A VOW OF COMPASSION an utterly gripping crime mystery

by Black, Veronica

  ‘I seem to have been wasting your time then. It was the last thing I ever wanted to do,’ Sister Joan said, with a grimace.

  ‘Hold your horses! I’m playing Devil’s advocate here.’ He laid his hand briefly on her arm. ‘Sister Joan, hard evidence is for the courts but every investigation has to start somewhere and very often it starts with a gut feeling that something’s wrong. I trust your instincts, so I’m not brushing aside anything you’ve told me. I’ll get this tablet analysed and the description, such as it is, of the red-haired woman put out. And I’ll keep a close eye on events at St Keyne’s as far as I can. Right now the first priority has to be that little girl.’

  ‘Yes, of course. There’s Luther too.’

  ‘Luther? What’s he been up to?’

  ‘Nothing as far as I know. He just hasn’t been around for the last couple of days. He doesn’t like funerals and wakes and mourning so he’s very likely gone to ground until everything’s back to normal but Sister Martha’s concerned.’

  ‘Luther will turn up again in his own good time.’ Detective Sergeant Mill broke off as his mobile phone beeped. ‘Excuse me, Sister.’

  He listened, his face betraying nothing, said curtly, ‘Right! On my way!’

  ‘Someone’s found Amy?’ Sister Joan asked, half hoping, half fearing.

  ‘Sister Tracy Collet’s been found dead,’ he said. ‘Will you come with me to the hospital now?’

  ‘Of course.’ She was already on her feet.

  ‘I’ll just pay the bill.’ He went over to the bar and rejoined her as she went out to the car.

  ‘What’s happened?’ she asked as they drove back down the main street and up the hill.

  ‘That was Sister Meecham. She went over to the residents’ unit when Sister Collet didn’t turn up in the ward. She found her dead. Looks like an overdose of sleeping tablets. Self-administered probably.’

  ‘You won’t just accept that, will you?’

  ‘Right now I’m not about to accept anything at face value. Here we are! We’ll go straight there before anyone starts cleaning up the scene.’

  Sophie Meecham was at the door of the unit. She looked white and grim, and there was a strong scent of eau-de-cologne on her breath as she greeted them with a hurried, ‘This way, Detective Sergeant Mill. Dr Geeson is with her now.’

  Sister Joan’s presence she ignored and the look she bestowed on the detective held a certain cloudiness as she turned and led the way up the stairs. Following, Sister Joan guessed that the shock of the discovery had sent Sister Meecham straight to the nearest bottle of alcohol before she had telephoned the police and then rinsed out her mouth with eau-de-cologne.

  Constable Petrie was at the open door of one of the rooms on the first storey, standing aside as his sergeant appeared.

  ‘In there, sir. Sister Meecham rang the station and I rang you and came here at once.’

  ‘Quite right. Dr Geeson, good afternoon.’

  ‘It’s no use.’ The doctor straightened up from the bed. ‘She’s been dead about three-quarters of an hour, I’d say. Thank you, Sister Meecham. That will be all.’

  ‘For the moment,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said.

  His easy assumption of authority was impressive. Dr Geeson frowned at him.

  ‘It looks absolutely straightforward,’ he said. ‘The glass is here and she clearly dissolved the tablets in water and drank the lot. There’s a bottle of sleeping pills on her bedside table. I’ve not touched it but I’m certain you’ll find only her prints on both glass and bottle.’

  ‘I’ll need to speak to you later, Dr Geeson,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said. ‘Also to other members of the staff. Petrie, is the police surgeon on his way?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Petrie came smartly to attention.

  ‘Thank you then, Doctor.’

  Dr Geeson nodded, glanced towards the recumbent figure and went out.

  Tracy Collet lay on her back, eyes half open, an expression of surprise still etched on her features. She was in uniform, apart from her shoes which stood ready to be slipped on near the dressing-table. The room looked messy, with clothes strewn across the backs of the two chairs, a crumpled magazine on the floor, a scent of fading flowers pervading the air.

  ‘Look!’ Sister Joan pointed towards the small built-in wardrobe against one corner.

  The wardrobe door was closed but something curly and red hung on the handle. It was a curiously pathetic object, hanging there, divorced from the head it had been intended to adorn.

