by Helen Phifer
***
Crosby didn’t know whether it had all got too much for Agnes and she was losing her mind or whether she had a point. He wasn’t a particularly religious man. He’d heard stories about things. He remembered the preaching and sermons from his childhood about God fighting the devil. Did this stuff actually exist or was there some sick individual trying to drive Agnes mad? He took her elbow and led her to the stairs. As they reached the top step she paused and inhaled.
‘You must be able to smell that? There is a stench in this house that was never here before we let that woman in two nights ago. It’s as if the house itself is rotting from the inside out. The devil came a calling and we invited her in.’
***
Agnes walked into the kitchen where Father Patrick was sitting, nursing his bruised shoulder. ‘I have some bad news for you, Father.’
‘I think I already know what it is. Crosby, what happened?’
‘I’m not sure a man of your position should know to be truthful.’
‘Well this man almost broke his shoulder trying to break down that heavy, oak door to check on Edith, yet you arrive and the door is unlocked. It doesn’t make sense. Is the key in the other side of the lock? Is there someone hiding somewhere in this house?’ Agnes asked.
‘I think we need to make a search from top to bottom because Edith’s killer isn’t too far away in my opinion.’ Agnes noted how uncomfortable the policeman looked at Patrick’s suggestions. At the same time she felt relief that the priest agreed with her to some degree. He didn’t think she was mad. Thank the Lord for that small mercy.
‘I’ll, erm, I’ll go and get Peter. He can help us.’
***
Crosby left them in the kitchen and ran back upstairs to see Peter standing on the landing, his hands tucked into his pockets and facing away from the bedroom. He beckoned him to come inside the room and he watched as Peter forced his feet to walk closer. Once inside the room he pushed the door shut and looked to see the key was indeed in the lock on this side of the door. How had it been locked? Who had opened it? Unless the killer had still been inside when the priest was trying to break the door down?
He crossed the room to check the windows in case they’d left that way. They were closed tight and as he pushed the curtain to one side he could see it was a long drop down to the ground from here. There was a good chance that if someone had jumped from it they would have broken a leg, if not their neck, and how the heck would they have shut the window behind them? Unless they had a ladder. Yes that was it. He would go outside and see if there were any signs on the ground of a ladder being there.
‘What do you think about this lot, Peter? I know you’ve never seen anything like it before, but do you think that it could be the priest? Even Agnes I suppose could do something like this if she was losing her mind.’
‘Are you having me on, Crosby? Why would a priest do something as sick as this? And he wasn’t anywhere near here yesterday morning. As for Sister Agnes I doubt it. She doesn’t look as if she could fight her way through a crowd of school children. Why would they want to do something like this anyway? This is pure evil if you ask me.’
‘Bloody hell have you been eavesdropping, Peter? What a load of rubbish – something evil. Yes I don’t doubt for a minute that someone evil has done this. I don’t believe in any of that religious crap and I suggest if you want to go far in this job that you don’t believe every old wives’ tale that you hear.’
‘I went to church every Sunday without fail, even when I was ill my grandmother who brought me up would drag me there. I would sit and listen to the priest go on about the flames of hell and eternal damnation. Has it never crossed your mind that there might just be some truth to all of that religious crap that’s written in the Bible?’
‘Go and look outside and see if there’s a ladder propped up anywhere that our killer could have used to make their great escape. If there isn’t then we are going to have to search the house because for what it’s worth I believe that they are still here, somewhere – hiding – and I think they are listening to us.’
He pointed to the huge oak wardrobe in the corner and nodded his head. He moved towards it and Peter – who placed his hand on his chest as if he thought his heart was going to escape and land on the rug beneath his feet – moved towards it as well. Crosby lifted a finger to his lips and reached out a hand to pull the doors open. If there was someone in here he would beat the shit out of them and then listen to what they had to say. As his hand touched the small brass handle he wondered if they shouldn’t just wait for a couple more men to get here. They hadn’t checked the house yesterday. He’d thought that poor Mary had done whatever it was to herself.
He counted to three then yanked the doors open. The wardrobe was empty apart from a selection of robes and a couple of jumpers and skirts that were hanging inside. He pushed them to one side just to be sure. The hairs on the back of his neck began to rise and he felt the skin on his arms form into goose bumps. Someone was watching them. Turning around he looked, but couldn’t see anywhere a person could be hiding. He looked up at the ceiling. Unless there was someone hiding up in the attic? Maybe there was a hole in the floor so tiny that you couldn’t see it with the naked eye, but whoever was up there was watching and could see everything.
He never said a word but motioned for Peter to follow him out of the room. Closing the wardrobe doors he walked out to the hall and shut the bedroom door behind him. He didn’t speak, but began to walk downstairs; Peter followed him anxious not to be left alone in the house. Once they were outside Crosby whispered.
‘Did you feel as if someone was watching you up in that room?’
Peter nodded. ‘I did. It didn’t bother me until you pointed to the wardrobe and then my heart started to beat so fast I thought I was going to drop dead.’
