‘Sister Marie told me that before she entered the religious life she helped to produce a school play about Saint Bernadette of Lourdes. The girl who died – Carol Preston, she had the small role of Bernadette as a child. It wasn’t until Sister Marie showed me the souvenir programme that I saw the costumes had been made by Daisy, Sergeant Barratt’s wife. That placed her in the right place at the relevant time. When I mentioned sewing to her yesterday, however, she made it very plain that she couldn’t sew at all. It was a totally unnecessary lie. And even though I’d met her several times she never once mentioned to me that she’d helped out in a school play shortly before one of the cast had died in almost exactly the same way as Valerie Pendon and Tina Davies.’
‘It seems that Daisy Barratt originally decided to test out some theory of her own,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said, taking up the narrative. ‘She believed that any vision could be faked if one were dealing with an impressionable child, and she tested out her theory on Carol Preston and her friend. The friend, Julie Jones, took fright and ran off, but Carol insisted she’d had a vision. I couldn’t understand how she’d failed to recognize Daisy Barratt who was, after all, making all the costumes, including white dresses and nuns’ habits, but as far as we can tell she wore a blonde wig and veiled herself. In one thing she was proved right. Poor Carol Preston was already disappointed that she hadn’t been given the main part throughout the play and she accepted the vision hook, line and sinker. Daisy Barratt has been telling us that she meant the joke – she calls it a joke – to end there but she was tempted to go on. She appeared again to Carol but the second time Carol got too close and realized she’d been fooled. Only Daisy knows exactly what happened then. She insists that she picked up a wire loop that was lying around in the undergrowth and tried to frighten the kid into keeping quiet. It’s possible but it’s more likely that she brought the wire with her just in case she was recognized. Perhaps to frighten? Who knows?’
‘And after the poor child died she had a breakdown?’ Sister Martha asked.
‘Sergeant Barratt insists that he had no idea his wife had any connection with the death of Carol Preston. However he persuaded her to enter hospital as a voluntary patient and she remained there for nearly two years.’
‘And Luther Lee was a patient at the same hospital,’ Sister Joan said.
‘Correct.’ He nodded at her. ‘Not that they were friendly. Poor Luther follows women around but seldom dares to speak to any of them. However he saw Sergeant Barratt on visiting days and recognized him again when he was making enquiries up at the Romany camp. Luther is deeply suspicious of the police and terrified of being blamed for something he hasn’t done. So he’s been keeping out of the way.’
‘And Daisy Barratt started dressing up and pretending to be a vision again as soon as she arrived here?’ Sister Katherine asked.
‘Which doesn’t say much for the opinion of her doctor who had diagnosed her as suffering from clinical depression when it’s clear the problem was far more serious. However, he evidently was never told the full facts. Sergeant Barratt, very understandably, thought a quiet rural posting might suit his wife better. He was very fond of her. It’s a pity that he shows his affection by constant hectoring and nagging about cleanliness.’
Sister Joan, her mouth open to interpose ‘He behaves like that because he’s impotent’, closed it again. That confidence wasn’t hers to betray.
‘Dressing up as a vision is surely different from setting out to murder people,’ Sister Perpetua objected.
‘Exactly so, Sister,’ he said briskly. ‘Not that I’m approving of the mockery of sacred things, though I’m not personally religious, but the deliberate taking of a human life is the ultimate crime because there is no adequate compensation ever to be made. However, Daisy Barratt started at once to choose someone she could manipulate. Being a Catholic helped. Nobody would ever connect the mousy woman with a scarf over her head who slipped into early mass on Sundays with a veiled figure in nun’s habit who drifted about near the convent and near the Pendon and Davies homes after dark. She was a shrewd psychologist, unerringly picking out two unsophisticated, impressionable girls, both devout, both living rather restricted lives. Both of them thrilled and flattered at the notion that they might be receiving visions.’
‘I suppose she ordered them to follow her somewhere or other with the promise of some great revelation,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘Poor, silly creatures.’
‘Sister Hilaria also believed she had seen Our Blessed Lady,’ Sister Gabrielle reminded her.
