Bad Catholics (6 page)

‘In your own time, Miss.'

The older detective was still being kind.

She looked down at her hands and suddenly it seemed to dawn on her what she was doing. She tucked the handkerchief into her cardigan pocket.

With a visible effort she tried to become calm and business-like.

‘I was in the kitchen, heating soup. The cooker is at the other side from the window. You can see the car if you're near the window but I didn't see anything. Then I spilled a pan of soup and Sister came in to help me clean it up. Later, I saw the car was still in the alley so I asked Mr Costello to see if anything was wrong. When he came back he told us …' She paused, tears again formed in her eyes. ‘I didn't even say goodnight.'

‘You didn't look out of the window at all?'

The detective seemed unconcerned about Janine's obvious distress.

‘Not that I remember. I don't usually. There's nothing to see.'

The detective put his cigarette out by dipping it in his tea. He dropped the soggy remains into the saucer then leaned back in his chair and stared around the dining room. The kind detective picked up his cue.

‘Thank you, Miss,' he smiled, putting his notebook and pen on the table. He stood up. The interview was over. ‘You've been most helpful. Could you ask the Sister to come in now please?'

Janine rose, her handkerchief back in her hands and at work again. She nodded and left.

‘What d'you think?'

The kindness had gone from his voice. The other detective shook his head.

‘Nothing there. Let's see what the nun says.'

They sat in silence until Philomena came in. She walked to the table and the older detective stood up politely.

‘Sit down, Sister, please.'

Philomena sat down.

‘Do you remember Mrs Amhurst leaving last night?'

The tone conveyed that he didn't like having to intrude, but the job had to be done. He hoped she would understand.

‘I don't know. She usually came through the dining room to say goodnight to everyone. I can't remember her doing it last night. I must have been in the office when she left.'

The other detective lit another cigarette and joined in the questioning.

‘Could you see Mrs Amhurst's car from the cooker in the kitchen, if you were heating soup, say?'

‘Don't smoke, please.'

He repeated his question, blowing smoke into the air. ‘Would the car be visible from the cooker?'

Philomena stood up.

‘Let me know when you have finished your cigarette, Sergeant, and I'll come back if I'm free.' She turned and walked towards the door.

Kind cop got up quickly and followed her. ‘Excuse me, Sister.'

She paused.

‘Please, come back and sit down.'

Philomena looked pointedly at the policeman at the table. He drew on his cigarette. Their eyes met. Philomena didn't move. He dropped the cigarette into his tea cup. Philomena turned to his colleague.

‘Very well, Inspector.'

They returned to the table and sat down.

‘By the way, Sister, I'm a sergeant. This is Inspector Deal.'

Philomena scrutinised them slowly, one at a time. ‘I have my own ways of deciding seniority,' she said.

Inspector Deal leaned forward. ‘Wasn't it irresponsible to let a woman like Mrs Amhurst come and work in a place like this? Weren't you inviting trouble?'

The inspector's question was meant to sound exactly as it did, an accusation. He wanted her to know who was in charge and that he was in a position to allocate blame.

When Philomena replied, her Irish accent was more pronounced, deliberately comic.

‘Now what would you be meaning, Sergeant, by “a place like this”?'

‘You know exactly what I mean. And it's still Inspector.'

Philomena dropped the elaborate brogue.

‘I do not know what you mean and I don't care what rank you are. I don't like your question and I don't like you.'

The sergeant was worldly-wise enough to see that the inspector could very well get the sticky end of exchanges with this woman and if that happened the fall-out would certainly land on him.

‘Please, Sister, we're only doing our job.' He was vainly trying to keep the peace.

‘Are you? And what job would that be at all?'

The comic accent was back and with it a sweet, innocent smile. Then the brogue and the smile were gone and the voice was serious.

‘Is it your job to put the blame on us at Bart's for Mrs Amhurst's death? We shouldn't let the refuse of the street gather here to be fed and rested? We're part of the problem, are we? The best answer would be for us to close down and move on because we're not wanted. Is that your job, to get rid of us? Would the best answer be for me to say that I was to blame, and for us all to pack up and go?'

