Bad Catholics

by James Green

  ‘It’s possible.’

  Philomena seemed vaguely dissatisfied about something. ‘It didn’t take them that long to find him.’

  ‘Well, they know where to look, don’t they, and they know who to talk to.’

  ‘I suppose they do.’ She looked around. ‘Have you finished everything?’

  ‘Everything, even the toilets. I would use them myself now if they had doors on.’

  ‘Have you seen Janine? She should be back by now.’

  ‘No. Where is she?’

  ‘Visiting. She went out earlier this morning. She goes out to see some of the clients who don’t have anyone to talk to, she pops in when she can. She’s a good girl. I should go as well, but I never seem to have the time.’

  ‘You do enough, Sister.’

  ‘Oh well, she’ll be back when she’s back I suppose. I have a heap of papers in the office. Jimmy, will you stay out here, please, and keep an eye on things?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Philomena left the kitchen and Jimmy went into the dining room and stood on his own behind the counter beside the steaming urn. The rubbernecks had faded away and the day shift had thinned back to regulars. Only three or four remained, preferring the loneliness of the silent dining room to the loneliness of whatever they called home. He went round with a tray collecting cups, went into the kitchen, and began washing them.

  Philomena came up behind him quietly. ‘Jimmy.’

  He started and dropped a cup into the sink.

  ‘Shit.’ He turned. ‘Sorry, Sister, but you gave me a fright. I didn’t know you were there.’

  ‘Janine is in hospital.’

  Jimmy wiped his wet hands, put an arm around her, took her to a chair and sat her down. She was in a bad way, he could see that.

  ‘Take it easy, Philomena.’

  ‘I think she’s all right. She phoned and said not to worry. She’s in the Accident and Emergency. She wouldn’t phone herself if it was serious, would she?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  Philomena worked too hard and worried too much and now this on top of everything else. Jimmy didn’t know much about these things but he guessed that when someone like Philomena folded, they folded right over. He looked at her. She seemed very fragile and far away, like a weak candle flame before it flickers out. Then she seemed to give herself a little shake and she was Sister Philomena again, small but tough as boots. She sat up straight. ‘Well, you’ll have to go. I can’t.’

  ‘Why not close up and we’ll both go?’

  ‘Jimmy, I work all the hours God sends to keep this place open. Shall I close it now to suit myself? You go, bring Janine home if she’s fit. See what she needs if she has to stay.’

  ‘You could go and I could stay.’

  ‘This afternoon I have to phone the diocese and my superior. The bank manager is phoning me and I have to arrange for the Health and Safety officer to come. There are letters on my desk that should have been answered weeks ago …’

  ‘Enough, I’m on my way.’ And he was gone.

  Left on her own Philomena sagged in the chair, tears forming in her eyes. Then she stood up, wiped her eyes, blew her nose loud and long, and went into the dining room.

  ‘Everyone all right?’ she asked brightly.

  ‘Yes thank you, Sister.’

  ‘I’m in my office. Knock if you need me.’

  Jimmy took the nearest Tube to the hospital, went into the Accident and Emergency department and asked for Janine at the reception desk. He was sent to a nurse, who disappeared for some minutes and then returned to tell him that Janine had gone. He made his way to the coffee shop and snack bar run by the Friends of the Hospital. He knew the place. This was the hospital in which Bernadette had spent the last days of her life.

  Janine was sitting at a table with a cup of coffee. She saw Jimmy as he came in. He went over and sat down.

  ‘You OK, Janine?’

  ‘I think so, but still a bit shaken. Jimmy, something dreadful has happened, I didn’t want to tell Sister over the phone. Poor Mrs Lally is dead. She’s been killed.’

  ‘Killed. How do you mean killed?’

  ‘By someone, in her room.’

  ‘You mean murdered?’

  Janine nodded, put her hands over her face, and began to sob.

  Jimmy moved round the table to sit beside her. One or two people looked at them, but one more crying person and one more comforter were not at all unusual in this place. There was no curiosity.

  ‘We were worried about you,’ said Jimmy when the sobs grew calmer. Janine wiped her eyes with her handkerchief.

