The Religious Body by Catherine Aird Read Free Book Online

the first thing Superintendent Leeyes would want to know—an “inside” job or an “outside” one. On this hung a great many things.
    â€œWe 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.” She smiled gently. “We are, in fact, to have a rather special service here next month. Miss Faine is to be married to Mr. Ranby, the Institute’s Principal, and the Bishop has given his consent to our Chapel being used—as it would have been had the Faines still lived here.”
    â€œHow do they get in?” enquired Sloan with interest.
    â€œThere is a door leading outside from the Chapel. Sister Polycarp unlocks it before the service.”
    â€œTradesmen?”
    â€œWe have everything delivered. Sister Cellarer deals with them at the back door, and Sister Lucy here pays them.”
    â€œNo one else?”
    â€œJust Hobbett—he’s our handyman. There are some tasks—just one or two, you understand—which are beyond our capacities.”
    Sloan nodded. “This Hobbett—does he have to run the gauntlet every day?”
    â€œPast Sister Polycarp? No, his work is at the back. He has his own key to the boiler room and his own routine—dustbins, ladders, cleaning the upstairs outside windows and so forth. And the boiler for three-quarters of the time.”
    â€œThree quarters?”
    â€œSister 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.”
    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.
    â€œI am Inspector Sloan.”
    The man took a noisy sip of tea and set the mug down carefully on the table. “Hobbett.”
    He hadn’t shaved this morning.
    â€œWe are enquiring into the death of Sister Anne.”
    Hobbett took another sip of tea. “I heard one of ’em had fallen down the cellar steps.” He jerked his head towards the door in the corner. “I don’t go through that far meself or happen I might ’ave found her for you.”
    â€œHow far do you go through?”
    â€œJust to the boiler—got to keep that going—and the coke place with kindling and that. Mostly I work in the grounds.”
    To Sloan he hadn’t the look of a man who worked anywhere.
    â€œWhat were you doing yesterday?”
    â€œYesterday?” Hobbett looked surprised. “I’d ’ave to think.” He took a long pull at his tea. “I 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. I’d just finished when Sister Lucy sent for me to shift a window that’d got stuck.”
    â€œUpstairs or down?”
    â€œUp. I’d just put my ladders away, too. She wouldn’t have it left though. Said it was dangerous. One of ’em might have escaped through it, I suppose.” He drank the rest of his tea in one long swallow and licked his lips. “Not that there’s much for them to escape for, is there now?”
    â€œThis Sister Anne,” said Sloan sharply. “Did you see her often?”
    â€œWouldn’t know her if I did. Can’t tell some of them from which, if you get me.