was good, very good. Told her he was leaving soon and how much a moment with a beautiful older woman would mean. Anyway, she tumbled.' Cyle was starting to talk like a real per- son, Faith realized. 'Of course, he had no intention of leaving. He was probably humping his way through the entire membership of the Pink Ladies and any other females around. Nice little sideline.'
“And then he told her that unless she paid up, he'd tell everyone what the head of the Auxiliary was up to,' Faith guessed.
“Exactly. Mother told me all about it last night. She's frantic. She thinks the police are going to think she did it.”
Bootsie or one of the other victims. It was getting harder to think of Eddie as the victim, even though he was lying on a mortuary table somewhere.
“Was she paying a lot of money?'
“Fortunately, father left us amply provided for.' Stuffy Cyle had returned. 'Eddie was smart enough not to bleed her. It was just a nice steady hundred here and there. Mother was actually grateful to him, she told me! Can you believe it?”
Faith could.
“You do know what she has to do, and I'm sure Tom will tell you the same thing.'
“Yes, we've got to go to the police. But it's so humiliating.”
Light dawned. It wasn't that Cyle was worried his mother might be up for murder one, but that she had slept with the help.
“I'm sure she won't be a suspect. No one was traveling about much on Friday night. Besides, she has you for an alibi.'
“I was in town Friday night. With a friend. Mother was alone, and of course she didn't goanywhere, but there's no one to prove it. And she has a four-wheel drive Bronco for bad weather.”
Leaving the Mercedes in the garage, of course. Well, Bootsie could have driven over to Hubbard House. Must have a key, and blackmail was a possible motive, yet Faith doubted the whole thing. She was pretty certain Dunne would too. Why would Bootsie Brennan jeopardize her social position for a paltry few hundred dollars, give or take? Besides, from the sound of it, she was still more than a little attracted to Edsel.
Faith gave Cyle John Dunne's number and promised that Tom would call him as soon as she had had a chance to fill him in on the perils of Bootsie. She bundled him out the door with what she hoped was not unseemly haste and then finished her cookies. She couldn't wait to tell Tom.
Tom was home in time for supper and, in between bites of the cassoulet, which had been filling the kitchen with fragrant aromas of duck, sausage, and beans since the day before, heard Faith's tale with astonishment and amusement.
“I know I shouldn't be laughing at all this, but when I think of that woman all dressed up in her buttons and bows at the Holly Ball parading around as the queen of Hubbard House being blackmailed for a roll in the hay with the handyman, I can't help it.'
“Since when have you started using euphemisms like 'roll in the hay,' Tom?'
“Since people named Bootsie entered my life.' Faith conceded the logic of that.
“If Eddie was blackmailing Bootsie, it stands to reason he was doing it to others as well, don't you think?' Tom asked.
“Yes, and it gives me something to go on tomorrow. I'll be on the lookout for furrowed foreheads. John is also going to be happy to have this lead. He seemed convinced that the murderer was someone in Hubbard House at the time, and this gives him a line to follow.'
“I think I'll give Cyle a call now,' Tom said, soaking up the last trace of sauce from his plate with a piece of crusty French bread. 'Although I have no idea what to say. 'Sorry your mother is such a foolish and wanton woman' somehow doesn't sound very compassionate.'
“You'll think of something. Just make those sympathetic murmuring noises you ministers are so good at.'
“Ah yes, the murmuring noises, soon to be available on tape from your local ecclesiastical mail-order supply house.”
Tom returned shortly. 'I didn't get to make many noises of any kind. Cyle was on his way out and almost cut me off. He did say they'd been in touch with Dunne and he'd come down to talk to them, so if not exactly public knowledge, at least it's police knowledge at present.'
“I don't care much for Bootsie and family, but I still hope they don't find out about it at Hubbard House. She is a dynamo, and the Pink Ladies are essential to keeping the place running.”
They moved into the living room and sat before a fire reading Ben his favorite books of the moment, In the Night Kitchen and Katy and the Big Snow, until he dropped off to sleep and they carried him up into the hibernal regions of the bedrooms and put him in his bed. He had forsworn his crib at the beginning of the fall in favor of an old spool bed Aunt Chat had unearthed from her attic. They kissed him good night, slid the little bars into place that would keep him from falling out, and walked back downstairs arm in arm.
“At last,' said Faith.
“At last,' agreed Tom.
Monday morning was sunny and cold, but the roads were clear. The Byford police had had Faith's car towed to a garage in Byford center, and Tom was driving Faith over to get it. It was parked in front.
“I'll wait to make sure everything's okay,' Tom said.
“Thank you, darling. I'll go ask in the office.”
It was, and she stuck her head out to tell Tom, waved good-bye as he drove off, then quickly went back in.
Scott Phelan was sitting at a battered gray metal desk leaning precariously back in the chair behind it. He had on grease-stained coveralls, and no amount of Lava soap would ever get his hands clean. He looked gorgeous.
“Nice to see you again, Mrs. Fairchild. Hear you found another body. Getting pretty good at this, aren't you?' He smiled, and for more than a fleeting moment Faith wished she didn't take her vows so seriously. Scott looked like the handsome one in Tom Cruise's family. They'd met two years ago when Scott had agreed to give Faith some information that gave one of the suspects in Cindy Shepherd's murder an alibi. She'd seen Scott several times since then at the Willow Tree Kitchen, a New England equivalent to a roadhouse—seedy, but with ruffled Priscilla curtains at the windows. Scott ate there every night and the Fairchilds went occasionally for the chowder and chili, which were excellent (in contrast to the rest of the menu and a wine list limited to two screw-top offerings—red or white).
“Still hanging out at the Willow Tree?' Faith asked.
“Yeah, but not for much longer. Trishia and I are getting married next spring.'
“That's great, congratulations. She's a terrific girl.' Trishia was the one who had led Faith to Scott.
Scott smiled slowly. It lit up the room. 'Yeah, we're spending all our time together and I figured if we could stand each other this long, we're a pretty safe bet. She'll be graduating from Middlesex Community College over in Bedford then, so we'll have one party. Hope you can come—and the Reverend,' he added after a distinct pause.
“We'd be honored.”
Scott stood up and sauntered around the desk.
“Your car is fine. Not a scratch on it. You were lucky. And it started right up. We didn't even have to tow it.'
“That's great.”
As they headed toward the lot, it occurred toFaith that Scott might have heard something about Eddie Russell. Habitues of the Willow Tree knew most of what was going on in the area before it happened.
“Did you ever run into a guy named Eddie Russell in your travels?'
“You mean the stiff?'
“Yes. Did he come around the Willow Tree?'
“Yeah, old Edsel used to come around a lot. But not to eat. At least not lately. Wasn't good enough for him. No mixed drinks. Liked to impress the ladies.'
“Well, what did he come around for then?'
