A draught of air blew with sudden strength and the door leading to the visitors’ parlour banged.
She crossed the chapel in two strides, wrenching open the door that should have been closed, almost tripping over Sister Margaret who lay, head at an unnatural angle, coif and veil half torn from her head, not moving. Never moving again.
Eleven
‘This seems to be getting to be a habit with you, Sister Joan.’ Detective Sergeant Mill spoke in a quizzical tone that didn’t blend with the sombre atmosphere of the parlour where he sat at Mother Dorothy’s desk with his partner at a side table. Raising indignant blue eyes she met his considering gaze and repressed the reply on the tip of her tongue.
‘Sister Joan went down to find out why Sister Margaret had not rung the rising bell,’ the Prioress said coldly.
‘At a quarter past five?’ He consulted his notes.
Sister Joan nodded.
‘You went immediately to the chapel?’
‘Sister Margaret rose at about 4.30 and went into the chapel to pray before waking the community. I went in and noticed at once that a candlestick was missing from the altar. Then the door leading to the visitors’ parlour banged. I opened it and—’
‘The outside door was open?’
‘Yes, but it was locked last evening. After evening prayers Sister Margaret went to lock it and then rejoined the rest of us as we filed out.’
‘The candlestick was on the altar during the evening prayers?’
‘Definitely. We would have noticed immediately had it not been,’ Mother Dorothy said.
‘The outer door showed no sign of having been forced,’ the detective sergeant said.
‘There are two keys. I keep one myself and Sister Margaret had the other. As you know we have only just begun to lock the outer door at night. It doesn’t appear,’ said Mother Dorothy with a note of gloomy satisfaction in her voice, ‘to have done any good.’
‘The only prints on the handle are those of Sister Margaret herself‚’ he told them. ‘The key wasn’t in the lock but apparently still on her key ring.’
‘Which is attached to her belt by a fairly long chain‚’ Mother Dorothy pointed out. ‘The keys were then slipped into her pocket. It wasn’t necessary for her to detach any from the chain in order to open a door.’
‘And she would have opened the door if anyone had knocked for admittance?’
‘I suppose so, but who would come knocking at the door before five in the morning?’
‘The killer‚’ he said bluntly.
‘Coming to kill Sister Margaret — one of the other sisters? Why? What possible motive could there be?’
‘Mother Dorothy, last night before we went into chapel for prayers Sister Margaret said that she had remembered — I took it to mean that she recalled where she had lost her rosary‚’ Sister Joan said. ‘There was no time for her to say more. We were almost late for chapel. Oh, and she said something about having to think about it until the morning. But the — person who killed her couldn’t have done so for that reason because I was the only one she said it to—’
She broke off abruptly, looking at him in dismay.
‘At this stage‚’ he said dryly, ‘I am not putting you very high on the list of suspects, Sister.’
‘There is another thing, she said hesitatingly. ‘I didn’t mention it before since it didn’t seem relevant. Things have been disappearing from the chapel — candles, some daffodils from a vase on the Lady Altar, holy water from the stoup. I went into chapel during the week and the crucifix was missing from the altar.’
‘Why on earth didn’t you report it to me?’ Mother Dorothy demanded.
‘I came into the main building to do so, Reverend Mother, but you had just taken the postulants into the parlour for their instruction, so I came back into the chapel to wait and the crucifix was back on the altar. I told myself that I’d imagined it.’
‘I instruct the postulants on Monday afternoons‚’ Mother Dorothy said.
‘When did you notice the other things were missing?’ he asked Sister Joan.
‘I noticed there were no flowers in the vase early last Saturday morning. Sister Margaret was in the chapel at the same time and commented on the fact that there had been daffodils there the previous evening. I think it was then she mentioned that we seemed to be using candles at a tremendous rate. It was Sister Margaret’s job to buy fresh supplies.’
‘And the holy water?’
‘Sister David found the stoup empty on — Wednesday — yes, for she said there was sufficient for the blessing and Sister Margaret took the water cans over to the presbytery on Thursday morning.’
He was making notes, his face absorbed.
‘So someone was in the chapel on Friday night — between the grand silence which begins at — 9.30? and 4.30 when you and Sister Margaret were in the chapel; the same person, presumably, was there on Monday afternoon — at what time?’
‘At 4.30. I rode Lilith home from school, had a brief word with Mother Dorothy, unsaddled Lilith and rubbed her down and went into the chapel to pray. It was just past 4.30.’
‘Sister Hilaria had brought the postulants over from their quarters,’ Mother Dorothy confirmed.
‘And school finishes?’ He glanced up.
‘At 3.30 on a normal day — sometimes a little earlier or later. It takes me about half an hour to clear round, lock up and ride home.’
‘So long? The school’s only a couple of miles from here, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t indulge myself with tearing gallops across the countryside,’ she said coldly.
‘And the holy water would have been taken sometime before Wednesday evening. Did anyone notice how much water was left on Tuesday evening?’
‘The aspergillum was full on Tuesday and almost full on Wednesday — it is used
