No Known Grave (20 page)

“Nothing, sir. Not a thing. Well, that is, I heard Constable Biggs coughing now and again. He’s got asthma and the sound carries in the night. He was on guard at the cottage.” He stared with round eyes at Tyler. “I was sat here all night. Right there in the entrance. And it was black as Hades. I swear nobody could’ve come through the gate or over the wall without a light, in which case I would’ve seen them.”

“What about the rear of the house?”

“Constable Chase is there. He’s been apprised, but I told him to stay right where he was. We both patrolled the grounds every
hour during the night and it was utterly quiet. We all three conferred throughout and nobody reported anything amiss.”

“All right, Mady. Stay here for now. Don’t let anybody in or out.”

“Yes, sir.”

Mady wheeled the bicycle away and Tyler turned to the almoner. “Tell me what you know, Sister.”

“Our community rises early to say matins. We were all gathered in the sanctuary, except for Sister Ivy, when Dai Hughes came in. He beckoned me to come outside, which I did.” She was speaking rather slowly and deliberately and Tyler could tell she was trying to anticipate the sort of things he might need to know, trying to put events that were without sense in order. “He told me that he had found Sister Ivy’s body. Hughes acted very sensibly. He immediately put a screen around the desk and ran to fetch his brother. Evan Hughes remained on the ward while Dai came to get me.” She glanced up at the brightening sky. “The residents will be getting up very soon.” She clasped her hands together tightly. “Do you think we should evacuate everyone, Inspector? There seems to be one tragedy after another. Some of our patients are very fragile mentally.”

“Let’s hold off on that for now.”

Sister Rebecca nodded. “With your permission, I will proceed with the breakfast routine and have them taken into the common room again. Shall I tell them what has happened or would you prefer it came from you?”

“I’d like to have a look at the body first. Have you informed the other sisters?”

She shook her head. “Frankly, I didn’t know what to say. Obviously, they know something has happened. But they don’t know what.”

“And the McHatties?”

“They’re still sleeping.”

“Good. Let’s leave them for the time being. What about Mrs. Fuller?”

“She was already in the kitchen. I simply said there had been an accident. Thank heavens she didn’t press me.”

Tyler inhaled. “Shall we go inside, Sister?”

She turned to lead the way.

“And of course, if there is anything you can tell me about Sister Ivy that might be relevant, I would appreciate it.”

The almoner halted. “Relevant? Relevant to her taking her own life? I can think of nothing. She has been with our community for thirteen years. She was upset, as we all were, about the McHatties, but I never imagined she would do something like this.”

“Thank you, Sister. I’ll keep that in mind.”

She flinched a little and her eyes met his. He immediately regretted being brusque with her.

As they entered the deserted foyer and headed for the stairs, Alfie Fuller burst through the swing door that led to the kitchen.

“What’s all the carryings on? I was supposed take a cup of tea to Miss Oakshutt ’cos she’s feeling poorly, but Ma says I mustn’t. She says there’s been an accident.”

“That’s right, Alfie,” said the almoner. “I’d rather you stayed here with your mother for now.”

“Somebody’s died again, ain’t they? Who is it, Sister? Please don’t tell me it’s Miss Shirley? Please don’t say that.”

Tyler interjected. “Why would it be Shirley, Alfie?”

“ ’Cos somebody is out to get all of them. Pa and kiddies. Her next and her ma. I just know it.”

Mrs. Fuller emerged.

“Alfie! How many times must I tell you? You’re to let me know when you go off somewhere. What are you doing?”

“I was going to the toilet, Ma, but the policeman and Sister was here and I had to asks him what was happening.”

Mrs. Fuller frowned at him. “It’s none of our business. They’ll tell us soon as they’re ready. Come on. Right now, do you hear?”

She held open the door so that her son had no choice but to do as she said. She rolled her eyes at Tyler but evinced no curiosity as to what had happened.

Tyler and Sister Rebecca continued up to the second floor.

The blackout curtains were still drawn and the ward was in darkness, except for the soft light from a lamp filtering through the screen around the desk. The orderly was seated a few feet away and stood up as soon as he saw Tyler. He looked frightened.

“Glad to see you, Inspector.”

