Mother Dorothy was silent for a spell, resting her chin on her clasped hands, her eyes inward and searching.
‘You have made your point,’ she said finally. ‘I wish you had made it rather more courteously. However you obviously feel strongly, as we all must do, about the recent series of events. I shall talk to Sister Jerome myself, find out if she left the car unattended. She did have a cup of tea while she was in town so it’s possible that the unfortunate Miss Hugh was put into the back of the car then. Now, why don’t you come with me into chapel and share our meditation. It is on humility and penitence.’
‘Yes, Mother. Thank you, Mother.’
Feeling about two inches high Sister Joan followed meekly into the chapel. The rest of the community, with the exception of Sister Katherine, sat in their accustomed places, their heads bent, veils pulled forward. Custody of the eyes was an important discipline of the regular meditations. She put up her hands to adjust her own veil, raised her eyes in one brief, forbidden glance to the altar and froze.
On the altar, invisible to those who directed their gaze obediently floorwards, placed neatly between two candlesticks beneath the heavy crucifix an axe lay, its cutting edge dyed red by the rays of sunlight struggling through the stained-glass window.
Eleven
Mother Dorothy had seen it too. She stood still, then moved forward, swiftly covering it with one of the altar cloths before turning to the community.
‘The meditation is ended,’ she said firmly. ‘Go in peace.’
Eyes downcast, they rose, blessed themselves, genuflected and filed out. Even Sister Teresa had achieved perfect custody of the eyes, Sister Joan thought guiltily. She herself had never managed it. There were too many interesting things going on all around for her to keep her eyes on the ground.
‘It was not on the altar when I left the chapel to tend to Sister Katherine,’ the prioress said.
‘Is the sacristy door unlocked?’ Sister Joan asked.
‘Yes, Sister. It is unlocked before mass every morning as you know and not closed again until the grand silence.’
‘And not locked then,’ Sister Joan murmured.
‘The door into the chapel wing from the main hall is locked,’ Mother Dorothy reminded her. ‘I will not have the chapel bolted against anyone who may wish to come seeking comfort whether at noon or midnight. We sisters may, in moments of great spiritual need, unlock the inner door ourselves and I’ll not deny sanctuary to our lay friends. We are wasting time, Sister. I’ll telephone the police immediately.’
She genuflected to the altar and went briskly out. Sister Joan, following, saw the familiar squad car circle round and come to a stop before the open doors. Detective Sergeant Mill unfolded his long legs from behind the wheel and came towards them, his glance at Sister Joan one of enquiry.
‘Good morning, Detective Sergeant Mill.’ Mother Dorothy advanced. ‘Sister Joan has already told me of the most recent events. Something else has happened. Would you please come into the chapel?’
He followed her down the short corridor with no more than a brisk nod in reply. Sister Joan, trailing after them, noticed his swift glance round the chapel. She wondered what he made of it. They had never discussed his personal faith but she guessed that he was probably an agnostic.
‘We have been meditating here for the last couple of hours,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘During meditations in Lent we keep strict custody of the eyes. We bow our heads and look only at the floor. We deny ourselves even a glimpse of the altar. We were all here this morning, except for Sister Katherine who is not well. I went out during the meditation to check up on her and met with Sister Joan on my way down. When we came into the chapel there was something laid on the altar. I must explain that as prioress I am permitted to raise my eyes to ensure that everything is in order in the chapel. It was all in order when I left but when I returned—’
With what in anybody less practical might be termed a fine sense of the dramatic she went within the altar rail and lifted the cloth.
‘Please don’t touch it!’ Detective Sergeant Mill said sharply.
‘Fingerprints – I know!’ She frowned slightly. ‘I laid the cloth over it very gently. I doubt if anything has been smeared.’
‘Will you be able to manage without the chapel for a couple of hours?’ he asked. ‘I know it means a lot to you but I will have to lock it and get the fingerprint team up here.’
