‘Good morning, children.’ She heard the false brightness of her own voice and winced. ‘Sister David went into school this morning and I came over with Detective Sergeant Mill to see how you all were. This must be a sad day for you, so we must try to help by trying to remember anything useful to the police.’
‘We don’t know noth— anything,’ Conrad said.
‘Hagar? You saw Petroc the evening before last, didn’t you?’ She squatted down near the steps. ‘You spoke with him and he said he was going somewhere. Can you remember exactly what was said? It might help.’
Hagar closed her eyes briefly, screwing up her forehead, then opened her eyes and said flatly, ‘No.’
‘You had had an argument with your brother—’
‘I told her she ought to help out more now that Dad’s done a bunk — run off,’ Conrad said.
‘I went off in a temper,’ Hagar said, evidently deciding to open up. ‘I went down to the pool. Sometimes Petroc and I like — liked to swim there and fool about. It was coming on to rain. Petroc was there, throwing pebbles into the water. I told him it looked like rain and he said, “Well, I’ll soon be under cover,” and then he ran off.’
‘But not towards his wagon?’
‘Out towards the moor.’ Hagar gestured vaguely. From under their slanting lids her black eyes conducted a close survey of the detective who stood a few feet away.
‘Children, has anyone offered you any grass, hash, that kind of thing recently?’ he asked.
They looked at one another and shook their heads, only Edith piping up, ‘I’ve been making a basket out of grass for the project, Sister.’
‘Not that kind of grass, pet,’ Sister Joan said. ‘Well, if you do remember anything at all you’ll tell me or Detective Sergeant Mill, won’t you? We want to find out what happened to Petroc. Where is Mr Lee — your daddy, Tabitha?’
‘He went into Bodmin to see about the funeral.’ It was Conrad who answered. ‘He’s swearing to kill anyone responsible.’
‘Sometimes we all say things we don’t mean when we’re very shocked or grieved,’ Sister Joan began.
‘He means it,’ Conrad said. ‘We won’t be coming to school until after the funeral on Saturday. Is that all right, Sister?’
‘Yes, of course. I’ll see you on Monday then. Try not to be too sad.’ Her voice trailed unhappily away. Glib words of reassurance would have splintered on the air.
‘We didn’t make much headway there,’ the detective commented as they walked away. ‘Well, it was worth a try.’
‘If Petroc was going to meet someone — someone he considered a friend — then he would have drunk a glass of wine unsuspectingly, wouldn’t he?’
‘The wine had been heavily sugared according to the pathologist. Probably it was too sour for his taste.’
‘And then in a little while the drug would have worked and he’d have gone tripping off into some fantasy world and died there.’ She shuddered.
‘He had what’s known as a good trip at any rate,’ Detective Sergeant Mill told her. ‘His expression and attitude were both serene.’
‘Because there were no devils in his subconscious. Do you want to speak to anyone else?’
‘We can call in at the school. One of the others might have recalled something.’
Assenting, she walked back to the car. The rhythm of the camp had not altered but she knew their visit had been noted.
‘The boy was baptised a Catholic by the way,’ her escort said, opening the car door for her. ‘Seems he didn’t keep it up, but he’ll be buried as a Catholic.’
‘I forgot to ask.’ She bit her lip in annoyance.
‘Ask what?’
‘The rosary that was in his pocket. What was it like?’
‘Just beads strung together. The chain joining them was snapped.’
‘Beads like this?’ She held up her own rosary.
‘Exactly like that. Perfectly ordinary beads.’
‘No, Sergeant. Most people have crucifixes on their beads that are made of silver or gold, sometimes rolled gold. The Daughters of Compassion have copper crucifixes. And one of our community lost her own rosary quite recently.’
‘Which sister?’ He had set the car in motion.
‘Our lay sister, Sister Margaret. She drove me round when I was visiting the parents. She only discovered its loss yesterday. She had a lot of work to do, going to fetch the holy water from the presbytery. We don’t tell our beads until the evening.’
‘Does she mention it in her statement?’
‘No, I don’t suppose she thought it had any bearing on the matter. She mentioned it to me. She must have lost it the previous evening or she would have discovered the loss. Oh wait. That isn’t right. It can’t be. At the final evening prayers we say the rosary so she would have realized that the rosary wasn’t there on the night before last. She might have lost it yesterday morning. At the presbytery.’
‘By which time Petroc Lee was already dead. So how did it come to be in his pocket?’
‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask Sister Margaret. She may have remembered by now.’
‘Wouldn’t it have made a tinkling noise as it fell?’
‘Not necessarily; not if she were standing on carpet or grass. Sergeant, it really is no use asking me about it. Ask Sister Margaret.’
‘I intend to,’ he said grimly.
‘And don’t go frightening her to death,’ she added. ‘Sister Margaret is a good, simple soul who won’t tread on an insect if she can avoid it. If you start — grilling her she’ll