“Mr. Hughes. Will you make sure everybody stays in their rooms while I take a look at the body? I don’t want anybody out here. Are they awake yet?”

“So far, only two are. Mr. Melrose and Mr. Mullin. My brother is tending to them. Miss Stevens did come down from the third floor to use the toilet but she can enter by way of the passageway, so I was able to make sure she went back upstairs without seeing anything.”

“Good man.”

Sister Rebecca stationed herself beside the screen and Tyler shifted it to one side. The body was covered with a sheet and he unfolded it carefully.

Sister Ivy, big, pink-cheeked country woman that she had been, was now grey-white as death claimed its territory. Her head was turned to one side, resting on her arm. The strings of a white, cone-shaped mask were hooked around her ears, pulling the mask tightly against her mouth and nose, and Tyler could smell the sweet, pungent odour of chloroform. A labelled vial was by her right hand.

He bent in a little closer. He could see that the inside of her right index finger was stained with ink. A pen lay on the desk.

He beckoned to the almoner. “She must have been writing something, Sister. But you say you didn’t find a note?”

“No, I did not. The wastepaper basket is empty and there was nothing on the floor nearby. Perhaps she was writing her report.”

A clipboard was balanced on the edge of the desk. Carefully, Tyler picked it up. It held the nurses’ report sheet.
WEDNESDAY, JULY
15.

“She signed in at eleven o’clock, taking over from Sister Rachel. She made her first round at midnight.”

Sister Rebecca nodded as she said, “Yes, that is the routine.”

“She reported that all patients were settled for the night except for Vadim Bhatti, who was in discomfort. She gave him two
ASA
powders. She made another round at one o’clock and then another one an hour later. Both included the women’s rooms upstairs. Two o’clock is the final entry.”

Tyler replaced the clipboard. Ironically, the last thing the nun had written was
ALL WELL
.

The desk itself was tidy. The blotter was straight, lightly used by the look of it. Tucked into the cubby hole with the inkwell and a container of drawing pins was the silver-plated mug Sister Ivy had claimed yesterday. He picked it up. She must have received the mug as a prize at some point because her name was engraved on it, together with the words
FIRST PRIZE JUNE
1912. What exactly she had come first in was not specified.

“It looks as if she made cocoa and drank most of it. So we are to believe that after finishing her cocoa, at her usual time of a quarter past two, she then took out a vial of chloroform from the medicine cabinet, dripped the anaesthetic onto the mask, put it on, and inhaled enough to kill herself.”

There was the sound of a woman’s voice in the hall.

“Sister? Sister Ivy?”

Somebody was knocking on the door that led to the passageway.

“I’ll deal with it,” said Sister Rebecca.

Tyler turned to the alcove behind the desk. Nothing appeared to be disturbed. The kettle sitting on the spirit stove was cold, the lid was on the cocoa tin, the silver teaspoon was clean. The matching sugar bowl was almost empty. The key to the medicine cabinet was still in the lock, and so he opened it. The stock was neatly arranged and he could see the space where the chloroform must have been. He picked up the vial on the desk with his handkerchief. Only a drop was left. There was no leaving it to chance.

From the moment he’d clapped eyes on the dead woman, Tyler knew she hadn’t committed suicide. He knew from experience that having a chloroform mask on your face was not pleasant. When he’d been injured two years ago and required anaesthetic prior to surgery, his every instinct was to fight against the mask that had been placed on his face. He felt as though it was suffocating him. But in an operating room, there were nurses and a doctor telling you to breathe normally, who had their hands on your arms just in case. If you were doing it yourself, it would require tremendous self-discipline not to rip off the mask that was impeding your breathing. He also knew that for the anaesthetic to work, the mask had to stay in place for at least five minutes.

Suicides frequently left people behind who were devastated by their death; who asked themselves how they could have missed the signs of utter despair. Because there were always signs; he’d been a copper long enough to know that. But here was a nurse, a woman of religion, who was performing her usual duties, who had made herself a hot drink. Nothing to indicate “the balance of her mind was disturbed,” as the official language put it.

The majority of suicides left a note, some communication with those they were about to leave behind. If Sister Ivy had indeed written a farewell note, it had now vanished.

He pulled the sheet back over the body and came out from behind the screen. Dai Hughes was sitting a few feet away.