  Sister Joan and Detective Sergeant Mill looked at each other. Then he said quietly, ‘My apologies. Your instincts were as usual right, Sister. It looks as if the goings on around here require the most careful investigation.’

  NINE

  Sister Joan took a step back, belatedly crossing herself in the presence of the dead. She realized suddenly that Detective Sergeant Mill had broken the news of Sister Collet’s death without any preliminaries as if she herself was a colleague and not a religious, and she herself had responded more like an investigator than a nun. The thought troubled her obscurely as he said, ‘Why would Tracy Collet commit suicide, do you think?’

  ‘If she’s been supplying banned drugs locally and Madge Lee died indirectly as a result of that her conscience must surely have troubled her,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘No signs of a struggle.’ He looked round the untidy room.

  ‘She was due to go on duty, wasn’t she?’ Sister Joan said. ‘Perhaps this wasn’t a genuine suicide attempt. She may have counted on someone coming to find her.’

  ‘No note. Of course she may have intended the wig as a kind of confession. What do you think, Sister?’

  ‘I can’t believe she killed herself,’ Sister Joan said slowly. ‘I didn’t know her very well but she struck me as an easy-going young woman, not too particular about timetables, but worried. Worried, Alan, not conscience stricken.’

  ‘The police surgeon’s here, sir,’ Constable Petrie stepped in to say.

  ‘Right. We’ll have the fingerprint boys here too,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said. ‘Then I want the room sealed. I shall also want access to the office files and the drugs unit. Sister, don’t touch that!’

  He had spoken too late. Sister Joan had lifted the red wig off the wardrobe door and was regarding it thoughtfully.

  ‘It’s too large,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  Both policemen looked at her.

  ‘For Sister Collet’s head,’ Sister Joan said. ‘She has — had — quite delicate features with a small head and fine hair. This wig would have slipped down round her face and looked ridiculous.’

  ‘You’ve an accurate eye, Sister,’ Constable Petrie said admiringly.

  The police surgeon stepped in, nodding brusquely before moving to the body. Sister Joan excused herself and slipped out of the room and down the stairs.

  Hospitals, she reflected, were places where death regularly occurred and made no special stir, but this was different. She could sense the shock and disbelief of the members of staff huddled in the common room below, the trying to come to terms with the fact that one of their own had died suddenly. Over by the children’s unit the solitary policeman looked more alert than he had done before. She wondered what link — for surely there was a link — bound three deaths and the disappearances of a child and a simple-minded man. There would be a culprit and the link would be discovered, but at this moment she wanted to jump in the van and head back to the convent, to close the chapel door against the harsh realities of the world.

  ‘There’ll be a post-mortem,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said, joining her. ‘Sister, have you got to go straight back to the convent?’

  ‘No.’ She spoke reluctantly.

  ‘Then have a bit of compassion on an overworked, undermanned police force and hang around for an hour,’ he said. ‘I need to ask a few questions of those on duty and your presence would be a bonus.’

  The praying would have to wait. She bit back a sigh
and said, ‘I’ll help in any way I can of course. I take it that you want me to sit by and observe?’

  ‘I’ve told Constable Petrie to round up as many of the staff as he can in the main building common room. Just observe, Sister. That’s all.’

  ‘Right.’ She began to walk with him across the forecourt to the reception area. At the desk Mr Johns, the part-time porter, was talking to a constable.

  ‘Sister Joan, good afternoon.’ Mr Johns greeted her sombrely. ‘This is a very sad state of affairs, isn’t it? My wife will be sorry to hear about it.’

  ‘Very sad indeed, Mr Johns,’ she agreed.

  ‘I only heard about it when I came on duty half an hour ago. Mind you, I got here a bit early today and it’s lucky that I did. Ceri Williams was on the desk this morning and she was terribly upset. We all are. She was a nice person was Sister Collet.’

  ‘Where’s Sister Williams now?’ Detective Sergeant Mill asked.

  ‘With the rest of the staff, sir, up in the common room,’ the constable said. ‘They’re in a hurry to get it over with because there are patients to attend. This is the list of those who were on the premises this morning. Shall I let the others get back to their work?’

