The Quick and the Dead (A Sister Agnes Mystery)

by Alison Joseph

  ‘Nothing new on the Stanton case for weeks,’ Charlie said. ‘Anyway, must go, tell Sheila to try not to worry, we’ll be calling on the church lot.’

  ‘Oh. Good.’

  Agnes turned to Sheila. ‘They’re going to visit Ross Turner. Eventually.’

  ‘I bet they’ve no idea where he is,’ Sheila snapped.

  ‘No,’ Agnes said, as a thought crystallised in her mind. ‘But I do. Come on.’

  ‘Why are we going back to the forest?’ Sheila asked, as Agnes screeched up the track where the camp had been and parked by the gate.

  ‘I’ve just got to get something. Wait in the car.’

  *

  The landscape that greeted Agnes as she reached the top of the hill was completely alien, a desolate wasteland of churned mud, felled trees, scrubby grassland scarred by tyres. It was like crossing a battlefield, the dead still unburied.

  She went into the woods and followed the smell of wood-smoke. Bill’s camp was further away now, nearer the existing road. When she saw he was there, crouched over his fire, she felt an overwhelming sense of relief. He looked up, startled, then smiled.

  ‘I thought I’d never see you again.’

  ‘I’ve come to do a deal,’ Agnes said.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘You owe me an explanation.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You also have a gun. A pistol.’

  He grinned. ‘I admit it. For rabbits.’

  ‘Crap. You’ve never killed a rabbit with it. The point is, I need it. Now.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘That’s the deal. I don’t ask you for an explanation. You don’t ask me.’

  He stood up, smiled, came towards her. He took her hand in his. ‘I’d hate you to come to harm.’

  ‘I’m in a hurry.’

  He turned her hand palm upwards, then placed in it a .38 Smith and Wesson. ‘It’s loaded,’ he said. ‘Do you know how to use it?’

  ‘I hope I won’t have to,’ Agnes said.

  ‘Have this as well.’ She looked down to see he was offering her a mobile phone. She took it. ‘I haven’t killed any rabbits with that, either,’ he said, scribbling his number down. ‘Just in case,’ he said, slipping the scrap of paper into her pocket.

  She turned to go.

  ‘Be careful,’ Bill said.

  *

  ‘Where are we going now?’ Sheila asked, as they sped along suburban roads outside Chelmsford.

  ‘To Lily, I hope,’ Agnes murmured. It all depended on her hunch being right, she thought. Elizabeth is convinced that Morris has confessed. But the police know nothing about it. Which means, she thought, that Ross is still holding the whole thing together.

  The dashboard clock said three minutes past two.

  She pulled into the Murphys’ neat cul-de-sac, ran up the drive and rang the bell. The door was opened a crack by Elizabeth, then, as she saw it was Agnes, a little wider.

  ‘Where’s Lily?’ Agnes said.

  ‘They’re all with Morris. Shirley’s here, with David,’ Elizabeth murmured.

  ‘Why Lily?’

  ‘I don’t know. Steven said it was Jerry’s idea. Ross must need her to help in the work with Morris.’

  ‘When you say “work” …?’

  ‘Sometimes people need help. Sometimes people are reluctant to confess the power that Satan has over them.’

  ‘Elizabeth —’ Agnes looked at the petite, nervous woman standing in front of her. She took a deep breath. ‘Elizabeth, I need you with me.’

  ‘They said to stay here. Just in case.’

  ‘I need you,’ Agnes said firmly, her foot in the doorway.

  ‘I can’t disobey —’

  ‘Elizabeth. Think for yourself. For once.’ Agnes tried to keep her voice firm, level, keeping Elizabeth’s gaze locked with her own. ‘I’ve got Lily’s mother in the car. Think. Think if it was your son.’

  ‘L-Lily …?’ Elizabeth looked blank.

  ‘Lily. Jerry’s girlfriend. Think.’

  ‘But it’s Morris —’

  ‘Elizabeth. I need you. She’s in terrible danger. The same danger that Becky knew.’

  ‘But her father — the Lord has told us —’

  Agnes felt time slipping away. ‘You know. Elizabeth, you know what the Lord tells you. In your heart of hearts. Be true to that, Elizabeth. You know what Steven knows.’

  Elizabeth stared at the floor. ‘I can’t … I don’t think … ’

  ‘I saw him, Steven. I saw him in the woods. Yesterday. At the place where Becky was found. He was praying. And crying.’

