Vow of Evil Page 15

  ‘Leaving the burglar alarm switched off?’

  ‘Even police officers can forget. Anyway, whoever got in surprised her. If she was lying on her stomach the first blow would almost certainly have killed her. If there was a struggle then everything was tidied away nicely before he left.’

  ‘Carrying Melanie Seldon over his shoulder?’

  ‘This is a quiet street where the shop is,’ he reminded her. ‘Not many people around on a Monday night and the street itself isn’t too far from the quay. There are boats moored there. Someone could have taken one down-river and dumped the body – it was weighted with stones – into the water. Then all they had to do was row the boat back and moor it again. A few people like to go night fishing so if anyone did see it—!

  ‘The boats have been checked?’

  ‘One of the first things we did. Nothing.’

  ‘And the next step?’

  ‘Patient police investigation,’ he said wryly. ‘You know there are very few unsolved murders in this country. Once we have the motive—’

  ‘Her half-brother’s suicide.’

  ‘I agree with you. She was following an agenda of her own. One reason I wanted you to talk to her mother was because I wanted your own personal impression of Mrs Seldon.’

  ‘A very respectable woman,’ Sister Joan said slowly. ‘She was obviously still in deep shock but endeavouring to control herself, to begin to come to terms with what had happened.’

  ‘Religious?’

  ‘I can’t judge anyone’s spiritual state!’ Sister Joan exclaimed. ‘At a guess I’d say she goes to church on feast days, doesn’t gossip with her neighbours, believes in being respectable.’

  ‘Not the kind of woman to drive her own son to suicide then?’

  ‘I wouldn’t have thought so. She obviously talked to Simon, tried to keep an eye on what he was getting up to.’

  ‘No outside help?’

  ‘She’d want to keep it in the family. Look, I really ought to go! I’ve the van here.’

  ‘Thanks anyway. Good to get another point of view.’

  At the door she turned.

  ‘What was the other reason you wanted me here?’ she asked.

  ‘I like having you around,’ he said, and drank his tea.

  There were still a few people hanging round in the graveyard as the sexton filled in the hollow space. A couple of police officers still lingered, enclosed in a tight little knot of officialdom. She climbed into the van and drove back towards the convent, slowing and stopping as she saw Brother Cuthbert outside the former schoolhouse.

  ‘I hear there’s been another sudden death, Sister.’ His normally beaming smile was conspicuous by its absence.

  ‘Melanie Seldon, the new policewoman here, was killed,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘Padraic Lee walked over to tell me about it, also to show me his new dog.’

  ‘Kushti.’

  ‘It was very thoughtful of Father Stephen to give the dog to him. I am always so pleased when I see evidence of kindness.’

  ‘There wasn’t much goodwill shown to Constable Seldon,’ Sister Joan said bleakly.

  ‘Alas no!’ His face creased with distress. ‘I have felt for some time, Sister, that evil was creeping closer. Felt it but not been able to pinpoint where it would strike.’

  ‘Is that why you went to the postulancy?’ she asked bluntly.

  ‘No, I really did wonder if there was anything I could do to help make it ready for the tenants,’ he assured her. ‘But at the back of my mind was a creeping unease, as if my subconscious kept pace with what was threatening.’

  ‘And the postulancy? Did you feel it there?’

  ‘I only stayed a moment and then you arrived,’ he said. ‘No, that building is suffused with the goodness of Sister Hilaria. But who can tell where wickedness will lodge?’

  ‘Mrs Pearson put candles there. Odd home-made candles.’

  ‘She was a witch, wasn’t she?’

  ‘But not a bad person!’

  ‘Wicca predates Christianity,’ he said calmly. ‘Many of its adherents are some of the holiest people around but every coin has another side. We ourselves had the Inquisition. A terrible blot on the Faith. How Our Dear Lady must’ve grieved over those poor souls dragged to the stake!’

  ‘Brother Cuthbert, I think Mrs Pearson felt evil coming too,’ Sister Joan said. ‘I think that was why she put the candles there to try to protect the building, and later on she lit them in her bedroom to try to save herself from evil.’

  ‘And whatever came into her room frightened her to death.’

