Private Sorrow, A

by Reynolds, Maureen

  She waited for Charlie to appear but he didn’t come until dinner time. They went down to Wilson’s café to speak in private. The snow had turned to slush that seeped into Molly’s boots and she was glad to be inside out of the cold. It was warm and muggy in the café and the air was full of cigarette smoke and the smell of wet woollen coats. However, the tea was lovely and hot.

  Molly wanted to know what had happened and how the body had been found. Charlie said, ‘It was the policeman on the beat. I had asked him to keep an eye on the house, just in case Miss Price came back. At about two o’clock in the morning, he thought he saw a torch shining in the house, but when he looked again a few minutes later, the house was in darkness. He thought it was the reflection of the street lamp. At the end of his shift, he thought he would go to the door. He knocked but there was no answer and he tried the handle and to his surprise, the door was unlocked. He went in and found Miss Price lying next to the bed. There were two bottles of pills on the bedside cabinet and a jug of water but there was nothing to say what she had died from. Still, we’ll have the results of the post-mortem this afternoon.’

  ‘So we’re no further forward and we don’t know if Miss Price is the culprit.’ Molly sounded depressed.

  Charlie sounded more optimistic. ‘If all this stops, then we can safely assume she is, but if not …’ he lapsed into silence. ‘I have to leave as I want to go over the house more thoroughly and hopefully we’ll have an answer to what caused her death.’

  Molly was grateful that she had an assignment to go to, as it would help to take her mind off all these confusing incidents. The job was at a busy office in the town and all the normal day-to-day work was just what she needed.

  Charlie made his way back to Miss Price’s house. The body had been removed some hours earlier and the rooms looked neat and tidy. It was difficult to believe a person had died within these walls. The only sign that something had gone wrong was the small bedroom where a blanket had been pulled from the bed. Robina Price had been found lying on the floor by the bed and it looked like she had tried to get up before collapsing, but she was still dressed in her daytime clothes, which was a mystery. Had she come in, felt unwell and gone to lie down before trying to get up again? This seemed to be the logical explanation because of the unlocked door.

  Still, he would have to wait for the result of the post-mortem. The two bottles of pills had been taken away and he looked through the bedside cabinet, but the drawer and cupboard were empty. The wardrobe held a few clothes, mostly coats and skirts in plain black styles. There was nothing fashionable here. The drawers were the same, everything serviceable and cheap. A black handbag lay at the foot of the wardrobe. It was empty apart from a purse with five-pound notes in it.

  He made for the desk that lay in front of the living room window. This was the window through which the constable had thought he saw a beam from a torch. In contrast to the cheap looking clothes, the desk was of good quality. Inside, he found a few bills, a letter from Mr Campbell with a statement of the fees she had paid for the flat and a plain envelope that looked like it had been sealed but reopened. It contained her will, which was written by a solicitor and left everything to the convent in Ireland. There was also a paid-up life insurance policy with a firm in Dublin. There were no letters from her family or friends and Charlie was suddenly moved by the spartan and seemingly friendless life she had lived.

  He wondered about the opened envelope that held her will. Had someone been in here last night with a torch and was this what they were looking for? And was this her original will? It had been written a few years earlier and dated 1945. Mr Campbell had said that the chapel had the use of the flat when she lived in Ireland, so it seemed quite normal for the will to be in favour of the convent. Her address at the time was the convent in Dublin and the two witnesses were clerks at the solicitor’s office where the will was drawn up. Everything seemed to be in order.

  He glanced around the sparsely furnished, white-walled room before slowly closing and locking the door. He would have to go and speak to Vera Barton and tell her that her sister was dead. How would she take it, he wondered? According to her, she hadn’t seen her sister since 1929, but Charlie knew that death in a family could bring all sorts of hidden emotions to the surface.