‘Of course not, Sister, no one is saying –'

‘It's one answer,' cut in the inspector, leaning forward. ‘At least that way no other innocent volunteer gets knifed.'

Philomena leaned back and relaxed. She had the measure of Deal now. He was a blusterer and a bully, a nobody.

‘Do you think that might work? Maybe you're right, it's been tried before.'

‘To close you down? I never heard that, nobody ever said …'

There was genuine surprise in the Sergeant's voice.

‘Not here, it was in another country, and it was a long time ago.' Philomena turned to the inspector. ‘But then it was handled by a really dangerous bastard, not some pocket-edition desperado,' she looked at his curly hair, ‘with a nice perm.'

There was a moment's silence, then the inspector spoke in a flat voice.

‘OK, we got off to a bad start and if it helps, I apologise. Can we get on now? Could Mrs Amhurst's car be seen from in the kitchen?'

‘You can see the car from the sink by the window. But not from the cooker, you'd have your back to the window.'

‘Did she always park it in the same place?'

‘Yes, near the entrance, because there's a light over the door so we could see it even when it's dark.'

‘Even so, it wasn't really safe, was it? It's not the sort of neighbourhood where unattended cars are just ignored.'

‘There's nowhere else. And it was quite safe there, for that car, I mean.'

‘How can you be so sure?'

‘The first time Mrs Amhurst came, she arrived by taxi and the next time her husband brought her in his Bentley. So I warned her about the neighbourhood. It's not the sort of place where people travel in Bentleys. One day, someone would have been waiting.'

‘It looks like one day someone was. Anyway, what did she do?'

‘She got an old Skoda, a dreadful old heap but she was proud of it.'

‘She was proud because she'd bought a heap?'

‘Can you see anyone bothering to hot-wire an old Skoda? Who would want it? She even left it unlocked so no one needed to break a window to get in, not that there was ever anything inside. That car could have sat there unlocked for ever. The worst thing that might happen would be somebody sleeping in it, but only if all the local doorways were already occupied.'

Inspector Deal sat back. The nun was dead right about the car, of course, but she was still wrong for all her cockiness. The car may have looked right, but the Amhurst woman didn't. She looked money, quiet, smart, and understated, which meant a lot of money. He didn't like interviewing people who were in control. They only told you what they wanted you to know.

‘But she must have stood out round here, even if her car didn't.'

‘Well, she certainly never had any trouble with any of the clients. They all seemed to like her.'

The sergeant joined in.

‘I'd have thought they'd resent the Mother Teresa sort.'

‘Still looking for your killer among the clients?'

The inspector took over again. ‘They knew her movements. It would have been easy for someone to wait for her coming out one night and grab her handbag.'

‘And kill her?'

‘She might have recognised whoever it was. Or it might have been someone on drugs. That sort kill for anything they can get, sometimes for no reason at all.'

‘I won't pretend one of our clients couldn't have done it. But any regulars, those who knew what time she went home and where her car was, also knew there's never anything on these premises worth stealing, and the same goes for the staff. She would have had nothing of value on her, no money, no jewellery, not even a watch.'

‘That's right,' said the sergeant, going back a few pages in his notebook. ‘We were going to ask you about that. She had no watch on her when she was found. We thought it might have been taken.'

‘No, she never wore one while she was here.'

‘Can you give us a list of those who were here yesterday?' The inspector wasn't giving up.

‘I can try. When do you want it?'

‘In your own time, Sister,' said the sergeant, ‘but the sooner we get it the more help it is. Tell me when to call and I'll collect it.'

‘I'll have it ready tomorrow morning.'

‘I'll be here at 9.30 then.'

‘I'll be at Mass, come at 11. By the way, did you find her handbag?'

‘Not yet.'

The sergeant stood up. ‘Thank you for your co-operation, Sister.'

