should be possible to tell who's missing by comparing the frames, as well as to estimate the time of death.”
John agreed. 'Very handy—we don't usually have someone with a camera around before the crime.”
This reminded Faith of one of many unanswered questions. 'I wonder why Alden left for his slide show during the shoot?'
“Maybe he was looking for the little boys' room, opened the wrong door like you did, and just happened to have some slides in his pocket.'
“Or he'd arranged to meet someone.' Faith was exploring all avenues.
“On second thought, why don't you go home now?' Dunne suggested pointedly.
Sure, run along and miss everything.
“That's all right. I'm really not tired. I'll give Tom a call and join you inside.'
“Whatever.' Dunne was walking rapidly away toward the auditorium, leaving his aspiring partner in the dust. She phoned home, told a barely conscious and totally astounded Tom what had happened, then followed Dunne's footsteps, carefully positioning herself just behind his line of vision. She'd decided not to inform Tom about the lights going out until she could tell him in person. It might have disturbed his rest.
Cornelia got up from the folding chair near the stage, where she'd been sitting clutching her clipboard, when she saw Faith and walked over to her side. She was visibly upset. 'What kind of place do you live in! Every time we turn around, somebody else is getting killed!'
“Believe me, it's not an everyday occurrence.' An everyweek occurrence lately, however. Faith was tempted to be more cutting with her old classmate. Oddly enough, it seemed important to defend the honor of what was now her hometown, except Corny was so uncharacteristically rattled that Faith decided to exercise tact. It was due for a workout, anyway.
“I know how upsetting this must be for all of you,' she told Corny, 'and everyone here feels the same way. It's totally inexplicable. But both Detective Lieutenant Dunne and Chief MacIsaac are extremely capable and I'm sure things will be straightened out soon. Why don't you sit down again? I think Detective Dunne may have something to tell us.”
Corny was only partially placated. 'I still say this is a very weird place. I'd feel a whole lot safer in Central Park all by myself, wearing Mother's jewels at midnight!' It was hard to disagree when there was a corpse literally below their feet.
Dunne and Charley were deep in conversation. Maxwell Reed kept trying to interrupt and the detective was waving him away like an unwanted puppy. Finally, Dunne turned to the director and said, 'Look. We know you have a movie to shoot. We know how much money you're losing. We know you're famous. But we have a very dead person downstairs. The second cadaver to appear in connection with your endeavor, and it's my show at the moment, so sit down and shut up. Please:' he added with one of his monstrous smiles.
The director did. Next to Alan Morris, who proceeded to meet Max's furious remarks with what Faith presumed were sympathetic murmurs, guaranteed to calm Reed down while remaining in total agreement. It was a gift.
Caresse and her mother were at the end of the row. It was hard to establish who was comforting whom. Caresse's head was on Jacqueline's shoulder and she was patting her mother's hand. Both looked fearful and close to tears.
Faith was surprised when Marta Haree approached her. 'You are the one who found him, yes?”
Was it a guess or had she overheard Dunne and MacIsaac talking?
“Yes, I did.'
“It is a horrible thing, murder. Cutting off a life before the appointed time. To find the victim must have been terrible also. I'm sorry, although perhaps he was not a close friend?”
Faith found herself answering, despite her surprise at the question. 'No, he was not really a friend at all, although I have known him some time.”
Marta looked into Faith's eyes. 'Then it's not necessary for you to become involved, which is fortunate. Sometimes people become involved in journeys better not taken.' She spoke firmly, each word distinct.
For an instant, Faith was tempted to ask to the woman where her crystal ball was. It was definitely strange.
Marta turned to go back to her seat, her crystals clinking faintly. She smelled slightly of sandalwood. 'You are a wonderful cook, my dear,' she said with a smile.
Faith didn't know whether to break out in the chorus of 'Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo' or whistle the theme from the 'Twilight Zone”
Just then, John spotted Faith. She wondered whether he was going to make her go home, but, to her surprise, he crooked a finger and beckoned her closer.
“Charley can't find Spaulding's sister. Take a walk around and see if you can spot her. f not, I'll make an announcement.”
Faith surveyed the hall carefully. Everyone was clad in the same kind of monochromatic clothing they'd worn for the scaffold scene. She looked down each row. Penny had softly curling short hair—brown mixed with a substantial amount of gray. For the shoot, she might have removed the glasses she normally wore, and her ruddy complexion, the result of walking her Irish terrier, was shared by most of the hale and hearty Alefordians in the audience. The hair was the best bet, but it was nowhere in sight.
Millicent was sitting next to an empty seat, an aisle seat, and Faith was sure that must have been where Penny had been sitting, but Dunne had said he would make the announcement, so she didn't ask Millicent whether she'd seen Penny.
“She doesn't appear to be here,' Faith reported, ardently wishing it could be otherwise. Why would Penny leave after Charley's explicit directions?
Dunne got up onstage and everyone quieted instantly.
“Would Penelope Bartlett come forward, please?' The only movement was that of people craning their necks to look for Penny.
Millicent stood up. She and Dunne were old friends.
“She's not here, Detective Lieutenant Dunne.' Millicent believed in using full titles. 'The victim was her half brother, so naturally she was very upset. She's gone home.'
“Thank you, Miss McKinley.”
John Dunne would have leapt off the stage if he had been seventy or eighty pounds lighter and a few feet shorter. He got off as rapidly as possible and told Chief MacIsaac to get over to Penelope Bartlett's house posthaste.
He noticed Faith again and this time he did tell her to go home.
“All we're doing is taking names and asking if anyone saw Alden leave the room. So go home. Straight home.”
Dawn was beginning to streak across the horizon as Faith pulled into the parsonage driveway. She was very, very tired, and she endangered several of the Canadian hemlocks that made up the hedge separating the Fairchilds from the Millers before she stopped the car in front of the garage door. She was too exhausted to open it.
Upstairs, Tom awoke as soon as she came in the room. Normally, it took the alarm and his wife's gentle shaking to rouse him.
“Stay where you are. I'll be right there,' Faith told him. She was soon resting in his arms beneath the duvet, incredibly happy to be where she was. Incredibly happy to be alive. As she told Tom what had happened, she allowed herself to feel the full impact. There had been a death. Another death. The violence of the crime and her own brush with danger jolted her into wakefulness.
“What do you do when someone you don't like gets killed? It's been horrible all night.' She'd been glad the dimly lighted room had obscured the full extent of Alden's injury. It wasn't Technicolor; it was black and white.
“We do the same thing we do when anyone dies. We pray for them. We may not mourn them in the same way. That's only natural, darling, but we pray.”
Tom's words were comforting. There were times when it was very handy to have a minister for a husband, and Faith began to get drowsy again.
“I'll take care of everything. You try to fall asleep,' Tom told her. She already was.
