There was also no point in touching her, in closing those wide blurred eyes, in covering the stark white face with its partly open mouth.
Nobody at the convent possessed a mobile phone. Sister Dorothy when prioress had made her feelings quite clear on that point.
‘Unless one is a policeman or a doctor there is absolutely no necessity for anyone to be constantly at anyone else’s beck and call. These machines are a gross invasion of privacy – useful possibly on occasions of extreme emergency, but otherwise simply an excuse to spread gossip as fast as possible.’
At this moment Sister Joan wished she had one. The smell of the candles was making her feel sick and the staring eyes seemed when she glanced again to have hardened in their fixed regard.
She backed slowly towards the door, pulled it wider with one hand behind her, went down the narrow stairs and into the kitchen. It was neat and tidy, a cup and saucer upended on the draining board, a tea towel folded on a chair on top of a low pile of newspapers.
It would be stupid to go out through the pantry window and thus destroy further traces of whoever had made their entrance that way before her own arrival. She slid the bolt back on the back door and went across the little yard and into the alley. There was a telephone kiosk further along where the alley joined the street.
The telephone itself had been wrenched out and hung limply at the end of its cord. Torn up bits of the directory littered the floor.
Vandals! She bit back an exclamation that would certainly have shocked her fellow religious and stood irresolutely for a moment. She could of course walk to the station which was only a couple of streets away but distaste for leaving Lilith tethered outside the cottage determined a different course of action. If anyone thought it peculiar to see a nun riding a pony through the streets just as dusk was threatening they must lead far too sheltered a life.
She was filling her head with irrelevancies because the image of the old lady, of those squat, ridged candles, of the open eyes, had joined into a single picture that disfigured the landscape of her mind.
‘’Evening, Sister. We don’t often see you out after tea time.’
‘Sergeant Petrie!’
His measured tread, his cheerful voice, the familiar uniform of the law banished horror. She went across to him swiftly.
‘Sergeant, do you have a mobile phone? – oh, but of course you have!’
‘What’s wrong, Sister?’
‘I’ve just found Mrs Pearson dead,’ she said rapidly. ‘She’s lying on her bed and – something terrible has happened to her. Can you get hold of something to—?’
For some insane reason she had been going to say ‘cover her eyes’.
‘Inspector Mill is still in his office, catching up on a bit of paperwork,’ Sergeant Petrie said. ‘You sit here on this bit of wall and I’ll get through to him. You’re sure she’s dead?’
‘Quite sure.’
‘Not natural,’ she repeated, her voice shaking. Despite her cloak she felt cold and shivery.
He stepped a few paces away and spoke into his mobile. Perched on a bit of broken wall she controlled her shivering with an effort.
‘Inspector Mill says can you wait here while he rings the convent?’ Sergeant Petrie was asking. ‘Seeing as you found the body and all.’
‘Yes, of course.’ She answered quietly, the thudding of her heart reverting to its normal regular rhythm. She had seen death before in more shocking guises but there had been an almost palpable sense of horror in that candlelit room.
A sudden plaintive whinny roused her from her thoughts.
‘Excuse me, I’d better see to Lilith,’ she said, rising and making her way along the road to the front gate.
‘You came to see Mrs Pearson then?’ Sergeant Petrie said.
‘On impulse. I went over to the camp and met Padraic who told me that he’d found a cat – a tawny cat – drowned in the river. I guessed it was Malkin, Mrs Pearson’s pet, when he told me that it had on a collar with the initial M on it. I was out exercising Lilith so I decided to ride into town and break the news to her myself.’
‘And the front door was open?’
‘No. At first I thought she might be out, still looking for Malkin, and then I saw the bedroom was illuminated so I – well, I climbed in through the pantry window. She always left it open for her cat.’
She flushed slightly as the possible charge of trespass flashed into her mind.
‘And went upstairs,’ Sergeant Petrie said without emphasis.
‘Yes. I felt – suddenly uneasy. It was most irregular of me.’
