No Known Grave

by Maureen Jennings

  “Do you know how long you’ll be, sir?” asked Mortimer.

  “Given what he’s gone through, I doubt the laddie will be up to a long interview. I’ll come as soon as I can.”

  He turned back to Sister Rebecca. “Where is the boy?”

  “I had him taken to our sitting room. Our quarters are separate from the main house. I thought it would be easier for him there.”

  “Your presence at the interview would be much appreciated, Sister. I assume he knows you.” Tyler also felt the nun’s calm manner would help all concerned. Including him.

  “Yes, he does.”

  “By the way, Sister, what is the name of your order?”

  “The Community of Mary Magdalene. We are Anglican nuns.”

  Tyler didn’t know much about Anglican nuns, but that was more his side of the divide, as it were. Perhaps that was why Sister Rebecca was allowed to smoke. Not as strict as the Catholics.

  They went outside.

  “Please remain at your post, Hughes. A police officer will take over shortly.”

  “Yes, sir.” The man shuffled his feet. “Is there anything else I can do, sir?”

  “Not at the moment. I’ll be coming to talk to everybody soon.”

  Sister Rebecca led the way along another gravel path, past a second cottage, identical to the McHatties’.

  “Who lives here?” asked Tyler.

  “Mrs. Fuller and Alfie.”

  “The one who helped McHattie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is Alfie a child?”

  She shook her head. “I apologize, Inspector, I’m not being of much help. Alfie is an adult. He is forty-six years old.” She hesitated. “He served in the Great War and suffered brain damage. He performs at the mental level of a seven-year-old.”

  Tyler felt she was choosing her words carefully. He’d come back to that later.

  She’d said sometimes the patients had been known to wander. God, he hoped he wasn’t going to find out some sad battle-stunned lunatic had committed this slaughter.

  7.

  THE SISTERS’ QUARTERS WERE IN A LONG, LOW BUILDING that looked as if it had once seen life as the stables and carriage house. Like the cottages, it appeared to have been renovated recently, and the trim and doors gleamed a dark green against the white brick. It stood about a hundred feet from the main house, on the eastern side of the grounds. The ubiquitous grim stone wall ran close behind.

  “How many of you are there?” Tyler asked the almoner.

  “Five here at St. Anne’s.”

  “And is everybody accounted for last night?” He’d kept his voice as neutral as he could, but she flinched.

  “There was a sister on night duty in the hospital, but the rest of us were in our quarters. We retire early, as we start early.”

  It was hard to imagine that a woman devoted to a life of religious service would viciously kill two people, one a child, but Tyler was determined not to make assumptions before the facts were clear. He knew how unpredictable human nature could be.

  Sister Rebecca opened a single door and ushered him inside.

  They entered a small, low-ceilinged space that was probably the former tack room. Even though the window opposite was open, the room was close and stuffy and there wasn’t much light. Tyler thought he could smell the old leather and brass polish, but he might have been imagining that. A man was seated in an armchair near the window with a child in his lap. He turned his head when Tyler and the nun entered, but he didn’t stand up, putting a finger to his lips to indicate the boy was sleeping. Sister Rebecca had told him Charlie McHattie was ten years old, but curled up like that, he seemed much younger.

  Tyler went closer and the boy immediately opened his eyes and gazed at him in fear.

  Like Tyler himself, the lad was a redhead, and there was a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. He was still in his pyjamas.

  The orderly tightened his grip.

  “ ’S all right, look you. No need to fear. This gentleman is a police officer.”

  Charlie shrank back and Tyler squatted down on his haunches so he could be at the child’s level.

  “Hello, son. I’m Inspector Tyler. I know you’ve had a nasty shock, but I need to ask you some questions. Do you think you can be a very brave lad and answer them?”

  “Where’s me mum?” the boy whispered.

  “She’s at the hospital. You’ll see her soon, I promise.”

  “And Shirle? Me sister?”

  “You’ll see her too.”

  “They ain’t killed, are they?”

