Death at the Altar

DEATH AT THE ALTAR An absolutely gripping murder mystery full of twists NORMAN RUSSELL An Oldminster Mystery Book 5 Joffe Books, London www.joffebooks.com First published in Great Britain in 2023 © Norman Russell This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental. The spelling used is British English except where fidelity to the author’s rendering of accent or dialect supersedes this. The right of Norman Russell to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. We love to hear from our readers! Please email any feedback you have to: [email protected] Cover art by Dee Dee Book Covers ISBN: 978-1-80405-717-9 CONTENTS Love Free Bestselling Fiction? Prologue 1. John Miller’s Narrative: A Parish Divided 2. John Miller’s Narrative: The Demons Unleashed 3. John Miller’s Narrative: Unholy Communion 4. John Miller’s Narrative: Aftermath of Murder 5. The Saxon Wood Poisoning 6. Sinners Anonymous 7. A Trail of Tragedies 8. John the Baptist, Paddington 9. The Fellowship of Capricorn 10. The Bin Bags and Other Matters 11. The Headless Stockbroker 12. Overheard in Cricklewood 13. Melanie’s Visit 14. A Stormy Night in Summer Love Free Bestselling Fiction? The Joffe Books Story Also by Norman Russell A Selection of Books You May Enjoy Glossary of English Usage for US Readers Love Free Bestselling Fiction? Join our mailing list and get a FREE Kindle book from a bestselling author every week! Click here to join our mailing list and also get a free box set of short stories! Follow us on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram @joffebooks Prologue Thank you for choosing this book. Join our mailing list and get FREE Kindle books from our bestselling authors every week! CLICK HERE TO GET MORE LOVELY BOOK DEALS Hunched under the weight of a large bag, he scurried across the dark churchyard, dodging gravestones and stumbling over the uneven ground. The clouds hung low and heavy, unseasonably dark. The storm was about to break. The church door opened at his touch — that put him on edge. No point in stealing a key if nobody had locked up. He stepped in and lugged the bag gratefully into a pew, then jumped as the door closed smoothly behind him and left him in darkness. It had been broad daylight when the plan had come to him — the summer storm had taken him by surprise and he hadn’t thought to bring a torch. He patted his pockets for his phone, then froze. The door was opening again. Hastily he ducked behind a pew. The demon woman was on to him! There she was now, torchlight bobbing about. Looking for him? He held his breath. Why, he wondered, didn’t she just switch on the lights? She’d find him in a minute. Was it for the thrill of the chase? Or was it someone else who shouldn’t be here? He frowned at the light, trying to make out the person holding the torch. His persecutor didn’t come his way, in fact the light had stopped quite close to the entrance. It played over the baptismal font, and then the person set down the torch for a moment and he saw their face. He hissed at the sight, then held his breath. But the person at the font didn’t look round; they were intent on their task. Soon the deed was done, and the light bobbed out of the church. He leant back against the pew, feeling triumphant that he had evaded detection. But what had he just witnessed? When his heart had recovered from the alarm, he summoned up all his 1. John Miller’s Narrative: A Parish Divided In the summer of 2018, the Devil himself came to hold sway over our little village of Rushbrooke Hill, four miles south of the cathedral city of Oldminster. The people of Rushbrooke Hill are not particularly superstitious, but they were quite right in thinking that something particularly evil had got loose in the village. The Devil — if it was the Devil — centred his activities on the ancient parish church of Holy Trinity, where first profanation, and soon afterwards a particularly vile murder, led to the church being closed by Bishop Poindexter of Oldminster, until he judged the time to be right for the building, and all other church buildings on the site, to be reconsecrated. I have spent a lifetime fending off a tendency to cynicism, which I regard as a grave personal fault. Cynics do nothing but sneer at the actions of others, while failing to achieve much themselves. But when the Devil paid us that terrifying visit, I couldn’t help thinking what a blow it would be for our neighbouring village of Staunton Maltravers, whose inhabitants for years have preened themselves on its Civil War ghosts, who apparently roam its streets at will. The annual ‘ghost trail’ has brought them a lot of visitors, and a general boost in income. Well, maybe we’ll do something similar here at Rushbrooke Hill, and conduct tours of the place where the Devil reigned supreme for a time. But there: I really must guard against cynicism. I am writing this account of what happened at the request of Bishop Poindexter, who wants a personal record of events from a parishioner to lodge in the cathedral archives, something written by an eyewitness to the appalling murder, to supplement the formal police records of the case, and I was only too willing to oblige. The trouble is, that I can see this account turning into a kind of novel, the difference being that this particular story will be an account of true events. I once