  ‘I got knocked down, not even that really. Someone pushed into me at the bottom of the stairs that go up to Mrs Lally’s room. The police brought me here just in case. They made me come, I didn’t want to, I wanted to go back to Bart’s. They said I needed to see a doctor.’

  ‘They were right, Janine. Didn’t anyone stay with you?’

  ‘Yes, a woman police officer stayed with me but when the doctor said I was all right I told her I’d phone Bart’s and someone would collect me. I just wanted to be on my own until I could get home.’

  The tears began to run down her face again. Jimmy kept his arm round her and they sat in silence. Jimmy turned it over in his mind. What did it mean? An old lady, a complete nobody, was dead, and she was connected to Bart’s. Two killings, both connected to Bart’s. He gave Janine his handkerchief. It was clean and dry.

  ‘Another coffee, Janine, or shall we go?’

  They travelled back to Bart’s in silence. Janine didn’t want to talk in the busy Tube and Jimmy wanted to think. He thought about Nat and Mrs Amhurst, about Bart’s and Mrs Lally, but he couldn’t see the connections. A casual killing was one thing, but two killings … if it really was like Nat said and he had killed Mrs Amhurst, he had killed Mrs Lally as well. But why? There had to be a reason, and it had to be a good reason. It had to be worth a lot to somebody. Could the killings possibly be unconnected? Was Nat involved?

  Or perhaps it was something else? He thought about it. He really hoped that it wasn’t something else.

  When they reached Bart’s, Janine told Philomena what had happened. She listened calmly and took Janine straight upstairs and put her to bed then came down.

  ‘We’ll close this evening. Lock up soon, will you, Jimmy?’

  ‘I thought you said …’

  ‘I’ve no choice. Janine needs to sleep, I’ve given her something. You and I might cope but we very well might not. We’ll try to come to terms with this, and then we’ll open again tomorrow.’

  Jimmy went to lock up. When he came back, Philomena was in the kitchen with a cup of tea. He joined her.

  ‘What’s going on, Jimmy?’

  ‘You tell me.’

  ‘Two killings can’t be coincidence, can they?’

  ‘It doesn’t seem likely, but who kills two people like Mrs Amhurst and Mrs Lally? Mrs Amhurst had a handbag with nothing of value in it. What about Mrs Lally?’

  ‘I’m sure she had absolutely nothing, poor soul. I don’t know much about her. She lived on her own in one room somewhere near and she drank a bit. I let her do odd jobs sometimes and gave her a little money to help her out.’

  ‘Well, someone thought there was something worth killing her for. Maybe it was just a break-in that turned nasty. How’s Janine, did she say anything?’

  ‘Not good. All this is too much for her. She went to visit Mrs Lally, and was about to go up the stairs when somebody ran down and pushed her over. She wasn’t hurt, just a bit frightened. She went up and the door was open. Mrs Lally was on the floor. Janine thought she had fallen, then she saw the blood. She called an ambulance and the police.’

  ‘Have they questioned her?’

  ‘Yes. They’ll come tomorrow morning to take a statement.’

  Jimmy and Philomena sat in silence, each with their own thoughts. Eventually Philomena spoke.

  ‘It’s got to be a coincidence …’ she paused, �
��unless it’s something to do with you, Jimmy. Are you involved in any of this?’

  Jimmy didn’t mind the question. He was glad she had asked, it showed she still trusted him. ‘No, Sister, these killings are nothing to do with me.’

  ‘What about that man who came to see you?’

  ‘Yes, he could have people killed. But why would he kill Mrs Amhurst and the Lally woman?’

  ‘That’s what I thought you might tell me.’

  Jimmy shook his head.

  ‘Nat runs things in this part of town. But he had no reason to do any of this, I’ve thought about it and I’m sure.’

  ‘So he’s a gangster?’

  ‘Only in a manner of speaking. He thinks of himself as a service provider with muscle.’

  ‘And you? Where do you fit in to all that?’

  ‘We knew each other professionally. He just came round to tell me I wasn’t wanted, that I should leave.’

  ‘But you didn’t?’

  ‘I was going to. I didn’t think I needed to hurry, that’s all. I was going to leave soon.’