  ‘Take their names and addresses and we’ll talk to them later if it’s necessary.’

  ‘Right, sir!’ The constable disappeared up the stairs.

  ‘We’ll take a good look at the drugs unit first—’ Detective Sergeant Mill broke off as Dr Geeson hove into view.

  The frostiness always apparent in the doctor’s manner was positively glacial as he joined them.

  ‘May I ask how the hospital is expected to continue to function under these conditions?’ he enquired. ‘I am left with a mere handful of volunteers who are incapable of doing anything more than putting on a plaster or making tea. Surely an obvious suicide doesn’t demand this kind of close investigation?’

  ‘The sooner we start the sooner we finish,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said. ‘Do you have the key of the drugs unit?’

  ‘I’ve just been there,’ Dr Geeson said. ‘There is a quantity of what you would term LSD tablets missing and not signed for.’

  ‘You still use the drug?’

  ‘Its use these days is very rare,’ Dr Geeson said. ‘I certainly never prescribe it. However, at one time, for certain psychologically disturbed patients it was used in small amounts in an effort to free the subconscious from trauma. Most hospitals still have a tiny amount in stock. We had quite a lot and I did suggest to Sister Meecham that it ought to be disposed of. She evidently didn’t take my advice. I’ve also noted that Sister Collet signed somewhat belatedly for thirty grams of digoxin. That’s a very large amount to be withdrawn at any one time. If you wish to look for yourselves here’s the key. The other key hangs in the office—’

  ‘So any member of staff could take it at any time,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘There’s absolutely no reason why any of them should,’ Dr Geeson said. ‘Contrary to what you seem inclined to believe medical staff are not all drug users or drug pushers. The manager here is not a doctor but an excellent business administrator who keeps the financial side of things running at a smooth economic level and reports regularly to the board of trustees. His actual physical presence is seldom required and he has the good sense to let us get on with our jobs without interference.’

  ‘Did you see Sister Collet this morning?’ Detective Sergeant Mill asked.

  ‘She went off night duty at seven, I believe,’ he said, considering. ‘She was due to take over again from Sister Meecham at one o’clock and when half an hour went by without her putting in an appearance Sister Meecham first rang the residents’ unit and then, having received no answer, she went across to find out what had happened for herself. When she found Sister Collet she immediately rang the police station and then informed me. I went over at once but she was dead. Any attempt at resuscitation would have been fruitless. I did not, of course, touch or move anything in the room.’

  ‘What was your opinion of Sister Collet?’

  ‘Mid-twenties, inclined to be absent-minded, sympathetic towards the patients but apt to regard them in a more personal manner than is considered desirable. Beyond that I can’t say. I don’t socialize very often.’

  ‘And you can think of no reason why she should’ve taken large amounts of digoxin and LSD?’

  ‘She signed for them,’ Dr Geeson pointed out. ‘I have no idea whether or not she was the one who took them. For my own part I would never use LSD, and the digoxin which I do use for those heart-disease cases that require it, I use in minute quantities and also sign for it. If there’s nothing else I have ward rounds to make and only a skeleton staff to assist me.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor.’ Detective Sergeant Mill had taken the key. ‘Please carry on.’

  Dr Geeson stalked past them, with no more than a slight grunt of acknowledgement.

  ‘That’s the type who yanks out appendixes for laughs’ Detective Sergeant Mill said, looking after him.

  ‘Dressed in a little brief authority,’ Sister Joan said wryly. ‘Are we going to the drugs unit now?’

  ‘Wouldn’t do any good,’ he said, ‘since my knowledge of drugs is strictly limited. I’ll have our police surgeon look and decide if anything strikes him as out of the way. I’ll catch you up, Sister.’

  She went on up the stairs.

  In the common room she found a small group gathered together. Together but curiously silent, she thought, arriving in the doorway and surveying them swiftly. Ward Sister Meecham sat a little apart as if to emphasize her seniority, her eyes slightly puffy as if she’d just finished crying. In another chair, Sister Merryl was drinking a cup of tea. Jan Warren, Betty Foster and Ceri Williams sat together on a long couch, each clearly occupied with her own thoughts. Dr Meredith stood by the window shoulders hunched, gazing out as if he wanted nothing to do with any of it.

