Private Sorrow, A (31 page)

Charlie gave her a serious look. ‘Now, I still want you to be cautious, Molly. We don’t know where this woman is but hopefully I’ll start getting answers to some of my inquiries.’

‘Charlie, how would Robina get to Ireland? Do you think she’s driven the car to Larne or Stranraer and caught the ferry? If she was seen on Saturday night by that young lad then she must have left early on Sunday morning.’

‘Yes, I think she did. I made enquiries at the chapel and she didn’t show for mass on Sunday, and she hasn’t been back since, which isn’t like her. The priest said she always went to early morning mass.’ He changed the subject. ‘Will you stay in the flat tonight?’ he asked.

Molly said no, she would go over to Newport and stay there. There had been a lot of mail delivered and she planned to deal with it all. ‘But I’ll be back in my own wee corner tomorrow night.’

When he got back to the station, PC Williams came over. ‘There’s been no one answering to Miss Price’s description on any of the ferries since Saturday. There have been a few small black cars but they have all belonged to couples with families. None of them was driven by a single lady driver.’

Charlie felt wearied by all the negatives in this case. He had nothing else planned except to have the policeman on the beat keep a beady eye on the house.

Molly couldn’t settle when Ronnie left. He had painted most of the ceilings and walls and he was coming back to paint the doors. She had no idea how much this would cost her but she looked out her insurance policy to see if this wilful act would be covered. She decided to phone the company in the morning and find out. She had made a reasonable profit since opening last year but if these things were going to happen often, then the repairs would soon eat away at her bank balance. She didn’t want her parents or Nell to know of this latest drama, and she had warned Marigold to say nothing should she write to them.

The thought of travelling over on the Fifie tonight didn’t appeal to her but she couldn’t stay here with the strong smell of paint everywhere. In spite of her tiredness, she was amused. Last night, the flat had smelled like a fish and chip shop and tonight, it was like a paint factory. She wondered, whatever happened to the smell of roses?

Jean was covering the typewriter, getting ready to go. She was also feeling worried about Molly. ‘Come home with me and have your tea and you can easily stay the night. I’ve got a spare bed.’

Molly was touched by all the concern the women were showing her. Everyone had offered her a place to stay. Even Alice, who certainly didn’t have a spare bed, but she was grateful. She smiled. ‘Thanks, Jean, but I told DS Johns I would be going to Newport tonight. He’s got the telephone number – just in case he finds out something, I asked if he would let me know.’

Jean smiled back. ‘I’m glad he’s on this case now. Whoever is doing this won’t want to mess with him and I feel better that he’s keeping an eye on you.’ Molly felt the same but he wasn’t with her twenty-four hours a day and she felt vulnerable when she was on her own.

After Jean left, Molly got her coat and bag and switched off the light. As she locked up, she looked over her shoulder, wondering if Robina Price was watching her from the dark abyss of a shop doorway. Charlie had said that the policeman on the beat would keep an eye on the agency, so she hoped that would prove to be a deterrent should Robina plan any more mischief. She had no idea why she should be a target for this woman’s hate. Something must have happened years ago when Etta went missing. But what?

As she made her way through the town, she was too tired to think about Etta or Vera or Robina. She would go and see Marigold when she got home to see how she was after her ordeal, then she planned to have a hot bath and hopefully get a good night’s sleep.

The ferry was quiet and there were hardly any passengers or vehicles. She sat in the saloon and watched to see if any elderly women were lurking around. Thankfully, there was no one who looked suspicious, not unless they were hiding on the deck. When the Fifie docked, she walked towards the house, wary of anyone walking behind her, but the only person she saw was an old man out walking with his dog. He said ‘good evening’ as he passed and she turned to watch his figure disappear slowly up the road.

The rain had come on again and it was misty. The streetlights glowed hazily through the drizzle and fog and she was glad when she reached Marigold’s house. The light was on in the front porch and a golden glow from the living room window seeped out onto the front garden. In contrast, her parents’ house lay in darkness, with the dripping trees and shrubs making the garden into a mysterious place of menace. Molly had to give herself a good shake. She was becoming quite paranoid about shadows.