‘Here comes the inspector,’ he said, as a car nosed into the street. ‘I’ll just quickly fill him in on what you’ve told me.’
Alan Mill alighted from the car and stood for a moment or two, dark head bent as he listened intently.
‘You’ve no keys to the house, Sister?’ His tone was formal.
‘Sorry about the pantry window,’ she muttered.
‘An unconventional means of entry but you were worried. Can we get in through the back door, Petrie?’
‘I came out through the back door,’ she volunteered. ‘It’s closed but not locked. It was bolted before.’
‘It was bolted before?’
‘Yes.’
‘Right, well go in that way. I rang the hospital. They’re sending someone down who, I hope, can tell us whether we need to treat it as a police matter.’
‘But surely—’ she began.
‘Old ladies have been known to fall asleep and not wake up again,’ he said briefly, leading the way down the alley. ‘Unless she’s been under medical supervision very recently there’ll have to be a post-mortem of course. What did you touch, Sister?’
‘The front railing where I tethered Lilith, the front door knocker. I could see light coming from the upper front window and that’s why I became slightly concerned. I went round, opened the door leading into the alley, knocked on the back door and then remembered she left the pantry window open for her cat to go in and out.’
‘If it’s necessary we can take your prints,’ he said. ‘Right! We’d better check first that she is—’
‘She is quite certainly dead,’ Sister Joan said levelly.
‘In the front bedroom. Right! Yes, come with us.’
He stood aside and she went as briskly as her reluctance would allow up the stairs.
‘Was the door open when you came upstairs?’ he enquired.
‘Closed – yes, closed. I left it open when I came out again.’
‘Odd smell!’ Sergeant Petrie commented. ‘She didn’t use hash by any chance?’
‘I’d think it very unlikely.’
She tried to speak lightly, to avoid the staring eyes of the small figure in the brightly patterned dressing-gown on the bed, head propped on its pillow.
Both policemen had slipped on transparent gloves. She stood by the door watching as Alan Mill went over to the bed, bent to listen, shook his head slightly as he straightened up again.
‘Nothing on her lips, no corrosion,’ he said. ‘The doctor will be able to tell us more.’
He moved to lift a corner of the dressing-gown.
‘Almost fully dressed.’ He let the flap of the gown fall into place again. ‘Slip and skirt, stockings, no shoes.’
‘Shoes are here, sir.’ Sergeant Petrie pointed to a pair set neatly side by side
‘It looks as if she came upstairs for a lie down,’ Alan Mill said. ‘You hadn’t been in this room before, Sister?’
‘I only visited her once,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Well, not exactly visited. I came down to see the place where you found Alice tied up. Then I realized that Mrs Pearson, the old lady who reported she’d seen the Devil, lived here. I was wondering whether or not to call – sometimes lonely people imagine things you know – and then the cat – Malkin – jumped out at me and she came out and invited me in – through the kitchen into the sitting-room. I stayed for a cup of tea and then I left.’
‘What impression did you get?’ He asked it as seriously as if she’d been a colleague.
‘That she read too much about the occult,’ Sister Joan said frankly. ‘I mean there’s nothing intrinsically wrong about the occult – the word only means hidden after all, but everything has its dark side. A susceptible person, living alone except for a cat, might not have the mental strength or the knowledge to distinguish between the two. They might easily be fooled by some nasty practical joker into thinking they’d seen the Devil in a churchyard.’
‘Do you still think that?’
‘I think it’s more than a practical joker,’ she said slowly. ‘Things have been happening recently – small things, not in themselves important perhaps save to the people they most nearly concern, but nasty, spiteful things – the lurcher poisoned, Alice lured away – she has never wandered off of her own accord, the fledgings—’
‘What fledgings?’
Briefly she told him about the birds.
‘You don’t think Luther—’ Sergeant Petrie queried.
‘No, not Luther! He’s harmless, wouldn’t hurt anyone or anything. Someone else sneaked in and killed them. Luther buried them to save Sister Martha from being upset.’