  ‘Sister Joan, has anything happened?’ Sister Merryl asked, putting down her cup and half rising. ‘Dr Meredith and I are due in casualty and we really haven’t the time to spare waiting here. Poor Tracy Collet killed herself, didn’t she?’

  ‘It looks like that,’ Sister Joan said cautiously.

  ‘Poor girl!’ Sister Merryl clucked her tongue sympathetically. ‘I knew that something was wrong. She was always a bit inclined to draw inside herself, you know, but recently she obviously had something on her mind. It was very clear to me!’

  ‘Did you ask her about it?’ Sister Joan enquired.

  ‘Oh no, Sister, I wouldn’t pry!’ Sister Merryl said, sounding slightly shocked. ‘Tracy always did keep herself to herself, you know. But this last couple of months she seemed more withdrawn than usual. You said yourself, Dr Meredith, that she seemed not to have her mind on her work!’

  ‘She wasn’t concentrating,’ the doctor said, not turning from the window.

  ‘I found her crying in the sluice room one day,’ Jan Warren volunteered. ‘I asked her what was wrong and she as good as told me to mind my own business.’

  Detective Sergeant Mill came in. There was an immediate change in the atmosphere, a tightening up that was almost physical.

  ‘Dr Meredith, I understand that you came on duty at nine this morning.’ The detective began without preamble. ‘Did you see Sister Collet at all?’

  ‘The last time I saw her was very briefly yesterday,’ Dr Meredith said. ‘I was on the way to my car and she was just going on duty. We didn’t speak.’

  ‘And this morning?’

  ‘Dr Meredith and I have been in casualty all morning,’ Sister Merryl put in. ‘We neither of us saw her.’

  ‘When did you last see her, Sister — Merryl?’ He consulted a list in his hand.

  ‘Yesterday,’ Sister Merryl said. ‘I came up here for a cup of tea just before I went off duty. She looked in, said hello and went off again. Then I went home.’

  ‘You don’t live in the residents’ unit?’

  ‘I’ve my own flat in tow
n,’ she said. ‘I got back there, had a bite to eat, fed my cat, and did a bit of ironing. Then I had an early night. This morning I came on duty but I didn’t see her at all.’

  ‘Thank you, Dr Meredith. Sister Merryl.’

  ‘Is that all?’ Sister Merryl looked disappointed as she hauled herself to her feet. ‘I was just saying to Sister Joan that something was worrying Sister Collet, had been for some time.’

  ‘But she didn’t tell you what it was?’

  ‘I didn’t wish to intrude,’ she said primly.

  ‘Then we needn’t detain you any longer for the moment. Thank you again.’

  They went out together, Sister Merryl two paces behind the doctor.

  ‘Old cow!’ Sister Warren said under her breath.

  ‘Sister, that will do!’ Sister Meecham roused herself from her own abstraction.

  ‘You don’t like Sister Merryl?’ Detective Sergeant Mill looked at Jan Warren.

  ‘She’s one of the old school,’ Jan Warren said. ‘Not that they don’t have their uses but they are forever harking back to the old days and how wonderful it was when Matron ruled supreme. She’s a bit jealous of the younger nurses.’

  ‘Can you add something to what we know already?’ he asked.

  ‘I was in the children’s unit,’ she said. ‘I saw Sister Collet once or twice yesterday. Not to speak to, just on her way to or from somewhere. I think it’s better not to get too friendly with the rest of staff because it can interfere with one’s work. Is there any word about Amy Foster?’

  ‘Enquiries are continuing,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said.

  ‘And we expect to make an arrest soon!’ Betty Foster had risen abruptly. ‘Why are we making all this fuss about Tracy Collet when a small girl’s missing? She might be dead — murdered by now!’

  ‘We’re all sorry about Amy,’ Ceri Williams said, ‘but there’s nothing we can do.’

  ‘I suppose not.’ She sat down again abruptly, leaning her head on her hand.

  ‘It wasn’t your fault that Amy went missing,’ Jan Warren said. ‘Sister Collet was on duty.’

  ‘Did either of you see Sister Collet this morning? Sister Foster? Sister Warren?’ Detective Sergeant Mill looked from one to the other.