father picked her up in his arms and took her to the car. Rob followed at the end of the service with slow steps, unwilling to let go of even that much of his mother that still remained on earth.
There were no sherry and sandwiches this time. Those who had to hurried off to work and others went home. A few gravitated toward the parsonage and Faith found herself sitting in the living room with Sam, Pix and a few other parishioners. The Svensons, she knew, were going to see Dave. They were spending as much time
Faith had made some coffee and put out an assortment of things from the refrigerator : cheeses, some smoky Virginia ham, chutney, and duck rillettes. She had baked bread the day before and kept some of the baguettes out of the freezer, thinking at least the Millers would come back after the funeral. Pix brought over a huge pot of thick pea soup. There was plenty to eat, but so far no one had touched a thing. They were drinking a lot of coffee, though, and Faith was just about to get another pot when the doorbell rang.
“ Pix, could you get the door ? ' she called. A moment later John Dunne and Charley entered the kitchen. Somehow she wasn't surprised to see them. They were so much a part of this whole cast of characters that any gathering seemed odd without them.
“Hello, Faith,' Detective Dunne said, 'Could I have a cup?'
“Of course, and please help yourself to some lunch. It's on the table in the dining room.'
“It was a beautiful service, Faith,' Charley said. Hestill had a catch in his voice and looked very, very tired. Faith remembered trying to pump him for information after Cindy 's funeral. Dave had been the chief suspect then, too. She had the feeling she was repeating virtually the same words. 'You can 't honestly believe that Dave killed Patricia—or Cindy either.' Faith faced them both squarely. ' I really don 't understand what's going on. Are you trying to smoke somebody else out ? Is that why he's been charged ? If so, it's a cruel and immoral thing to do.”
Charley didn 't say anything. Dunne looked at her sadly, 'Faith, you must understand there's a great deal of evidence against Dave. In Cindy 's case, he had a powerful motive ; she was certainly driving him close to insanity and his alibi for the time in question is dependent on someone the police do not regard as a reliable witness. In the case of Patricia Moore, we are assuming that he overheard her call and knew he faced exposure. He was at the house at the time of death and had access to the poison used. Perhaps he couldn 't bear for her to know that he had killed Cindy, but that's getting very speculative.'
“I'm sorry. I'm not buying it at all.' Then, as she caught a glance between the two, she hastily added, 'Oh, don 't worry, I'm not getting my magnifying glass and fingerprint kit out. You can do the job yourselves.' She moved toward the door into the living room with the pot of fresh coffee. 'Just do it, is all I ask,' she tossed over her shoulder.
“Let's have a sandwich, Charley,' Dunne said. 'Good idea, then I suppose we'd better get back to work before Faith reports us.”
John Dunne smiled. He had heard about Faith's cooking and if the coffee was anything to go by, what was in the dining room should be pretty tasty.
Charley returned to the living room first and took a seat next to old Daniel Eliot, who had settled into the wing chair for the winter. Charley wasn 't surprised to see him. Dan never missed a funeral. He was close to ninety and lived at the Peabody Home near the center of town. You had to be somewhat hale and hearty to stay there. It wasn 't a nursing home so much as a residence for elderly people who didn't want to cope with a house. Daniel had never liked his house much and was only too happy to move his pared-down possessions into a bed/sitting room and let somebody else worry about what to cook. This had been twenty years ago and he'd been worrying about what to cook for a good twenty before that after his mother died. Daniel had never married and he was proud of his misogyny.
“How are you doing, Dan ? ' Charley asked. 'About as good as you, I expect,' he replied. Charley tried a different tack. 'A very sad business.”
He sighed.
“Yup, the women in this family are going like flies. Her mother—she was my cousin, you know—just the other day and now Patty. Well, they always did want things their way. It's a lesson, Charley.' Daniel nodded emphatically.
MacIsaac had no idea what the old geezer was talking about, but he nodded in return. Patricia 's mother had died over ten years ago, which was not exactly last week. Might be an opening at the Peabody House soon.
He spotted Dunne with an empty plate motioning to him and he excused himself. They said good-bye to Faith and slipped out under her gimlet eye.
When Faith tumbled into bed that night, the last thing she would have thought was that she would have trouble falling asleep, but she did. Normally she carefully arranged herself in a fetal position under the duvet, put her head on a big square down pillow and was instantly asleep. Now she tried reading, got some warmmilk, which she loathed even with nutmeg in it, and was still wide awake. She wandered around the house, checked Benjamin an unnecessary number of times, and finally settled onto the couch in front of a lifeless fireplace.
They had done some good thinking there, as well as other less cerebral things, for she knew why she couldn't sleep. There was something she had said or someone else had that she was sure was important, but she couldn't remember. She had driven Tom crazy all evening trying to dredge it up, but now perhaps if she just closed her eyes and let her mind drift it would come of its own accord. She thought of all the people, the scenes—funerals, kitchen table confidences, the sail in New Hampshire, the Moores' house.
All right, it was something to do with the Moores' house. She went room by room, then suddenly clear
Faith sat up with a start and ran upstairs to shake Tom 's peacefully sleeping shoulder.
“ Tom, Tom, I've got it. What we've been missing ! “
“Oh, Faith, can't it wait until morning?”
Well, it could have, Faith thought guiltily. She had been so elated she had forgotten how exhausted Tom was.
“I'm sorry, sweetheart.' She looked so crestfallen that Tom reached out and pulled her under the covers.
“Come on, tell me, otherwise I know I won't be able to sleep.'
“
“ I'm not sure I get you, honey. Don 't you think the police have explored this angle ? '
“I'm not sure I get me either, Tom. It's a hunch, but it feels right. Maybe I have been living in New England too long, but it seems more in keeping with both crimes—roses and poisoned teapots instead of love nests and murder for hire like in the
“That's a relief,' Faith said, curling up into her own.
9
Just as Faith dropped off to sleep at last, she remembered the book Millicent McKinley had mentioned, a family history by one of Patricia's ancestors. She resolved to go to the library as soon as possible to get it. She also had to figure out a way to get a look at Patricia's will—and Cindy's, if one existed.
Accordingly, the next afternoon after Benjamin 's nap, she strapped him into his Snugli for the short walk, dropped a goodly supply of zwiebacks into his diaper bag and set off for the Aleford Public Library, or rather the Turner Memorial Library, named after Ezra Turner who had given it a much needed boost around 1910 by leaving his extensive private library to Aleford rather than Harvard. After stocking the hitherto sparse shelves, the town sold off some of the more valuable works, most of them to Harvard, and everybody was happy. Well, maybe not Harvard, which did not like to buy what it could have received for nothing, not to mention tacitly acknowledging the foolhardy practice of non-Harvardian bequests.
At the moment, Faith was standing under the imposing portrait of Ezra that dominated the reading room,
