A VOW OF COMPASSION an utterly gripping crime mystery

by Black, Veronica

  ‘Well, he would say that, wouldn’t he?’ The other rested her chin on her hand wearily.

  ‘Padraic is a very responsible person,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Could Mrs Lee have got the brandy from somewhere else? Is any kept on the ward?’

  ‘Sister Meecham keeps a bottle in the office,’ Sister Collet said slowly. ‘We’re not supposed to know anything about it because she is chief ward sister, but she does have a little tipple now and again — only a drop or so, when she needs a bit of energy.’

  ‘Sister Meecham wasn’t on duty last night or this morning?’

  ‘She was on duty until eight this morning, over in the children’s unit. It’s more like babysitting really. She came in and went straight to bed, I think. I could call her.’

  ‘No need,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Oh, I take it that you threw out the bottle — the one with the dregs of brandy in it?’

  ‘Sister Williams went down to the mortuary. I started cleaning up the side ward and — yes, I washed out the bottle. I’m afraid it was automatic. Dr Geeson told me to start cleaning up. The smell of brandy was awful.’

  ‘What did you do with the cap?’ Sister Joan enquired.

  ‘The cap?’ Tracy Collet’s face became, if possible, more expressionless. ‘There wasn’t any — of course, I must’ve thrown it away. Why?’

  ‘Oh, just clearing up a few loose ends on Padraic’s behalf,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Look, it’s none of my business but you ought to try to get some sleep. You don’t look well at all.’

  ‘You mean that I look plain,’ Tracy Collet said. ‘Well, that’s nothing new. If you don’t mind, Sister, I think I will go and lie down.’

  She had half risen, her fingers plucking nervously at the hem of her tracksuit top.

  ‘Have a good long sleep,’ Sister Joan said encouragingly.

  ‘If I don’t get called to some emergency or other,’ Tracy Collet said. ‘That’s the trouble here; when you’re off duty you’re still on call and when you’re on duty you get stupid errands to run or a message to deliver that nobody knows anything about.’

  She went out, consciously straightening her shoulders as she crossed the threshold.

  ‘Sister Collet, when did you deliver a message that nobody knew anything about?’ Sister Joan demanded, following.

  ‘This morning. I’d just said to Sister Williams that we’d have a quick look over the ward before I went off duty and left her in charge and she remembered that there was a note someone had given her on her way over to the main building. Just a scribble asking me to go over to the children’s unit. I thought it might be urgent so I went right over, but nobody knew anything about it. Then I went back to the surgical ward. Sister Williams was making a cup of tea for one of the patients. I was quite cross about it because someone should’ve been on the ward but she’s a nice girl so I didn’t say anything. We started the ward round and found Mrs Lee. That’s all, Sister.’

  She had lengthened her stride and was making for the staircase. Sister Joan stood, gazing after her thoughtfully. This wasn’t all. It wasn’t all by a long chalk but she hadn’t the faintest idea how next to proceed.

  She went back to the van where Padraic sat, chewing on an empty pipe, his eyes bleak.

  ‘Here’s the carrier bag,’ Sister Joan said, handing it up to him. ‘I’ve one more errand to do before we leave. I’m sorry to keep you waiting.’

  ‘Oh, I don’t mind sitting here.’ He gave her a faint, forced smile. ‘There’ll be plenty to see to once we get going. Death’s a busy time, isn’t it, Sister?’

  ‘For the living, yes.’ Sister Joan nodded to him and hurried back across the forecourt.

  ‘Would Sister Meecham be on the premises?’ she asked the nurse at the reception desk.

  ‘I think she’s up in her office.’ The girl glanced up indifferently. ‘Go on up, Sister. It’s on the top floor.’

  ‘I know roughly where it is. Thank you.’

  The nurse mumbled something and continued to flick over the pages of a magazine in front of her. Sister Joan doubted if it was a copy of the Lancet.

  The office which housed the shiny new computer was a large, pleasant room with a couple of easy chairs, a flat-topped desk and a range of filing cabinets with pot plants on top of each one. A rather sentimental print depicting Florence Nightingale with her lamp and the ubiquitous soldier gazing up at her from the floor hung on one wall. Sister Meecham was checking what looked like a menu and looked up as Sister Joan tapped on the door.

