Body in the Bog

embarrassed to reveal it had involved the phone calls Lora Deane had been getting, which were by then common knowledge in town.

“And you suspected Brad?”

“Well, an ex-boyfriend, angry, hurt.”

“And that was what you couldn’t tell me?” Pix said, looking Faith straight in the eye. No wonder the Millers had such honest children.

Gus and Lillian Deane lived in a large brick house at the end of a winding drive near the Aleford/Byford border. It was imposing—a three-car garage, swim-ming pool for the grandchildren and now the great- grandchildren. The shrubs were trimmed into round balls; those lining either side of the front walk were squat muffin shapes. There wasn’t a fallen twig or leaf on the smooth green lawn. Every window was shielded from the sun’s rays by an awning with an elaborate D in script square in the middle. She’d decided not to call first, just take the chance he would be in. She didn’t want him to have time to think why else she might be paying him a visit. Supposedly, he was retired from active work and didn’t spend much time on the job sites anymore.

Faith rang the bell and heard chimes.

She was in luck. Gus opened the door himself.

“Now, this is a nice surprise to find on my doorstep.

Come on in, Faith.”

“I had a few moments free, so I thought this might be a good time to talk about the plans for the Memorial Day cookout. It’s not that far away.” Gus nodded. “Only six weeks.”

She couldn’t tell whether he was onto her or not.

There had been an underlying note of amusement in his voice.

“Terrible weather this spring,” he continued. “Hope it’s better for our cookout. But then a lot can happen in six weeks.”

He led the way to the rear of the house. Lillian didn’t seem to be home; otherwise, she’d have been there offering Faith something to eat or drink. Gus might maintain a higher profile in town, but the house was his wife’s domain.

“Lillian’s over at Bonnie’s. Can’t keep away from the baby. Let’s sit in here and you can tell me what’s on your mind.” He opened the door to what was obviously his den. There was a large-screen TV at one end with appropriately comfortable seating. French doors led to a broad patio that ran the full length of the rear of the house. A desk with computer and printer indicated that the room was not purely recreational. He motioned to two chairs overlooking the garden and Faith sat down. A curio cabinet held a collection of beer steins. Some of them looked quite old. He noticed her glance.

“I started buying these when I was a young man.

Can’t pretend they came down in my family. Nothing came down, except maybe an attitude. I don’t want to say it’s special to the Deanes, but it’s a way of life.

You work hard, don’t let yourself be pushed around, and leave the key under the mat for those coming next.”

He knew damn well she hadn’t come about how much potato salad they were going to need.

She sat quietly and let him go on.

“When I was growing up in this town, the same few people ran everything, always the same names. The board of selectmen—and it was only men—school committee, the library, the churches. If their families had missed the Mayflower, it was because they had something better to do. Times have changed.”

“Thank goodness.” Faith found something to say.

Gus nodded. “Wish I hadn’t let Lillian talk me out of smoking. Feel like a pipe now. Anyway, where was I? Yes, it’s changed.” He leaned forward. “But not completely. Not completely, Faith.

“So far as some of those people—or I should say the sons and daughters of those people—are concerned, the Deanes will always be upstarts. We make more money than most of them do now and there’s resentment about that. We were their ancestors’ servants and we didn’t stay in our place.”

“But do you really think this is still true?”

“Absolutely. Now, you take this business with the bog. I don’t mind telling you I’m more than a little annoyed with Joey for stirring the whole thing up in the first place. But not because I don’t like to stir things up.”

Faith ventured a smile.

“Okay, maybe I even like to stir things up, but I was angry with him because he didn’t think it through. It’s a bad investment. He has to put out too much of his own money before he sees any return and he’ll be lucky to break even, what with all the stipulations the town is going to slap him with about the roads, septic systems, what not. Meanwhile, the whole Deane family looks bad. Even people who have never been to the place are suddenly talking about the Deanes robbing Aleford of precious open space. No, I’m not happy with Joey.”

Faith felt a sudden twinge of sympathy for Mr.Madsen. Gus was not a man you wanted to antagonize.

“Could have done better. Told her so at the time, but she’s just like her father, just like me. Wouldn’t listen, and you’ll never hear a word of complaint from her, either. I don’t know if she loves or hates the man at this point.”

He didn’t say her name, but Gus was obviously referring to Bonnie.

“Alefordiana Estates—what the hell kind of a name is that? Thinks we’re in Florida or something,” Gus growled.

“Well, of course I’m not happy about it,” Faith said.

“Going to have a road at your back door. I’ll say you’re not happy about it, but here’s my point, Faith.” He leaned over again and this time raised his forefin-ger. “I may not agree that Joey’s doing the brightest deal, I may not even like the man that much myself, but I’ll defend him to my death against anyone who says he doesn’t have the right to build what he wants on his own land so long as it’s not against the law.

And it’s not. Not a single person in that group of yours can say he hasn’t met every requirement.”

“This may be true, but—”

“Hear me out—I’m not finished. Then you can have your say.”

Faith shut her mouth.

“Somebody in that organization is not normal. I know I lost my temper at the selectmen’s meeting and I’ve been hearing about it from my wife, but my property had been destroyed and my family threatened.

This is the work of a lunatic. My excavator, too!

You’ve heard about that?”

Faith nodded.

“And the Batcheldors. I don’t know what Margaret, God rest her soul, was doing in our house, but she was in there with a can of gas. And now somebody’s tried to do poor Nelson in. Maybe this nut was up to something with Margaret. People can believe so much in a cause that they think anything they do is justified. But I’m not going to sit back and watch the whole Deane family go up in flames.”

He sat back. It was Faith’s turn, but she couldn’t think of any response.

“So, how much potato salad do you think we’ll need this year?”

It was only after they had finalized the menu for the cookout, same as last year’s and the year before, that Faith was able to swim her way back up river and introduce the subject of Lora Deane.

“We feel so lucky to have Lora as Ben’s teacher.

She’s wonderful with children.” This ploy had worked with Brad—more or less.

“She’s gifted with children and I’m happy she’s found a job close by. Wish she’d settle down herself, but she hasn’t shown any signs of it. There was the Hallowell kid. That’s over or I’d have had to put a stop to it. She wants to go back to her place, but we’ve been firm. She’s not to move one foot until everything gets cleared up. Fortunately, she’s a timid girl and listens to us. That’s why she’s not too popular with the guys, I suppose. An old- fashioned girl, that’s our Lora.”

One of them, anyway, Faith thought. For an instant she felt the urge to tell Gus about Lora’s apartment in the South End and Mr. Miata. It seemed wrong to keep any secrets at all from this commanding figure, and Faith was amazed Lora could pull it off day after day. Faith bit at her lip. She’d come to get information, not give it—at least