‘Through the window of her cell in the postulancy,’ Mother Dorothy said with a shade of reproof. ‘Had she spoken to the figure she would indeed have realised at once that it was a mere human being. She did realize it, of course, when she was near the main gates and saw Daisy Barratt driving up the track in Padraic Lee’s pick-up. Her own Mini car was being repaired and she simply helped herself to the truck. Sister Hilaria had caught a glimpse of Daisy’s unveiled face and now, suddenly, she saw that same woman at the wheel of a pick-up.’
‘It ought to have been a donkey,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Our Blessed Lady would hardly arrive at the wheel of a pick-up truck. She must have run forward and then stumbled and Daisy ran her down.’
‘I don’t think that was deliberate,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said. ‘After all it’s unlikely that she recognized Sister Hilaria.’
‘She didn’t stop,’ Sister Teresa said.
‘No, she swerved aside and carried on. Since the pick-up was kept under a tarpaulin top at the far end of the Romany camp she found it easy enough to take and return it without being noticed.’
‘When Sister Hilaria recovered her memory fully she told Sergeant Barratt who was on duty at her bedside that she had recognized the woman – not as Daisy Barratt whom she had never met, but as the woman she had fleetingly mistaken for a vision. Sergeant Barratt tells me that he left the ward, ostensibly to telephone, and then returned, giving Sister Hilaria a message which purported to come from the prioress,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said. ‘Under obedience she was to say nothing about the experience to anybody. Sister Hilaria, accustomed to the habit of obedience and quite incapable of realizing that a police officer might be lying, accepted the injunction. Sister Joan, you telephoned the mental home, didn’t you?’
‘And found out Daisy Barratt had been a patient there at the same time as Luther.’
‘And instead of bringing the information to me,’ he said, ‘you decided to set a trap for her.’
‘Because all the bits of evidence were circumstantial,’ she protested. ‘Anyway Sister Marie was never in any danger.’
‘But you were in considerable danger yourself,’ Mother Dorothy said, primming her mouth.
‘I did leave a note, Mother.’
‘Which Sister Gabrielle found. She was wakeful as she so often is and when she heard the back door close she got up to investigate. She didn’t see the note at first and assumed you’d gone out to see to Lilith.’
‘Later on as I hadn’t heard you return I got up again,’ Sister Gabrielle said, ‘and on that occasion I found that very inadequate note you’d pinned up on the door. “Gone to complete investigations. Please don’t worry”. What kind of note is that?’
‘Sister Gabrielle very properly brought the note to me and I judged the situation sufficiently serious to telephone the police,’ Mother Dorothy said.
‘By then my own investigations were sufficiently well advanced for me to have Sergeant Barratt in for questioning.’
‘I did think at one stage that he was the killer,’ Sister Joan admitted. ‘He was wandering round in the grounds one evening when he wasn’t officially on duty.’
‘Checking up on his wife’s whereabouts,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said. ‘He knew by then that it had to be Daisy and he was doing his best to prevent a further tragedy. It was Sergeant Barratt who painted I’M COMING on the front door of the postulancy to ensure that the novices were brought over to the
security of the main house, by the way.’
‘But he had already covered up for her,’ Sister Joan said.
‘And is being charged as an accomplice after the fact.’ The detective frowned.
‘One corrupt or criminal policeman must cast a shadow over the reputation of the whole force,’ Mother Dorothy said.
‘Unfortunately that’s the case.’ He shook his head slightly as if to banish unpleasant thoughts and went on. ‘The two girls were killed almost immediately incidentally. Daisy has been telling us quite frankly that she lured them out of their houses and dropped the loop of wire over their heads as they knelt before the supposed vision. In both cases just round the corner from their homes. Of course she had extraordinary good luck in that nobody came by or looked out of the window at that precise moment. Then she simply put the body in the back of her Mini and covered it with a rug until the area round the school had been searched in the case of Valerie Pendon when she drove up there, dressed the poor girl in the white dress and wreath she’d made and stuffed her into the cupboard. When she killed Tina Davies she dumped the body immediately in the shed on the edge of the Romany camp, first dressing her in a similar fashion. She’d bought a quantity of shoes of the same pattern in different stores and calculated the respective sizes of the victims very accurately before making the white dresses. She was punishing them for not having boy-friends and therefore the chance of babies, you see. Completely mad but in her view logical. Of course eventually she would have killed one of the Sisters here and found great satisfaction in the doing of it.’