  ‘Yes? Oh, Sister Joan! Come in, won’t you?’

  ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘No, not at all. I was just checking over the menus. We’re supposed to give the patients a choice these days and it can be quite difficult to please everybody. Some of the patients seem to think they’re staying in a five-star hotel! What can I do for you, Sister?’

  ‘You’ll have heard about Madge Lee’s death earlier today.’

  ‘Yes. Yes, very sad but not entirely unexpected.’ Sister Meecham indicated a chair and rose. ‘Would you like a cup of coffee, Sister?’

  ‘Nothing, thank you.’ Seating herself, Sister Joan looked up at the taller woman. ‘I was hoping to find out if the bottle of brandy that’s usually here is still here.’

  She had scored a palpable hit. Sister Meecham turned a dull red and then paled.

  ‘Brandy, Sister?’ she said.

  ‘That dark-brown liquid that gets you drunk,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘I do know what brandy is,’ Sister Meecham said. ‘I fail to see—’

  ‘A bottle of brandy is kept up here for emergencies?’ Sister Joan put it as tactfully as she could.

  ‘As a matter of fact, yes. In the bottom drawer of that filing cabinet. It’s unlocked and there’s no secret about it,’ Sister Meecham said defensively.

  ‘May I see it?’

  ‘You may have a tot if you like, Sister!’ Sophie Meecham bent down, tugged open the steel drawer, and stopped, her hand continuing to grope.

  ‘It isn’t here,’ she said flatly. ‘Sister, I swear that — someone must’ve nicked it. I don’t understand — I heard something about Mrs Lee having got hold of a bottle of brandy and drunk most of it, but I received the distinct impression that it was brought in a carrier bag. Of course, Sister Collet and Sister Williams haven’t yet written their reports on the incident.’

  ‘I think it is almost certain that the bottle of brandy came from inside the hospital,’ Sister Joan said. ‘I don’t suppose there’s any liquor kept on the wards?’

  ‘No, of course not.’ Sophie Meecham slid home the drawer and stood up. ‘There is a small amount of liquor kept in the staff quarters, but the staff sign for it and the bill is totted up at the end of each month. They are not, of course, permitted to drink on duty. The brandy kept here is, as you say, purely for emergencies. I can hardly believe that a woman as drunk as Mrs Lee was said to be would leave the side ward, come up here and steal the brandy. How would she know it was here in the first place?’

  ‘Somebody’s taken it,’ Sister Joan said mildly.

  ‘I think you’ll find that Mister Lee brought in a bottle of brandy for his wife.’ Sophie Meecham smoothed down the skirt of her uniform. ‘Of course, it was the very last thing he should’ve left with her but the man’s a Romany!’

  ‘But not an idiot.’

  ‘Of course not, but he may have thought that an extra drink might not harm her, or it may have been in the — oh, I really don’t know, Sister!’

  ‘How was the bottle sealed?’

  ‘It had a screw top, Sister Joan, which was released by means of a spring-clip before being twisted loose. It was quite stiff.’

  ‘I see.’ Sister Joan tried to visualize a hungover Madge Lee lurching unseen up the stairs, entering the office, finding the liquor, unsealing the bottle, going back down the stairs and immediately drinking herself into a fatal convulsion. She found it impossible.

  ‘I understand that a bo
ttle was found in the side ward?’ Sophie Meecham said.

  ‘Yes. Caught in the bedcovers,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Madge Lee had drunk most of it and then dropped it when she had her seizure. Sister Collet and Sister Williams cleaned up the room between them. The bottle was washed out. The problem is that neither of them seems to have found the bottle top. If Padraic Lee had brought in a bottle of liquor which I don’t believe he did, then surely he’d have brought in one with a top to it. If he’d done that then his wife would’ve grabbed the bottle when the nurses’ backs were turned, unscrewed it and taken a couple of long swigs. Then she’d have let the bottle slip from her grasp and had a fatal convulsion. The top of the bottle wouldn’t have walked off by itself.’

  ‘I fail to see what you’re implying,’ Sophie Meecham said.

  ‘That someone came up here, took the brandy bottle, undid it up here — you said yourself it was difficult to undo — and then they took the open bottle down to the side ward, handed it to Madge Lee who was just coming round from her binge, and—’

  ‘But someone would’ve seen them surely!’

