Private Sorrow, A (32 page)

Stan had a letter back by return from Phil. He recognised the handwriting and the postmark. He shoved it in his pocket before leaving for work but it weighed on his mind all morning. At dinner time, he opened it. It was just one page and with Phil’s usual large handwriting, there wasn’t much news. He said he was glad the six-week training was nearly over and he was looking forward to coming home on leave. Stan thought he wasn’t going to mention Mary but at the foot of the page he had written PTO and the letter continued:

Stan had a moment of worry. What if Mary was miffed at this turnaround with Linda? But when they met up in the evening on their way to the pictures, she just smiled. As they stood in the queue at the Plaza cinema, Mary thought to herself, good for you Linda. Now keep it up.

Victor was also pleased as he left the boxing club in Lochee. The snow had started to fall again but he hardly noticed it. He still felt the warmth of the praise from the club’s owner. ‘You stick at this, lad, and you’ll be a first-class boxer, but mind you keep the fighting in the ring and not outside it.’

So he was going to keep his nose clean and Alice could have her damned divorce. After all, he had found another girlfriend. She was a bit older than him and certainly not pretty but she looked after him and he was spending most nights with her, in her house on the Hawkhill. Yes, he would be a model citizen and a great boxer. It was a dream of his to be a champion in the ring and it looked like it might come true, so no more drinking or ending up at Arthurstone Terrace to commit a breach of the peace. The divorce would go through, the quicker the better.

Sandy could hardly wait to tell Alice and once he did, she knew her marriage would soon be a thing of the past. She had bought a lovely new rug to sit in front of the fireplace. She thought it brightened up the kitchen with its colourful pattern and after she finished paying for the three-piece suite, she intended to get a dining room suite and after that, she would furnish the bedroom. Life was looking rosy. Although she wasn’t in love with Sandy, she enjoyed his company. She had been honest with him right from the start and he seemed quite content to be a friend.

The result of the post-mortem was in. Miss Price had died of natural causes. She had suffered a heart attack and had died within minutes. For some reason, Charlie was pleased by that small fact. She hadn’t been a particularly attractive or nice woman but he was glad she hadn’t suffered. He thought of the anguish she would have felt if she had been unable to summon help and had taken hours or even days to die.

He went to see Vera first to tell her the news. When she came to the door, she looked like she had just got out of bed and it was two o’clock in the afternoon. The woman was disintegrating before his eyes and he wished she had left this missing daughter in the past where she belonged. Vera looked at him with bleary eyes, almost as if she didn’t recognise him. ‘I’ve got the result of the post-mortem on your sister, Mrs Barton. Can I come in?’

She held the door open but she looked as if she didn’t care whether he came in or not. She had obviously been crying, as her eyes were red and puffy and he felt so sorry for her. He came straight to the point. ‘Miss Price had a heart attack but her death was quick. She wouldn’t have suffered long, which is a blessing.’

Vera suddenly laughed – a deep, painful, choking laugh. ‘A blessing? Well that would suit Robina. She was always very religious, you know, even as a child. My parents didn’t know how to cope with her and neither did Dave and I. Because I was expecting Etta before getting married, she said my soul was dammed, and do you know something, DS Johns, she was right. I’ve lost everything I ever loved, so she was right about retribution.’

Charlie was alarmed by this turn of events. Vera was becoming more depressed by the hour. He said, ‘I think you should go to the doctor and get some treatment. You’ve had a bad shock with your sister’s death. If you like, I can telephone him and get him to come and see you.’

‘No, honestly, I’m fine. Just feeling a bit sorry for myself. I hardly knew Robina these past years and here I am crying for our lost lives.’

‘Is there a neighbour who can come in and stay with you?’

‘No, I have to arrange the funeral and after that, I might go away for a holiday.’

‘I have to go and tell Mrs Flynn about your sister’s death. Robina used to go and see her.’

Vera sounded bitter. ‘Which was more than she did for me.’