  But first he wanted to see Mrs Davidson, the neighbour. She answered the door right away and curiosity was written all over her face. When she spoke, she sounded breathless as if she had been running. ‘I’ve been standing at the window watching all the activity. What’s happened? Is it Miss Price?’

  Charlie said it was. He asked her, ‘Did you hear anything from the flat over the last few days?’

  She shook her head. ‘I didn’t even know she was up there and I haven’t seen her for ages. Not since the night I told you about, the time she came out of the car.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you saw or heard anybody else coming in the close? Someone who doesn’t live here?’

  ‘There are a few strangers coming and going. I suppose they are friends of the people who live on the top floor but to be honest, these last few nights we’ve had the curtains drawn and the baby has slept right through the night, so I haven’t been at the window. Anyone could have come and gone and I wouldn’t have noticed.’ She looked rueful. ‘Sorry about that, but it’s been great getting a good night’s sleep.’

  Charlie said it didn’t matter and he hoped the baby would sleep every night.

  He next made his way to the Hilltown, hoping Vera was at home. She was and looked a bit better than the last time he had seen her but she didn’t ask him why he was calling. ‘I’ve come with some bad news, Mrs Barton. I’m afraid your sister, Miss Robina Price, died a couple of days ago. Her body was found in her flat at 10 Elizabeth Street this morning.’

  Vera took this news calmly. ‘I wonder why she never came to see me. It was Dave who put her out of the house that day. Said he was fed up with her stories of retribution and sin and reaping what you sow, but I would have made her welcome, she knew that, so why didn’t she come and see me?’

  Charlie remained silent. He had no idea why the two sisters hadn’t met up again after all these years. ‘We’re not sure what caused her death but as soon as I hear, I will let you know.’

  ‘I’ll have to make plans for her funeral. When can I do that?’

  ‘I’ll be able to tell you after the post-mortem, Mrs Barton. Is there anyone who can come and stay with you?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, I’ll be fine, but thank you for coming to tell me and you’ll let me know how she died?’

  Charlie said he would and he left. Vera’s flat was better furnished and more comfortable but it had the same friendless atmosphere of Robina’s place. He realised there must be hundreds of lonely people all living in cells like the one at Elizabeth Street. Some would be more luxurious than others but they were still self-imposed, solitary places.

  Mrs Barton had taken the news calmly, he thought, but had he gone back, he would have changed his mind. The minute he left, Vera burst into a flood of tears. She felt terrible for the wasted years with her sister, but it was too late now to remedy that. First it was Dave, then Etta and now Robina. She was the last one left in the family.

  53

  Stan had a letter back by return from Phil. He recognised the handwriting and the postmark. He shoved it in his pocket before leaving for work but it weighed on his mind all morning. At dinner time, he opened it. It was just one page and with Phil’s usual large handwriting, there wasn’t much news. He said he was glad the six-week training was nearly over and he was looking forward to coming home on leave. Stan thought he wasn’t going to mention Mary but at the foot of the page he had written PTO and the letter continued:

  I’m glad you and Mary like one another and I think you are both suited to each other. I’m glad to get your letter Stan because I was in a bit of a dilemma. Linda – remember the girl I used to go out with – well, she’s been writing to me now and again and I look forwar
d to her letters as she mentions all the gossip at Keiller’s. She said she would like to meet up for a coffee so that I could tell her all about army life. She never said anything about those pals of hers, so I assume it’ll just be the two of us. I was going to ask you and Mary to come as well but you’ll both have plans of your own. Hopefully we’ll meet up when I’m home. Regards to Mary. Phil.

  Stan had a moment of worry. What if Mary was miffed at this turnaround with Linda? But when they met up in the evening on their way to the pictures, she just smiled. As they stood in the queue at the Plaza cinema, Mary thought to herself, good for you Linda. Now keep it up.

  Victor was also pleased as he left the boxing club in Lochee. The snow had started to fall again but he hardly noticed it. He still felt the warmth of the praise from the club’s owner. ‘You stick at this, lad, and you’ll be a first-class boxer, but mind you keep the fighting in the ring and not outside it.’