  ‘Sister Williams came on duty an hour before Sister Collet went off duty. She was called away over to the children’s unit and while she was gone Sister Williams made one of the patients a cup of tea. Someone could easily have slipped into the side ward then, and if the bottle was already undone they wouldn’t have to waste time getting it open, would they?’

  There was an instant’s silence. Sophie Meecham stared at Sister Joan, her hands still smoothing her uniform. Then she said, ‘Haven’t you got enough to do over at the convent without inventing mysteries for yourself to solve? First Mrs Cummings who died of a heart attack and now Madge Lee — both deaths logically accounted for by virtue of their medical history, but you must come along and ask a string of questions — upsetting my nurses, sowing completely unjustified doubts, playing at detective! Dr Geeson was quite satisfied in both cases with the cause of death, and willing to sign the death certificates. What is wrong with you, Sister?’

  ‘I’ve got a naturally suspicious mind,’ Sister Joan said meekly.

  ‘Well, you can keep your nasty little suspicions to yourself!’ Two bright spots of colour in her cheeks made her almost pretty. ‘My nurses are compassionate, intelligent workers, dedicated professionals! We all of us work under constant stress, long hours, double spells of duty, low pay! We do our best for those in our care! God knows we do! Sometimes people die here. We’re not able to stop every single patient from dying, you know! Even Dr Geeson can’t do that, and he’s a fine doctor. He’s an excellent doctor! If I were to give him the merest hint of what you’ve been implying he’d complain to — to your bishop, I’m sure he would. And who would want to kill an elderly woman with heart trouble and a drunken gypsy woman? Who’d gain?’

  ‘I’m sure you’re going to tell me,’ Sister Joan said resignedly.

  ‘Mrs Cummings left her property to your prioress, didn’t she?’ The scarlet came and went in Sophie Meecham’s face. ‘And with Madge Lee dead her husband won’t have to spend half his time pretending that everything’s just fine! And yet I can’t see those two joining forces to start committing murders all over the place. Now, excuse me for being rude, but I’d like you to get the hell out of here!’

  ‘Of course.’ Sister Joan made for the door. ‘I’m sorry to have upset you, Sister Meecham. I do realize that as head ward sister you’re naturally concerned for the reputation of your staff.’

  ‘And there’s no motive for anyone to kill anyone else!’

  ‘Oh, there’s always a motive,’ Sister Joan said gently. ‘I’ll see myself out.’

  Padraic wasn’t in the van when she reached the forecourt. At a little distance his pickup was parked and a small group of men stood by it, Padraic in their midst.

  ‘Sister Joan, my pals fixed up my truck!’ He came towards her. ‘We’ll go back together, and collect Edith and Tabitha on the way. I do thank you kindly for the lift here.’

  ‘You’ll let me know if there’s anything else I can do.’

  ‘I will indeed, Sister.’ He shook hands solemnly.

  Already he was unconsciously assuming the dignified mantle of bereavement. Yet he’d loved his wife, or more likely loved the memory of the girl she’d been before the family weakness had claimed her.

  She hadn’t the smallest excuse for lingering any further. Two people had died of causes that were consistent with their medical histories. Dr Geeson was satisfied. The most that could be alleged was a certain inefficiency in hospital procedure and shortage of staff was the clear culprit there. She bit her lip, turned towards her van and halted as Sister Merryl emerged from the children’s unit and came towards her.

  ‘You here again, Sister? We’ll have to charge you rent soon,’ she said cheerfully.

  ‘I gave Padraic Lee a lift down when we received the news about his wife,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘The poor thing died, didn’t she?’ Sister Merryl looked vaguely sympathetic though the upward curving lines of her face made the expression sit uneasily on her features.

  ‘Apparently she got hold of a bottle of brandy,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘Doesn’t surprise me!’ Sister Merryl clucked her tongue. ‘It’s not like the old days at St Keyne’s, I can tell you! Why, the things that go on these days would not have been tolerated under one of the old-style matrons.’

  ‘Like Sister Meecham’s drinking,’ Sister Joan hazarded.

  ‘Oh, we’re not supposed to know about that,’ Sister Merryl said. ‘She keeps a bottle of brandy up in the office for emergencies. Well, we all know about that, of course, but I’d like a pound for every time Sister Meecham has to top it up when she’s had a stint up there on duty!’