  ‘Melanie Seldon was struck over the head and thrown into the river. There was no accident or mischance about that!’

  ‘Yes.’ He was silent for a moment as if considering. Then he said briskly, ‘Well, if evil is here we must fight it, each in his or her own way. Of course prayer is the safest course, but sometimes when an unlawful deed has been committed then practical action must be taken.’

  ‘Do you think it could’ve been something – not of this world that so terrified Mrs Pearson she had a heart attack and died?’ she asked.

  ‘I would call it in the highest degree unlikely,’ he returned. ‘Satan and his minions are far too busy corrupting souls to have time for Mrs Pearson. No, I would say human agency was involved, people or a person vowed to evil.’

  ‘Or simply led astray?’ She shivered slightly.

  ‘You cannot be led astray by evil,’ he said. ‘Evil must be invited in, must exact vows of loyalty and service. The great majority of criminals are not evil at all, just misguided and insensitive.’

  ‘And now I must go and pray,’ she said. ‘We renew our vows soon and that means thinking about them.’

  ‘I had forgotten! What a treat that will be for you all!’

  ‘I hope so,’ she said uncertainly, and went back to the van.

  On impulse, she drove past the main gate along the external track that bordered the enclosure walls. As she neared the gate at the side of the old postulancy she was waved down, Mrs Roye having edged her bulk into the road.

  ‘Good afternoon, Mrs Roye.’

  ‘Always busy, Sister!’ She heaved herself to the side of the vehicle.

  ‘I try to be,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘Pity you can’t drum that into my son-in-law’s head,’ Mrs Roye said. ‘Bone idle and never washes his feet! What my Dawn has to endure would try the patience of a saint! But you can’t teach these young ones anything, can you? You haven’t seen my Kit around?’

  ‘I’m afraid not.’

  ‘Went off in the car and hasn’t come back yet. Henry was with her and I did hope that they’d shift themselves. Gone to that amusement arcade, I daresay! Nasty, germy place! But then my Kit’s entitled to a spot of recreation and Henry likes to watch the girls.’

  ‘I beg your—? How much longer is Mr del Marco staying?’

  ‘Oh, he’s looking round,’ Mrs Roye said vaguely. ‘Thinking of settling here for a bit. Quite a globetrotter is Henrico!’

  ‘Yes, well….’ Sister Joan nodded as she clasped the steering-wheel again.

  ‘I hear there’s been a murder,’ Mrs Roye said. ‘It was in the local paper that Dawn bought last week. Some police officer. You don’t expect murders in a place like this, do you?’

  ‘I fear murders can occur anywhere,’ Sister Joan said. ‘You didn’t go to the funeral?’

  ‘Didn’t know her, did I? Curiosity seekers go to funerals when a murder’s been committed. I hate curiosity seekers! You went, did you?’

  ‘Mother David felt that we ought to send a representative, yes. Good afternoon, Mrs Roye.’

  ‘Had a bit of good news if you can call it that,’ Mrs Roye said, not moving on. ‘Tim Lurgan, Ian’s father, is coming down to visit. All the way from dear old Liverpool!’

  ‘But Mrs Roye—’

  ‘Staying for a few days,’ the other went on. ‘Hopefully, he’ll shake some sense into that idle lad of his, but who knows
? Nice talking to you, Sister!’

  The old postulancy was becoming somewhat crowded, Sister Joan reflected, as she drove on and reached by round-about ways the yard.

  ‘Was it very dreadful?’ Sister Marie asked, as she went into the kitchen.

  ‘Sad and respectable,’ Sister Joan told her. ‘There were some people from the town there and some policemen. I met Mrs Seldon. She was very calm, very brave but obviously deeply shocked.’

  ‘Poor lady!’ Sister Marie blessed herself.

  ‘I’d better go and report to Mother David before religious studies.’

  ‘Did you want a cup of tea?’

  ‘I had one at the vicarage. It was a very pleasant service.’

  She went past the infirmary and tapped on the parlour door, opening it as she heard a murmur within.

  Sister Gabrielle was seated at the desk immersed in some legal-looking documents.

  ‘Is Mother sick?’ Sister Joan asked.