  So he was going to keep his nose clean and Alice could have her damned divorce. After all, he had found another girlfriend. She was a bit older than him and certainly not pretty but she looked after him and he was spending most nights with her, in her house on the Hawkhill. Yes, he would be a model citizen and a great boxer. It was a dream of his to be a champion in the ring and it looked like it might come true, so no more drinking or ending up at Arthurstone Terrace to commit a breach of the peace. The divorce would go through, the quicker the better.

  Sandy could hardly wait to tell Alice and once he did, she knew her marriage would soon be a thing of the past. She had bought a lovely new rug to sit in front of the fireplace. She thought it brightened up the kitchen with its colourful pattern and after she finished paying for the three-piece suite, she intended to get a dining room suite and after that, she would furnish the bedroom. Life was looking rosy. Although she wasn’t in love with Sandy, she enjoyed his company. She had been honest with him right from the start and he seemed quite content to be a friend.

  54

  The result of the post-mortem was in. Miss Price had died of natural causes. She had suffered a heart attack and had died within minutes. For some reason, Charlie was pleased by that small fact. She hadn’t been a particularly attractive or nice woman but he was glad she hadn’t suffered. He thought of the anguish she would have felt if she had been unable to summon help and had taken hours or even days to die.

  He went to see Vera first to tell her the news. When she came to the door, she looked like she had just got out of bed and it was two o’clock in the afternoon. The woman was disintegrating before his eyes and he wished she had left this missing daughter in the past where she belonged. Vera looked at him with bleary eyes, almost as if she didn’t recognise him. ‘I’ve got the result of the post-mortem on your sister, Mrs Barton. Can I come in?’

  She held the door open but she looked as if she didn’t care whether he came in or not. She had obviously been crying, as her eyes were red and puffy and he felt so sorry for her. He came straight to the point. ‘Miss Price had a heart attack but her death was quick. She wouldn’t have suffered long, which is a blessing.’

  Vera suddenly laughed – a deep, painful, choking laugh. ‘A blessing? Well that would suit Robina. She was always very religious, you know, even as a child. My parents didn’t know how to cope with her and neither did Dave and I. Because I was expecting Etta before getting married, she said my soul was dammed, and do you know something, DS Johns, she was right. I’ve lost everything I ever loved, so she was right about retribution.’

  Charlie was alarmed by this turn of events. Vera was becoming more depressed by the hour. He said, ‘I think you should go to the doctor and get some treatment. You’ve had a bad shock with your sister’s death. If you like, I can telephone him and get him to come and see you.’

  ‘No, honestly, I’m fine. Just feeling a bit sorry for myself. I hardly knew Robina these past years and here I am crying for our lost lives.’

  ‘Is there a neighbour who can come in and stay with you?’

  ‘No, I have to arrange the funeral and after that, I might go away for a holiday.’

  ‘I have to go and tell Mrs Flynn about your sister’s death. Robina used to go and see her.’

  Vera sounded bitter. ‘Which was more than she did for me.’

  It was teatime before he managed to get to Kirkton but he knew he wouldn’t be staying very long. As before, it was Maggie who answered the door. ‘Muuuuum,’ she shouted along the hall, ‘it’s that policeman.’

  Frances walked up to the door and rolled her eyes. ‘What do you want now?’

  Charlie apologised for calling at a mealtime. ‘It’s just to tell you Miss Price is dead. She suffered a heart attack.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ said Frances. ‘That’s awful. She was all right when she came to see me a couple of weeks ago. She looked tired and pale but she never looked healthy, not even when I was at school.’

  Mr Flynn had joined them and he looked sad. ‘Poor Vincent, I never liked her but we’re very sorry to hear this.’

  ‘Well, I wanted you to know. I didn’t want you to read about it first in the death column of the paper.’

