words did not mol ify her.
“I just don't want anything to happen to you. I care about al the Mil ers deeply. You know that. Bow out, Pix. Bow out.'
“Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen. I'l let Samantha know about what we're doing and if either of us finds out anything more, we'l let you know”
She hung up feeling much less satisfied than she had earlier in the conversation. She walked back out to the deck and picked up her list. How wel did she know John, anyway? Loaning books about the occult and supernatural to Duncan? John was a very colorful, at times charismatic figure. He had a great deal of influence over the youth of the island, most especial y Duncan Cowley, it seemed. Maybe too much? And what kind was it exactly? Mitchel Pierce had stayed with John. She had to find out why Mitch left.
She put it on the 'To Do' list.
With Samantha occupied with her own writing tasks, Pix got out the folded paper and started to fil in the columns. Under 'Suspects,' she decided to list everyone, no matter how far-fetched, starting with Mitchel 's death.
There weren't many. Duncan Cowley, the knife wounds were suggestive of some sort of ritual slaying. Seth Marshal , just because he had access to the spot and could pour the foundation when he pleased. John Eggleston, because he might have nurtured some sort of grudge since Mitchel had lived with him or because Mitchel had found something out about John during that time. Norman Osgood. These were far-fetched, but she had to put something down. Osgood might have had some kind of fal ing-out with Mitch over antiques. Last, she wrote down Sonny Prescott's suggestion: unknown partners in crime. Of course, others could be known ones, yet as she jotted down this final possibility, she was forced to admit it made the most sense.
Now Adelaide—If, in fact, she had been murdered.
The only thing pointing toward foul play was the quilt. She went over to the 'Who Benefits?' column. Adelaide may have left at least part of her estate to her nieces and nephews. Seth Marshal was a nephew. She wrote him down. Who else? Norman Osgood again? Although if he was hoping to do a book with her, that wouldn't make sense. But he was there. Maybe Addie had found out something about him. She wasn't known for her reticence.
Pix considered the other bed-and-breakfast guests and reluctantly ruled them out. Unless they were seriously deranged people, which the police were no doubt checking, she couldn't come up with any motives.
She listed Seth under 'Who Benefits?' with the initials A. B. after his name. She couldn't think of any way he would benefit from Mitch's death, unless Mitch was blackmailing him. Mitch a blackmailer: It was a thought. He had been charming and eminently likable, but if desperate for money, he might have done anything. He certainly hadn't shied away from other crimes. Except he hadn't been desperate for money. He'd had a huge bank account and it was the result of what? As Jil suggested he might have made a kil ing—strike that phrase—a huge profit from the sale of something. Then again, he might also have been blackmailing someone, or more than one person. Pix sighed. She wasn't getting anyplace. Maybe you had to be in a large English country house staring out the window at the hedgerows. But at least she had a list. She'd get Mother to find out about Addie's wil . Rebecca surely must know.
“Causes of Death.' Mitch was stabbed and Addie's was unknown at the moment. She'd like to cal Earl, yet she had a feeling she'd do better to wait. It was certainly too soon to know anything and she thought he probably wouldn't take kindly to being hounded right now. She remembered the look on Adelaide's face and the stench.
The woman had obviously been violently sick and the police might have found further signs in the bathroom —al of which pointed to poison of some kind. Addie had been sick for days and Pix recal ed the graphic account of her symptoms. What did one have to do with the other? Was her il ness merely a coincidence? Poison. This made absolutely no sense. Things like this didn't happen on Sanpere.
Then there were the quilts, two red-and-white quilts.
Three quilts, including Pix's purchase with the disappearing mark. She would cal Earl later to find out whether there was a cross on Adelaide's. It would be impossible to sleep otherwise. She also wrote down sails. As Faith had pointed out, they were red and white, too. Sails were made of cloth, so were quilts. Quilts and sails. Sails and quilts. Mitch had been wrapped in Drunkard's Path. Could there be some connection between the name of the quilt pattern on Addie's and her death? Pix closed her eyes and concentrated on remembering the spirals she'd seen that morning. She drew a square at the bottom of the page and fil ed it in as best she remembered: two pinwheel shapes, the tiny dotted fabric alternating with the red. She'd go through her quilt pattern books after supper and try to find the name.
It wasn't much of a list, not up to her usual standards.
But it was a beginning. She went to the bottom of the stairs and cal ed to Samantha to come for a walk with the dogs.
They al needed to get out.
For once, Samantha was staying home. After an early supper of toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, one of the Mil er family's favorite repasts, the phone rang.
During the course of a lengthy conversation, Pix heard Samantha tel Arlene she was tired and ask her how about the fol owing night. The phone rang again as Pix was getting out her quilting books. It was Ursula. Rebecca had agreed to stay the night, since Earl had promised to water the garden. So that's where he was, Pix thought. She'd been trying to reach him.
She started to ask her mother about Adelaide's wil and how big the estate might be, but Ursula cut her off, obliquely indicating Rebecca had attached herself limpet like and was at Mrs. Rowe's side every waking moment.
“I understand completely. Poor Rebecca! I know you can't say anything, but could you find out if she has any further thoughts about where that quilt might have come from'? And perhaps see if she knows what the provisions of Adelaide's wil are?”
Even though her mother would not be able to comment at length, Pix had expected a note of disapprobation to sound in her reply—Pix was prying—but Ursula said in an even tone, 'Good idea, dear. I'l do that.”
It amounted to approval. Addie's death had changed things and it might just be that Mother was on the trail, as wel .
It was much too hot for a fire in the fireplace, but they sat in front of it, anyway, Pix with her quilting books and Samantha curled up on the couch with E. B. White. She was rereading Charlotte's Web, as she did every summer.
Charlotte had finished saving Wilbur's life the first time and Samantha stood up and stretched. She real y was tired, yet that was not why she'd put Arlene off until tomorrow. Fred wanted to go back to Duncan's and check out the trunk. He was convinced Duncan was responsible for what was going on at the camp, including the dead gul .
Arlene also hinted that Fred thought Duncan might be responsible for the other bizarre things happening on the island. 'Fred's good and steamed,' she'd told Samantha.
Samantha was afraid he might be right and she, too, thought they'd better look around the cabin some more, but she just couldn't handle it after everything that had happened today. She'd known the Bainbridges al her life and Addie had always been nice to her. At the moment, al Samantha wanted to do was read about Charlotte, Wilbur, and Fern until she fel obliviously asleep.
Pix found the pattern shortly after midnight. It had become an obsession. Samantha had long since gone to bed. Pix, though, remained wide awake and when the design jumped off the page at her, she was jolted into even- greater consciousness. Her mother's earlier words regarding Mitchel Pierce's kil er came immediately to mind. Whoever was responsible was not simply evil, but nasty.
The name of the pattern was End of Day.
Eight
The next morning Samantha left for work after a big breakfast of sour-cream pancakes and fresh strawberries.
Pix had picked the first ones in the garden, thankful the heat hadn't ruined what looked to be a bumper crop.
