A VOW OF COMPASSION an utterly gripping crime mystery

by Black, Veronica

  ‘It had to be someone who was in the vicinity at the time all the deaths occurred,’ Shirley Fleetwood said.

  ‘And that’s bloody difficult to prove — excuse me, Mother Dorothy! Sister. That hospital is badly run. Slackly run. The manager is hardly ever there; key’s to the drugs unit are far too available to the members of staff; because of short-staffing and overwork they’re constantly on the move between the various wards.’

  ‘Sister Collet signed for the missing digoxin,’ Sister Joan reminded him.

  ‘If she’d taken it herself surely she’d’ve signed for it at the time. Then its being missing wouldn’t have caused any comment when the cupboards were checked,’ Shirley Fleetwood said.

  ‘She signed for it later when Sister Meecham noticed the digoxin had gone. Ward Sister Meecham ought to have enquired why so much had been taken and what it had been used for,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said.

  ‘Sophie Meecham drinks more than is wise,’ Shirley Fleetwood said. ‘She’s by no means an alcoholic or even a heavy drinker but it’s an open secret that she finds the work stressful and pops up to the office for a quick nip every now and then.’

  ‘Perhaps Sister Collet knew or guessed who’d taken the drug and wished to protect them,’ Mother Dorothy said, her tone unexpectedly lively.

  Detective Sergeant Mill glanced at her and grinned. ‘You’d make a good detective, Mother Prioress,’ he said.

  ‘Thank you, but one of our community involved with police work is more than sufficient,’ Mother Dorothy said crisply.

  ‘She was protecting Dr Geeson,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘Why?’ Detective Sergeant Mill rapped out the words.

  ‘Because he’s the father of the child she was expecting,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘You’ve reasons for saying that?’

  ‘Dr Geeson was shocked at first when the existence of the unborn baby was discovered but later on I saw him as I was driving out through the hospital gates. He was smiling and whistling. I suppose he’d realized that her death had let him off the hook.’

  ‘That’s not exactly proof,’ Shirley Fleetwood said.

  ‘Sister Betty Foster was rather cutting about Sister Collet’s inefficiency when I talked to her,’ Sister Joan said slowly. ‘The rest of the staff seem to have liked her and to have excused her slapdash ways but Betty Foster had a more critical attitude. There’s another thing too: Betty Foster said she didn’t come to work in this area because her daughter was here. I think that she did but that may have been only part of the reason. She refused to name the father of her child but she and Dr Geeson came from the same area of London and trained at the same hospital. It’s possible that she hoped for him to acknowledge Amy or give her some financial help but when she got here he was having an affair with Sister Collet. Sister Foster may well have been jealous of her, though she really hadn’t any cause. When I gave Tracy Collet your godmother’s ring, Mother Dorothy, she burst into tears and was most distressed. I think she knew she could never expect an engagement ring from Dr Geeson, and she was upset about it, especially if she’d signed for the digoxin under the impression he’d taken it.’

  ‘Why would he take the drug anyway?’ Detective Sergeant Mill enquired.

  ‘I don’t think he did,’ Sister Joan said earnestly. ‘I think that Sister Collet believed him capable of it. Maybe she’d seen him round that area or something, so when Sister Meecham mentioned a large quantity of digoxin was missing Tracy Collet signed for it, perhaps hoping to hold the fact over Dr Geeson’s head and force him to marry her, but I don’t think her plan worked because he hadn’t taken it in the first place.’

  ‘But she might still have made things awkward for him,’ Shirley Fleetwood said.

  ‘Which gives him a motive for getting rid of her. Oh dear! this is all most unpleasant,’ Mother Dorothy said in a low voice.

  ‘But no motive for getting rid of anybody else,’ Detective Sergeant Mill pointed out.

  ‘A most immoral young man nevertheless.’ She pursed her lips.

  ‘Not sufficient compassion,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘None at all if he seduced two young nurses and then refused to take responsibility for the results,’ Mother Dorothy said critically.

  ‘Do we know when the digoxin was taken?’ Sister Joan enquired.

  ‘I checked up on that,’ he said. ‘About three months back. Sister Collet signed for the drug a couple of hours after Sister Meecham had checked the drugs unit and noticed a large quantity was missing.’

