Sitting at her desk, Frankie started looking into the orphanage. A local history site provided her with the name of the organisation responsible for the children’s welfare, a Catholic Order known as the Sisters of Holy Mercy. The orphanage closed in 2000 when the local authority took over responsibility for any waifs and strays. It had been put up for sale and over the following ten years the building had deteriorated to such a dangerous state that the council used a compulsory purchase order to have it demolished. The site was finally sold in 2013 to a private developer for a substantial profit and a block of upmarket flats now occupied the site. Frankie puzzled over the name, Sisters of Holy Mercy – it sounded familiar. Her phone rang, interrupting her train of thought. She picked it up, introduced herself and recognised the French accent on the other end of the phone immediately.

“Detective Constable Frankie McKenzie?”

“Speaking.” Her response was brusque, she didn’t have time to deal with the reporter’s questions today. “How can I help you?”

“I was hoping I could help you.”

“What have you got?”

“Margo McDonald paid us a visit yesterday, wanted to tell us her side of the story. Did you know Oscar claims he was sexually assaulted as a child?”

Frankie frowned at the receiver. “Margo told you that?”

“Yes, and I believe her. More to the point, she told me who it was that abused him.”

Frankie reached for her notebook and pen, trapping the phone between her shoulder and cheek to free up both hands.

“Who?”

“The minister of St Cuthbert’s and members of staff connected with the orphanage that used to be on City Road. The one run by the Sisters...”

“Of Holy Mercy.” Frankie concluded for her.

“I see you are two steps in front of me. This is Margo’s story. It’s going in tomorrow’s paper, together with a back story on the Sisters.”

“What’s the story about the Sisters?” Frankie asked urgently before the reporter could hang up.

“The Sisters of Holy Mercy have been associated with child abuse at a number of orphanages throughout the UK and Ireland. There have been successful prosecutions, both against individual nuns as well as visiting clergy and dignitaries who treated the orphanages as their personal hunting grounds. Nothing has ever been reported locally but if this follows the pattern elsewhere, we might expect anyone who has been abused to come forward after we publish. I thought you should know.”

XIV
TUESDAY 11:05

Frankie put the phone down and glanced towards Corstorphine’s office. He was bent over some paperwork, taking notes as he read. This couldn’t wait.

“Sir?” She stood at the threshold of the office, waiting for his permission to enter.

“What is it, Frankie? I’m expecting Hamish in any minute.”

“I’ll be quick, sir. I’ve just had the reporter from the Courier on the phone.” Corstorphine’s eyes performed a parabolic sweep of the office ceiling. “Margo was in with them yesterday, told them Oscar was sexually abused as a kid. They’re publishing her story and claiming staff at the orphanage were involved in some paedophile ring. She named the St Cuthbert’s minister specifically as one of the abusers.”