‘What about Tuesday last week? Were you on your own all day then as well?’ As he spoke, Fleet opened one of the folders, and slid two A4 photographs into the centre of the table, where Father Steiner could see them. One showed Melissa’s body lying bloated and semi-clothed on the side of the docks. The other showed Lance Wheeler hanging in his kitchen.

The chaplain’s eyes widened in horror.

‘It’s extremely unfortunate, Father Steiner, that on the days Ben, Lance and Melissa were killed, there are no witnesses to verify your whereabouts. And God, I’m afraid, doesn’t count.’

‘I didn’t say nobody could verify my whereabouts,’ the chaplain responded, flustered. ‘I said … I said I couldn’t remember where I was! If you’d just … just give me a moment to think …’

‘Here’s what I think,’ said Fleet. ‘I think you found out what Ben was up to, and so you killed him. Maybe it was an accident, maybe not. Somehow, twenty-two years later, you realised it wasn’t only Ben who was involved. Or maybe you knew all along, and it’s been eating at you, the way your guilt has. So you decided to punish them. All of them. For Richard Hewitt, for Ben, for what they almost did to you.’

‘No,’ said the chaplain. ‘No.’

‘And it was because of the guilt you were feeling that you decided to allow Ben to be found – so that instead of lying alone in the dark for another twenty-two years, he could finally be buried properly. Respectfully. Because you’ve known all along about the crypt, haven’t you, Father Steiner?’

‘What? No! How could I have?’

‘For one thing,’ Fleet said, ‘you know the chapel better than anyone. You know its history, its heritage, its every corner, I would imagine. It stands to reason you would have known about the building it replaced. Tell me, how did you find it? Did you read about the crypt in Beaconsfield’s library? Or just stumble across it when you were walking in the woods?’

‘I didn’t do either of those things! I told you, I … I had no idea it was there. No one did. I …’

Father Steiner’s eyebrows came together in a frown. Instead of looking pleadingly at Fleet, he gazed down at the surface of the table.

‘Father Steiner?’

The chaplain didn’t respond.

‘Father Steiner, you’re not going to help yourself by—’

‘Ben found it.’

Fleet blinked. ‘Excuse me?’

‘Ben found the crypt. He … he must have. I remember … I remember I came across him in the clearing. Two days, three, before he went missing. There was something odd about his behaviour. I remember thinking … I remember thinking he’d been up to something.’

‘Up to something?’

‘Yes, I … I thought he was looking at … at pornography. And I thought he was acting strangely because he was embarrassed at being caught.’