Marigold was pleased to see her. ‘I’ve made your tea as I thought you might be hungry.’

Molly hadn’t eaten much during the day and was surprised at how hungry she was. She loved being with Marigold and she thought her parents were lucky to have such a super neighbour. Once again, she felt a bit homesick. It had been her idea to have the flat renovated but she missed the warmth and homeliness of her mum and dad’s house, and the company. When all the staff went home in the evening, she was on her own in the flat and although she didn’t mind solitude, all this trouble had knocked the pleasure out of living on her own.

She was thinking about leaving Marigold’s comfortable chair to go next door and put on the immersion heater for her bath when the phone rang. Marigold answered it and then handed it to her. ‘It’s DS Johns, he wants to speak to you, Molly.’

She suddenly felt cold with apprehension and she said a small prayer that the office hadn’t been burnt to the ground. But it was more serious than that. Charlie didn’t waste time with social chitchat. ‘It’s Miss Price. We’ve found her body in her house. It looks like she’s been dead a few days.’

Molly suddenly felt faint but she gripped the receiver in her hand. ‘How did she die, Charlie?’

‘There will be a post-mortem done tomorrow so we’ll know what happened then. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. I’ll come to the office but try and get a good night’s sleep, Molly.’

Molly wondered if she would ever get a good night’s sleep again.

It was snowing when she woke up and she spent a very cold half-hour crossing the river. The streets were white as she made her way to the office. The girls were coming in, dressed in warm coats and furry boots, scarves, hats and gloves. The radiator was on but it was still quite cold in the office and it would be even colder upstairs. She went to put on the electric fire so the room would be warmer for Ronnie to finish his painting. Not for the first time did Molly think longingly of the hot climate of Sydney and the wonderful blue water and white sandy beaches of Australia – especially with winter so fast approaching.

She waited for Charlie to appear but he didn’t come until dinner time. They went down to Wilson’s café to speak in private. The snow had turned to slush that seeped into Molly’s boots and she was glad to be inside out of the cold. It was warm and muggy in the café and the air was full of cigarette smoke and the smell of wet woollen coats. However, the tea was lovely and hot.

Molly wanted to know what had happened and how the body had been found. Charlie said, ‘It was the policeman on the beat. I had asked him to keep an eye on the house, just in case Miss Price came back. At about two o’clock in the morning, he thought he saw a torch shining in the house, but when he looked again a few minutes later, the house was in darkness. He thought it was the reflection of the street lamp. At the end of his shift, he thought he would go to the door. He knocked but there was no answer and he tried the handle and to his surprise, the door was unlocked. He went in and found Miss Price lying next to the bed. There were two bottles of pills on the bedside cabinet and a jug of water but there was nothing to say what she had died from. Still, we’ll have the results of the post-mortem this afternoon.’

‘So we’re no further forward and we don’t know if Miss Price is the culprit.’ Molly sounded depressed.

Charlie sounded more optimistic. ‘If all this stops, then we can safely assume she is, but if not …’ he lapsed into silence. ‘I have to leave as I want to go over the house more thoroughly and hopefully we’ll have an answer to what caused her death.’

Molly was grateful that she had an assignment to go to, as it would help to take her mind off all these confusing incidents. The job was at a busy office in the town and all the normal day-to-day work was just what she needed.

Charlie made his way back to Miss Price’s house. The body had been removed some hours earlier and the rooms looked neat and tidy. It was difficult to believe a person had died within these walls. The only sign that something had gone wrong was the small bedroom where a blanket had been pulled from the bed. Robina Price had been found lying on the floor by the bed and it looked like she had tried to get up before collapsing, but she was still dressed in her daytime clothes, which was a mystery. Had she come in, felt unwell and gone to lie down before trying to get up again? This seemed to be the logical explanation because of the unlocked door.

Still, he would have to wait for the result of the post-mortem. The two bottles of pills had been taken away and he looked through the bedside cabinet, but the drawer and cupboard were empty. The wardrobe held a few clothes, mostly coats and skirts in plain black styles. There was nothing fashionable here. The drawers were the same, everything serviceable and cheap. A black handbag lay at the foot of the wardrobe. It was empty apart from a purse with five-pound notes in it.