‘There’s another thing on your mind,’ Inspector Mill said. It wasn’t a question.
She thought of the spoiled books in the postulancy, of the documents that Father Malone had wanted repaired. Though those incidents were not under any seal of the confessional she would require Mother David’s permission before she mentioned them.
‘The candles here,’ she said at last. ‘Last evening I had to go over to the postulancy – I must stop calling it that now we are to have tenants living there! – anyway I went over to check the place – you know it is often left unlocked.’
‘Sister Hilaria,’ Sergeant Petrie said.
‘Whoever. When I got there candles were burning in nearly every room – candles exactly like these. There was the same odd smell. I took them all up and was on my way back to the main house when the cat, Malkin, leapt out of the shrubbery on to my shoulder. He streaked off again at once. Mrs Pearson told me that Malkin had strayed away. She was going to put an advertisement in the café window. I told her that I’d glimpsed Malkin near the postulancy. She did say she’d walked that way earlier but then turned back.’
‘Did you mention the candles you’d seen burning?’
‘No.’ She shook her head. ‘The truth is that I half thought she might’ve put them there herself.’
‘Why?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Perhaps when her story about seeing the Devil in the churchyard wasn’t taken seriously, she decided to stage something else up in the postulancy in a bid to convince people she’d been speaking the truth.’
‘Did she know the postulancy was empty?’
‘She could have done. Father Malone might’ve mentioned that the place had been rented out.’
‘A very long way for her to walk,’ Sergeant Petrie said.
‘She wasn’t infirm,’ Sister Joan said. ‘And she could’ve had a lift. Some of the Romanies drive their trucks up on to the moor after the week’s buying and selling is completed.’
She jumped nervously as the sound of a car drawing up outside was followed by the sharp rat-tat of the front door knocker.
‘That’ll be the doctor now. We’d better go down. He’s a new man, very competent as far as I’ve heard – done some good forensic work over at Truro.’
She walked down the stairs rapidly, glad to be out of the room, to breathe purer air instead of the sweet, dizzying smoke curling up from the half burned-out candles.
The man who came in was in his late thirties, fair hair receding from a high forehead, nod brisk and impersonal as he said, ‘Apologies for the delay. I was in the middle of a tricky experiment that couldn’t be left. You say an elderly woman has died?’
‘Mrs Pearson. She wasn’t by any chance a patient of yours? Oh, this is Sister Joan from the Daughters of Compassion. Dr Metcalf is a new addition to the local hospital staff.’
‘Sister!’ He gave her a brief, unsmiling glance before turning towards the inspector again. ‘Where is the woman?’
‘Upstairs. Sergeant Petrie will show you. We’ve touched as little as possible.’
‘Not my concern,’ Dr Metcalf said. ‘That’s for you lot if you think it’s necessary. Oh, and no, she wasn’t a patient of mine. I checked on the hospital computer before I came out.’
He followed Sergeant Petrie up the stairs, his briefcase held tightly in one hand.
‘I’ll have forensics in anyway just in case,’ Alan Mill said. ‘Look, I can run you back to the convent in my car.’
‘I have Lilith,’ she began.
‘We’ll put Lilith up at the station overnight and I’ll have her brought back in the morning.’
‘But I really can’t expect—’
‘Us to keep acting as your unofficial boarding kennels cum stables? Don’t worry about it. I’ll have Constable Seldon come over for her. She’s a keen rider.’
She? That must be the young naturally blonde policewoman she had seen typing away in the office.
‘Thank you,’ she said meekly.
He opened the front door again to let her pass him. Outside, the wind still tossed the grass verges on the road and sent small stones tumbling down the slope of the intervening alleys.
‘Seat belt,’ he said automatically, as she got into the car.
‘I was going,’ she said, ‘to fasten it.’
‘So, any ideas, Sister?’
She shook her head.
‘Not really. It just seems so odd that Mrs Pearson should die now at this time. And the candles—’
‘What did you do with the ones you found in the postulancy?’