  ‘Then Tracy Collet would have been suspecting that she was pregnant,’ Shirley Fleetwood said. ‘She might’ve been protecting Dr Geeson because she was still in love with him and figured he’d be so grateful that he’d marry her.’

  ‘They died very quietly, very peacefully,’ Sister Joan said.

  ‘Meaning?’ Detective Sergeant Mill looked at her.

  ‘It was something someone said but I can’t recall who. That old tramp slipped into a diabetic coma and passed away after Sister Collet gave him a cup of sugary cocoa. Mrs Cummings died of a so-called heart attack without making a sound. I know that Tracy Collet was being nauseous and went at least twice to the bathroom but there were other patients in that ward. There ought to have been some noise because one of her hands was clenched in a last spasm but the sheet beneath it was smooth.’

  ‘You mean someone stood and watched her die?’

  ‘Having slipped up the back stairs from the ground-floor kitchen. Any sound that Louisa Cummings made could be stifled very easily and the sheet smoothed neatly before the killer slipped away again. Nurses automatically smooth sheets and plump up pillows, don’t they?’

  ‘And we’ve only Sister Collet’s word that she went to the bathroom at all,’ Shirley Fleetwood said.

  ‘Which brings us back to suicide?’ Mother Dorothy looked round at them.

  ‘Sister David said something very interesting,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Luther left a bunch of holly that only grows near the old chapel so that I’d guess where to find him. I took it up to the library while I was making some notes and Sister David assumed that I’d picked the holly because it was at my feet. Don’t you see?’

  ‘Not until you cast light upon our darkness,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said dryly.

  ‘Madge Lee was found dead with an open bottle of brandy containing only the dregs of the contents caught up in the bedclothes. What if she hadn’t drunk any of the brandy at all? What if something had been given her earlier on — would they give her black coffee to sober her up? She starts to slip into a coma and then someone puts the brandy in the side ward. It would be assumed that she’d died of alcoholic poisoning. There wouldn’t be an inquest. But the brandy was just planted to cause everybody to jump to the wrong conclusion.’

  ‘Digoxin in the black coffee?’ Detective Sergeant Mill had his notebook out again.

  ‘With digoxin you’d die fairly fast depending on the strength of the dose,’ Shirley Fleetwood said. ‘Perhaps an involuntary spasm as the heartbeat grew slower and slower. A peaceful death.’

  ‘And we know that Tracy Collet died of an overdose of digoxin,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said.

  ‘Would she have drunk a glassful of some unidentified substance knowing that a lot of digoxin was missing?’ Shirley Fleetwood said.

  ‘If she trusted whoever gave it to her,’ Sister Joan mused.

  ‘Dr Geeson?’

  ‘I don’t believe so, Mother Prioress. She must’ve been aware by then that she couldn’t trust Dr Geeson to do anything halfway decent. She was depressed and unhappy and her work was going badly and she didn’t know what to do. Then someone knocks on the door and offers her a headache remedy—?’

  ‘Surely not, Sister!’ Shirley Fleetwood broke in impatiently. ‘Tracy Collet might have been depressed and inefficient but no nurse drinks an unknown substance as trustingly as that.’

  ‘Love potions,’ Mother Dorothy said.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Mother Prior
ess?’ Detective Sergeant Mill stared at her.

  ‘I was thinking of love potions,’ Mother Dorothy said. ‘Long ago when I was a girl at school a very charming man used to come twice weekly to teach piano. Most members of the fifth remove were infatuated with him though I cannot for the life of me recall that he ever did anything to encourage us. However one of the girls had smuggled in a magazine, one of those romantic but quite innocent publications telling you how to snare your man and keep your husband and make dusters out of tablecloths. They printed an old recipe which was said to work wonders if you drank it and then breathed in the general direction of the man of your choice.’

  ‘Mother Dorothy, you didn’t!’ Sister Joan gazed fascinated at her superior.

  ‘I’m afraid I did. At fifteen one can be quite incredibly silly.’ Mother Dorothy sounded tolerant of her former youthful self. ‘It occurred to me that Sister Collet — may her soul rest in peace — must have been emotionally rather immature, very caring and eager to do the right thing but unable to hide her feelings. She may well have confided in someone that she was in love and the man wasn’t interested, something like that.’