  ‘No no, she had a slight headache that’s all,’ Sister Gabrielle said, putting the papers back in the drawer. ‘I was just … looking up some information, nothing that can’t wait! I’d better go and prepare for religious studies. Perhaps you would man the telephone until Mother David comes down?’

  ‘Yes, of course, Sister.’

  She seated herself at the desk with a puzzled frown. Sister Gabrielle, stomping out with her stick, would not normally have been the one called to fill in on the rare occasions the prioress was sick or called away for a while. And she had asked nothing about the funeral.

  Neither was Mother David in the habit of asking anyone to man the telephone, any more than Sister Dorothy had been during her term as prioress.

  She slid open the top drawer and looked at the documents that Sister Gabrielle had put there. They seemed to be photocopies of census forms. Some local research the old lady was engaged on. Sister Gabrielle was a great one for crossword puzzles, quizzes and acrostics.

  ‘Keeps the mind sharp and at nearly ninety,’ she had been heard to proclaim, ‘one needs to work at it. Now, can anyone tell me who Brad Pitt is? Sounds like a footballer.’

  Sister Joan dropped the papers back in the drawer and put her chin in her hands.

  None of Winifred Roye’s brood had gone to watch the funeral. She would have guessed if asked that they were the kind of people who would turn up to gawp at funerals and accidents, which just showed, she mused with a sigh, how snobbish she was getting!

  Yet of all the people who might have rented the old postulancy they struck her as the most unlikely to fit in, whatever their priest had said.

  On impulse she opened the drawer again and pushed the census forms aside. Underneath was the square white pad on which telephone numbers were jotted down together with time and duration of calls. There was no date or time marked by the number of Father John Fitzgerald.

  Mother David and the now Sister Dorothy had gone on the recommendations in his letter then.

  If she stopped to think she wouldn’t do it! She picked up the receiver and dialled the number on the pad.

  The ringing went on for about half a minute before it was cut off by a voice saying briefly, ‘Yes?’

  ‘May I speak to Father John Fitzgerald, please?’ she asked.

  ‘Father John speaking. Who is this?’

  ‘I’m calling from the Convent of Our Lady of Compassion.’

  ‘No problems with your new tenants I hope?’ He sounded worried. ‘Mrs Roye is not a healthy woman, bad heart you know, unhappily finds it hard to shed weight. An affliction from which many of us suffer!’

  ‘No, she’s perfectly well,’ Sister Joan said. ‘I wondered if they had informed you that they got here safely – there’s no telephone in the old postulancy.’

  ‘Ian Lurgan called on his mobile, said they were very comfortable. Are you the prioress? I wrote to a Mother Dorothy.’

  ‘I’m manning the telephone. She isn’t feeling very well.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. Well, you can assure her that I am aware the family has settled in. Rough round the edges but hearts of gold all of them. Was there anything else, Sister?’

  ‘Thank you, no. Good bye, Father.’

  She hung up quickly and took a couple of deep breaths. Well. Winifred Roye and her family were perfectly ordinary people save for being a bit rough round the edges. In any case things had begun to go wrong at least a fortnight before they’d travelled to Cornwall. She was letting her imagination get the better of her, a fault she hoped she had managed to eradicate.

  ‘Sister Joan, what on earth are you doing?’ Mother David’s voice interrupted her musing.

  ‘Sister Gabrielle asked me to man the telephone since you were feeling unwell.’

  ‘I do not know,’ Mother David said testily, ‘what has got into Sister Gabrielle the last few days. I had a very slight headache and she insisted it was about to turn into a full blown migraine and that I must go and lie down. The post had just come and I was about to sort it but she was so insistent – God bless her but she has such excellent intentions. I hope you’re not thinking of sitting at my desk all day, Sister.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mother!’ Sister Joan hastily vacated her seat.

  Mother David glanced at her watch.

  ‘I will sort out the post later on,’ she said. ‘We’d best start religious studies. I believe I advised ten minutes’ meditation before we discussed the importance of believing in the internal truths of the vows we take. Come along, Sister!’

  Sister Joan followed meekly. Out of the corner of her eye as they turned into the chapel she was aware of Sister Gabrielle coming slowly from the infirmary and equally aware that if she looked in the desk again the census papers would have gone.