‘And she went into the postulancy?’ Sister Teresa’s face had whitened.
‘Which was unlocked, of course.’ He cast a reproving glance over the semi-circle. ‘It gave her pleasure to wander round when its occupants were elsewhere. Then she read Sister Hilaria’s spiritual diary in which a full account of the supposed vision had been written. She tore out the pages and shredded them into the dustbin.’
‘What about the nightclothes in which the girls left their homes?’ Sister Joan asked.
‘She made two neat parcels and put them in the boot of her husband’s car,’ he said. ‘We searched high and low for those garments but nobody thought of looking in a car belonging to one of the officers concerned in the case. Barratt swears he didn’t know they were there; he may be telling the truth.’
‘She will plead insanity?’ Mother Dorothy looked at him.
‘Undoubtedly. Sergeant Barratt doesn’t have that excuse.’
‘You call it insanity?’ Sister Gabrielle tapped her stick impatiently on the floor. ‘I call it wickedness. Wickedness is an unfashionable word these days, but what that woman did was nothing short of wicked. Insanity indeed.’
‘Perhaps insanity is sometimes obedience to the evil within oneself,’ Mother Dorothy said.
‘Whatever.’ Detective Sergeant Mill rose, clearly disinclined for any kind of philosophical discussion.
‘Was it Daisy Barratt whom Constable Stephens saw when he brought Lilith back?’ Sister Joan asked.
‘She used to relish the thrill of wandering about near the convent, I suppose,’ he nodded. ‘She enjoyed the risk of being found out. Since she had never mixed socially with anyone Constable Stephens took her to be one of the Sisters and gave Lilith’s rein to her.’
‘Didn’t he realize that her habit was black whereas we wear grey?’ Sister Perpetua asked, her reddish eyebrows shooting up.
‘It never entered his head. People don’t usually look very closely at nuns, you know.’
‘I knew it had to be her,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Sister Perpetua or whoever was in the kitchen would never have let him leave without a cup of tea.’
‘We would have got her in the end,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said, ‘but Sister Joan precipitated events and may well have foiled another death. I hope not too many rules were broken in the process?’
‘Sister Joan had my authority to assist the police in any manner she deemed suitable,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘The manner she did choose was, I admit, somewhat unconventional but occasionally desperate circumstances call for desperate means. We are all particularly grateful to you, Detective Sergeant Mill, for coming so promptly when I telephoned you. I hope that no charges are to be brought against Luther Lee. I know that I speak for the community when I say we are not proposing to accuse him of trespass.’
‘He’s harmless,’ the detective admitted.
‘And was of the greatest help in rescuing Sister Joan when she was attacked. Daisy Barratt is much stronger than her physical appearance would suggest. I believe that too is an attribute of madness.’
‘There remains the question of security.’
‘Detective Sergeant Mill, I appreciate your concern, but I refuse to surround ourselves with bolts and bars,’ Mother Dorothy said impatiently. ‘I will guarantee that we will bolt or lock all outside doors at night but that’s as far as I am prepared to go. Later on we will see about a dog.’
‘As to that …’ He broke off, glancing towards the window as a police car drew up outside.
‘As to that?’ The prioress fixed him with an enquiring look.
‘I’ve taken the liberty of picking out a nice little Alsatian bitch from a local litter. Compliments of the Department – if I can prevail on you to accept the gift.’
‘We can, at least, take a look at the animal, I suppose,’ she allowed.
‘Excuse me a moment, Sisters.’ He went out, taking with him the indefinable odour of masculinity.
‘A little kitten would have been nice,’ Sister Mary Concepta said wistfully.
