A Demon Summer by G. M. Malliet Read Free Book Online

be ferreted out.”
    Max suddenly was feeling decidedly ferrety. Surely the bishop didn’t intend him to—
    â€œI want you to go there and find out what you can, Max. All you can.”
    Well, this was a new one. In all his days with MI5, he had never been sent to spy on nuns. Not even once. He said as much.
    â€œThe scandal must be stopped in its tracks,” replied the bishop. “I’ve asked the police for discretion while we launch an internal investigation. It is at least on the surface a criminal matter but one taking place months ago, so I gather it is not a priority with them. No one died, you see, and all these months later it will be jolly hard to sort out.”
    With a sigh, the bishop put his hands on top of his desk, the fingers spread, as if he might be trying to cause the desk to levitate. The gold of his very large episcopal ring caught the sunlight. His hands were surprisingly rough and reddened; Max knew the bishop was a keen gardener, and visitors to the beautiful cathedral grounds were unaware that the man with a hoe in overalls turning over the soil in the flowerbeds might be the bishop himself, dressed in mufti to escape detection.
    â€œYou can see how the scandal would ruin them overnight,” the bishop continued. “And it puts me in rather an awkward position. I have given them almost complete free rein and autonomy. In return they’ve been self-sustaining—not once have they called on the church for financial help, even during the lean years, and they did have a few of those. The abbess before Abbess Justina was a bit of a spendthrift and given to what I’d call ornamental changes—but even there I just let her go, as it didn’t seem to be anything requiring my attention. So what once would have been lauded as benign management might now be…”
    â€œMight be regarded as dangerous neglect,” Max finished for him. “Even active neglect. I do understand.”
    â€œSo if you were to look into it and find that the nuns are blameless in all this … you do see, Max?”
    Max did see. The bishop was hoping against hope that a theory of an “outside agency” would hold and that Max would uncover evidence in support of that theory.
    â€œYes,” said Max. “But, Bishop, whatever I may discover, if it is the truth—well, then it is the truth of what happened. I won’t be able to alter or undo what I find, as awkward as it may prove to be for the church.”
    â€œOf course not. I wouldn’t expect you to. I just hope … and pray…”
    â€œQuite,” said Max. “That it’s not an inside job. When did you last talk with Abbess Justina in person?”
    â€œI visited there only last year. It was a formal visitation, you know, to see that all was well.”
    Max nodded. Part of the creaking machinery of the church in post-Reformation Europe had been increased vigilance over the goings-on in convents and monasteries.
    â€œAnd was it?”
    â€œNo. No it wasn’t. And that is of course what is bothering me now. That I should have heeded my instincts. Asked more questions. And now there’s what might be a case of attempted murder. Could I have prevented it somehow? That will haunt me.”
    â€œWhat did you sense was wrong—the finances only? Or something more?”
    â€œNo, no. Finances looked all in order then, on paper at least. I’m no forensic accountant but the bottom line looked sound. Business was booming, in fact. It was when I talked with each nun in turn. Something that was not being said was what I heard, if you follow.”
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI don’t want to prejudice you by telling you specifics in advance of your visit. You can’t investigate something like this from a distance. I’ve made arrangements with—what’s his name? That DCI who was involved in the affair at Chedrow Castle.”
    â€œDCI