When Faith asked if Eleanor had seen anyone go up the hill on Friday, or noticed Cindy going up on other days, she looked up from the detailed bit of petit point she was working on, ' You know, my eyes are not what they used to be, dear, and in any case, I'm afraid even if I had seen someone, I wouldn 't have known who it was. I don 't know the names of all the young people anymore. Of course I knew Cindy.' There was a noticeably acerbic tinge to her voice, 'But not her friends.”
She returned to her handwork. It was easy to see why her eyes were going.
Faith was forced to concede she wasn 't going to get anything from Eleanor, and after some delightful minutes spent with Eleanor admiring Benjamin, she firmly refused lunch—Welsh rarebit—and set off for her third and final stop.
As she sat down at Pix Miller's big kitchen table, Faith had to admit she was there as much for some cheering up as information. Certainly morale was important in any murder investigation.
It wasn't that Pix was little Mary Sunshine exactly and thank goodness. What she radiated was solid common sense mixed with a very funny sense of humor.
She had been a tiny child and her parents had whimsically called her 'Pixie'—why do people do these things, Faith wondered, resolving that she would stop calling Benjamin ' Punkin' immediately lest it stick with him unto old age. Pixie had solved the problem by shooting up alarmingly in her teens so that at close to six feet, 'Pixie' was not only ludicrous, but obscene. Still, old habits die hard and she became 'Pix,' which seemed to suit her. When Faith finally remembered to ask her what her 'real' name was, it turned out to be 'Myrtle.' After the ground cover with the pretty little purple flowers. Who were these people'? So 'Pix' it was.
She was the person you called in Aleford if you were looking for another driver for the scouts overnight to Harold Parker State Forest or if someone needed a volunteer to help at the Senior Center kitchen. Pix drove a Land Rover, bred gorgeous golden retrievers, was an expert white water canoer, and had three kids, the middle of which was Faith's trusty babysitter, Samantha. Sam Miller was a lawyer. They had both grown up in Aleford—a high school romance that endured.
Pix welcomed Faith in, automatically gave her some coffee, which Faith had learned they did in suburbia, and took Benjamin lovingly on her lap. Pix adored babies.
“You look full of secrets, Faith,' she said, making horrible grimaces at Benjamin, which he regarded with great amusement.
“I wish I were,' Faith responded, 'This whole thing is a complete mystery.'
“Murders usually are—for a while, anyway. But I agree this one is especially deep and dark. The kids are very upset about Dave and everyone is racking his or her brains for some kind of alternative. We all know he didn't do it, but who else is there?'
“Exactly what I tried to find out this morning. Millicent knows something, but she's not telling. Or rather she's not telling me. Maybe she would talk to you?'
“Not likely, Faith. She's never forgiven my mother for refusing to join the DAR. I think she thinks we are some sort of pinkos and you know what she thinks of Redcoats.”
They laughed.
“I'll bet there is a Tory or two in her closet,' Faith said, 'Maybe we can find out and blackmail her into telling us what she knows.'
“Faith ! My word ! You have been taking this more seriously than I thought. What would Tom say ? ' Pix chided mockingly.
“What he always says, `Faith, Faith, Faith,' slowly shaking his head and looking at me with those cocker spaniel eyes. Oh, pardon, golden retriever eyes.'
“That's better,' Pix propped Benjamin up against one shoulder with a practiced arm and gave a whiff, 'Faith, sweetie, give me a diaper—you've got a messy boy here—and while I change him why don 't you heat up the lentil soup in the fridge and add anything that comes to mind ? Maybe if we eat something we'll think more logically.”
The soup was good. Pix could be counted on for certain things, Faith had learned—a terrific chili for a Boston bean and great soups. But then there had been that dinner of chicken covered with pineapple chunks and maraschino cherries. Pix had a fatal tendency to be swayed by the pictures in some women 's magazines.
While they ate, Faith told her about her visit to Eleanor and the dry well it turned out to be. Pix wasn 't surprised.
“I don't think Eleanor would notice a crime even if it were occurring in her own living room. She'd just straighten the antimacassars and put a blanket over the body, presuming whoever it was was taking a short nap.'
“Come on, she can't be that out of it,' Faith protested.
“Believe me, she is,' replied Pix, 'and somehow I hope she stays that way. Something unchanging in this wicked whirling world of ours. You know her skirts will never go up or down and if she 's not sitting straight as a ramrod in the third pew from the pulpit on the left-hand side of the church at ten forty-five every Sunday then she's either gone to her Maker on her own or the whole town has been wiped out by an atom bomb or the bubonic plague. I look at her and it gives me strength to cope with my hectic life. At least one person isn 't as crazy as the rest of us.”
Pix was what could be euphemistically referred to as 'overextended,' Faith reflected. In one month she probably put on the equivalent of a cross country journey chauffering the kids and doing errands. She was unbelievably organized, though. There were lists and notes taped to every surface in the house: 'Samantha, don 't forget your flute' and 'Danny, there are cookies in the cupboard, enjoy them while you do your spelling words,' and so on. Her laundry room had five separate baskets each labeled with someone 's name and standing ready for the clothes as they came out of the dryer. What Faith, and others, did not know was that all this planning and list- making was a cover for Pix 's fundamentally disorganized mind. She was the type of woman who asks herself out loud, 'Why did I open this drawer ? ' in order to jog her memory to say, ' Scotch tape.' She knew that without the mnemonics, life would be hopeless. Where her thoughts wandered was not altogether clear ; she could certainly call them back when she needed them, but basically she was a dreamer—night and day. It amused her, and caused an occasional pang of guilt at the deception, that people thought she was so practical and organized. Her husband, Sam, was amused too, but that was because he had observed that over the years she really had become practical and well organized without knowing it. He knew he'd never be able to convince her of that and didn 't try. There wasn 't any point.
While Faith and Pix finished the soup, they discussedthe contents of the tin box. Its existence was not yet common knowledge, but Jenny had immediately called Samantha, her best friend, with news of the find.
“Not the easiest identifications to make,' Pix commented. ' Can you imagine Charley knocking on doors and asking the man of the house to please drop his drawers ? “
They laughed and turned to talk about domestic trials. Samantha wasn 't talking to Pix, because said mother had humiliated her by picking up Willy Stergis, a sixth-grade boy, on the way to school.
“ Honestly, Faith, you should have seen her ! ' Pix laughed. ' Her entire seventh-grade body was hunched down in the seat and she wouldn't get out of the car at school until poor Willy had gone in the door. I mean who knows what social suicide she would have committed if any of her friends had seen her. And of course, the fact that I had on my flannel nightgown under my trench coat made matters even worse. All I wanted to do was give Willy a ride. It was chilly last week.”
They went back to the murder and the various blackmail possibilities, but didn't get any further in their speculations. Faith arrived home to put Benjamin down for a nap with no clearer idea of who could possibly have killed Cindy Shepherd than when she started.
Tom came home late in the afternoon. Wednesday was his day at the VA hospital as chaplain. He was always tired after this and sometimes a little depressed. Today was no exception. Faith fed Benjamin, who rewarded her efforts by giving her the raspberry with most of his meal. Then she made an early dinner for Tom and herself. Afterward they sat in front of the first fire of the season to read.
At nine o'clock Faith realized that she was nodding off and Tom was sound asleep. Rousing him and sending him up to bed, she went into the kitchen and made her- self a strong cup of tea. She could get sonic sleep when the case
She went upstairs and whispered in Tom's unconscious ear that she was going out for some ice cream, a statement that would have astounded him had he been awake, since they had a freezer full of Faith 's own glaces