  Elizabeth looked at Agnes. ‘Steven … crying …?’

  ‘You know why, Elizabeth. Come with us. Please.’ Agnes watched the tiny pulse at Elizabeth’s temple. Her eyes were full of bewilderment. Then she frowned, blinked. ‘I’ll — I’ll just change my shoes,’ she said.

  As Agnes helped Elizabeth into the back seat of the car, she caught Sheila’s glance. Not a word, she willed to her. Don’t say a thing.

  She drove slowly from the Murphys’ house to the Stanton house, collecting her thoughts, aware of the pistol in her pocket.

  She parked outside the house. It looked normal, orderly.

  Sheila grabbed at the door handle. ‘Is this it? Is she here?’ she said, opening the car door.

  ‘Sheila, don’t,’ Agnes seized her arm. ‘If you go in now —’

  ‘What the hell are you saying? My daughter’s in there, against her will. Of course I’m going to —’

  ‘Sheila, please. If you go in now it’ll get more dangerous for Lily.’

  ‘I don’t care, I’m going to —’

  Elizabeth’s voice rang clear as she broke her silence. ‘If you care for Lily, do what she says. Do what Agnes says. She’s right. I know.’

  Something about her tone made Sheila hesitate. She sat back in her seat. Elizabeth turned to Agnes. ‘We’ll stay here,’ she said.

  Agnes handed Sheila the mobile phone. ‘My hope is that I can send Lily out to you. When you see her coming out, dial 999. But not before. Please. It’s important. Elizabeth will tell you how important.’

  Elizabeth grasped Agnes’s hand. She looked like someone who had awakened from a dream. ‘And Steven,’ she said. ‘Send him out too. Here,’ she said, handing Agnes a key. ‘Shirley’s spare key. Use it.’

  Agnes went up the drive and let herself silently into the house. It was quiet. For a moment Agnes wondered if she’d been completely wrong. Perhaps there’s no one here at all, she thought, but then she caught a sound from upstairs, a strange, deep sobbing. Then voices, raised in unison. Agnes started up the stairs. The sounds were coming from Becky’s room. Of course, Agnes thought. Her hand went to her pocket.

  Becky’s broken crucifix. In the other pocket, Bill’s gun. Oh God, Agnes thought, I hope I don’t have to use it.

  She stood outside Becky’s room. The sobbing had become louder, a choking sound that made Agnes’s blood run cold. Then she heard Ross’s voice, raised in prayer. ‘Oh God, our Father,’ she heard. ‘Save this Thy child … Oh God, our Father …’ It was a kind of chant. Agnes heard the words father, child, reverberating in the room; echoing in her head. She felt a steely calm descend on her. She put her hand on the door handle. ‘Save this Thy child,’ she heard. Like hell, she thought, flinging the door open.

  The room was in darkness, flickering with candlelight. The curtains were drawn. The first thing Agnes saw was Morris, his eyes wide, his mouth open. His face was wet with tears. He was sitting on a chair surrounded by the others, all standing. Steven on one side, Jerry on the other, Roger next to Jerry, Ross standing right in front of the chair. Lily was the other side of Steven, and Agnes noticed her bright eyes, her look of blank calm as she glanced at Agnes and then back to Morris. Morris gripped the sides of the chair, white-knuckled.

  ‘Sister Agnes,’ Ross said, stepping back from Morris. ‘Well, well. Though I’d expect you to know better than to interrupt people in communion with the Lord
.’

  Don’t you mean Satan, Agnes wanted to say, but kept silent, as Ross took her hand firmly in his own and led her into the room. He shut the door behind her and stood by it.

  ‘Won’t you sit down?’

  Agnes hesitated. She looked at Morris. He was pale, red-eyed, shocked, looking blankly at Ross, as if waiting for a cue, his fingers still locked around the edges of the chair.

  Agnes sat on Becky’s bed, on the yellow candlewick bedspread. ‘I thought I heard someone crying,’ she said, conversationally.

  Ross smiled warmly at her, then touched Lily’s shoulder. ‘Perhaps our sister here will explain what we’re doing.’ Lily looked up at Ross, then smiled at Agnes. ‘We’re praying to the Lord to help Morris.’

  ‘So you see,’ Ross said, ‘you interrupted something very special, fragile even. Perhaps we have a right to know why? Why you decided to creep into our private space, breaking into this house like a common thief?’ He walked across the room and half opened the curtains, letting in the sunlight. He blew out the candles, then pulled up a chair and sat down opposite Agnes, waiting for an answer. Agnes was glad the room was at the back of the house. The car parked outside was still safe from Ross’s view. She noticed that Roger had moved to the door, as if standing guard.