  Tyler reached over and squeezed the boy’s shoulder. The bones felt as brittle as a bird’s. “No, they’re right as rain, son. They were in Wem, as I understand.”

  “Every Tuesday. They go every Tuesday to visit Auntie Ethel.”

  Tyler’s knee was hurting and he straightened up. “My old bones are getting stiff from crouching down here. How about I pull this chair over and sit next to you? Do you want to stay in Mr. Hughes’s lap?”

  Charlie nodded. Over his head, Tyler’s eyes met those of the orderly. Evan Hughes was dark-haired and resembled his brother, except that his face was rough-hewn and looked as if several cleated shoes had run across it. Nevertheless, his expression was full of compassion for his little charge. His muscular arms were a place of shelter.

  Tyler placed himself where the boy could talk to him more easily. “Do you think you can tell me what happened last night, son?”

  Charlie looked at him. “He killed me dad and Ben, didn’t he?”

  “Who did, son?”

  “The man who came in the house.”

  “Did you see him?”

  Charlie dropped his head. “Can I wait for me mum?”

  “You know what, your mum is going to be upset herself. It would be better all round if you could tell me first what happened, don’t you think?”

  “So they are killed, me dad and Ben?”

  Tyler was unsure whether to evade the question for the moment but decided the boy would have to know sooner or later. “I’m afraid so, Charlie.” He waited, but the boy didn’t react, other than to press himself harder into Hughes’s chest.

  “We’re going to find out who hurt them, I promise. All right?”

  “All right.”

  The boy’s voice was so low, Tyler could hardly hear him. Hughes lifted his chin.

  “Speak up a bit, there’s a good little laddie. The officer has got to do his job. You can bellow with the best of them, I know. I’ve heard you plenty of times. Tell the inspector what happened.”

  Charlie raised his voice, but it was still a whisper. “Ben woke me up. He was getting out of bed. He says there’s somebody in the house. I was scairt. I asks him if it was a Jerry parachutist, but he says he dunno. He’s going to take a look. He says to stay where I am, but if anything happens I’ve got to get under the bed and not move.” Charlie stopped.

  “You’re doing grand,” said Tyler. “What happened then?”

  “He gets his cricket bat out of the cupboard and he goes out.”

  “Was your door open or closed?”

  “Closed. Blackie jumps on us in the night if we leave it open.”

  “Your parents’ room as well?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “Go on, son. What happened after Ben went out? Did you hear anybody speak? Did Ben say anything, for instance?”

  Charlie shook his head.

  “What next?”

  “I heard a funny noise.”

  “Can you describe it for me?”

  “It was a phuft, phuft sound.”

  “Anything else?”

  “There was a thud.”

  That must have been Ben falling to the ground, thought Tyler.

  “Was the phuft sound loud?”

  “No.”

  “After you heard the noise what happened?”

  “Somebody came to my door. It wasn’t Ben.”

  Charlie halted. Tyler thought that all t
hree of the adults in the room were holding their breath.

  “Could you see who it was?” he asked.

  Charlie whimpered like a puppy and Hughes soothed him.

  “There now, there now. Try to answer the inspector’s question, there’s my brave laddie.”

  “Could you see this person?” Tyler repeated. “Had Ben switched on the light before he left?”

  The boy shook his head. “No, he didn’t. And I couldn’t see the man. It was too dark.”

  “There’s a night light on the landing. I’d guess you could at least make out the person’s shape in the doorway. Anything you can say about that will help. For instance, you referred to a man just now. Are you sure about that? It couldn’t have been a lady in slacks, could it?”

  Charlie puckered his forehead. “Don’t think so.”

  “Good. If you were going to say how big he was, this man, would you say he was big and wide like Mr. Hughes or more like me, a bit above medium?”

  “Like you.”

  “Did he come right into your room?”

  “No.”

  “He stayed by the door then?”

  “Yes.”

  Tyler paused. “Is there anything else you can say about him, son? I assume because you couldn’t see him too well he was probably wearing dark clothes. Did you see any white skin where his face would be? Or his hands?”

