A Dark and Sinful Death

by Alison Joseph

  ‘Why? It’s not even exam time yet.’

  ‘Exams?’ Agnes looked up from her cup. ‘Exams? Listen, I need my sleep. Sleep is important to me. If I miss my sleep, it’s going to be for a good reason. Spiritual crisis at least. Or declaration of war. Or finding I’ve conceived a child by an angel. Exams ... ’ She shook her head and returned to stirring her tea.

  Teresa looked at her with an expression of pity. ‘You haven’t done an exam term yet, have you?’ She patted her hand, got up and left the dining hall.

  *

  ‘Quand je suis plus agée, je veux être un médecin.’

  ‘No, Helen, remember the French takes the future tense with quand, and no article at all with medécin ... ’ Agnes yawned, heard the girl repeat the corrected sentence, glared out of the window. The sun was breaking through the clouds, throwing a slash of light across the purple of the moors. Mark Snaith, Agnes thought, wondering why his name had suddenly crashed into her mind. Because he died up there. That’s what it was. Reg was sought out at home, and Nina was tracked down at her work, and Mark — Mark was out on the moors in the middle of nowhere.

  ‘Je voudrais être professeur.’

  ‘Very good, Amy.’ Which meant that Mark was lured to his death. Someone must have set a trap.

  ‘Moi, je veux bien être kangourou.’

  ‘Excellent, Alice.’

  But the police had found no trace of anyone else. Only the binoculars, the mark of a solitary bird-watcher. And the fact that someone had noticed a man behaving suspiciously around the nest. And that Billy Keenan dropped him off in the car, everyone said ... Agnes was aware that the class were all giggling.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Sister ... ’ Clemmie stifled more giggles. ‘Sister, Alice just told you she wants to be a kangaroo.’

  *

  After lunch Agnes found Charlotte sitting in a corner of the sixth-form common room. ‘I know we’ve been through all this before,’ she said, sitting down next to her, ‘but who else would have known that Mark was up on the moors that day?’

  Charlotte looked up from her book. She shook her head. ‘I think about it all the time. He always went alone to the nest. He didn’t want anyone else to know about it.’ ‘He can’t have arranged to meet someone — ’

  ‘Unless it was this serial killer person.’

  ‘But Charlotte, I’ve been thinking about it. Reg answered his door to someone. It was deliberate. And Mark must have been the same.’

  ‘I’ve thought and thought. I’ve tried to remember if he had a meeting or anything, if he was worried about someone, or owed someone money.’

  ‘Someone told him his birds were in danger.’

  ‘Yes. Probably one of his bird-watching friends, they were always talking to each other.’

  ‘And this suspicious man on the moors — ’

  ‘The police are still looking.’

  ‘Then there was the community centre project — ’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about that, too.’

  ‘Lianna said there was a problem about the money.’

  ‘That’s just stupid rumours, if she’d got involved she’d have known it was all straight up.’

  ‘She said no one trusted Turnbull.’

  Charlotte fiddled with one of her rings. ‘That’s just crap, everyone likes Turnbull. And he got us the money.’

  ‘Billy Keenan gave him a lift.’

  ‘Yeah, Billy bloody Keenan. Unless they find he killed Mark, which no one can prove, they can shut up about him. They just want a scapegoat, those estate people, the whole place is full of people doing nothing to help themselves but ready to criticise anything that might wake them up out of the — the mess of their lives.’

  ‘I thought we might talk to her.’

  ‘Us? Lianna?’

  ‘She’s in hospital. She got beaten up.’

  ‘Well well. We can take her some grapes.’

  *

  It was after four by the time Agnes escaped, yawning, to her own room. She made a pot of Earl Grey tea, and sat at her desk. She picked up the phone and dialled a number.

  ‘DC Janet Cole, please, it’s Sister Agnes.’ She waited.

  Janet came on the line. ‘Hi, I was going to phone you.’ ‘Did you get any sleep?’

  ‘Not much.’

  ‘How’s it going?’

  Janet sighed. ‘We’ve tried to get witnesses. No one saw anything. The fingerprints tell us nothing, he was wearing gloves. Hard gloves, like footballers wear. It doesn’t really make sense.’

  ‘Do you think it’s like the others?’

  ‘No. Apart from the eyes.’