“I’d like you to stay here and make sure nobody touches anything. Keep the screen up, but you might as well open the blackout curtains. I’ll have an officer relieve you as soon as possible.”

“Yes, sir. And … sir?” The orderly gulped. “I’m terrible sorry about the sister. She was a good woman. To think she would do this …”

His voice trailed off.

Sister Rebecca returned. “It was Miss Stevens. She wanted some
ASA
powders. She’s gone back to her room.”

“Thank you, Sister.”

“Shall I ring Dr. Murnaghan?”

“Yes, please.”

“Unless you need me here, I’ll go and speak to the sisters. We’ll need to tend to the patients.” Then she lowered her voice so Hughes couldn’t hear her. “Sister Ivy didn’t commit suicide, did she, Inspector?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

She left, and Tyler walked to the window at the end of the hall. It was half open. Was this to let in some air or had somebody entered the ward by way of the fire escape? He dismissed that notion immediately. Constable Mady might be flat-footed and short-sighted, but he was a conscientious lad. He’d been doing his job. Even if the killer had been moving swiftly and silently – as he seemed able to do – if he had climbed up and down the fire escape, Mady or Biggs would surely have detected him.

Ergo, the murderer was within the house. But how could a killer have got behind the nun and taken her so completely unawares that she didn’t put up even the slightest struggle?

And we are back to “Why?”

36.

D
AI
H
UGHES FELT AN OVERWHELMING URGE TO HAVE
a cigarette. Sister Rebecca didn’t like them to smoke on the ward, but he might be able to sneak in a few puffs before things got moving. He took out the single cigarette he kept tucked away in his top pocket. Matches? There’d be some for the spirit stove, but it meant he’d have to go around the other side of the screen, and he wasn’t sure he was up to that. He’d been an orderly for a year now and he’d seen several dead bodies, but they were always nicely in their beds, not sprawled over a desk with a chloroform mask on their face. He was braced himself, just about to risk it, when Evan came striding out of the blue bedroom.

“We only have a minute. They’re all waking up. Bancroft needs a bedpan.”

His face was contorted with anger. Knowing his temper, Dai quailed.

“I’ve got to stay here until a constable arrives,” he said.

Before Dai could move, Evan grabbed him by the arm and shoved him into the chair. He pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and waved it under his brother’s nose.

“Do you know what this is, laddie?”

“Looks like a letter.”

“Aye. It is. The nun here was writing it to the inspector. No, don’t start to make up a story, you sorry piece of shite. She says everything. She says how you were going out on a regular basis when you were supposed to be on duty. She was good enough to keep the side door unlocked for you. You went out again, didn’t you, when I’d expressly told you not to?”

“Evan, I had to go. Polly’s ill. She needed me.”

“Got the clap, does she?”

“No, it’s a touch of bronchitis.”

Evan glared at him. “You’re lying. Either she’s telling you a story or you’re telling me one.”

“It came on sudden,” said Dai sullenly.

Evan put the letter back into his pocket. “It’s a bloody good thing I took a look at what the sister had been writing. Her farewell letter.”

“What she did for me was a little thing – no reason to off yourself.”

“Isn’t it? How can you be so sure? She sounds pretty sorry.”

“No, Evan. She didn’t feel bad about helping me. She said I reminded her of her brother.”

“I pity the poor woman, if that’s the case.”

“Evan, I just can’t believe that the sister killed herself. She was so jolly.”

Evan scrutinized Dai for a moment, then he stepped back. “Can I have faith that your little tom-catting in the night has nothing to do with what happened to Jock McHattie?”

Dai stared at him in horror. “How can you say a thing like that? Of course it didn’t.”

“I’m relieved to hear that. We’ll let the copper sort it out. We won’t say anything about the note for now. It’s our business. Yours and mine.”

“I don’t know, Evan. We should probably tell. I’ll take my lumps.”

“Not yet. Let’s see what happens. You say you don’t think the sister did off herself. But she might have. Guilty conscience. She was religious, after all. In which case it don’t matter what she wrote.” He tapped his pocket. “I will keep this note to myself, but I warn you, if you so much as put a toe outside of
these gates without permission, this little
billet
will find its way straight to the police. Is that clear?”