‘Did you give the children sweets?’ Barnes asked.

‘Yes. What’s that got to do—’

Barnes interrupted. ‘Why did you ask them not to tell the Mother Superior?’

‘Because I knew she wouldn’t approve. I really don’t see what that has to do with Sister Melissa’s death.’

‘Sometimes an act of kindness towards a child may have an ulterior motive,’ Barnes said.

Meade scowled at Barnes as he interrupted. ‘I resent your insinuation. I certainly did not give the children sweets to gain their affection or trust for any immoral purpose.’

Barnes could tell he’d touched a nerve. ‘I never said you did . . . but thanks for answering my next question.’

‘Don’t insult my intelligence, officer. It’s clear you think I was involved in Sister Melissa’s death.’

‘Were you?’ Barnes retorted.

Meade’s eyes narrowed as he stood up. ‘No. I was not! I didn’t even know who she was until now. I’ve had enough of your unfounded and outrageous allegations. I’d like you both to leave.’

‘Why did you go to the mortuary on Saturday morning?’ Barnes pressed him.

Meade licked his lips. ‘I wanted to pray for her.’

Barnes eyes narrowed. ‘Even though you thought there was nothing untoward and the body could have been in the convent grounds since the 1850s?’

‘Yes. I felt it was my duty under the circumstances.’

‘According to the mortuary technician, you got very emotional and fell to your knees in tears.’

‘That’s ridiculous. I knelt to pray for her departed soul. And I had some grit in my eye.’

Barnes shook his head. ‘You got emotional because you knew it was Sister Melissa Bailey in that coffin. You know what happened to her and who’s responsible. You shed tears of remorse for what you’d done.’

‘How many times do I have to tell you? I never knew Missy Bailey!’ Meade banged his hand on the desk.

Barnes was about to push further when he heard a voice behind him.

‘What is going on here, Bishop Meade?’

Barnes turned round and saw a tall man wearing a purple skull cap, a black cassock with a purple sash and an ankle-length black silk cape standing by the door. It was like a flashback in time for Barnes as he recognised the unblinking eyes, pale skin and pock-marked face of Malone.

Meade instantly composed himself, then bowed. ‘Your Grace, these police officers forced their way into the building. They have been most underhand in their questioning and are accusing us of trying to cover up the death of the sister who they say was murdered. I’ve asked them to leave twice now.’