  “No … He had a gun,” whispered the boy. “I could tell he had a gun. A rifle. I could smell it too. Ben and me has shot rabbits. I know what a gun smells like.”

  Charlie was starting to cry, a level of hysteria creeping into his voice. Tyler knew he’d lose him soon.

  “Hang on, Charlie. Us carrot tops are made of strong stuff. I’ve just got a couple more questions. If you don’t feel like speaking, you can just shake or nod your head. All right? Now, how long was it after you heard the funny noise that the man appeared in the doorway?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Tell you what, I’ll count under my breath. You stop me when it seems about right. Here goes. Here’s the phuft sound.”

  Tyler began, one … two … three … He had reached twelve by the time the boy held up his finger.

  “Good. Well done. That gives me the idea.” Tyler leaned forward a little. “Did he aim the gun at you, Charlie?”

  A hard shake of his head.

  “Do you think he knew you were awake?”

  A nod. “I was sitting up in bed.”

  “Did you say anything to him, or he to you?”

  The boy shook his head.

  Tyler patted Charlie’s hand. “And the man just looked at you but didn’t stay for more than a couple of seconds?”

  Another nod.

  “When he left, you got underneath the bed, where you thought you’d be safe, didn’t you?”

  A nod.

  “Clever lad. Did you call out to your pa at all?”

  Charlie shook his head.

  “You didn’t want the bad man to come back, I’m sure. Did you hear him leave?”

  “No. He was sitting on the landing the whole time.”

  Tyler met Hughes’s look over the boy’s head and the orderly shook his head slightly.

  “You were right to stay where you were,” said Tyler. “And you didn’t move until Mr. Hughes found you?”

  “No.” Charlie was trembling violently now, and not even Hughes could comfort him. “I want to see me mum.”

  Tyler reached out and put his hand on the boy’s head. “Hang on. We’re almost done. You said the man had a rifle. Why did you think it was a rifle?”

  “I saw the shape. It had a long barrel like Pa’s shotgun.”

  Tyler could see that the boy had reached his limit.

  “Absolutely last question, Charlie. Can you tell me what time this happened? I noticed there was a grandfather clock downstairs. Is it the kind that chimes on the hour?”

  Charlie nodded.

  “How many chimes did you hear when you were hiding under the bed?”

  The boy was quiet for a moment, then he said softly, “Four. Then five. Then six. Mr. Hughes came after I’d counted seven.”

  Tyler could feel his own shoulders tensing at the realization of what the boy had endured.

  “That is very helpful, Charlie. You are a trouper through and through. I’m going to have to leave you with Mr. Hughes for a bit. You look done in.”

  “When will me mum be here?”

  “Won’t be long, I promise.”

  The boy leaned his head against the orderly’s chest. “All right.”

  8.

  ONCE OUTSIDE, TYLER PAUSED TO GATHER HIMSELF together. Sister Rebecca stood beside him. Neither spoke for a moment.

  “All right, Sister. Let’s get this over with.”

  “Do you think the assailant did stay all that time in the cottage?”

  “Not likely. I believe that’s coming out of the laddie’s fear. I saw men react like that when I was on the front. Previous war, same enemy. The expression ‘frozen with fear’ can be quite literal.”

  They headed back to the main house. “We can enter from the side,” said the almoner, pausing at a set of French doors. Tyler could see inside. The room was intended to be cosy and intimate, accommodating two or three people. There were a couple of overfilled bookcases, two armchairs in front of a fireplace, an old-fashioned desk.

  Tyler would have preferred to have met in a vast hall that could absorb the unimaginable extent of the shock he knew the McHatties were going to experience.

  A young woman, presumably Shirley McHattie, was slumped in one of the armchairs. Her mother was standing by the fireplace. Like Charlie, Martha McHattie had bright red hair, hers smoothed back into a victory roll.

  As soon as Tyler and Sister Rebecca entered the room, she spun around to face them.