‘I think we need a couple more men; then we are going to go up in that attic and search every inch of it. You go and wait around by the back door in case they try to escape and I’ll wait here until the others arrive. I’ll just go inside and use the telephone to ring the station. If you see anyone, shout as loud as you can.’
Crosby watched him trudge around the back and felt a little mean about making him go off on his own, but what choice did he have? He was convinced the killer was hiding inside the house somewhere and they might try to make their escape any minute now. Or they might kill the nun and the priest whilst you’re outside waiting like a scaredy cat for help to come. What happens if you go back inside and both of them are dead? What then, Mr Policeman? Who will get the blame?
He swore underneath his breath. What choice did he have? They were together. It was safer in pairs and he would hear them if anything happened. Surely they would shout or scream for help? Unless one of them is the killer and then they won’t, will they? He shook his head and walked to where the telephone sat on the hall table.
Picking it up he dialled the station and spoke to the inspector. His last words before he hung up were: ‘Please hurry.’ As he replaced the heavy receiver he still couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched. He swung around to look up the stairs, expecting to see either Mary’s mutilated, torn body or Edith’s limp one staring down at him. There was no one and he sighed a lot louder than he meant to.
Crossing the hall to the front door he thought he heard a high-pitched laugh behind him. It sounded as if it was distant, possibly from upstairs, but he knew that the only person who should be up there that he knew about was Edith and she was stone cold dead. So who was that? Once outside he began to pace up and down, not looking behind him at the convent. He couldn’t. He knew he was being stupid, but there was something wrong with that building and although he wouldn’t admit it to anyone he didn’t know that a rational explanation could be found for it.
Chapter Seven
Kate paid for the tins of paint and box of light bulbs to replace the ones that had blown last night. She didn’t want any part of the house not to be lit up should she n
eed to go anywhere inside it. Ollie placed them in the trolley and began to push it towards his van. They loaded it and began the drive back to the house.
‘Thanks for taking me there. I didn’t want to have nothing to do all night. I get so bored there on my own. Don’t get me wrong I love the peace and quiet when all the banging stops, but I miss the company.’
‘No problem, anything to help. It’s not as if I have much to go home for; in fact I might come back with you and finish the tiling in the en suite of bedroom three.’
‘Honestly, Ollie, you need a break. You’ve been here all day.’
‘You can’t complain about a builder who wants to work longer. Normally they down tools and leave at teatime.’
He winked at her and she smiled. I’m not complaining but I want you to stay with me – bugger the tiling.
‘What do you think of those cameras? They’re pretty good, aren’t they? They’re infrared as well. I know they’re not the cheapest, but I think it’s worth it for your own safety.’
‘They’re brilliant and you’re right; I’m going to have a play around with them so I know how to work them.’
The entrance to the drive came into view and for the first time since she’d bought it Kate found her stomach churning at the thought of spending another night here, alone with whoever it was that had a fetish for crosses and crucifixes. The house came into view and it took her breath away. It truly was an impressive building and she loved it more than she’d ever loved any home she’d lived in.
So no matter what was happening she wasn’t packing her bags and leaving just yet. This was going to be her home, her business and the start of her new life. With a bit of luck the cameras would capture whoever it was that was trying to scare her to death. And what if they’re not human – then what? She shuddered. Did she believe in ghosts? She didn’t really know. It wasn’t something she’d ever had time to consider. As much as she wanted to believe that it was because she needed to cut down on the booze or that it was Martin trying to make her life a misery, there was a voice at the back of her head telling her neither of those things had anything to do with it.
It was all a bit like an episode of Scooby Doo. She’d loved that programme as a child; in fact the vicar’s camper van looked a bit like the dream machine that they’d all driven around in. She would watch the cameras tomorrow and probably find out it was Martin creeping around in her house, trying to scare her to death. At least then she’d be able to confront him and everything would be sorted for once and all.
Ollie parked his van around the back so she could take the paint into the kitchen rather than have to carry it through the hallway and down the long corridor. She jumped out and ran to open the door. Her hands were shaking a little. She needed a drink, but she wouldn’t drink to excess in front of Ollie because she found it shameful – the fact that she relied on the alcohol to get her through the night. She was trying her best to cut down. She needed to be clean and sober if there was a chance that she could win her girls back in court, because Martin would use it as a weapon against her if she didn’t. He wouldn’t hesitate to drag her sordid downfall out for everyone to see and she wanted her girls back so much.
They went into the kitchen where Kate turned the light on. Ollie carried the tins in, putting them on the floor next to the fridge, and she carried the bulbs. He left her standing on her own and went to finish the last few tiles that had been driving him mad this afternoon. Grabbing the small stepladders from the front room she began to flick switches in each room, checking if any bulbs needed replacing.
The sooner the electrician came the better because at this rate she was spending more money on keeping the building lit than she was on paint. The two lads who were helping Ollie and the plumber had left over an hour ago and she’d forgotten about changing the bulbs until she’d realised the sun was setting. She’d had to ask Ollie to nip her to the DIY store. She loved this old house, but until she knew what was going on and every single inch of it enough to feel comfortable in she didn’t like being on her own and in the dark, especially not after the nightmare last night.
