Brought in Dead

‘She first came to my church about three months ago. I noticed something different about her at once. This is a twilight area, most of the houses in multiple occupation, the tenants constantly coming and going. Joanna was obviously the product of a safer more ordered world. She was out of her element.’

‘Can you tell us where she lived?’

‘She had a room with a Mrs Kilroy, a parishioner of mine. It’s not far from here. I’ve given Detective Constable Brady the address.’

Somehow, the fact that he had used Brady’s official title seemed to underline a new formality in the interchange. It was as if he were preparing himself for the question that he knew must come.

‘I know this must be a difficult situation for you, Father,’ Miller said gently. ‘But this girl had problems and they must have been pretty desperate to make her take the way out that she did. Can you throw any light on them?’

Brady cleared his throat awkwardly and shuffled his feet. The old man shook his head. ‘For me, the secrecy of the confessional must be absolute. Surely you must be aware of that, sergeant.’

Miller nodded. ‘Of course, Father. I won’t press you any further. You’ve already helped us a great deal.’

Father Ryan stood up and held out his hand. ‘If I can help in any other way, don’t hesitate to get in touch.’

Brady was already moving away. Miller started to follow and hesitated. ‘One more thing, Father. I understand there could be some difficulty regarding burial because of the manner of death.’

‘Not in this case,’ Father Ryan said firmly. ‘There are several mitigating circumstances. I intend raising the matter with the Bishop personally. I may say with some certainty that I foresee little difficulty.’

Miller smiled. ‘I’m glad.’

‘Forgive me for saying so, but you appear to have some personal interest here? May I ask why?’

‘I pulled her out of the river myself,’ Miller told him. ‘Something I’m not likely to forget in a hurry. I know one thing – I’d like to get my hands on whoever was responsible.’

Father Ryan sighed. ‘It’s a strange thing, but in spite of the fact that most people believe priests to be somehow cut off from the real world, I come face to face with more human wickedness in a week than the average man does in a lifetime.’ He smiled gently. ‘And I still believe that at heart, most human beings are good.’

‘I wish I could agree, Father,’ Miller said sombrely. ‘I wish I could agree.’ He turned and walked away quickly to where Jack Brady waited at the gate.

Mrs Kilroy was a large, unlovely widow with flaming red hair that had come straight out of a bottle and a thin mouth enlarged by orange lipstick into an obscene gash.

‘I keep a respectable place here, I’ve never had any trouble before,’ she said as she led the way up-stairs.

‘No trouble, Mrs Kilroy,’ Brady said persuasively. ‘We just want to see the room, that’s all, and ask a few questions.’

The landing was long and dark, its polished lino covered by a thin strip of worn carpeting. The door at the far end was locked. She produced a bunch of keys, opened it and led the way in.

The room was surprisingly large and furnished in Victorian mahogany. The curtains at the only window were partially closed, the traffic sounds outside muted and unreal as if from another world and a thin bar of sunlight fell across the floor adding a new richness to the faded colours of the old Indian carpet.

It was the neatness that was so surprising and the cleanliness. The bed had been stripped, the blankets folded into squares and stacked at one end of the mattress and the top of the dressing table had quite obviously been dusted. Miller opened one or two of the empty drawers, closed them again and turned.

‘And this is exactly how you found the room this morning?’

Mrs Kilroy nodded. ‘She came and knocked on my door last night at about ten o’clock.’

‘Had she been out?’

‘I wouldn’t know. She told me she’d be moving today.’

‘Did she say why?’

Mrs Kilroy shook her head. ‘I didn’t ask. I was more interested in getting a week’s rent in lieu of notice, which was the agreement.’

‘And she paid?’

‘Without a murmur. Mind you there was never any trouble over her rent, I’ll say that. Not like some.’

Brady had busied himself during the conversation in moving around the room, checking all drawers and cupboards. Now he turned and shook his head. ‘Clean as a whistle.’

‘Which means that when she left, she must have taken everything with her.’ Miller turned to Mrs Kilroy. ‘Did you see her go?’

‘Last time I saw her was about half ten. She knocked on the door and told me she’d some rubbish to burn. Asked if she could put it in the central heating furnace in the cellar.’

‘Have you been down there since?’

‘No need. It has an automatic stoking system. Only needs checking every two days.’

‘I see.’ Miller walked across to the window and pulled back the curtains. ‘Let’s go back to when you last saw her. Did she seem worried or agitated?’

Mrs Kilroy shook her head quickly. ‘She was just the same as she always was.’

‘And yet she killed herself less than three hours later.’

‘God have mercy on her.’ There was genuine horror in Mrs Kilroy’s voice and she crossed herself quickly.

‘What else can you tell me about her? I understand she’d been a tenant of yours for about three months.’

‘That’s right. She arrived on the doorstep one afternoon with a couple of suitcases. As it happened, I had a vacancy and she offered a month’s rent in advance in lieu of references.’

‘What did you think of her?’

Mrs Kilroy shrugged. ‘She didn’t really fit in. Too much of the lady for a district like this. I never asked questions, I always mind my own business, but if anyone had a story to tell it was her.’

‘Father Ryan doesn’t seem to think Joanna Martin was her real name.’

‘I shouldn’t be surprised.’

‘What did she do for a living?’

‘She paid her rent on time and never caused any trouble. Whatever she did was her own business. One thing – she had an easel set up in here. Used to paint in oils. I once asked her if she was a student, but she said it was only a hobby.’

‘Did she go out much – at night, for instance?’

‘She could have been out all night and every night as far as I was concerned. All my lodgers have their own keys.’ She shrugged. ‘More often than not I’m out myself.’

‘Did anyone ever call for her?’

‘Not that I noticed. She kept herself to herself. The only outstanding thing I do remember is that sometimes she looked really ill. I had to help her up the stairs one day. I wanted to call the doctor, but she said it was just her monthly. I saw her later that afternoon and she looked fine.’