  ‘I’m told that some doctors drink too.’

  ‘Men can hold it better,’ Sister Merryl said tolerantly. ‘Why, I’ve seen old Dr Meredith sail into the operating theatre three sheets to the wind and whip out an appendix! Steady as a rock he was, except when he was sober.’

  ‘He doesn’t operate now, does he?’ Sister Joan asked.

  ‘He’s semi-retired these days, comes into casualty mainly, and now and then pops along to the children’s unit. He’s got a nice friendly manner which is more than anyone can say for Dr Geeson, though he’s very efficient.’

  ‘Two doctors doesn’t sound sufficient even for a small hospital.’

  ‘Oh, we’ve a couple of interns.’ Sister Merryl sniffed loudly. ‘Think they know it all, but no real harm in them to be fair. And of course the local GPs take turns at coming in. But the real workers are the nurses! The hospital couldn’t function without them. I include myself in that because I may only be part-time now but I’m one of the old school, and what I can do in ten minutes takes some of these young girls twenty! Addlepated some of them!’

  ‘Sister Collet seems a little vague,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘Well, we all know why, Sister, don’t we? It never does to mix private and professional business, does it? It means her mind is on something else half the time. Never knows exactly where she’s left her keys; never sure exactly where she’s supposed to be — she turned up at the children’s unit this morning looking for Miss Fleetwood. Seemed to think she was wanted.’

  ‘How’s the little girl — Amy Foster?’

  ‘Still here.’ Sister Merryl clucked her tongue again. ‘Poor little mite! Never says a word. They did promise a place for her at the children’s home but they’re bursting at the seams as it is. And she goes absolutely rigid when someone suggests fostering again. She knows the word, you see, and remembers.’

  ‘There is something that troubles me a little.’ Sister Joan felt as if she was making her way through a thick fog with no clear views of anything. ‘There’s a rumour that people have been a bit careless about the drug cupboards — forgetting to sign for what they take, leaving keys around, that kind of thing.’

  ‘Well, I’ll not ask where that rumour started,’ Sister Me
rryl said.

  Since she had just started it herself Sister Joan felt a definite sense of relief.

  ‘I couldn’t really credit it,’ she said.

  ‘Sister, I don’t blame you! Thirty grams of digoxin not signed for until Sister Collet remembered that she’d taken some to be made up in the dispensary. Of course, she rushed back to sign the register at once.’

  ‘Dix — what you said is quite a powerful drug, isn’t it?’

  ‘Powerful?’ Sister Merryl rolled her eyes. ‘Let me tell you that the normal daily dosage for a heart condition is one milligram. One milligram, Sister! It has to be very, very gradually reduced too if the patient’s condition is improving. Having thirty grams of the stuff wandering around a hospital doesn’t bear thinking about!’

  ‘I can imagine.’

  Her imagination was, she thought, really beginning to work overtime now.

  ‘It wouldn’t have happened in Matron’s time,’ Sister Merryl said wistfully. ‘I tell you, Sister, things are changing for the worse. They blame lack of funding but I blame lack of discipline!’

  ‘I’m sure you’re right,’ Sister Joan said.

  She was still in the fog but she had the distinct impression that it would soon begin to clear. Before she could frame another question, Sister Merryl glanced at her fob watch and uttered a small shriek.

  ‘I’m due at reception! Here’s me going on about inefficiency and five minutes late already. Nice talking to you, Sister. ’Bye!’

  SIX

  ‘This is very bad news, Sister.’ Mother Dorothy spoke sombrely, her face tight with distress.

  ‘Some people would call it a blessed release,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘Some might, but we are not among that number. Mrs Lee leaves a widower and two young daughters behind her. It’s very sad indeed, and naturally you had to stay to do what lay within your power. You missed your afternoon cup of tea but I’ve no doubt that you never even thought of that.’

  Sister Joan, who had thought of it constantly on her way back to the convent, lowered her eyes modestly.

  ‘When you have driven Sister Marie to the hospital in the morning you must go over to the Lees and find out if there’s anything that we can do. Sister Perpetua will wish to attend the funeral since she had reason to be grateful to Padraic Lee for his gifts of fish. You’ll find out what arrangements are being made?’