Bernárd, our simple, kind, loving Brother Bernárd has been murdered!”