  ‘The thing is, Janet, if it was a killing like the others — ’

  ‘She wouldn’t have been around to tell us, you mean?’

  ‘It does seem to be different.’

  ‘We’ve been asking her about her life, a bit, you know, whether anyone might have it in for her. Have you spoken to her?’

  ‘Not today.’

  ‘Please try,’ Janet said. ‘Some time soon it’s going to occur to her that she’s survived a murder attempt. The fallout from that can be quite serious.’

  *

  Agnes finished her tea, just as the phone rang again. ‘Agnes, it’s Nina.’

  ‘I was about to phone you. How are you?’

  ‘Fine now.’ Her voice sounded flat. ‘I went into work but they sent me home to rest. Rest? Hang on. No, Rosie, I said no biscuit. Where was I?’

  ‘You went into work.’

  ‘Oh yes, anyway — hang on, OK, in a minute, no, leave the chair alone, Rosie, wait, oh for Heaven’s sake, hang on a minute ... ’

  The phone was put down, then Nina returned. ‘Where was I?’

  ‘The mill.’

  ‘It’s mad there. Turnbull’s putting in alarms and security cameras and things. D’you know, I think it’s not for my benefit at all. I think he thinks he’s next.’

  ‘But Nina — why would he think that?’

  ‘It’s just the way he’s behaving, kind of obsessed.’

  ‘Surely they came for you?’

  ‘That’s what the police think. I was cross-examined today about my private life. Rosie’s dad, mainly. I almost laughed, the idea that Jay would come creeping around my work at dead of night. I suppose they’d go on about him just as much if he was a white guy, what d’you think?’ Her voice smouldered with restraint.

  ‘I suppose if someone’s trying to kill you — ’Agnes said. ‘There you are then. Obviously nothing to do with colour.’

  ‘And Turnbull thinks he’s next?’

  ‘He’s panic-stricken.’

  ‘Perhaps whoever came for you was looking for him.’

  ‘Listen, whoever went for me last night couldn’t have mistaken me for Turnbull unless they had all the gumption of a short-sighted ant.’

  ‘And they knew you were there.’

  Nina’s voice suddenly changed. ‘I just keep thinking, what if they’d succeeded? What would have happened to Rosie?’

  ‘But they didn’t succeed.’

  ‘But when they come back — ’ Agnes heard a catch in her voice.

  ‘They won’t come back.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Where are you staying?’

  ‘With my mum, I’m afraid to go home. For some reason.’ Nina sniffed. ‘All I want, Agnes, is to feel normal again. Oh God, she’s got the whole biscuit tin and she’s taking a bite out of each. Rosie — listen, Agnes, I must go, I’ll phone you soon, ’bye.’

  Agnes lay down on her bed and closed her eyes. She realised she must have fallen asleep, because when she opened them again her clock said 20:32. She remembered she’d been dreaming of Joanna. She also realised she’d missed supper. Philomena would no doubt have noticed.

  She had a shower, changed into fresh jeans and a jumper, and grabbed her coat. She crept down the back stairs of the school to the front door, got into the convent car, and drove to the Woolpack.


  He was sitting hunched over a pint.

  ‘Fancy a drink?’ she said.

  David Snaith looked up. ‘Sister Agnes. As I live and breathe. An angel, bestowing good will to all men. Or in this case, just to me. Yes please.’

  She returned to the table with his pint, and sat opposite him with a Scotch.

  ‘So,’ he said, ‘how’s things?’

  ‘OK.’

  ‘OK? That’s not good enough. You’ve got belief, you’ve got a hotline to the Almighty, you’re supposed to be able to hear cherubic singing and angelic harps.’

  Agnes laughed. ‘It’s not that easy, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You see? When it comes to it, you just cop out, don’t you? All right, then, how are things at the coalface of existential doubt?’

  ‘I think that’s more a question for Elias.’

  ‘I’ve tried asking him, God knows, but he just sighs and looks glum. Although, come to think of it,’ he added, raising his glass, ‘if you asked Elias whether he wanted one of these, you’d get the same response. Cheers.’

  ‘Cheers,’ Agnes said. She sipped her Scotch. ‘How long have you known Elias?’

  ‘Since I started seeing Jo, really. She said they worked together.’

  ‘I think they go back longer than that.’