  “What is going on? A copper met us off the bus but wouldna say a word other than there’d been an accident at the hospital. He hurried us here like the devil was on his tail. Now some slip of a lassie with marbles in her mouth has told me I can’t go to my own house.” Her accent was heavily Scottish, her tone belligerent. “The entire hospital is locked up in the common room, an’ I just saw a constable running down the path. Is my husband all right? And my boys? I demand to know what’s happened.” She glared at Tyler. “Are you the one in charge?”

  Tyler could see how much of her posture was bravado. She was very frightened.

  “I’m Detective Inspector Tyler, Mrs. McHattie, and, yes, I am in charge. I’m afraid I have some very bad news. I—”

  She interrupted him. “Maybe you’d better tell me in private then. My daughter here is expecting, and it’s no good to have a shock at this stage.”

  The young woman was puffy with pregnancy, but she didn’t seem particularly delicate. She frowned at her mother. “I’ll be all right, Ma. If the news is that bad, we’re better off to hear it together.”

  Mrs. McHattie went over and put her hand on her daughter’s shoulder.

  “Go on then. What’s happened?”

  He felt almost ill. Sister Rebecca was standing behind him and she moved forward slightly so that he could feel her presence. Steadying.

  “Early this morning, the bodies of your husband, Jock, and your elder son, Ben, were discovered in your cottage. They had both been shot by an unknown assailant. I must tell you immediately that your younger son, Charlie, is unharmed. He is being cared for.”

  He had expected incomprehension. Most people could not assimilate such shocking news immediately. Shirley gave a little gasp and pressed her hands to her mouth, but Mrs. McHattie was very still.

  “You said ‘an unknown assailant.’ What do you mean?” the older woman asked.

  “We don’t know as yet who is responsible.”

  “Oh, Ma,” whispered Shirley.

  Mrs. McHattie pulled her daughter in closer to her.

  “Surely you’re not telling us a Jerry landed here, went into our home, and shot two defenceless people?”
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br />   “At this point, Mrs. McHattie, I do not know who killed them. I will be conducting a full investigation.”

  Neither woman spoke for a moment. Tyler noticed Mrs. McHattie was looking at Sister Rebecca, not at him.

  “Charlie is all right?”

  The nun answered. “Yes, he is quite unharmed but in a state of shock. He’s with Evan Hughes over in our quarters.”

  Mrs. McHattie faced Tyler. “I want to see him.”

  “Yes, of course,” said Tyler. “I did have to question him already.”

  “And?”

  “He said he was awakened by his brother, who appeared to have heard something suspicious and went to see what was happening. We found Ben’s body in your bedroom. He had his cricket bat with him. He showed a lot of courage.”

  “Foolishness if you ask me,” snapped Mrs. McHattie. “Thought he was all grown up, but he was still a bairn. What did he think he was going to do against a man with a gun?”

  “Are you certain they’re both dead?” asked Shirley.

  “There is no doubt. I wish I could say otherwise.”

  Mrs. McHattie swayed, and for a moment, Tyler was afraid she would fall.

  “Why don’t you sit down, Mrs. McHattie?”

  She ignored him. Her jaw was clamped tight. Again her eyes looked over at Sister Rebecca.

  “Did he put up a fight, my Jock?”

  “By the look of it, he was taken unawares,” Tyler answered. “He was still lying in his bed.”

  “That doesna make sense,” said Mrs. McHattie. “He would’ve done something, blind as he was.”

  Tyler didn’t respond. McHattie definitely hadn’t moved when the gun was put to his head.

  “What about Charlie? Why was he spared?”

  “I don’t know. When the killer left, he hid under his bed until Hughes arrived.”

  It was Mrs. McHattie’s turn to press her hand to her mouth. “My poor wee laddie. How long was he there?”

  “We think the shootings happened between three and four o’clock this morning. Hughes went to the house at about twenty past seven.”

  “Hours, then. Wondering what had happened, what would become of him.”

  Shirley grasped her mother’s hand. “Oh, Ma, try not to think on it. He’s alive; that’s what matters.”

  Mrs. McHattie brought her eyes back to Tyler. Her face was sheet white. “Who could’ve got in? We’re locked up like jailbirds every night. Isn’t that right, Sister?”