‘It will be a slight inconvenience,’ she assured him, ‘but since God doesn’t live only in His chapels we shall manage. Do you want me to lock the outside door? There is a key.’
‘I have to radio the station. I’ll go out that way and take the key with me,’ he said. ‘Can you lock the other door?’
‘If it’s absolutely necessary.’
‘For the moment it is. Where are the sisters now?’
‘In their cells writing up the results of their meditation.’
‘Could you get them together for me? Someone may have seen something.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Mother Dorothy frowned more deeply. ‘I must tell you though that during meditation they would not have raised their eyes. Anyone could have come in without being seen by them or even heard – the carpet is very thick.’
‘You saw nothing, Sister Joan?’ He rounded on her.
‘Sister Joan was with me, telling me about Miss Hugh’s body having been found. We were standing in the main hall and nobody passed us to go into the chapel.’
‘Did you enter through the front door, Sister?’
‘Through the back door into the kitchen.’
‘And you were upstairs with Sister Katherine, Mother Dorothy?’
‘For no more than a minute or two. When I looked in at her she was sleeping.’
‘But while Sister Joan was coming in through the kitchen and you were upstairs it would have been possible for someone to walk through the front door?’
‘Just barely possible,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘The door was open but if anyone came that way they’d have had very little time in which to cross the hall, go past the visitors’ parlour, enter the chapel, put the axe on the altar and then go out again.’
‘I’ll make that call.’ He ran down the front steps to the car.
‘Wait for me in my parlour, Sister,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘I shall call the sisters together.’
She paused to lock the inner door leading to the chapel, pocketed the key and went upstairs.
Sister Joan went into the parlour and sat down. She was trembling slightly and there was a sour taste in her mouth. What was happening was bad enough but now it had directly invaded the convent.
The community filed in, Sister Gabrielle grumbling audibly, Sister Katherine looking swollen eyed and pale. Mother Dorothy brought up the rear like a brisk little sheepdog with a docile flock.
‘I’m sorry to disturb you all, Sisters.’ Detective Sergeant Mill had reappeared in the doorway. ‘I won’t keep you longer than I can help. Is everybody here?’
‘Sister Hilaria is in the postulancy with Sister Elizabeth and Sister Marie,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘They have their own meditations separate from us. Shall I—?’
‘That won’t be necessary. The rest of you, apart from Sister Joan who hadn’t yet arrived and Sister Katherine—?’ He looked round.
Sister Katherine put up her hand.
‘You were sick, Sister?’
‘A migraine,’ Sister Katherine said. ‘Mother Dorothy told me to go back to my cell and lie down. That was just before we went into meditation.’
‘At what time did the meditation begin?’ He looked at Mother Dorothy.
‘At eight-thirty, after we had breakfasted and swept out our cells. It was due to last for two hours.’
‘But you’d already been in chapel today? For mass?’
‘We were all in chapel by five-thirty for an hour’s private devotions before Father Timothy arrived to offer mass. He left without taking any coffee with us at – seven-fifteen. We went up to th
e refectory for breakfast, and returned to chapel at eight-thirty – except for Sister Hilaria who took her charges back to the postulancy and Sister Katherine who looked very unwell. We had been in chapel for about an hour when I decided to slip upstairs and see if Sister Katherine needed anything. That was when Sister Joan arrived.’
‘During this meditation do you all sit in the same place?’ he asked of the company in general.
‘We all sat in different places,’ Sister Gabrielle said with a whinny of amusement. ‘If you mean did we move from our places I for one didn’t. It’s hard enough for me to struggle into chapel these days without skipping about once I’m there!’
‘I didn’t move either,’ Sister Mary Concepta said.
‘Did anybody move?’ He looked round the circle of faces.
‘I went over to the Lady Altar,’ Sister David said, putting up her hand and looking terrified. ‘I didn’t lose custody of the eyes, Mother, but that vase of catkins on the floor at the base of Our Blessed Lady’s statue looked very untidy so I went over and put some of the branches in more securely.’