It was teatime before he managed to get to Kirkton but he knew he wouldn’t be staying very long. As before, it was Maggie who answered the door. ‘Muuuuum,’ she shouted along the hall, ‘it’s that policeman.’

Frances walked up to the door and rolled her eyes. ‘What do you want now?’

Charlie apologised for calling at a mealtime. ‘It’s just to tell you Miss Price is dead. She suffered a heart attack.’

‘Oh my God,’ said Frances. ‘That’s awful. She was all right when she came to see me a couple of weeks ago. She looked tired and pale but she never looked healthy, not even when I was at school.’

Mr Flynn had joined them and he looked sad. ‘Poor Vincent, I never liked her but we’re very sorry to hear this.’

‘Well, I wanted you to know. I didn’t want you to read about it first in the death column of the paper.’

Charlie would be glad to be finished with bearing the sad news but he had to see Molly first. She was in the office when he arrived at the Wellgate and she smiled when he knocked at the door. ‘Come in out of the cold. If you don’t mind the smell of paint, we can go upstairs where it’s warmer.’

The flat looked almost back to normal. Molly said not to sit on the studio couch because it had been cleaned and was still a bit damp, so they sat on the dining chairs by the table. Charlie gave her all the news about Miss Price’s death and Molly said she was also glad it had been quick. ‘Even though she might have tried to kill me,’ she said.

Charlie nodded. ‘I’m worried about Vera Barton; she seems to be depressed. She was still in her bed this afternoon and she was talking a lot of nonsense.’

‘I’ll go and see her tomorrow and see if she needs any help with the funeral or anything else.’ Molly looked at him. ‘Charlie, if Robina had heart trouble, do you think she would have been able to do all this cloak and dagger stuff? I mean, it must have taken a lot of effort to make the attacks on Vera, Peter and myself, and the weather has been cold and wet most nights.’

‘I agree but she’s the only suspect we’ve got. She lives within a half-mile radius of you and Vera and she’s practically next door to Peter Walsh. Maybe she was all right these past weeks and then her heart just gave out. These things happen.’

Molly was still dubious. ‘I suppose so.’

Charlie said, ‘I agree with you on most things, Molly, as I don’t believe she was working alone. I’m waiting on word from the car-licensing department to find out if a car was ever registered to her. I’ve also written to the convent in Dublin to see if she owned a car in Eire. If she did, then she could have brought it over with her when she came back here.’

‘So you think the car is important?’

‘It was seen by Mrs Davidson and Maggie, and a car drew out in front of Peter Walsh, making him slam on his non-existent brakes and have his accident.’

‘It must be someone who knows Robina. Do you think Robina had something to do with Etta’s disappearance, or knew who had and they were both trying to cover it up?’

‘What I can’t understand is where Etta went to on the night of her father’s death. She was seen by Mrs Pert in the evening and then, nothing. She must have had somewhere to go – either to her aunt’s house in Elizabeth Street or to one of her friends. But which one?’

Molly tried to put herself in Etta’s shoes. ‘At the time Mrs Pert saw her Etta probably didn’t know her father was dead, so she must have been planning to disappear for a while. That is why she almost emptied her savings account. But when the news of his death came out, why didn’t she reappear and grieve for him? She was seemingly besotted with him, although she didn’t care much for her mother.’

Charlie said, ‘Even if she had already left Dundee, surely the news of his death would be in the papers and she would have come home.’

Molly ventured, ‘Not unless she had somehow already found out about the accident and her distress gave her a final reason to leave forever.’

‘If she stayed with someone before going, the logical person would be Frances Flynn,’ said Charlie, ‘but Etta didn’t know about her connection with her aunt. It’s not as if they have the same surname.’ He suddenly had a thought. ‘Unless Frances, who went to the same convent school where Miss Price was a teacher, told Etta all about her schooldays in Eire and mentioned Miss Price’s name. If Etta knew her aunt’s address, then she could easily have made the connection. Then there’s Doctor Lowson, who was living in Arbroath at the time.’