  ‘So you’re sure this Nat has nothing to do with what happened to Mrs Amhurst and Mrs Lally?’

  ‘Can’t see it. There’s nothing in it for him.’

  ‘When you say you knew him professionally, do you mean you worked for him, that you were …?’

  He smiled. ‘A gangster? No, I was a policeman.’ Philomena’s surprise showed.

  ‘A policeman! But if you were a policeman, surely you could help.’

  ‘I can’t help, I’m not a policeman any more.’

  ‘But Jimmy …’

  ‘Look, Sister, I don’t want to get involved. What’s done is done. We can’t bring anybody back, whatever we do. Leave it to the real police, they’ve got someone for the Amhurst killing, they’ll get someone for the other one. Don’t go looking for trouble, because you’ll find it. I don’t know who’s involved in this and I don’t want to. If it’s some crazy thief or addict then I can’t help. If it’s more than that it’s too risky to try. You don’t want anything else to happen, do you? Remember what you said, no trouble here?’

  ‘I shouldn’t have asked. You’re right, we must leave it to the police.’

  They sat in silence again.

  ‘Sister, who owns this place, really owns it, the lease and everything?’

  ‘Trustees, on behalf of the Order.’

  ‘So if you got closed down and it was empty, the trustees could sell it?’

  ‘I suppose so.’

  Jimmy worked the idea through out loud.

  ‘A religious order may have bent trustees who fiddle books, but they don’t kill people, at least not usually.’

  ‘No, not usually.’

  ‘What about Janine?’

  ‘She’s been here about a year. Before that, she went to India looking for enlightenment and when she was in Goa she became a Catholic. She felt they had found God in the Third World but the First World had lost Him. She actually came here as a sort of missionary. She had a fine letter of introduction from one of our Superiors out there.’

  ‘Could it have been forged?’

  ‘I checked. They knew her and the introduction was genuine. I don’t take those sort of chances, Jimmy. If Father Lynch hadn’t spoken for you, then you wouldn’t be here.’

  ‘Does Janine have any money?’

  ‘She seems to be able to manage. I offered her pocket money when she started but she said she didn’t need it.’

  ‘All right, could Mrs Amhurst and Mrs Lally have had some connection we don’t know about?’

  ‘Not that I know of.’

  ‘Well, it looks like we’ll just have to leave this to the police.’

  ‘Do you still plan to leave, Jimmy?’

  ‘Yes, Sister. As soon as I can.’

  ‘You know, I really feel as if I can’t keep Bart’s open after all this happening. I’ll try to see it positively. The survival rate of projects like Bart’s isn’t high and I suppose we’ve done well to last as long as we have.’

  Philomena took the empty cups to the sink, washed them, and then went out of the kitchen, leaving Jimmy with his private thoughts.

  Jimmy thought about Father Lynch’s words: ‘It’ll be easy work but I’m sure you will be a big help. With your background, I can’t see there being any problems.’

  Two murders and Nat wanting a hundred grand, or else. No, Father, no problems at all.

  Southwark, October 1975

  The Albion was in a run-down backstreet just over London Bridge off the Borough in Southwark. It wasn’t much and the barman was less. As a detective Jimmy often had to go to places like this, places he would never choose to go into as a customer.

  ‘A pint of …’ Jimmy looked at the taps, ‘bitter’.

  The barman drew a pint. It looked bad and Jimmy knew it would taste worse. It did.

  He paid and went and sat down. The pub wasn’t warm, welcoming, or clean and it wasn’t in a good location. An old derelict sat at the next table mumbling to himself. There was an empty glass on the table in front of him.

  Jimmy waited and thought. After about fifteen minutes he went back to the bar and put his almost full glass on it. The barman came and stood in front of him.

  ‘Another?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘A short?’

  Jimmy shook his head.

  ‘A fucking signed photograph?’

  Aggression was obviously the barman’s default position. ‘Bridie McDonald said I could get a message to her through you.’

  The barman did not respond.

  ‘Tell her Jimmy wants to see her.’

