‘It was a Saturday, and Saturdays are one of the few clear windows in my week. I use them to catch up – with administrative matters, with personal ones. And with prayer. I’m something of a creature of habit, Detective Inspector. I tend to follow a daily routine.’

‘Meaning you were in your quarters in the main building?’

‘Meaning I was here, in the chapel, from dawn until the middle of the afternoon. As God is my witness,’ Father Steiner added, with a twitch of a smile. ‘But I doubt anybody else will be able to vouch for me. The day started brightly, but by late afternoon the weather was awful. And most of the children who hadn’t gone home for the weekend were up at the school, meaning the grounds would have been largely deserted. I don’t recall seeing more than one or two other people all day.’

‘Not even after you returned to the main building?’ Nicky asked.

‘Not even then. I believe I went straight to my room. I remember … I remember feeling slightly unwell.’

There was a buzzing sound, and it took Fleet a moment to work out that it was coming from his pocket. His phone was set to silent, but even so, in the confines of the chapel the noise of the vibration felt as intrusive as a ring.

He muttered his apologies and turned away. When he looked at the screen, he felt himself frown. He knew the number, and he knew nobody would be calling him from it if it weren’t important.

He accepted the call, and strode towards the vestibule, only raising the phone to his ear when he was through the first set of doors.

‘Fleet,’ he said.

He listened to the voice at the other end. He closed his eyes. When he opened them again, Nicky was leaning through the gap between the vestibule doors. She could clearly tell something was wrong even before Fleet had hung up the phone.

‘Boss?’ she said, keeping her voice low. ‘What’s up?’

Fleet exhaled. ‘Ben’s friend. Lance Wheeler. When did you say you last spoke to him?’

‘Monday afternoon. I tried to get in touch with him again yesterday to confirm our appointment, but his phone just went to voicemail. Why?’

Fleet peered over Nicky’s shoulder. Father Steiner was still seated on the front row of pews. His head was dipped, as though he was praying.

‘Because Lance Wheeler has just been found dead.’

Ben – February 1997

(Three months before his death)

It was too heavy to lift. The books were stacked neatly inside, with not a centimetre of space wasted, but it was only once Ben had taped down the flaps that he realised he couldn’t move it from the table. He stared at it, simultaneously irritated and perplexed. There was a tutting noise from behind him.

‘Weren’t you listening? Father Steiner told you to only fill them halfway.’