With Our Blessing

by Jo Spain

  She nodded. ‘I’ve been thinking about it all day. Now you’ve seen the convent, you know how large it is. Throughout Thursday, we were in a tizzy. Some of the sisters spent a good deal of time in the chapel and others went out looking for Mother.’

  Tom sighed. It would be easier to turn water into wine than to get these nuns to verify one another’s whereabouts.

  ‘One more thing. The decision to clean up the mess in the hall: who first suggested it?’

  Sister Concepta pinched the top of her nose with her thumb and forefinger and closed her eyes in concentration. When she opened them, her mouth formed a ghost of a smile.

  ‘I think I know why you’re asking. But I have to tell you it’s highly unlikely this is the breakthrough you’re looking for. It was Sister Gladys.’

  Tom did indeed find it difficult to imagine Sister Gladys in the role of a murderer. But he now had two things to consider.

  Sister Gladys had also been the one who determined that Father Seamus be contacted, rather than the police, when they discovered that Mother Attracta was missing.

  Chapter 24

  The inspector shivered as he hung his suit in the wardrobe. The rattling wooden sash windows on the upper floors did little to retain the heat.

  They’d agreed to meet at breakfast to go over the interviews. The nuns ate at 6.30 a.m., so he’d asked Sister Concepta if they could have the dining room at eight. He’d assured her they could serve themselves tea and toast. Father Seamus was due to say Mass for the nuns in the chapel at 9 a.m. and Tom would speak to the priest afterwards.

  He dialled Louise’s number on the off chance she was still awake.

  She wasn’t, but she still answered the phone, her voice sounding sexy and sleepy.

  He imagined her cosy in their bed, her dark hair tousled on the pillow, her skin soft from her lavender night cream.

  ‘Dragged yourself away from the party, huh?’ she yawned.

  Tom could hear her propping herself up on a pillow.

  ‘It was getting pretty wild,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t tell me anything,’ she commanded. ‘What happens in the convent . . .’

  He laughed. ‘Sorry for ringing so late. I got this crazy idea to do all the interviews tonight.’

  ‘So you kept those poor detectives and all those nuns up with you. Shameful, Tom.’

  He sighed.

  ‘You sound exhausted,’ she said.

  ‘I am. How’s Maria?’

  ‘This is going to be a long six months if you’re going to ask that several times a day, every day.’

  ‘I’m going to worry.’

  ‘Well, feel free to keep that to yourself. She’s got enough to concern her without worrying that you’re worrying. She’s already convinced you’ll be harassing the baby’s father.’

  He stayed quiet. Those very thoughts filled his head every time he remembered his daughter was pregnant.

  ‘You’re so predictable,’ Louise said, reading his silence. ‘What’s happening there?’

  ‘You’ve heard of the Magdalene Laundries?’

  ‘Um, yes. You’re not thinking of sending Maria to one?’

  He blinked.

  What a thought!

  And yet that was exactly what had gone through many fathers’ heads in the not so distant past.

  ‘You know, I’ve been thinking about the Magdalenes for hours. And not once did I consider that, back in the day, Maria could have ended up in one of those places,’ he said.

  ‘Over my dead body. Have I fallen back asleep, Tom? You’re making no sense. I thought you were joking.’

  ‘This place, Louise. It used to be a laundry.’

  He could hear her pulling herself up in the bed properly, more awake now.

  ‘Is that woman’s death some kind of revenge killing, Tom?’

  ‘It has crossed my mind,’ he replied. ‘But to be honest, after tonight’s interviews I sense she made enemies easily. I’m starting to wonder if there wasn’t a gang of nuns in it together. What was that book? The one on the train where they all take turns to stab the victim . . .’

  ‘Murder on the Orient Express. Agatha Christie.’

  ‘That’s the one. Here we all are in a convent in the middle of nowhere, looking like we’ll be snowed in, the murderer quite possibly among us. All we need now is for the lights to go out.’

  ‘You’re giving me goosebumps,’ she said. Then, ‘Are you okay? You sound a little traumatized.’

  ‘Just tired.’

  ‘Me, too.’