‘Did anybody else move?’
‘I went and kissed the steps of the altar,’ Sister Martha said, adding vaguely, ‘Left over penance.’
‘Did anybody see or hear anybody come in or out of the chapel?’ He looked round again.
‘I am a trifle deaf in the mornings,’ Sister Mary Concepta said timidly, ‘so I couldn’t have heard.’
‘Anybody else?’
‘We were in a Lenten meditation,’ Sister Perpetua said impatiently. ‘That means the most intense and disciplined concentration. We block out all extraneous sights and sounds. At least’ – she shot a look towards Sister David – ‘some of us do.’
‘May we ask why you wish to know?’ Sister Mary Concepta enquired.
‘Something was put on the altar while Mother Dorothy was out of the chapel,’ he said. ‘None of you went up to the altar?’
‘Only to the steps,’ said Sister Martha.
‘Anybody notice anything at all?’ There was barely concealed exasperation in his voice.
There was a general shaking of heads.
‘Thank you anyway. If anyone did notice anything – anything at all I’ll be here for a while or you can tell Mother Dorothy about it in private.’
Sister Joan stayed on her stool as the others filed out. Her sick, shaky feelings had been succeeded by a most reprehensible desire to giggle. Obviously Detective Sergeant Mill found it incredible that they could render themselves blind and insensible to what might be going on around them.
‘I suppose if someone had been murdered in the middle of meditation,’ he said, as the door closed behind Sister Teresa, ‘nobody would have noticed that either!’
‘Sister David might have registered the fact that a body was cluttering up the floor,’ Mother Dorothy said deadpan.
‘I believe you, Mother Prioress,’ he said fervently. ‘So! Sister Joan has told you about our having found Miss Hugh, the friend who shared a house with Miss Potter, Mrs Fairly’s niece?’
‘And that she was found in the convent car,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘It is quite illogical of me but that seems to make it worse somehow. I hope that doesn’t sound too heartless. Sister Jerome took the car yesterday morning. She had the doctor to see and also several gardening implements to buy and I told her to get herself a cup of coffee while she was in town. The clutch on the car went and she very sensibly took it into the nearest garage and phoned for a taxi.’
‘I’d like to talk to Sister Jerome if I may.’
‘Certainly, Detective Sergeant, though I doubt if she can add anything. She’ll be in the kitchen. No, Sister, I’ll fetch her myself.’
She waved Sister Joan back on to her stool and left the room.
‘Whose fingerprints would be likely to be in the chapel?’ he enquired abruptly.
‘Everybody’s,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Sister David is sacristan – she sees that the vases are kept filled and the candles trimmed and replenished and the vestments ready for when Father comes to offer mass or hear confessions. But all the sisters take turns to clean and polish. All our fingerprints would be there.’
‘But not on the axe?’ His voice was thoughtful.
‘Wouldn’t the most stupid killer know better than to handle anything without gloves?’ she countered.
‘Probably but there’s always the chance that this one might be arrogant enough to slip up,’ he said. ‘Ah, this must be Sister Jerome?’
He was indicating a stool but she remained standing, large feet planted on the polished floor, hands tucked into her sleeves, her person ramrod stiff as if she prepared to face a firing squad.
‘I’d just like you to run through what you did yesterday when you went into town,’ he said in a pleasant conversational tone.
‘Nothing against the rule,’ Sister Jerome said.
‘Of course not. I know you had permission to use the car and leave the enclosure. You drove down to town?’
‘To register with the new doctor – Dr Phillips. He offered me a free examination so I took it. As a health precaution.’
‘That’s standard practice these days I believe. And after that?’
‘I had to wait for more than an hour in the surgery and it was past eleven when I came out.’
‘And then you did the errands with which you’d been entrusted?’
‘I went into a newsagent’s to buy manuscript paper for Sister David.’ She sounded as if the detective was pulling teeth. ‘Then I had a bill to pay – electricity, and then the gardening clippers and fork to buy.’
