So it was Dave again. He met all the classic tests : means, motive, and opportunity. The snag was personality and Charley tried hard to convince himself that indeed anyone could kill, as he had so emphatically told Faith.
Dave had, by his own report, left the Moores' at noon, which was the approximate time the poison was administered, according to the coroner. Friday noon for Cindy and Friday noon for Patricia. Could it be simply coincidence?
Dave had gone home, eaten lunch, and left for an afternoon class. Just a normal day. The next morning he was hauled in for the murder of the woman he had loved best next to his own mother.
When Dave entered the police station, Charley could hardly bear to look at him. He tried to put a comforting hand on Dave's shoulder, but it was shrugged away—not so much in anger as sadness. Charley thought he had never seen anyone look more tragically defeated than Dave sitting slumped over, his eyes fixed on the concrete floor, waiting.
Tom and the Svensons arrived and Dave broke into noisy sobs. But they didn't last long. The lawyer came soon after and tried to talk with him, but Dave wasn't saying much. It was
Torn turned to the Svensons. ' Why don't you go home for a while ? The others will want to know what is happening and I'll stay with Dave. I'll call if there's anything new to report. We
The Svensons reluctantly left and a few minutes later Dunne asked Dave and his lawyer to come with him to review and sign Dave 's statement. Charley and Tom looked at each other wearily.
“Thanks for getting rid of the Svensons, Tom. The way Eva was staring at me, I was beginning to feel so guilty I almost confessed myself just to get that look off her face.'
“I know,' Tom agreed, shaking his head. He was sitting in a swivel chair across from Charley's desk. He was becoming horribly familiar with the decor of the Aleford police station and it left a lot to be desired. The calendar from the Patriot Fuel Oil Company appeared to be the only thing that wasn't gray or dark green.
“Charley, I know this probably isn't necessary to say, but I hope when I have to leave, you'll keep a close eye on Dave.”
The chief looked surprised.
“I don't think he's going to try to escape,' Tom said. 'Or at least not in the way you're thinking. I'm afraid he 's so depressed now ; he might try to take his own life.'
“It's crossed my mind, too, Tom. He 's never been a high-strung kid, but Lord knows what's happened in the last two weeks would do it to anyone. Dale has known him for a long time and I'll make sure he 's with him all the time. Once he starts to really talk, the danger will be past. I've seen it before.'
“Maybe he'll talk to Dale. Of course the one person he would have opened up to isn't here.' Tom looked grave.
“You know, Tom, I simply can't make any sense of this one. Patricia Moore was just about the finest woman I've ever known and if it does turn out to be Dave, it would have to have been insanity. Maybe Millicent is right and there is some sort of lunatic loose. Last night I was awake all night. What did Patricia have to tell us and why didn't she tell us sooner? Why didn 't she tell Robert, her own husband ? He says something was definitely bothering her lately, but when he asked her what was wrong she told him it was something she had to work out herself. It all ties in with what she was saying to Faith last weekend, too. Obviously she knew something, but what? I know it wasn't Dale's fault, or the secretary 's. We were in closed court, but dear God if only she had called yesterday—I was at the station all day. She might be alive now.”
Tom had never heard Charley speak at such length.
He got up, went around the desk, and put his arm around MacIsaac 's shoulder. Charley didn 't shrug it off. 'Charley, don 't forget the strain you're under, too. The answer will come in time. The pieces are all here in Aleford in front of our noses, I 'm convinced of that.'
“So am I. I just hope Dunne and I can put them together without breaking the town up too much.' Charley was verging on metaphorical, Tom thought. It looked like he was being stretched to the limit. 'I 'll be going now. Faith is meeting me at the Moores'. She wants to take Jenny back to our house for the next few days and maybe that would be the best thing for her. You can reach me there if you need me.”
“We'll be in touch, Tom, and thanks for all your help.”
Faith was waiting at the foot of the Moores' driveway. She wore a black wool dress quite unbecoming to her and her eyes were puffy from crying, yet there was a kind of wild beauty to her and Tom was momentarily startled. Faith was very, very angry.
“Everything is different now, Tom. Somewhere in Aleford there is a completely amoral, degenerate person who must be stopped. We could treat the whole thing with Cindy a bit lightly, but I understand now that it was just as bad. It was the taking of a life. I know you think I should stay out of it, but I cannot. Patricia was a dear friend. I 'm not going to lock the door and hope whoever it is confesses.”
Tom took her in his arms and held her tightly. 'Faith, Faith, my darling. I know. I feel that same way. Patricia stood for a lot of things for me, and not the least of them was her own personal courage and unselfishness ; but Patricia herself was worried that something might happen. She didn't realize it might happen to herself and not you. Still, she must have had a good reason for thinkingit might be you, and what good will you be to me and Benjamin dead?'
“I'm not going to die, Tom. What I am going to do is be very, very careful. You are the only person I am going to tell this to. As far as everyone else is concerned, including Dunne and MacIsaac, Mrs. Fairchild is scared silly and minding her own business.'
“So So what do you plan to do then ? '
“Just watch, Tom, just watch.”
He looked at her resolute face and they went up to the Moores'.
Patricia's house when Patricia had gone from it was like the husk of one of the milkweed pods in the nearby meadow when all the strands of shiny silk had blown away in the wind. Faith walked down the hall past the familiar ship pictures, the Queen Anne lowboy on which Patricia had placed a huge bowl of chrysanthemums only yesterday morning. They were as fresh as when she had gathered them and bore the mark of her own distinctive way of arranging flowers—tendrils of ivy and wild flowers mixed with their more cultivated neighbors. Faith knew she was going to start crying again.
Robert took them into his study. He was shivering and Tom immediately lit the fire, which had been laid but not started. Faith went into the kitchen to make some tea. She filled the kettle, put it on the stove, then reached for the teapot before remembering that of course it wouldn't be in its usual place. She opened a cabinet to look for another one and felt totally overwhelmed at the sight of Patricia's neat shelves, her blue and white cups hanging from their hooks. Faith found it impossible to believe that she wouldn't ever sit down and look across one of these cups at Patricia. She closed the door and went into the dining room for some brandy instead.
When she returned, Robert's head was bowed and he was mumbling to Tom. She left the decanter and went to find Jenny.
She was in her room with Rob. Both of them were momentarily cried out and sitting silently by the window leaning against one another. Jenny ran to Faith and put her arms around her and started to sob. There was really nothing Faith could think of to say, so she just sat and held the girl, stroking her soft hair. After a while, Jenny was calmer and Faith looked over her head at Rob still sitting in the window seat and apparently engrossed by the design on the cushion.
He looked up at her and spoke first, 'It's not Dave, Mrs. Fairchild. You believe that, don't you ? “
“Yes, I do.'
“But who ? It had to be someone who knew her pretty well—and knew the house.
Jenny 's room was flooded with sunlight and Faith was stunned by a sense of unreality as she sat with these two children talking about murder amidst Jenny 's collection of foreign dolls and horse books. Their mother 's murder.
Rob continued to speculate. Faith realized he was trying to cope with the whole thing by organizing it like a term paper. She half expected him to produce a card file—and maybe it wasn 't such a bad approach.