  ‘Well?’ Ross said. ‘How can we help?’

  I’ve come to take Lily home, Agnes wanted to say, but looking at her as she stood next to Ross, her eyes shining with enthusiasm, she realised there was no point. She imagined herself shooting her way out, gripping Lily by the arm. But then, if I did produce the gun, Agnes thought, they’d get it off me in two seconds. It was time to try a different tack.

  ‘May I ask why Morris needs the Lord’s help?’

  A chill passed across Ross’s face. ‘You seem to be taking a very keen interest in us, Sister,’ he said. His voice sounded harsh and metallic.

  ‘Only where the murder of a young woman is concerned,’ Agnes said. The room seemed to have grown colder. Agnes was aware of Roger at the door, of Steven and Jerry, all somehow poised to do Ross’s bidding, of Morris, shifting uncertainly on the chair. She glanced across at the crucifix, her crucifix, hanging from the photo of Becky.

  Ross stood up, and his face became warm again, his cheeks suffused with pink. ‘Let us offer a prayer of thanksgiving to the Lord that Sister Agnes has come amongst us today.’ They all turned to him, Roger, Steven and Jerry, and Lily, smiling at Ross’s voice. ‘For our brother Morris here is able to give witness to the power of Satan, to the evil Satan worked within him. And not just to us, his friends, but to our Sister Agnes here.’

  ‘Amen,’ came a thin, reedy voice, and Agnes realised it was Jerry.

  ‘Morris,’ Ross prompted, ‘would you like to tell our sister here what happened?’

  Morris’s lips were working. After a moment he said, ‘It’s true. Satan possessed me, and I killed — I killed …’

  Agnes looked at Ross, who was gazing at Morris with his open, gentle smile. She glanced at Lily again, whose smile was an almost exact replica of Ross’s. There was no way she’d agree to leave now. There was no point trying to get her out by force. There was nothing for it. Agnes took a deep breath.

  ‘It must be difficult,’ she said to Morris, ‘admitting to it, when you can’t remember anything about it.’ She felt the room hold its breath.

  ‘That’s the problem,’ he said. Little beads of spittle appeared on his lips with each word. ‘But Satan possessed me. I know now that he did. They’ve helped me to see that he did.’

  ‘Of course, you were angry with her,’ she said.

  He nodded. ‘She ran from us. She ran away. I only wanted what was best for her. It was wrong, what she did. I — I — wanted to make her better.’

  ‘What did she do that was wrong?’

  Morris chewed his lip, and bright red spots appeared on his cheeks. ‘I can’t say. It’s better that she’s dead now, she’s pure now, she can’t do … do those things now.’

  ‘What things?’ There was silence. ‘Becky loved women.’ Agnes’s words hung in the stillness of the room. ‘Is that why you killed her, Morris?’

  Morris darted glances to Ross. ‘It’s — it’s better that she’s dead,’ he mumbled.

  ‘And the police, Morris — they’ll tell you, Morris, over and over again, they’ll say — you killed Becky, Morris. That’s what they’ll tell you, time after time. You killed your daughter.’

  Morris was red-faced now, his fists were clenched at his sides. At last he said, ‘But I did. I was possessed by Satan and I — I did it. Her cross,’ he said, ‘her silver chain — I remember I had it, I brought it here, I hung it up.’

  ‘All right, then,’ Agnes said, ‘let’s go over the events of that night in the forest. They will, of course, be familiar to you. Becky is with her friend, a girl, in the woods that evening. They have a row. You’ve followed them there, you’ve been lurking in the woods all day, determined to fight with Satan for the soul of your daughter. Is that so?’

  Ross was looking intently at Morris. Morris nodded. ‘You see them in the distance. It’s clear that they’ve had some kind of disagreement, because the girl storms off to the village, and your daughter, Becky, is left alone in the forest. She doesn’t go back to the camp, even though it’s late and they’re all wondering where she is. She stays, to think things over, perhaps. And that’s your chance. You come upon her. And what do you do?’

  Morris looked at Ross. His lips were dry, and he moistened them. ‘I — I —’

  ‘Do you pray with her?’

  Morris nodded.

  ‘So, you ask her to kneel. And you stand over her, and call upon Satan to leave the body of your daughter.’

  ‘Amen,’ came the same light voice.

