Free Secret of the Shadows by Cathy MacPhail

through the venetian blinds.
    ‘I better go. But remember, you can call me anytime. Day or night. I mean that.’
    I felt better after speaking to Paul, and now, knowing his mobile number, I felt at least I had someone I could talk to. Someone who believed me.

Chapter 21
     
    The chemist was at the far end of the main street. I told her my aunt’s symptoms and she seemed to think Aunt Belle was right. It was probably just a bug she had picked up on the plane. I so wanted that to be the case I didn’t even question it. ‘But if there is no improvement by tomorrow, call the doctor. No matter what she says,’ she told me. ‘At her age you can’t take any chances.’
    Aunt Belle was sleeping when I got back in the house. But it looked as if she’d been up. Looking for her book again by the way books were scattered across the floor. Her own book was the first one I picked up. Angels of Death .
    I held it in my hand and began to think. How often had I picked this book up from the floor? I’d lost count. Angels of Death . Always there on the floor waiting for me.
    Waiting.
    Now why should I use that word?
    And it wasn’t a murder mystery as I had first thought, but real-life case histories of unsolved murders. I opened the book, and there written in her neat hand, was my gran’s name. Rosina Tyler Crawford. She always wrote her name in her books. This wasn’t Aunt Belle’s book at all. It was my gran’s. I turned to the title page.
     
    ANGELS OF DEATH
    Nurses Who Kill
     
    I sat on the floor and began to flick through the pages. This book wasn’t just about unsolved murders. It was about murders by nurses, by doctors, by carers. Chapter after chapter told stories of people in the medical profession who had abused the trust placed in them. This was my gran’s book. A message from the other side, meant for me to find. She was trying to pass information on to me. I looked around this room, always so warm and welcoming, and I knew then, without seeing her, that my gran was present here. She was in this room, watching over me and Aunt Belle. It was Gran who had made sure I would find this book, though it had taken me ages to figure that out.
    ‘I won’t let you down now, Gran,’ I whispered. And as if in answer a breeze came in from the window and the curtains fluttered.
    I looked back to the book. One of the pages was bookmarked. I opened it.
     
    CHAPTER 10
    The Missing Murderess
     
    And that’s when I saw that it wasn’t a bookmark in the page at all. It was a photograph. A photograph of a tall woman with dark hair. Her hand was raised, as if she was trying to cover her face, as if she wanted to hide it from the camera. As if she didn’t want to be photographed at all. And she was standing at the front door of this bungalow. I recognised the honeysuckle and the sign. Mille Failte . I turned the photograph over and there, written in my gran’s fine hand, was a name.
     
    Sister Kelly
     
    And a question.
     
    The missing murderess?

Chapter 22
     
    I took a deep breath and began to read the chapter.
     
    In the early years of the First World War, a young nurse, Mary Duff, worked with wounded soldiers in Italy. She was popular with soldiers and staff alike, always willing to work extra hours, a nurse who would never leave the side of a dying soldier. Then it began to be noticed that the soldiers she remained with usually did die, even when they were expected to survive. She was always on hand when there was an emergency and it seemed there were more emergencies on her shift than anyone else’s.
    But soldiers die all the time in the theatre of war so no great notice was taken of it until one young soldier who was brought in refused to be treated by her. The Angel of Death, he called her. No one listened to him. He was considered delirious. That night, on her shift, the young soldier suffered a massive trauma and died. Though nothing could be proved against her, Nurse Mary Duff was sent home. And seemed to