The inspector pocketed his cigarettes and lighter. ‘I've never questioned a nun before.'

‘You still haven't. I'm a Religious Sister, not a nun.'

‘There's a difference?'

Philomena smiled her sweet smile. ‘Not one that you would be able to understand,' and went on with mock seriousness, ‘I could try to explain if you're really interested in the Religious Orders of the Catholic Church but I –'

‘Could you ask Mr Costello to come in now, please, Sister?' the sergeant interrupted. He didn't want hostilities to be resumed.

‘Of course, Inspector.'

Deal watched her leave the room.

The sergeant looked up from checking his notes. ‘She didn't mention cleaning up the soup,' he observed.

Deal shrugged. He didn't like his sergeants to point things out to him.

‘That wasn't relevant. If they were cleaning up soup they couldn't have seen anything.'

‘So what do you think?'

‘I doubt there's going to be anything here for us. But let's see what this Costello guy has to say.'

A minute or so later Jimmy walked in and came over to the table. He looked at the sergeant. There was no hint of recognition in their faces, but they both knew that they knew each other.

‘Sit down, Mr Costello.' Inspector Deal pointed to the chair. ‘Do you mind if I smoke?' he added with exaggerated politeness, taking his cigarettes and lighter from his pocket. Jimmy indicated that he didn't care one way or another. The inspector placed his cigarettes and lighter on the table without bothering to light one up.

‘It was you who found Mrs Amhurst?'

‘I was asked to go and see why her car was still there. She was lying by her car.'

‘Who asked you?'

Jimmy shrugged.

‘Janine or Sister Philomena.'

‘And when you went out you found Mrs Amhurst had been stabbed?'

‘No. I found her lying by the car outside.'

‘You didn't see she'd been stabbed?'

‘She was lying face down and no blood was visible when I first saw her.'

‘She might have fainted or been mugged or it might have been a heart attack or something, and yet you didn't try to help or revive her? Why was that?'

Jimmy remained silent.

‘You went out and when you saw it was Mrs Amhurst you came straight back in and told the Sister and she called the police?'

‘If you say so.'

‘You made no attempt to find out what was wrong with her? Were you already sure she was dead, is that it?'

Jimmy remained silent.

‘In your own time, Sir.'

Jimmy looked at the sergeant. Clearly it would be a very long time indeed.

‘When you came in, what did you say to the Sister?' the inspector continued.

‘I told her Mrs Amhurst was lying outside by her car, that she should phone the police. I can't remember the exact words I used.'

‘You asked her to phone the police, just the police, not an ambulance?'

Jimmy nodded.

‘Why no ambulance?'

Silence.

‘In your own time, Sir.'

Silence.

‘Mr Costello, this is a serious investigation. We need a clear picture of everything that happened last night. You seem reluctant to give us your full assistance.'

Jimmy remained silent, so the sergeant took up the questioning. This was turning into a hard morning.

‘After you told the Sister about Mrs Amhurst, what did you do?'

‘She asked me to go outside and stay with Mrs Amhurst. I went and stayed until the police arrived.'

‘The Sister asked you to go, or you decided to go?'

‘I don't remember.'

‘Who was in the dining room last night?'

‘I don't remember.'

The morning wasn't getting easier. The inspector took over again.

‘Come on, Mr Costello, are you telling me you can't remember anyone who was here last night?'

‘Sister Philomena, Janine, Mrs Amhurst, me. I can't be sure about anyone else.'

‘Did you see anyone outside when you first went to the body?'

‘Not that I remember.'

‘Or when you went out to wait for the police?'

‘Not that I remember.'

The inspector sat back. He hadn't liked the nun and he didn't like this guy.

‘You seem to have a very poor memory, Mr Costello.'

‘I know, I worry about it sometimes.'

‘Do you think your memory would be better if we talked to you at the station?'

There was no mistaking the threat in the words. Jimmy leaned forward and put his arms on the table with his hands together and examined his thumbs.