‘I put them in the refuse bin,’ she admitted.
‘That’s not like you,’ he said mildly.
‘Look, Alan’ – she turned her head towards him as he drove along the moorland track – ‘right now there’s a lot going on at the convent. We’ve a newly elected prioress who has to settle into the position though really she’s doing very well. Money’s tight which is why we’re renting out the postulancy – and while the money will be useful, being able to rent it out at all means that fewer women are entering the religious life. And all kinds of nasty little things have been happening – Alice was lured away. I know she was! And Padraic Lee’s lurcher was poisoned. She wasn’t a young puppy who might’ve picked up something by mistake. She was an old dog. And then there was Mrs Pearson insisting she’d seen the Devil or a devil in the churchyard. I think she did see someone who was trying to frighten her. And two late fledgings were killed – battered to death in the enclosure garden. Luther found them and buried them in case Sister Martha saw them. I haven’t said anything about them to anyone else. There were other things, but I shall need Mother David’s leave before I can tell you.’
He was silent for a moment, frowning slightly as he drove along the track towards the open gates of the convent. Then he said, ‘I’d appreciate it if you obtained that permission from Mother David fairly soon. Unless it ties in with anything it would be kept quite confidential I promise.’
‘And Mrs Pearson?’
‘They’ll be taking her to the hospital as soon as Dr Metcalf has completed his preliminary examination. We should get the results through by tomorrow. I’ll let you know as soon as I know. I’ve a feeling there won’t be any prints anywhere around apart from yours and the old lady’s.’
‘The candles? That smell?’
‘Will be analysed too. Here comes Sister Marie!’
The younger nun was hurrying round from the back of the building, undisguised relief on her face when she saw Sister Joan in the glare of the headlights as the latter emerged from the car.
‘Oh, thank goodness you’re all right!’ she exclaimed. ‘Did Lilith throw you? Surely not! Mother David said to keep supper warm for you if you were late but it’s only just ready. Padraic stopped by with some fish.’
‘Salmon?’
Inspector Mill had alighted from the car.
‘Trout,’ Sister Marie said. ‘We’re having them with butter sauce and mashed potatoes. Where is Lilith?’
‘Lilith’s fine. They’re keeping her overnight down at the station,’ Sister Joan said.
‘Mother David said an elderly lady had died down in the town. How very sad,’ Sister Marie said.
Her voice was completely sincere as she blessed herself but her round, rosy face was ill made for expressing grief.
‘Yes. Very sad,’ Sister Joan said.
‘I’m forgetting my manners!’ Sister Marie said. ‘Will you come in for a cup of tea or coffee, Inspector?’
‘That’s kind of you but I’m still on duty,’ Alan Mill said.
‘I always think that policemen must be most dedicated people,’ she was continuing. ‘All those hours, and having a family too! How is your family? And the boys?’
‘The boys are back at boarding-school,’ he said politely. ‘And Mrs Mill is very well.’
Her name was Samantha, Sister Joan knew, but only once had she heard him refer to her by her Christian name. And they had never met. He kept no comfortably familiar family photograph on his desk.
‘Sister Marie,’ she interposed gently, ‘hadn’t we better go in?’
‘Yes, of course. Oh Lord, my potatoes!’ Sister Marie whisked kitchenwards.
‘Thank you for the lift,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Look, tomorrow’s Sunday. Could you possibly keep Lilith until Monday if it’s not too much trouble? Only Sunday is High Mass and then private prayer for most of the day.’
‘We’ll board her for the rest of the weekend. And what exactly will you be doing for the rest of this evening?’
‘After supper we have general confession,’ she said, somewhat disconcerted by the question. ‘We confess to one another instead of one of the priests and the prioress gives out the penances. We can do them at once or delay them until tomorrow. There’s no recreation, but one of the sisters reads from the Bible or some devotional book. Why do you ask?’
‘I was wondering why you didn’t get more vocations,’ he said drily. ‘I think I begin to see why now. Good night, Sister Joan.’