‘A cat is not an adequate guard,’ Sister Perpetua objected.
‘The Romans used to employ geese to guard their property,’ Sister David volunteered.
‘Geese,’ said Sister Gabrielle, ‘bite.’
‘This is the puppy.’
Detective Sergeant Mill had returned, bearing a wriggling bundle which he deposited on the polished floor.
‘Oh, the little love.’ Sister Katherine was on her knees at once.
‘It’s far too small to be an adequate guard dog,’ Mother Dorothy said.
‘Better for her to grow up knowing this is her home,’ Sister Perpetua said. ‘I daresay that there are obedience classes and so on to which she could be taken.’
‘When she’s six months old. I can arrange it for you, Sisters. Also all the necessary injections etcetera.’
‘You’re being very kind,’ Mother Dorothy said in a softened tone. ‘But puppies make messes.’
‘They can be trained to – er – make them in the right place, Mother,’ Sister Martha coaxed, ‘and I am always in search of rich compost for my vegetables.’
‘Shall we say a period of probation then?’ Mother Dorothy rose with an air of having reached a satisfactory compromise. ‘We had better think of a name.’
‘Juno?’ Sister Joan hazarded.
‘Positively not, Sister. A convent is no place for a heathen goddess.’
‘Lilith isn’t exactly a Christian name,’ Sister Joan murmured.
‘Lilith was named before we obtained her,’ Sister Gabrielle reminded her.
‘Well, not Juno anyway. It ought to be a more respectable name in my opinion.’
‘Blackie?’ said Sister David.
‘Alice,’ Mother Dorothy said, a note of finality in her voice. ‘Alice is a most respectable name. Alice, come here.’
The puppy, engrossed in chasing its own tail, fell over sideways and shot a distinctly horrified look in the direction of the prioress before scrambling up and trotting up to her where it sat, ears pricked and one paw raised.
‘It recognizes the voice of authority,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said with a faint grin. ‘I’ll leave her with you, Mother Prioress.’
‘Sister Martha,’ said Mother Dorothy firmly, ‘will take her into the garden. Now, if you please, Sister.’
Sister Martha grabbed the puppy and bore it away hastily.
‘Alice,
’ said Sister Joan, fighting down a great desire to laugh. ‘Alice indeed.’
‘If you have a moment, Sister?’ Mother Dorothy fixed her with a look.
‘I must go. Thank you for your time, Sisters.’ Detective Sergeant Mill shook hands. ‘Oh, I telephoned the hospital. Sister Hilaria is being discharged in the morning.’
‘She will convalesce in the main house and Sister Perpetua can take charge of the novices in the postulancy,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘I’ll walk with you to your car, Detective Sergeant Mill. Sister Joan, isn’t it time you were preparing lunch?’
‘Yes, Reverend Mother.’
Today it was soup and a thick slice of buttered toast. This evening there would be kippers with vegetables and a rice pudding. The ordered tenor of the days had taken up their interrupted course. The danger and the excitement were over, and she had her regular duties to perform without recognition for any help, however unconventional, she had been able to give.
Going along the passage into the kitchen she fixed her mind firmly upon soup.
‘Mother told me to hang it there,’ Sister Teresa said, clambering down from a chair as Sister Joan entered.
A small painting of the loch where she had spent her recent spiritual retreat hung on the whitewashed wall. It had been one of her best efforts. She approached it, stood looking up at its rich autumnal colours, at the neat card tucked into the frame.
Painted by Sister Joan of the Order of the Daughters of Compassion
It was, she thought with a lifting of the heart, Mother Dorothy’s oblique way of telling her that in the end she had done well.
‘Let’s get on with the lunch, Sister,’ she said. ‘Tomato would be nice, don’t you think?’
By the same author
Echo of Margaret
Pilgrim of Desire
Flame in the Snow
Hoodman Blind
My Pilgrim Love
A Vow of Silence
Last Seen Wearing
Vow of Chastity
My Name is Polly Winter
Vow of Sanctity
Vow of Obedience Page 21