‘Which you couldn’t get in town?’
‘They were expensive and very heavy. I drove out to the next town and bought what was needed there. I don’t see why I’m being asked all these questions.’
‘Bear with me for a moment more, Sister. On your way home – what time was that?’
‘I’m not sure. I wasn’t checking the time. The clutch was not engaging properly so I turned in at the garage on the outskirts of town. The man there said he’d fix it and have it back today. I rang for a taxi and came back to the convent.’
‘With the tools?’
‘Yes. Of course. They were needed.’
‘You took them out of the boot?’
‘I put them on the back seat,’ Sister Jerome said. ‘What is all this about?’
‘Mrs Fairly – the housekeeper at the presbytery – you know that she died?’ Mother Dorothy had broken in.
‘We offered prayers for her,’ Sister Jerome said.
‘It seems that she didn’t after all commit suicide for which we must offer thanks,’ Mother Dorothy was continuing. ‘Her niece, Miss Sylvia Potter, was on her way down here to see to her late aunt’s effects but she died – she was apparently attacked and thrown from the train and then Miss Potter’s friend who was also on her way here after the news had been broken to her – you had better sit down, Sister.’
‘I would prefer to stand,’ Sister Jerome said stonily.
‘As you please.’ Mother Dorothy shot a look towards the detective who answered it with a curt nod. ‘Sister Jerome, the body of Miss Potter’s friend was found in the boot of our car. She had been most brutally murdered.’
‘You’re accusing me?!’ The pale face had gone scarlet, veins stood out on her temples beneath the coif.
‘Nobody is accusing anybody yet,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said.
‘I didn’t know this woman. I never met her.’
‘Someone else did meet her though, Sister,’ he said. ‘Someone lured her off the train, killed her and put her body in the boot of the car. You say you were an hour in the doctor’s surgery.’
‘An hour waiting and a further half-hour for the examination.’
‘Where did you leave the car?’
‘In the car-park behind the station. There wasn’t sufficient room to leave it outside the surgery.’
‘Can you remember whether or not the boot was
locked?’
‘I didn’t check.’
‘It never is locked,’ Mother Dorothy put in. ‘The key’s difficult to turn unless you have the trick of it, so we don’t trouble.’
‘Can you recall exactly where you parked the car?’ Detective Sergeant Mill asked.
‘Yes. Yes I can.’ She closed her eyes briefly for an instant, then opened them again. ‘At the very far side in the right-hand corner. There’s a tunnel there, a kind of walkway connecting the car-park with the station. I left it there.’
‘You didn’t see anybody in the car-park when you were leaving the car or coming back to it?’
‘There were some people about. I didn’t take much notice.’
‘And you didn’t open the boot?’
‘I didn’t open the boot.’ She spoke flatly without emphasis.
‘And you didn’t see anyone approach the altar during the meditation?’
‘I saw nobody. Nobody!’ Her voice rose slightly.
‘That will do for the moment, Sister.’ Mother Dorothy had risen. ‘Would you be good enough to start the soup for lunch? You can write up the results of your meditation later on.’
‘Yes, Reverend Mother.’ The stiff figure bent briefly for the blessing and was gone, closing the door firmly behind her.
‘She can tell you nothing more.’ Mother Dorothy turned to fix Detective Sergeant Mill with a quelling glance. ‘Sister Jerome came to us only recently with the highest recommendations from our London house. The idea of her being involved in murder is quite out of the question.’
‘You know anything of her before she entered your Order?’ he enquired.
‘Our previous lives are of no concern.’
‘Not to the Order perhaps. However – excuse me a moment. I want to check up.’ He was gone, striding out rapidly. Through the open door Sister Joan heard his voice raised cheerfully, ‘The side door’s unlocked, Petrie! Wipe your boots before you tramp in, there’s a good fellow!’
Vow of Penance Page 13