As she put the ladder underneath the entrance light she heard the crunch of the heavy Land Rover’s tyres on the gravel drive before she saw it coming. She climbed down off the ladder just as the car door slammed shut. Her heart heavy, she wondered what it was Martin wanted. She wasn’t about to apologise to him for this afternoon. It had been his own fault. Since he’d discovered she had bought this place he’d not stopped texting her. She knew he wanted to know where the money had come from, but she wasn’t about to tell him. If he couldn’t work it out for himself it was tough and it was none of his business anyway. And then he was there standing in front of her. He hadn’t even knocked and had just walked in. Kate felt the hackles on the back of her neck rise – how bloody dare he?
‘I didn’t hear you knock?’
‘The door was open. How are you, Kate? Have you calmed down?’
She began to laugh and had to force herself to stop when she realised he was being serious.
‘How am I? Why would you even want to know? Did you want to know how I was the night of my accident? The night my best friend died and I couldn’t get to the hospital to say goodbye to her? Did you ask how I was when you changed the locks on the house and wouldn’t let me see my own daughters? No you didn’t. I don’t recall you asking once.’
‘You mean the night you crashed into the wall near Asda because you were drunk? The night you got arrested for drunk driving and spent it in police custody, locked in a cell until you were sober enough to be interviewed? The reason you didn’t get to say goodbye to Amy was all your own fault and had nothing to do with me. What was I supposed to do, Kate? You were a complete mess. I didn’t want the girls to see you like that or to have to put up with any of the aftermath that was coming. You would have done the same. What did you want me to do?’
She shook her head. She should tell him to get out now, but he’d ripped apart the tiny seam inside her that had been holding everything together all this time.
‘I wanted you to hold me, to stand by me. To tell me everything was going to be okay and that you would help me to stop drinking.’ She inhaled as her breath caught in the back of her throat. She furiously tried to blink back the tears that were threatening to fall because she had kept them in for so long and this was one conversation they had never had.
‘I wanted you to stop going out drinking with your golfing buddies and stay in with me, to come to my first AA meeting with me for some support, but that was never going to happen. I wanted you to stop fucking every girl under the age of twenty-five who you set your eyes on and that never happened either.’
She could feel her voice rising in anger. He stepped towards her, holding his arms out to her, and she pushed them away. Did he think he could walk back into her life and sweep the whole shitty mess under the table? A tear escaped from her eye and she turned away so he couldn’t see it.
***
Ollie had finished the last tile and was just putting his tools down when he heard the loud voices downstairs. He looked out of the window and saw Martin’s car outside. Bollocks, he’d told him he was taking a couple of weeks off work. He’d be fuming when he saw he was still working here. He tried not to listen to them, but it was pretty hard when the whole house was silent and their voices carried up the stairs. He had been thinking about Kate, a lot, no more than a lot. If he was honest she was all he’d been thinking about the past two weeks. Kate was funny, intelligent, she loved to read and it tickled him that after she’d finish whatever job she was doing every single time she sat down for a break she was on her Kindle. She hadn’t worn a scrap of the make-up that she used to plaster herself in, but she did always smell good.
Even underneath the plaster dust or paint splatters she always smelt of Chanel perfume. She was tanned from the warm weather they’d been having and had a sprinkling of freckles on her nose that he thought was so cute. He scolded himself: man up
, this is a business relationship so you better keep it that way. As attractive as he found her he knew that she also had her demons. He’d watched the bottles she put out in the recycling bin mount up every day and although she never smelt of alcohol through the day he knew once they’d all gone home and she was on her own that she would drink.
He couldn’t blame her. She’d had a terrible time, but then so had he and he hadn’t turned to drink – although that was more to do with watching his dad who was an alcoholic slowly throw his entire life down the drain. He made his way to the first floor landing. He would have to go down and face the music unless they went out of the hallway and he could just leave. Thankfully his van was parked around the back so Martin wouldn’t have seen it and he could make a quick getaway without complicating things.
‘Just go away, Martin. Why are you here anyway?’
‘I just wanted to see how you were. I miss you, Kate. The girls miss you.’
That was the sucker punch right in the stomach. She must have been feeling her heart rip in two. Ollie, who was now standing on the landing listening, wanted to go down and punch Martin for being such a complete and utter bastard.
‘I think it’s time we talked. I know things went from bad to worse in a matter of days, but you must still love me. You can’t have stopped loving me completely.’
Ollie felt his fingers curl into a tight fist. Of all the low-down dirty tricks. He’d heard that Martin was going to divorce Kate. Now he knew about this place he’d be wanting to get as much information from her as possible so he wouldn’t have to give her any of his property or wealth. In fact it wouldn’t surprise him if Martin wanted a piece of this place.
***
Martin had crossed to where Kate was standing in the corner, facing away from him. He gently placed his hands on her shoulders, turning her to face him. There were tears running down her cheeks. She was so confused. All she’d ever wanted was to be a good mum and wife, but he’d made it all so difficult. Why did he not get that it was his fault? She tried to pull away from him but he gripped her shoulders and pulled her closer, so close that she could feel his body heat through his tight, white shirt. He smelt of the expensive aftershave she’d bought him for his last birthday.