  This time he could hear her sliding back down into the bed.

  ‘What are you wearing?’ he said, in his best seductive voice, which he suspected made him sound like a middle-aged pervert.

  ‘My red check pyjama bottoms and your old red sweater.’

  The thought of her sleeping in his sweater made him love her more than if she’d said she was wearing a see-through negligee.

  ‘Oh, I have some good news,’ she said, suddenly. ‘Well, I think it’s good news. I expect you to as well.’

  ‘I need some enforced good news,’ he said.

  ‘The dad is coming over for dinner. With his parents.’

  ‘The chap who knocked Maria up?’

  ‘Lovely, Tom. Things seem to be all right between the two of them.’

  ‘What do you mean by all right? Is he going to marry her?’

  ‘Jesus, there’s you giving out about how medieval the laundries were. No, they’re not a couple. But he’s recovered from his jaw hitting the floor. If he’s willing to come over with his parents it shows he’s taking this seriously.’

  ‘Dinner, though?’

  ‘What’s wrong with dinner?’

  ‘You have to be polite for hours. Can’t they just come over for a drink? I’ll need a drink.’

  ‘Nobody in this family will be drinking. It was alcohol that set these events in motion, from what I gather.’

  ‘Like mother, like daughter.’

  ‘Tom, if you were here I’d give you a smack in the chops for that remark.’

  ‘There, I’ve given myself a mental slap for you. As I recall we were both intoxicated. But we were also newly married.’

  ‘Yes . . . well . . . you may be right. I blame the drink for that, too. His parents know who you are, and that you’re busy right now, but I suggested over Christmas.’

  ‘Anyway, you need to get some sleep. I love you.’

  ‘I love you, too.’

  He would have been happy to sleep with the phone to his ear, just listening to her breathing. Instead, he waited for the click.

  He was taking one last look out the window when he spotted a light in one of the nuns’ rooms in the adjacent wing. Just as he noticed it, he saw that someone was standing at the window looking out. No, they weren’t looking out. They were looking over at his window. After a moment, the curtains were pulled.

  He counted the windows. It was the fifth room.

  A cold feeling settled in his stomach. He wasn’t easily spooked – but it was late, and this place unnerved him. And he still had the image of Mother Attracta crucified to the tree, fresh in his mind.

  There was a rudimentary bolt just over his door handle. As soon as he came back from the bathroom, he used it. All the detectives had brought their firearms down with them – his was a Walther P99c. Tom had never had to fire it, or the Smith & Wesson he had been issued previously, and he wasn’t sure if having a gun made him more comfortable or less.

  The Garda Síochána was typically an unarmed force, but guns had become more of a feature in Ireland in the last decade and most detective units were issued with sidearms. The pistol was in the drawer now, left slightly ajar so he could reach it in a hurry, if he needed to.

  Absurd as it might seem to be worried about being attacked by a nun, there was no escaping the fact that a woman had been kidnapped from this house a couple of days ago and brutally murdered.

  He settled into a restless slumber, filled with disturbing
dreams of long corridors and locked doors.

  And all the while, the feeling that somebody was watching him.

  Day Three

  Sunday, 12 December

  Chapter 25

  Ray was the first officer to wake the following morning. He emerged from a deep sleep, sweating and disturbed. He’d had a strangely erotic dream about Ellie Byrne, but halfway through she’d been wearing a nun’s habit. Then, just as they were about to get serious, her face had contorted into mad old Sister Gladys.

  He tried to shake the image from his head. He needed a scalding hot shower and a loofah.

  In the next room, Michael was rousing from his most peaceful sleep in months. As he came to, it slowly dawned on him that he’d slept well because he didn’t have to be conscious of someone else in the bed. Someone who was so fragile she might break if he touched her.

  As soon as the thought articulated itself, he was racked with guilt. It was as if thinking it gave birth to an idea – that this is how he would sleep all the time if Anne and he weren’t together. How could he think that about his beautiful wife? How could he imagine being separated from her when she had done nothing wrong and needed him?

  He put the back of his arm over his eyes to dry the tears that sprang so easily these days.