  ‘You’re telling me. Little glances, in-jokes. He has the key to her house for Chrissake. Luckily he’s such a testy old bugger that she couldn’t possibly fancy him. Otherwise I’d be jealous.’

  ‘He’s a priest, you know.’

  David laughed. ‘So that’s all right then.’

  ‘David — I wanted to ask you — the thing is, someone attacked Nina last night.’

  ‘Nina?’

  ‘At the mill. Late last night.’

  ‘Is she OK? Was it — oh my God — ’

  ‘No, she’s fine. And it wasn’t stabbing. Although he did try — he had this knotted rope which he put across her eyes.’

  The light faded from David’s face. ‘No ... ’

  ‘She freed herself, he got away.’

  ‘Bloody hell. Agnes, I can’t bear it. It’s bad enough, my brother, but knowing whoever did it ... and now this ... ’

  ‘David, I think Joanna knows.’

  ‘Knows what?’

  ‘I think she’s more embroiled in all this than she’s letting on.’

  David slowly put down his glass. ‘Great. On what evidence do you think this?’

  ‘None at all. Just something she said in the art room that night.’

  ‘Oh, right, you mean she just happens to know a crazy axe murderer who hacked to death her own lover’s brother. Of course. Stupid of me not to work that out.’

  ‘David, don’t be angry, I don’t mean that at all. Listen, Elias and I, we broke into Baines’s house the other night.’

  He looked up. A faint smile crossed his face. ‘You — and him — ’ he laughed. ‘And did the dogs eat you? I wish I’d been there. Or did Elias float above them and get in down the chimney?’

  ‘Something like that. The point is ... Joanna’s still working there, isn’t she?’

  David bowed his head. He circled his glass on the beer mat. At last he looked up, his eyes dark. ‘Is she?’ he said.

  ‘But — I thought — I mean — you said ... ’

  ‘What did I say?’

  ‘About — about when you see her ... ’

  ‘The sex, you mean?’ He laughed, emptily. ‘Ah, yes, the sex.’

  ‘But aren’t you, I mean, don’t you — ?’

  ‘Of course we are. Of course we do. All the bloody time.’

  Agnes felt suddenly exhausted. ‘David -I need to know. Everything that’s happened centres on that mill and that family. All this started when Joanna destroyed the art room and ran away. She knows, David, she must. She must know something at least ... I just keep thinking, she and Turnbull seem to be connected in some way.’ She looked across at him, at the pain etched across his face. She picked up her coat and made to get up. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll go — ’

  ‘No — ’ He reached out and grabbed her hand. ‘Don’t go.’ He let go of her hand as she sat back in her seat. ‘Tell me, were the brushes wet?’

  ‘Yes, they were.’

  He nodded. ‘And was it roses, dead ones?’

  ‘Yes.’

  He sighed. His hand went to the back of his neck. ‘When I met her,’ he said, ‘we were like — it was like finding your other half. I know it sounds like one of those stupid things people say. But our work, our ideas ... it was brilliant. I loved her. I love her. And she was so crazy, so full of life, drinking me under the table, so passionate ... And she needed me too, she needed me to earth her. She still bloody needs me.’ He blinked, took a gulp of his drink. ‘And her work got better, mine got better, we were great. And now ... ’ he rubbed the back of his neck. ‘Now — she’s shut me out, you see. Ever since this still-life stuff, which your saintly Elias seems to know so much about, I’m excluded from her work.’

  ‘Do you see her much?’

  ‘She comes to me.’

  ‘The hut on the moor?’

  ‘Yes. You thought I’d made that up?’ He smiled faintly. ‘But we don’t talk.’

  ‘David, she must be frightened of something. Or hiding something. Or someone.’

  He drained his glass. At last he said, ‘Yes.’

  ‘I need to speak to her.’

  ‘Don’t we all.’

  ‘David — ’

  ‘Why should I help you? I want to protect her.’

  ‘Tell her — there’s a rumour that Turnbull might sell the mill.’

  David set his glass down. ‘Turnbull? But — he can’t. Surely. That’s what she was most afraid of.’

  ‘Joanna?’

  ‘Yes. She told her father to make sure that the deal made it impossible to sell the mill.’

  ‘It’s only a rumour.’