  ‘Then she’d have confided in another woman,’ Detective Sergeant Mill said.

  ‘There is another possibility.’ Shirley Fleetwood was frowning slightly. ‘She was pregnant. Perhaps she had hoped to get a proposal of marriage out of the father and hadn’t told him about the child because, being a nice young woman, she didn’t want to stoop to blackmail. She must’ve been at her wits’ end not knowing whether to go ahead and have the baby or have an abortion and time was running out. No doctor enjoys having to perform a late termination. Anyway she could hardly have it done at St Keyne’s, could she? She would have to go elsewhere, get time off. Perhaps she confided in whoever it was and they promised to get something that would bring about an abortion. It’s possible.’

  ‘I fear so.’ Mother Dorothy looked sad.

  The luncheon gong sounded in the recesses of the building.

  ‘May I offer you some luncheon?’ Mother Dorothy asked. ‘Sister Joan, since there is still important business to decide we shall eat here in the parlour. Go and get a tray from Sister Teresa if you will.’

  ‘Certainly, Mother.’

  Sister Joan couldn’t repress a slight chuckle once she was outside the parlour. Since lunch invariably consisted of soup, a salad sandwich, a piece of fruit and a glass of water she suspected that Detective Sergeant Mill would’ve preferred to repair to the nearest pub.

  ‘I’ll help you carry in the food, Sister. The little girl is fast asleep by the by. She seems none the worse for what happened to her apart from a nasty bruise on her face.’

  ‘That bruise will be the last one she’ll ever have,’ Sister Joan said, adding, ‘Please God.’

  ‘Amen!’ Sister Teresa looked doubtfully at the water jug and reached up for a bottle of lemonade.

  Sister Joan found herself biting her lip in perplexity as she followed Sister Teresa down the passage, both carrying laden trays.

  The deaths had been peaceful ones, she thought, but Amy’s case was different. Luther had seen the red-haired woman hitting Amy. That was what had impelled him to take the little girl away. It might be possible to parade people before Luther so that he could make an identification but even if he succeeded would it ever stand up in court?

  ‘It looks splendid!’ Detective Sergeant Mill said as the trays were deposited on the large, flat-topped desk. His tone was one of politely concealed dismay.

  ‘Thank you, Sister Teresa.’ Mother Dorothy dismissed the lay sister with a smiling nod.

  The tomato soup was thick and warming. They ate and drank in silence, Mother Dorothy having murmured a shortened form of grace to which Sister Joan and Shirley Fleetwood said an amen while Detective Sergeant Mill merely nodded his head briskly.

  Luncheons were silent meals and this one was no exception. Shirley Fleetwood started to say something at one point, met Mother Dorothy’s cool gaze, and let her voice trail away.

  ‘For what we have received may the Lord make us truly thankful. Amen.’

  Mother Dorothy crossed herself and gestured to Sister Joan to take away the empty dishes.

  In the kitchen Sister Marie was washing up. ‘Amy’s awake,’ she volunteered. ‘Sister Teresa found a tin of alphabet soup so she’s heated that up for her. We none of us are sure what’s going on. When I was having my tooth done I felt absolutely secure there but now I’m not so certain that I ought to have done.’

  ‘You were perfectly safe, Sister,’ Sister Joan said. ‘I sat in the observation booth while the operation was going on. Anyway, if anything had happened to you then you’d’ve been sorely missed and we’d all have made a great fuss.’

  ‘That’s the lovely thing about the religious life!’ Sister Marie exclaimed. ‘No matter how old and frail you get, no matter what the circumstances of your birth, you’re equal with your sisters, always held safely in their affection. Nobody is ever regarded as useless, are they?’

  ‘Sister Marie, you’re a treasure!’ Sister Joan clapped her hands together, narrowly avoiding the temptation of bestowing a forbidden, impulsive hug on the younger nun.

  ‘I don’t think so,’ Sister Marie said modestly.

  Sister Joan was already on her way back to the parlour.

  ‘Sister! Must you rush about everywhere?’ Mother Dorothy complained mildly as she entered.

  ‘I beg your pardon, Mother.’ Sister Joan hastily knelt, kissed the floor and rose with her blue eyes sparkling. ‘I believe I have the motive for all these events!’