  He would phone her today. He’d tell her how much he missed her after just one day. He didn’t know what he could say to make things right, but he couldn’t even consider the alternative. If she missed him too they could start with that.

  Meanwhile, untroubled by fantasy or reality, Willie turned over on his back contentedly and resumed his enthusiastic snoring.

  Next door, the not-so-gentle rumbles of his driver infiltrated Tom’s dreams. He fought opening his eyes and, pulling the covers over his head, tried to find sleep again.

  In the room furthest from Tom’s, and on the other side of Ray, Laura lay still, staring at the side of the chest of drawers and wondering where she was.

  When she realized, she turned and looked at the wall. On the other side, the man she’d been fantasizing about for months was sleeping. She didn’t know if his bed was the other side of the partition or on the far side of the room.

  She placed a hand on the wall. The thought that he might be lying inches away turned her stomach to butterflies. She heard a movement which, unknown to her, was Ray getting up. Her hand automatically flew back and her heart thumped. What was she like! She knew teenagers less lovesick than she was. She pulled the blankets over her head and groaned.

  A beep on her phone alerted her to a text message. It was Bridget checking in. Laura unlocked her home screen.

  How’s it going there? Frustratingly slow here. Wish I’d gone down. Up since dawn checking out apartments. Settled in for the New Year, maybe?

  Laura smiled. Then the memory of what she’d found out about her aunt yesterday flooded her consciousness. She sat up straight in the bed. She was still holding the phone, squeezing it so tight it hurt her hand.

  She wished Bridget had come down in her place. Then she felt guilty. Bridget was adopted. The other detective had talked about looking for her birth mother. Considering how much they’d learned in the last twenty-four hours, she wasn’t sure it would be any healthier for Bridget to be in a place like this. Being here could send anybody with questions about an adoptive background into a tailspin.

  Willie’s discordant trumpeting finally proved too much for Tom. He opened his eyes blearily. Grabbing his phone, he hit the flash display for the time. 7.29 a.m. God Almighty!

  Willie’s snoring stopped abruptly as his alarm launched into a full-scale symphony of noise.

  Tom sighed. There was no delaying the day. A shower would wake him.

  He emerged from his room to find that Ray and Michael had nabbed the two bathrooms first.

  As Tom waited on the landing by the banisters, Laura’s door opened.

  ‘Did you sleep well, sir?’ she asked, clutching a large towel and a flannel bag.

  ‘I’d have slept better if I wasn’t in a room beside Puff the Magic Dragon,’ he replied grumpily, then wondered if Puff was known for his snoring at all, or where he’d got the saying from.

  As they stood there, Willie emerged, yawning and fully dressed.

  ‘Did you sleep in those clothes?’ Tom asked.

  Willie looked at him, puzzled. ‘No. Did you sleep in your clothes?’

  Tom looked down at his pyjama bottoms and fleece. ‘Clearly not. I thought I might grab a shower before I got dressed, that’s all.’

  ‘Is that why you two are standing here?’ Willie asked. ‘Did ye not wash yourselves yesterday?’

  ‘This is how he behaves when he gets more than thirty miles away from the wife,’ Tom said to Laura. ‘Personal hygiene out the window, smoking like a trooper. He probably has a flask of whiskey in his room and a Nintendo.’

  Laura wasn’t listening. An Adonis had just materialized and was walking towards them.

  The two men turned to see Ray coming down the hall from the bathroom with only a towel around his waist, his chest glistening.

  ‘Jesus, Ray, you do know these nuns aren’t used to seeing any men in this house, let alone half-naked ones?’ Tom said. ‘Are you trying to drive them to distraction?’

  ‘Well, I wasn’t expecting a welcoming committee when I got out of the shower,’ he retorted, as he closed his door firmly behind him.

  ‘Ladies first.’ Tom stood back to let a wide-eyed Laura past him to the now vacant bathroom.

  When she’d left, Willie turned to Tom.

  ‘You see that?’ he said, meaning Laura’s reaction.

  ‘I saw it.’

  ‘Ray didn’t, though.’ Willie smiled.

