ate some more crow. Finally she managed to steer Millicent onto the murder itself and most particularly onto Cindy. Faith had a hunch that the key to the whole murder lay in Cindy's noxious personality. After all, someone had disliked her enough to kill her. If that wasn't bad personality, what was it?
“Mrs. McKinley,' she began.
“Do call me Millicent, everyone does. And I shall call you Faith, or is it Fay ? '
“Faith, please, Millicent—or' (She couldn't resist) 'is it Millie?'
“ Millicent,' she snapped. ' And you were saying ? '
“Yes, well, having discovered the body and since the Svensons are members of our congregation, of course I've been giving Cindy 's murder a lot of thought,' Faith said, all of which did not fool Millicent for a minute as one snooper eyed the other. Still it sounded good.
“ What I've been wondering about is Cindy's other ' friends.' I'm sure Dave was not the only one, and perhaps you saw her with someone else ? “
Millicent smiled. It was frightening.
“Oh, I saw Cindy all right. With Dave, of course. On their way to the belfry.
“Oh?”
Faith suddenly realized that Millicent was perhaps the sole person in town who had some admiration for Cindy. Millicent looked at her sharply.
“Yes, I thought Cindy could do a lot better. She would never have been happy with Dave. She could have had him on toast for breakfast. Not that I liked her,' and a scowl crossed her face.
Ah, thought Faith, another victim.
“No, she was mean-spirited and selfish, but she was also bright and strong. And what energy ! When she organized anything, you knew it would be done correctly.”
Faith remembered that Millicent and Cindy had been the driving, very driving, forces behind that big Patriot's Day pancake breakfast every year that raised funds for the DAR and CAR.
“ She was exactly like her great-grandmother Harriet, full of ambition and energy. It's an interesting family, the Coxes—Cindy's great-great-grandfather was Captain Martin Cox and everybody always referred to the family as “Cox,' even though Patricia's maiden name was Stoddard and they were Eliots before that.' Millicent was quick to grab any and all opportunities to show off. Her mind was a familial pursuit Rolodex.
“Harriet wrote a history of the family, which you might enjoy reading. Of course, I can 't lend you my copy, but the library has one.'
“Thank you, and I wouldn't dream of taking your copy. I'll make a point of getting it from the library,' said Faith sweetly. And resolved to add the work to the list of books she would probably never read along with the collected works of Mrs. Humphrey Ward and Sir Walter Scott that stood in leather-bound glory on the parsonage bookshelves.
Returning to her mission, Faith tried to steer Millicent back on course. 'But,' she insisted gently, 'there was never any one boy you saw Cindy with other than Dave?'
“Not ' boy,' dear,' Millicent said archly, 'More like 'man,' but that would be telling and I do not believe in spreading idle gossip.”
The hell you don't, thought Faith bitterly. This is just to get back at me for the bell again.
Millicent stubbornly continued on her way and was talking about the Coxes again. It had been madness, Faith thought, to think that she could actually direct the conversation.
“Of course the Captain, as Martin was always called, did make a fortune, but I believe Harriet's husband added to it considerably. The Captain's money had all gone to Harriet. She was the oldest. It was some whim of his to keep it all intact. The whole will was distinctly original. The Coxes always were. In this generation Patricia got the house because her sister Polly didn 't want it. Polly took the money, though, and it passed to Cindy, or would have.'
“Who will get the money now, then ? ' Faith asked boldly.
“Oh, it will go to Patricia, of course. And just in time, if you ask me.”
Which Faith did to no avail. Millicent Revere McKinley was more than willing to drop hints, but as for spreading around any real information of the specific 'The British are coming' nature of her illustrious forebear, the answer was 'Ride on.' So Faith did.
Millicent walked her to the door and continued out down the brick path in front of her house. Faith said good-bye and thanked her nicely for the coffee. She wondered if it was worth it to come back and try again or if Millicent would continue to dangle clues in front of her cat-and-mouse style. Probably the latter. She glanced back over her shoulder. Millicent was picking a few late-blooming roses.
A few pink Sweetheart roses.
Faith 's next stop was Eleanor Whipple's pretty white Victorian house. She didn't expect much information here. Eleanor was the soul of innocence and even if she had seen something would probably not know what it meant. Still, her house was at the foot of Belfry Hill and she just might have noticed something, or rather someone.
Eleanor welcomed her warmly and ushered Faith into her cozy parlor. Faith managed to avoid the horsehair loveseat, which always threatened to land her on the carpet, and chose a low-slung sort of folding chair covered with blue and white striped velvet.
“Father always called that the “Egyptian chair,' whether because it folds in that interesting way or because of the material, I never remembered to ask him and of course now it is too late.”
Considering that Miss Whipple's father had been dead for some thirty years, Faith thought it was much too late.
Faith got some nice digestive biscuits with her coffee this time and she was able to set it on a little decoupage table in front of her.
“This looks much too fragile to use,' Faith protested. 'Oh, that's just an old piece of clutter that Mother made,' Miss Eleanor said. 'Don't worry about it.' Faith knew it wasn't at all, and managed to find a doily to slip under her cup and saucer. In Aleford, it was usually possible to find a doily someplace—or in certain homes it was, anyway.
She took a sip of coffee; it was good and strong. She thought of the first time she had visited Eleanor and fought to stifle the giggles that always threatened at the memory. It had been teatime and Eleanor had entered the parlor with a heavily laden tray, announcing proudly, 'You'll never taste tea like this anywhere else. I make it with my own water,' and proceeded to pour a pale, slightly golden stream into Faith 's cup. Was she insane ? Faith wondered as she eyed the brew. Too much tatting? 'Yes,' Eleanor continued, 'When we modernized the kitchen, Mother made them leave the old pump by the sink. The well is right underneath, in the basement. She didn 't like the taste of town water. It's all right for washing, but you don 't know what could have fallen in the reservoir and we never drank it.' Faith drained her cup and had to admit the jasmine tea did taste delicious. Afterward Eleanor took her to see the pump. She insisted Faith give it a try, although the whole idea, quaint as it was, filled her with repugnance, raising the possibility of blisters and unsightly muscular development.
Faith took another sip of coffee and glanced about the room. It was a shrine to Eleanor 's ancestors. There were daguerreotypes perched on the tables and portraits of various sizes hung on the walls. Thick albums covered with velvet attested to still more. Just over Eleanor's head was a faded enlargement of three little girls with fluffy hair, their dresses covered with Fourth of July bunting. Who were they and where were they now ? Faith shivered slightly, pondering the probable answer.
Eleanor had noticed her apparent interest.
“I like to be surrounded by my family,' she commented, 'Of course I didn 't know all these people, but I am proud of them nonetheless. Nothing is more important than your family. This was one of my mother's lessons, Faith, and I'm sure you'd agree.”
Faith gave what she hoped was an enthusiastic response and managed to work the conversation around to the murder, 'Cindy Shepherd was distantly related to you, I understand. What do you think about all this?'
“ I think it is terrifically inconvenient for Robert and Patricia,' she commented emphatically. That seemed to be the extent of her thinking, although she was willing to talk as much as Faith wanted.