  ‘Which is?’ Detective Sergeant Mill looked at her.

  ‘I think they were all mercy killings,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Not exactly euthanasia but murders committed out of a twisted kind of compassion. The old tramp was a diabetic, and had no home or family, not even a proper name by which other people knew him; Louisa Cummings was a childless widow with no blood relatives, with a heart condition and the prospect of an operation which might or might not be successful; Madge Lee was alcoholic and a constant embarrassment to her husband even though Padraic’s so loyal to her; Sister Collet was expecting a child which she may have felt forced to abort and her work was definitely suffering.’

  ‘And Amy is illegitimate and has already been abused. Unless very great care is taken she may grow up damaged,’ Shirley Fleetwood said.

  ‘And Luther is simple-minded and can’t cope with a real job.’

  ‘You think that Luther’s an intended victim?’ Mother Dorothy looked uneasy.

  ‘He was given an LSD tablet and thought it was a sweet. If he’d taken it he might well have ended up in hospital like Madge Lee.’

  ‘So our murderer must work within the hospital itself. She or he requires the hospital in order to carry out the eliminations decided upon.’ Detective Sergeant Mill leaned his chin on his hand and raised a thoughtful eyebrow. ‘Of course. Deaths in hospital are not often questioned, are they? Drugs are used and death certificates signed without too much bother, and the fact that the place isn’t run as efficiently as it might be only gives an added help to the killer.’

  ‘You have a plan?’ Mother Dorothy gave him her full attention.

  ‘I’ve been turning over various possibilities in my mind,’ he said. ‘What we need to do is lure our quarry away from the security of the hospital complex. I had thought of letting it be known that Amy and Luther were here in the convent. However, for that I’d need your express permission, Mother Dorothy.’

  ‘You have it,’ the Prioress said slowly.

  ‘It might prove very traumatic for the rest of the community,’ Sister Joan put in.

  ‘We shall assemble in the chapel,’ Mother Dorothy said.

  ‘And if the murderer does turn up?’ Shirley Fleetwood looked sceptical.

  ‘We shall be praying for them,’ Mother Dorothy said.

  TWELVE

  There was an unreal quality to the day, Sister Joan thought. Detective Ser
geant Mill had driven off to consult with his fellow officers at the police station; Shirley had rung her mother to announce that she’d be arriving later that night; Mother Dorothy had gathered the other members of the community together to give them a careful account of what was happening. There was an atmosphere of slightly tremulous expectation as if a storm was brewing.

  ‘Mother Dorothy, may I drive down into town?’ she asked, waylaying her superior as they emerged from chapel.

  ‘Something troubles you, Sister?’ Mother Dorothy looked at her sharply.

  ‘Yes, but I don’t quite know what it is,’ Sister Joan said frankly. ‘I know that everything seems to be in hand but something’s nagging at me and even praying about it doesn’t help.’

  ‘Very well.’ Mother Dorothy frowned but answered readily enough. ‘I too am uneasy. It seems to me that someone as ruthless and clever as this person we seem to be dealing with must be is unlikely to walk so easily into a trap. Try to get back in time for supper.’

  ‘Thank you, Mother Dorothy.’

  Driving down into town, turning up the hill that led from the bustling main street to the hospital she tried to analyse the uneasiness that held her in its grip.

  Always before when she had been involved in helping on a case there had been an unexpected climax, an event that had sent the adrenalin rushing to her veins, spiced a quiet existence with sudden peril. But now the trap had been set and all that was required was to wait for someone to walk into it. And it wasn’t going to work. She didn’t know how she could be so sure of that but she was sure.

  At the hospital there were no watchful policemen. Amy had been found so there was no further need of them. The late afternoon sun was still warm but the first faint tinge of evening softened the outlines of the hospital units.

  She parked the van and got out, resolving to follow her instincts since she had no clear plan of action. What was it that Detective Sergeant Mill had said?

  ‘Dr Geeson isn’t on duty so I contacted Dr Meredith and told him that Amy was safe and would be staying with the sisters for a couple of days. I asked him to inform the various members of staff concerned separately. I explained that certain things were still being kept under wraps. He seemed surprised at the request but agreed. Now we shall wait and see.’