  Charlie would be glad to be finished with bearing the sad news but he had to see Molly first. She was in the office when he arrived at the Wellgate and she smiled when he knocked at the door. ‘Come in out of the cold. If you don’t mind the smell of paint, we can go upstairs where it’s warmer.’

  The flat looked almost back to normal. Molly said not to sit on the studio couch because it had been cleaned and was still a bit damp, so they sat on the dining chairs by the table. Charlie gave her all the news about Miss Price’s death and Molly said she was also glad it had been quick. ‘Even though she might have tried to kill me,’ she said.

  Charlie nodded. ‘I’m worried about Vera Barton; she seems to be depressed. She was still in her bed this afternoon and she was talking a lot of nonsense.’

  ‘I’ll go and see her tomorrow and see if she needs any help with the funeral or anything else.’ Molly looked at him. ‘Charlie, if Robina had heart trouble, do you think she would have been able to do all this cloak and dagger stuff? I mean, it must have taken a lot of effort to make the attacks on Vera, Peter and myself, and the weather has been cold and wet most nights.’

  ‘I agree but she’s the only suspect we’ve got. She lives within a half-mile radius of you and Vera and she’s practically next door to Peter Walsh. Maybe she was all right these past weeks and then her heart just gave out. These things happen.’

  Molly was still dubious. ‘I suppose so.’

  Charlie said, ‘I agree with you on most things, Molly, as I don’t believe she was working alone. I’m waiting on word from the car-licensing department to find out if a car was ever registered to her. I’ve also written to the convent in Dublin to see if she owned a car in Eire. If she did, then she could have brought it over with her when she came back here.’

  ‘So you think the car is important?’

  ‘It was seen by Mrs Davidson and Maggie, and a car drew out in front of Peter Walsh, making him slam on his non-existent brakes and have his accident.’

  ‘It must be someone who knows Robina. Do you think Robina had something to do with Etta’s disappearance, or knew who had and they were both trying to cover it up?’

  ‘What I can’t understand is where Etta went to on the night of her father’s death. She was seen by Mrs Pert in the evening and then, nothing. She must have had somewhere to go – either to her aunt’s house in Elizabeth Street or to one of her friends. But which one?’

  Molly tried to put herself in Etta’s shoes. ‘At the time Mrs Pert saw her Etta probably didn’t know her father was dead, so she must have been planning to disappear for a while. That is why she almost emptied her savings account. But when the news of his death came out, why didn’t she reappear and grieve for him? She was seemingly besotted with him, although she didn’t care much for her mother.’

  Charlie said, ‘Even if she had already lef
t Dundee, surely the news of his death would be in the papers and she would have come home.’

  Molly ventured, ‘Not unless she had somehow already found out about the accident and her distress gave her a final reason to leave forever.’

  ‘If she stayed with someone before going, the logical person would be Frances Flynn,’ said Charlie, ‘but Etta didn’t know about her connection with her aunt. It’s not as if they have the same surname.’ He suddenly had a thought. ‘Unless Frances, who went to the same convent school where Miss Price was a teacher, told Etta all about her schooldays in Eire and mentioned Miss Price’s name. If Etta knew her aunt’s address, then she could easily have made the connection. Then there’s Doctor Lowson, who was living in Arbroath at the time.’

  Molly interrupted him. ‘Sasha Lowson didn’t like Etta. In fact, Etta had threatened her and the doctor got the message. That’s why she left the Bartons’ house and got other accommodation.’

  ‘Then let’s look at the others. Anita Armstrong, the lady with the fantastic memory. She says she left with her husband the year before this all happened but what if she’s lying. Maybe she became friendly with Etta and asked her to come and stay with them for a wee holiday at some point, and Etta took the chance to go there and then on to where she might be now. Then there’s Vina, she was a young lass back then. Maybe Etta asked for her help and Vina knew someone she could go to, perhaps a friend or a relative.’