He made for the desk that lay in front of the living room window. This was the window through which the constable had thought he saw a beam from a torch. In contrast to the cheap looking clothes, the desk was of good quality. Inside, he found a few bills, a letter from Mr Campbell with a statement of the fees she had paid for the flat and a plain envelope that looked like it had been sealed but reopened. It contained her will, which was written by a solicitor and left everything to the convent in Ireland. There was also a paid-up life insurance policy with a firm in Dublin. There were no letters from her family or friends and Charlie was suddenly moved by the spartan and seemingly friendless life she had lived.

He wondered about the opened envelope that held her will. Had someone been in here last night with a torch and was this what they were looking for? And was this her original will? It had been written a few years earlier and dated 1945. Mr Campbell had said that the chapel had the use of the flat when she lived in Ireland, so it seemed quite normal for the will to be in favour of the convent. Her address at the time was the convent in Dublin and the two witnesses were clerks at the solicitor’s office where the will was drawn up. Everything seemed to be in order.

He glanced around the sparsely furnished, white-walled room before slowly closing and locking the door. He would have to go and speak to Vera Barton and tell her that her sister was dead. How would she take it, he wondered? According to her, she hadn’t seen her sister since 1929, but Charlie knew that death in a family could bring all sorts of hidden emotions to the surface.

But first he wanted to see Mrs Davidson, the neighbour. She answered the door right away and curiosity was written all over her face. When she spoke, she sounded breathless as if she had been running. ‘I’ve been standing at the window watching all the activity. What’s happened? Is it Miss Price?’

Charlie said it was. He asked her, ‘Did you hear anything from the flat over the last few days?’

She shook her head. ‘I didn’t even know she was up there and I haven’t seen her for ages. Not since the night I told you about, the time she came out of the car.’

‘I don’t suppose you saw or heard anybody else coming in the close? Someone who doesn’t live here?’

‘There are a few strangers coming and going. I suppose they are friends of the people who live on the top floor but to be honest, these last few nights we’ve had the curtains drawn and the baby has slept right through the night, so I haven’t been at the window. Anyone could have come and gone and I wouldn’t have noticed.’ She looked rueful. ‘Sorry about that, but it’s been great getting a good night’s sleep.’

Charlie said it didn’t matter and he hoped the baby would sleep every night.

He next made his way to the Hilltown, hoping Vera was at home. She was and looked a bit better than the last time he had seen her but she didn’t ask him why he was calling. ‘I’ve come with some bad news, Mrs Barton. I’m afraid your sister, Miss Robina Price, died a couple of days ago. Her body was found in her flat at 10 Elizabeth Street this morning.’

Vera took this news calmly. ‘I wonder why she never came to see me. It was Dave who put her out of the house that day. Said he was fed up with her stories of retribution and sin and reaping what you sow, but I would have made her welcome, she knew that, so why didn’t she come and see me?’

Charlie remained silent. He had no idea why the two sisters hadn’t met up again after all these years. ‘We’re not sure what caused her death but as soon as I hear, I will let you know.’

‘I’ll have to make plans for her funeral. When can I do that?’

‘I’ll be able to tell you after the post-mortem, Mrs Barton. Is there anyone who can come and stay with you?’

She shook her head. ‘No, I’ll be fine, but thank you for coming to tell me and you’ll let me know how she died?’

Charlie said he would and he left. Vera’s flat was better furnished and more comfortable but it had the same friendless atmosphere of Robina’s place. He realised there must be hundreds of lonely people all living in cells like the one at Elizabeth Street. Some would be more luxurious than others but they were still self-imposed, solitary places.

Mrs Barton had taken the news calmly, he thought, but had he gone back, he would have changed his mind. The minute he left, Vera burst into a flood of tears. She felt terrible for the wasted years with her sister, but it was too late now to remedy that. First it was Dave, then Etta and now Robina. She was the last one left in the family.