  The barman remained silent. Jimmy turned to leave, then turned back, picked up the almost-full pint and took it over to the derelict and put it in front of him. The derelict continued to mumble.

  Jimmy left. Outside, he looked at his watch and walked off to the nearest Tube station across London Bridge and from there made the journey to his next meeting.

  ‘Mr Flavin here yet?’ he asked the barman at The Rose and Crown.

  The barman shook his head.

  ‘Got a paper?’

  ‘Only The Telegraph. Or there’s a copy of The Spectator.’

  ‘No thanks.’

  Jimmy went into the back room and sat down and stared at the wall opposite. About ten minutes later Tommy Flavin came in with a pint and sat down.

  ‘How’s it going, Tommy?’

  ‘OK, Jimmy. It looks like things are pretty much OK.’

  ‘So it’s going to be entrapment?’

  Tommy nodded.

  ‘A good idea of yours, Tommy, that entrapment. I bet they liked you for thinking of it.’

  Tommy smiled and took a deep drink.

  ‘You didn’t want to get involved. And it had to be somebody’s idea.’

  ‘That’s right, but it deserves a favour.’

  ‘Of course, but not a big favour. It’s only my idea while it’s at the bottom. When it gets to the top, where it matters, it’ll have become somebody else’s idea.’

  ‘I know. I just want a bit of information. What do you know about Bridie McDonald?’

  ‘Fucking hell, you’re not still nosing into that? What are you up to? We don’t want anything to do with Bridie McDonald.’

  ‘Just background, Tommy, just background.’

  Tommy was uncomfortable, but a bit of information, what harm could that do?

  ‘She’s a heavyweight, got three sons and between them they run most of Glasgow and she runs them. She’s hard, clever, and never forgets or forgives. She’s never said thanks or sorry and she’s never not paid back anybody who crossed her, with plenty of interest. She’d cut you in half just ’cos it’s fucking Tuesday.’

  ‘Is she solid? There’s got to be others in that town.’

  ‘She’s solid, all right. There’s others, plenty of them, but they don’t matter where it counts.’

  ‘What if I told you Lenny was trying to team up with one of
them against her?’

  ‘I hope you didn’t pay for that information, ’cos it’s got to be so duff it isn’t worth the breath it took to tell.’

  ‘Want to know where it came from?’

  ‘Jimmy, my son, the snout who gave you that is a liability. Drop him. He couldn’t tell you the time, the day, what the year is or even his own right name. That sort of information comes out of a needle or a bottle or both.’

  ‘Bridie McDonald told me.’

  Tommy stopped smiling. Then said slowly and very seriously, ‘If that’s true, if you’re getting inside info from the likes of Bridie McDonald you’re running on very high octane for a DS.’

  There was a silence. They were both thinking and Tommy was thinking very hard, he was trying to sort things out. Jimmy didn’t put on a front, he didn’t drop names or try to impress. If he said he got it from Bridie McDonald, he probably did.

  ‘How did you get close to Bridie McDonald?’ He was all DI now and Jimmy was just a DS. Tommy scented something. There was real money here or something for the Internals, something anyway, and he wanted to be in on it. He was going to score or he was going to be a good copper. Either way, detective sergeants didn’t deal with the Bridie McDonalds of this world. This had to go higher than Jimmy Costello and he wanted to be the messenger. He wanted to be the one who would take the information to where it would do the most good. He wanted to get the thanks, or the reward, or both.

  ‘There’s nothing in this for you, Tommy, and nothing for anybody else either.’

  ‘Don’t fuck with me, Sergeant …’ But Jimmy cut across his words.

  ‘Don’t threaten me. I’m calling in the favour you owe me. If you don’t like it, go straight for once and arrest me or something, but don’t fucking welch.’

  Nobody was smiling now. Then suddenly they both relaxed.

  ‘Look, Jimmy, it’s not on. If Bridie’s getting involved it’s something important and it’s big, and you’re not big enough to be in at any level, not even at the bottom, you know that.’

  ‘I know, but this is different.’

  ‘Have you been up to see her?’

  ‘No, she’s been down here.’

  ‘Then it’s not different. Just having her down here on the patch is way above my level. Does Lenny know?’