  THIRTEEN

  ‘Tabitha, how are you?’

  Sister Joan, dismounting from Lilith and with Alice gambolling at her heels, waved to the girl who was walking up the track.

  ‘Hello, Sister.’ Tabitha’s greeting was less than enthusiastic.

  ‘Been shopping? You’ve never walked all the way from town?’

  The girl who was carrying two shopping bags shrugged.

  ‘Look, if you like,’ Sister Joan said, determined to ignore the other’s surliness, ‘I can put your baskets on Lilith and take them over to the camp for you. It isn’t much out of my way.’

  ‘I can manage, thanks,’ Tabitha said curtly.

  ‘Well, if you’re sure – is Edith catching you up?’

  ‘She’s at home with Dad,’ Tabitha said. ‘I don’t have her tagging after me every place you know.’

  ‘No, of course not. Younger siblings can be a bit trying sometimes, can’t they?’ Sister Joan said, recalling her two brothers.

  ‘She’s all right,’ Tabitha said, flicking back a long plait of hair. ‘See you!’

  She went off, her red-ribboned braids bouncing against the back of her anorak.

  She probably thinks I’m an interfering busybody, Sister Joan thought wryly. After all what does a nun know about being fifteen?

  She shook her head slightly at her own intolerance. Padraic Lee had mentioned he was worried about his older daughter, but the Roms were strict with their children. Tabitha, she thought, was probably just going through a difficult stage.

  October had come in with the kind of crisp, sunlit weather that almost banished the memory of the windy September. Her spirits lifted as she tossed a stick for Alice and felt the wind tugging at her short curly hair as it strayed from beneath the band of her veil – not a wet, spiteful wind, but a playful breeze that lifted her spirits.

  ‘Playing hookey?’

  Inspector Mill, driving towards her, braked and put his head out of the window.

  ‘I wish!’ she retorted. ‘No, with winter ahead I try to give Lilith as much exercise as I can. You’ve news?’

  ‘We’ve found a witness,’ he said. ‘Not a particularly law-biding one unfortunately. A local poacher was skirting around the alleys waiting for his mate who didn’t a
fter all turn up. He says there was a fellow at the shop door of the antique shop, and then the front door opened and a young woman let him in.’

  ‘Constable Seldon!’ Sister Joan exclaimed.

  ‘He saw her silhouetted against the light and gave us a pretty good description – slim, blonde hair, wearing a dark cloak. The man went in and closed the door and then he heard some people coming so he went off, decided to go home and watch TV.’

  ‘What was the visitor like?’ she asked.

  ‘He didn’t get more than a glimpse – long dark overcoat and one of those trilby hats on.’

  ‘When did this happen?’

  ‘Late on Monday a fortnight back. He reckoned it was about ten-thirty or eleven.’

  ‘It was earlier when I saw the figure come over the enclosure wall,’ she said. ‘Alan, that must’ve been Constable Seldon! She shone her torch because she didn’t want to be recognized and made off across the moor before I could gather my wits!’

  ‘But what was she doing in that particular spot? She certainly wasn’t on official police business,’ he said, unhappily. ‘I reckon she had an agenda of her own concerning her half-brother’s suicide. Anyway it confirms that her death did take place on the Monday.’

  ‘But still wearing her cloak hours later?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what I reckon.’ He opened the car door and swung his long legs to the side. ‘I’ve no idea why she fixed on the convent walls to go snooping but she did, then you drove along and she flashed her torch and ran like hell over the moors. When she got back to her bed-sit she was probably tired and grubby, so she stripped off, took a bath or a shower, put her underwear back on and was about to reach for a robe and have a hot drink or something when the front doorbell sounded. She grabbed the first thing to hand, the cloak, and went downstairs to let the visitor in.’

  ‘Just after she’d been climbing over the—? Surely not!’

  ‘I doubt if she imagined for a moment that anyone had actually followed her, or that whoever she was investigating would turn up at her door within a couple of hours,’ he said wryly. ‘I wish our sole witness had stayed behind a minute longer – he might’ve seen the so-called visitor shove her backwards as he stepped in.’