Molly interrupted him. ‘Sasha Lowson didn’t like Etta. In fact, Etta had threatened her and the doctor got the message. That’s why she left the Bartons’ house and got other accommodation.’

‘Then let’s look at the others. Anita Armstrong, the lady with the fantastic memory. She says she left with her husband the year before this all happened but what if she’s lying. Maybe she became friendly with Etta and asked her to come and stay with them for a wee holiday at some point, and Etta took the chance to go there and then on to where she might be now. Then there’s Vina, she was a young lass back then. Maybe Etta asked for her help and Vina knew someone she could go to, perhaps a friend or a relative.’

Molly thought there was just one flaw with all this. ‘But why cover it all up? I mean, after all this time, does it matter where Etta is? And what about the attacks? Why is it worth harming people to keep her whereabouts hidden?’

Charlie shook his head and said he didn’t know. ‘I’ll wait for the results to get back about the car and maybe that will lead to something. I hope so.’ As he was leaving, he said, ‘Oh, I almost forgot, the tablets in the two bottles were aspirins, so there’s nothing sinister there.’

The woman was so pleased with herself at fooling everyone. Imagine the old bat dying like that, but that meant she was the perfect scapegoat. The police would connect her appearance with all the attacks and that suited her. All she had to now was to keep a low profile and soon she would disappear again – this time forever. She was so full of elation that she could have danced for joy but she had to be careful now. Anyone watching her would wonder. And she didn’t want that kind of scrutiny.

The Convent of the Holy Sisters was a beautiful building, built from a golden stone that shimmered, seemingly full of sunshine, even on a grey misty day like today. The school lay to the side of it and was a plainer building, built many, many years after the convent.

The Mother Superior sat with Sister Margaret in the small room off the chapel – a lovely place with lead windows and the ambience of a couple of centuries’ mixture of beeswax and faded flowers. The Mother Superior sat with a letter in her hand. ‘I have some sad news, Sister Margaret. Miss Price has died quite suddenly of a heart attack.’

Sister Margaret bowed her head. ‘That is sad news, Mother Superior. I didn’t think we would see her again after she left and it’s God’s will that we won’t.’

‘I have a letter from the police in Scotland. A Detective Sergeant Johns wants to know if Miss Price owned a car.’

Sister Margaret shook her head. ‘No, she didn’t. We all saw her off when she left and all her belongings were in one suitcase.’

The Mother Superior thought for a moment. ‘Yes, that is what I thought. We will say prayers at Mass for our late companion.’

Sister Margaret nodded and left the room. The Mother Superior sat for a long time afterwards. She remembered Miss Price very well. Although she had never taken orders and become a novice nun, she had possessed a deep and strong faith. The Mother Superior had never really known the woman. She had never discussed her life with anyone, even after all the years she had spent in the school where she had been a brilliant mathematics teacher. She had been a lonely woman but the Mother Superior never doubted Miss Price’s devotion to duty and to God.

Then there was the other letter, the one from the solicitor’s office in Dublin. The solicitor had couched the letter in his dry and very legal way of writing, but from what she could gather, he explained that Miss Price had left her entire estate to the convent. To start with, the Mother Superior had expected a few pounds for the poor box, but her eyes widened when she read the amount. Miss Price had lived quite simply but invested her salary in the stocks and shares market. The solicitor said she had the mathematical brain of a genius and had always bought and sold at the right time. This money would do such a power of good for their work at the convent. Miss Price, who had lived with one suitcase for most of her life, had died a very wealthy woman. The Mother Superior bent her head and said a prayer for the departed soul of a lonely woman.

Jimmy Flynn made his way up to the infirmary to see Peter. He knew Donna and the girls were busy moving to their new house and, as it was a rotten night with snow swirling in the cold wind, he didn’t think Peter would have any other visitors. Peter was beginning to get fed up in the hospital but his face brightened when Jimmy appeared. ‘I should be at home helping Donna with the flitting instead of being cooped up in here.’ He sounded grumpy.