  ‘Ray’s an idiot.’ Tom shook his head.

  ‘Well, I just need to empty the old bladder, so I’m going to pop in here before you, if that’s okay?’ Willie nodded towards the bathroom at the other end of the hall, which Michael had just left.

  ‘Just be sure that’s all you’re emptying. I want to enjoy this shower, and I can’t do that if I’m holding my breath.’

  Willie chuckled.

  *

  By the time Tom joined the others in the dining hall, his brain was functioning. He’d found the shower old-fashioned – a hose attached to the taps and run up the wall – but the water pressure was good and the temperature hot. It had done the job.

  The nuns had left out a cold spread. Just before Mass they had turned on the modern coffee machine in the kitchen, and it was now emitting a wonderful aroma. Tom helped himself to a cup, while taking in the impressive array of pastries, breads, jams and cereals.

  He helped himself to a bowl of granola, spooning yoghurt into the mixture of grains and berries. Willie, eagerly piling his plate with Danish pastries and croissants, looked at him aghast.

  ‘I’m just hazarding a guess we will eat again today,’ Tom said, eyeing Willie’s plate.

  ‘Fail to prepare, prepare to fail,’ Willie threw back.

  ‘Give us the highlights of your interviews last night, Ray,’ Tom said, as he took a seat.

  ‘Well, to start with, I think this woman is lucky she wasn’t killed until now. I know you told us to be careful not to make rash judgements, but after our interviews last night it’s clear she had no shortage of enemies. That mad nun who roared at you last night – Gladys? Well, she actually said, and I quote: “If I’d known someone was going to smash her head in, I’d have held her still.” ’

  Laura almost choked on a mouthful of brioche.

  ‘She was the most forthright of the lot,’ Ray continued, ‘but she wasn’t the one who disliked her the most.’

  ‘Who was that?’ Tom asked.

  ‘Sister Clare. It’s strange – she described herself as a good friend of Attracta, but the animosity was coming off her in waves.’

  Michael nodded in agreement. ‘Turns out she was in line to succeed the last Reverend Mother, and Attracta managed to somehow overtake her.’

  ‘T
hat is interesting,’ Tom said.

  ‘Why would she pretend to like her?’ Laura asked.

  ‘Keep your friends close and your enemies closer,’ Michael answered.

  ‘Nearly three hours of interviewing bloody nuns, and all we’ve established is that Attracta was an old bag,’ Ray moaned. ‘Should we seriously consider the nuns as suspects?’

  Tom half smiled. ‘Not prime suspects, but they did know her better than anyone, so we can’t rule them out. I’d like to know more about this Sister Clare. Several decades – that’s a long time to stew. Then there’s Bernadette leaving out her role in the Hallowe’en row. But we need to look at the villagers and dig more into Attracta’s past.’ He sighed. ‘We don’t have much. Hopefully, forensics get here quick and find something.’

  ‘Or the priest admits to it,’ Michael suggested.

  ‘Or another nun gets murdered,’ Laura said.

  They all turned to look at her.

  ‘What?’ she said innocently. ‘You know as well as I do that, in a situation like this, if the killer strikes again there’ll be a better chance of more evidence.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ray replied. ‘Let’s hope for a serial killer. That will solve all our problems.’

  Laura flinched at his sarcasm.

  ‘She’s right,’ Tom said. ‘And, I’m a little concerned she could be prophetic too. This place is all honey on top and vinegar beneath.’

  ‘But still, a nun wouldn’t commit murder, surely?’ Ray repeated.

  ‘There was a laundry in Dublin.’ Willie put his pastry down.

  It was this simple act of abandoning food that made the others realize he was about to say something serious. It was almost funny.

  ‘Rossa Abbey,’ he continued. ‘When the nuns sold the land for housing, the developers were excavating and found the remains of one hundred people in unmarked graves. Only sixty of them had death certificates recorded. There was even a body with missing limbs. Most had been cremated, leaving no way of discovering the causes of their deaths.

  ‘Maybe they were all natural deaths, but still – to bury remains in an unmarked grave . . . that takes some coldness. Religious garb doesn’t mean being free from sin.’