She walked over to the confessional box. ‘Excuse me, Father, I wonder if I could have a word with you,’ she asked through the closed curtain.

‘Please, enter the confessional box and confess your sins to Almighty God, my child,’ he said with a slight foreign accent.

Jane thought he might be Italian. She wasn’t quite sure what to do and, fearing she might alarm the priest, didn’t open the curtain he was behind. She stepped into the confessional booth, sat down, and held her warrant card up to the mesh.

‘Sorry, Father, but I’m not here for confession. I’m Detective Sergeant Jane Tennison from Bromley CID. I’d like to speak with you about an incident I’m dealing with.’

‘Have you found the lead that was stolen from the church roof?’ he asked.

‘Not personally, Father, and to be honest that’s not what I need to speak with you about.’

He sighed. ‘Pity. The police officer I reported the theft to thought the local gypsies might be responsible. I was hoping the lead would be recovered and save the church the cost of replacing it. How can I help you, Sergeant Tennison?’

‘I don’t wish to appear rude, but could we speak face to face outside the confessional box?’

He laughed. ‘Of course.’ Pulling back the curtain, he stepped out at the same time as Jane.

Jane had expected a small, elderly man and was surprised to see he was in his mid-thirties and about six feet tall. He was slim and handsome, with dark, swept-back hair, olive skin and almond-shaped brown eyes. He wore a neatly fitting black priest’s suit, which accentuated his athletic build, a black shirt and white dog collar. A purple stole, with embroidered gold crosses and golden tassels on each end, hung from his neck.

He held out his hand.

‘I’m Father Christopher Floridia, but everyone calls me Father Chris.’

Jane shook his hand. ‘Is that an Italian accent?’ she asked.

He laughed. ‘No, I’m Maltese.’

‘Oh, sorry,’ Jane said.

‘No apology needed. People often think I’m Italian when they hear me speak.’

Jane was relieved he wasn’t offended, recalling her father once telling her the Italians, under Mussolini, had dropped a barrage of bombs on Malta in 1940. She told Father Floridia about the unearthing of the coffin at the old convent building site, and how it was being taken to the mortuary to be opened.

‘I was wondering if you could help me with the correct procedure if there is a body inside the coffin, and who I need to inform within the Church.’

‘I’ve never actually dealt with anything like that before,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘I’d imagine, as the coffin was found on the grounds of the old Catholic convent, there would need to be a reburial.’

‘And who should I speak to about that?’

‘Our South-East area bishop should be informed. He may want to inform the archbishop as well.’

‘Can I have their names please?’ Jane asked, getting out her notebook and pen.