  ‘And then what, Morris?’ Agnes said. ‘Then what?’ She wondered how long she had before Ross intervened. ‘Perhaps the presence of Satan, of Satan himself, in the forest in the dark like that, perhaps it was all too much for you. And perhaps Becky began to object, and tried to get up and go back to her friends, to her life — and something snapped in you. Because Becky was at ease with herself, with the life she’d chosen to lead, the women she’d chosen to love — and you weren’t. You aren’t, are you?’ Agnes felt Ross’s eyes burning through her. She continued to address Morris, aiming her words at someone else in the room. ‘You can’t accept your desires for what they are — even though they, too, are gifts from God.’

  ‘No,’ someone whispered.

  ‘And so you found yourself grabbing the crucifix that she still wore around her neck, and twisting it, and twisting and twisting until it broke, and then you grabbed some rope and carried on, pulling and wrenching until — well, you know the rest, don’t you, Morris?’

  Morris was openly weeping, staring at the floor, shaking his head.

  ‘Except,’ Agnes went on, ‘you don’t. Because you weren’t there. Were you?’

  Morris began to mutter, between sobs, ‘No, no, no … ’ Ross exchanged glances with Roger. Agnes noticed that Steven and Lily were both pale, staring intently at Morris. Lily had lost her vacant smile. She was alert, now, frowning, as she looked from Morris to Ross. Thank God, Agnes thought.

  ‘You see, Ross,’ Agnes said, ‘it’s not going to work. There are some truths you can’t make happen simply by repeating them enough times. Morris will never know what it was like that night with Becky, however many times you try and tell him. Even though the police are closing in, even though the only way you can save your church is to make Becky’s murder a domestic affair, caused by her father’s violence, so that the police take him away instead of —’

  Suddenly Ross shouted, ‘That’s enough. That’s enough.’ There was a flash of metal as Agnes saw that Ross had a gun and was aiming it at her. He grabbed Jerry by the arm. ‘We’re going,’ he said, inching towards the door.

  Hell, thought Agnes. Here we go. She drew her gun too, and found she was yelling, ‘Stop, stop right there,’ as Ross yelled,
‘Drop it, drop the gun,’ and Agnes shouted, ‘Steven, Lily, get out. Now. Get out, for God’s sake. Wake up. Go —’ She and Ross circled, yelling. Roger was calling out, ‘Ross, Ross!’

  Steven and Lily dashed for the door, wrenched it open while Roger stood mouthing helplessly, and hurtled out of the house.

  ‘I’m not afraid to use it,’ Ross was yelling.

  ‘What, and burn in hell?’ Agnes shouted, thinking Oh God, dial that number, Sheila, now.

  ‘You’ll reach hell before I do,’ Ross cried.

  ‘Why marriage, Ross?’ Agnes was shouting. ‘Why try and marry off Jerry, first to Becky, then to Lily, when you feel for him —’

  ‘No, no,’ Ross interrupted, ‘I must fight the desires that Satan puts before me —’

  ‘But they’re good desires —’

  ‘O Satan’s honeyed words,’ Ross yelled. ‘How can such things be good? “’Tis better to marry than to burn —”’

  ‘Ross, if you love Jerry, why can’t such love be God-given?’

  ‘Daughter of Satan,’ Ross cried, and for a moment Agnes thought he was about to shoot her. In the chaos, Jerry had wandered over to the mantelpiece and picked up the crucifix. He held it in his hands, allowing the cross to hang from the chain, dangling from his fingers. Now, like someone in a trance, he came and stood in front of Ross, so close that his body was almost touching the barrel of the gun.

  ‘Look,’ he breathed, smiling, ‘a miracle. It’s whole. It was broken in two, but now it’s whole.’

  The room fell silent. Morris and Roger were standing by the door. Ross stared at Jerry.

  ‘Satan was strong that night,’ Jerry said. ‘I had to fight him on my own, he was like a — a serpent, his long neck, long neck, so strong, but so white and pure, like a woman’s, but I knew, I knew who it was, I could see the evil within, I knew I had to win. It was for Becky, you see. I knew if I lost my fight with Evil she would die. I had to save her.’ He was facing Agnes now. ‘We prayed together, like you said, we knelt together, but then she said … and I knew that Satan was with her, she said she loved … and while she was kneeling there I … I saw Satan. I saw him. And I had to save Becky. I had to make her pure again.’ Jerry stood in front of Agnes, holding the crucifix between his hands, smiling down at it.