the first thing Superintendent Leeyes would want to knowâan âinsideâ job or an âoutsideâ one. On this hung a great many things.
âWe are not a strictly enclosed Order, Inspector. Sisters are allowed to leave the Convent for works of necessity and mercy, and so forth. They have interviews here in the Parlor unless it is a Clothing, when they come into the Chapel. Our Chapel was originally the Faine private one, and Mrs. Faine and her daughter still attend services here, as do others in Cullingoak.â She smiled gently. âWe are, in fact, to have a rather special service here next month. Miss Faine is to be married to Mr. Ranby, the Instituteâs Principal, and the Bishop has given his consent to our Chapel being usedâas it would have been had the Faines still lived here.â
âHow do they get in?â enquired Sloan with interest.
âThere is a door leading outside from the Chapel. Sister Polycarp unlocks it before the service.â
âTradesmen?â
âWe have everything delivered. Sister Cellarer deals with them at the back door, and Sister Lucy here pays them.â
âNo one else?â
âJust Hobbettâheâs our handyman. There are some tasksâjust one or two, you understandâwhich are beyond our capacities.â
Sloan nodded. âThis Hobbettâdoes he have to run the gauntlet every day?â
âPast Sister Polycarp? No, his work is at the back. He has his own key to the boiler room and his own routineâdustbins, ladders, cleaning the upstairs outside windows and so forth. And the boiler for three-quarters of the time.â
âThree quarters?â
âSister Ignatius is the only person who can persuade it to function at all when the wind is in the east. Her devotions are frequently interrupted.â
They found Hobbett in a small, not uncozy room at the foot of a short flight of outside stairs descending to cellar level not far from the kitchen door. It was lined with logs, and a litter of broken pieces of wood covered the floor. There was a chair with one arm broken and an old table. Hobbett was sitting at this having his midday break. There was a mug of steaming tea on the table. He was reading a popular daily newspaper with a tradition of the sensational.
âI am Inspector Sloan.â
The man took a noisy sip of tea and set the mug down carefully on the table. âHobbett.â
He hadnât shaved this morning.
âWe are enquiring into the death of Sister Anne.â
Hobbett took another sip of tea. âI heard one of âem had fallen down the cellar steps.â He jerked his head towards the door in the corner. âI donât go through that far meself or happen I might âave found her for you.â
âHow far do you go through?â
âJust to the boilerâgot to keep that goingâand the coke place with kindling and that. Mostly I work in the grounds.â
To Sloan he hadnât the look of a man who worked anywhere.
âWhat were you doing yesterday?â
âYesterday?â Hobbett looked surprised. âIâd âave to think.â He took a long pull at his tea. âI cleared out a drain first. The gutter from the Chapel roof was blocked with leaves and I had to get my ladders out. Long job, that was. Iâd just finished when Sister Lucy sent for me to shift a window thatâd got stuck.â
âUpstairs or down?â
âUp. Iâd just put my ladders away, too. She wouldnât have it left though. Said it was dangerous. One of âem might have escaped through it, I suppose.â He drank the rest of his tea in one long swallow and licked his lips. âNot that thereâs much for them to escape for, is there now?â
âThis Sister Anne,â said Sloan sharply. âDid you see her often?â
âWouldnât know her if I did. Canât tell some of them from which, if you get me.
Learning to Kill: Stories