  ‘Still ... Typical of that bastard.’

  ‘David — if you know where she is ... ’

  ‘But I don’t, not any more. Apart from ... And anyway, what I want more than anything is that she should be safe. Her family is bad for her. Her father’s opted out ever since their mother died, her brother hides away with his new family, they’ve got a baby now. He doesn’t see any of them any more apart from Jo. That mill is like some huge satanic force that drags them all down ... I want her to be safe, Agnes.’ Tears welled in his eyes.

  ‘I need to talk to her. Nina’s still in danger.’

  ‘Don’t ask me. I’m just the toy boy, the bit of stuff, I’m just used for my body.’ He laughed, harshly. ‘It’s every man’s dream, of course, and she’s crazier than ever, needs it more than ever — does the most extraordinary things ... ’

  ‘Does she love you?’

  His eyes met hers. ‘She says so. When she’s crying out — when she’s — when we’re ... ’ He closed his eyes, opened them again. ‘Then she says she loves me.’

  ‘Well then, she must mean it.’

  David looked across at her. ‘Are you sure you’re a nun?’

  ‘Being a nun doesn’t stop you being human.’

  He smiled. ‘Another drink?’

  ‘No thanks. I ought to go. I didn’t sleep last night.’

  ‘Listen, Agnes, I’ll help you to meet her. It’ll have to be the hut, I don’t see her anywhere else now. Leave it with me, I’ll phone you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  As she stood up, he took her hand. ‘Listen — don’t tell Elias. About the hut.’

  ‘Elias?’ She smiled. ‘Ever since we floated down the chimney chez Baines, he’s been avoiding me.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘Might have known you’d pop by. Still, makes a change from t’coppers.’ Lianna was propped up on pillows, wearing fluffy pyjamas covered in pink ponies.

  Agnes arranged some grapes in a bowl. ‘You look very well.’ She wore no make-up and her skin looked clear, apart from a bluish mark over one eye.

 
Lianna laughed, and rolled up one sleeve. Her arm was swollen, purple and yellow with bruising, marked with weals, still scarlet and raw. ‘And me ribs — it’s all plaster under here,’ she said, tapping her chest. ‘He never gets the bits what show. Go on, then,’ she said, turning to Charlotte, ‘gawp away then. Summat to tell your friends when you get back.’ Charlotte lowered her eyes and sat on a chair at the end of the bed. Lianna grinned and turned back to Agnes. ‘S’pose they’ve sent you to get more out of me.’

  Agnes laughed and sat on the edge of the bed. ‘They know there’d be no point. It’s not as if you’d tell me.’

  ‘Not with her here.’

  ‘I’m going to find a cup of tea,’ Charlotte said, and disappeared along the ward.

  ‘Don’t be too hard on her,’ Agnes said when she’d gone. ‘She’s very jealous of you.’

  ‘You what?’

  ‘Of course she is. You knew Mark. Charlotte saw you together. She’s no fool. She knew that there was something special between you.’

  Lianna shifted her position, wincing. ‘Jealous?’ She reached out her hand for a glass of water and Agnes passed it to her. ‘Yeah, well. I s’pose we were special.’

  ‘Charlotte loved him. She’s only young. It’s bound to hurt to know that he was never hers.’

  Lianna handed the glass back to Agnes. ‘Why’s she come here then?’

  Agnes took off her coat and arranged it over a chair. ‘Mark was killed on Morton’s Crag.’

  ‘Yeah. So?’

  ‘Who else would know he was there?’

  Charlotte reappeared with three polystyrene cups and distributed them, then sat on her chair again. Lianna smiled at her, tried to take off the lid with her one good arm, failed. Agnes opened the cup for her.

  ‘Yeah, well,’ Lianna said at last, ‘Billy Keenan drove him up there, didn’t he.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Dunno. Said he was going that way, I suppose.’

  ‘But they weren’t close.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Would Anthony Turnbull know?’

  Agnes noticed Lianna wince.

  ‘Turnbull? Why should he know?’

  ‘Because the only thing that brought Billy and Mark together was his sports centre.’

  Lianna shifted on her pillows. ‘You’d better ask him then.’ She sipped her tea.

  Charlotte put down her cup. ‘I’m sorry — ’ she began. She gestured vaguely towards Lianna’s injuries.