Read The Body In the Belfry Online
Authors: Katherine Hall Page
The Body In the Belfry (19 page)
“I know all this, Faith, and I'm glad I didn't have to make any of these decisions myself. I never missed having children. I had you and Hope whenever I wanted and not when I didn't. Maybe the best of all worlds, but, you muddleheaded thing, you, all this work or not to work, guilt, and so on is not the real issue here.”
“What do you mean?” Faith asked, feeling truly muddled by Chat's conversational leaps.
“The problem is that when you nipped into the belfry, you stumbled onto something, or somebody thinks you did, and it's very likely that you could be in real danger in Aleford. Playing amateur sleuth didn't help either and I suppose that's why I am yelling at you.”
“Oh, is that what you're doing?” said Faith.
“I think the only sensible thing for you to do is to come with me to Spain next week. My friends have rented a large villa in Cadaqués, which is warm and sunny this time of year. You and Benjamin can come back all nicely browned and in one piece when this business is over. There's plenty of room and I plan to stay until late November anyway. That should give John Dunne and all his troops plenty of time to solve the case.” Chat spoke emphatically and Faith knew she had already made the extra reservations, sent a wire to her friends, found a nice baby nurse from the village, and arranged the schedule for baths in the time it took Faith to answer.
“Oh, Chat, that would be lovely, but I can't leave Tom, especially now. And besides I think you are overreacting to the rose business,” said Faith, forgetting her own sheer panic on Monday.
“I knew you'd say that at first, but I want you to promise me that you will at least talk to Tom about it and not say no until then.”
“I promise,” said Faith, putting her arms around her aunt's neck, “and you know if Tom really thought there was any danger, he'd be the first one to get me out of town. And not just for a week.”
“I know, Faith.” Chat paused. “We could stop in Paris and eat and shop,” she continued, dangling the possibility before Faith like an especially delicious
carotte.
carotte.
“Not fair! You really are too much. Tom will be so proud of me for resisting all this temptation. Maybe I am turning into a minister's wife after all,” protested Faith.
“What makes you think minister's wives are any different from other wives?” asked Chat, “Don't tell me you see solving Cindy's murder as some kind of colossally good parish deed?”
“No, no, of course not. I don't know what I see it as anymore. Maybe you're right about the boredom stuff, but once you get involved in something, it's hard to stop. And I don't
think
minister's wives are different from any others. I know it. Remember, I've had a lot of opportunity to observe them over the years.”
think
minister's wives are different from any others. I know it. Remember, I've had a lot of opportunity to observe them over the years.”
“Well, then, you drew the wrong conclusions.” Chat dismissed the whole thing summarily. “We'll have to deal with all that another time if you're going to beat the traffic back into Manhattan.”
Faith hadn't realized how fast the day had gone and quickly changed Benjamin for the trip. Chat gave her a little carved lamb from Equador for Benjamin's room and the last thing Faith heard as she drove away was, “Think Paris. Think Spain.”
It took a long time to get back into the city, since she got lost again. All the highways in New Jersey seemed to be eighty something and led to the turnpike. She ended up crossing the George Washington Bridge, or rather crawling across, at six o'clock listening to the “Eye Over Manhattan” helicopter reporter describe the traffic as “jam and cram,” “stall and crawl.” She got so interested in his rhyme schemes that she was home before she knew it.
Her mother had dinner readyâa nice piece of fish and some salad. Faith was happy to go to bed early and fell asleep before she could think too much about what Chat had said. When Tom had called, he had heroically urged her to go to Spain, but was not displeased when she said it was absolutely out of the question. She was very touched by Chat's offer, but it was back to Aleford, and any sun she got would be raking leaves outside her own little clapboard
casa.
casa.
Friday Jane Sibley took the afternoon off from work and spent the time with Faith. She was sincerely worried about her daughter, but trusted Tom to assess the situation.
Faith herself had not seemed upset after the first night and Jane was inclined to ascribe the rose in the letter box to some crank. Something about minister's wives seemed to attract a lot of slings and arrows of an outrageous nature and Jane had had a few herself.
Faith herself had not seemed upset after the first night and Jane was inclined to ascribe the rose in the letter box to some crank. Something about minister's wives seemed to attract a lot of slings and arrows of an outrageous nature and Jane had had a few herself.
They took Benjamin to the Children's Zoo in Central Park, more for themselves than for him, and had some nice sentimental moments together while Benjamin and the monkeys made faces at each other. Afterward Faith found a winter coat at last, at Bergdorf's, and they got back to the apartment with an armload of packages at five, weary but with a sense of accomplishment.
The phone was ringing. Faith reached it first and, slightly out of breath, said, “Hello?”
It was Tom.
Patricia Moore was dead. Poisoned.
Robert had found the body in a small room off the kitchen when he came home from work. There was an empty mug lying on the kitchen floor and the teapot had been laced with enough weed killer to destroy several generations of Moores.
And Dave Svenson had been there all morning working in the gardenâmulching the roses for winter.
“I'll take the nine o'clock shuttle,” said Faith, hung up, and burst into bitter tears.
Tom met them at Logan and they drove home almost in silence. Faith could not stop crying and when they reached the parsonage, they went straight to bed. It was too terrible to talk about yet.
Few people were sleeping easily in Aleford that night, but one head drifted off almost as soon as it hit the pillow, smiling drowsily in self-congratulation at one last thought.
It had been ridiculously easy. That teapot just sitting on the kitchen counter. Well, better go to sleep. After all, there was still one more to go.
It had been ridiculously easy. That teapot just sitting on the kitchen counter. Well, better go to sleep. After all, there was still one more to go.
Aleford had gone to sleep in profound shock on Friday night and awoke to another on Saturday morning. Dave Svenson had been taken to the police station again.
Erik and Eva Svenson arrived at the parsonage wild-eyed and almost incoherent and Tom rushed off to the station with them. They got there not long after Dave, with Patrolman Dale Warren glued to his side, had been taken from the squad car and hustled into the station past a curious crowd.
While it had been ludicrous to think of Dave killing Cindy, there was at least a possible love/hate motive. But the idea of Dave, or anyone else, killing Patricia Moore was obscene. He had worked with her in the garden for as long as anyone could remember, learning the names of
the plants the way some little boys learn the names of cars. It was she who had first given him his love of the soil, and between the two of them they had made the Moores' garden the beautiful place it was.
the plants the way some little boys learn the names of cars. It was she who had first given him his love of the soil, and between the two of them they had made the Moores' garden the beautiful place it was.
Dave had been overwhelmed with grief when he heard she was dead. It never occurred to him that he might be suspected. Mulching the roses was something he had done hundreds of times. When he wasn't at school or home, he was always in the garden. Yesterday he had been in and out of the shed where the Moores kept their gardening tools and supplies. The same shed the police later stripped of all the weed killers and fertilizers for analysis.
Dave had heard all this without connecting it to himself. When they came for him early the next morning, it was like hearing the news all over again. Like the worst bad dream he had ever had and something that could not possibly be happening to him. To be accused of her murder was like death itself.
The entire town was suffering from the same combination of grief and disbelief. But fear was abroad and the fact that someone, anyone, was arrested meant that at least something was being done. Little by little throughout the day, news leaked out and spread through Aleford like a particularly noxious gas.
It seemed Patricia had called the police station on Friday morning and asked to speak to either Charley MacIsaac or Detective Lieutenant John Dunne. Neither was available, but Dale Warren told her he could reach them easily. They were up at the county courthouse. She asked him to have one or both of them drop by that afternoon as she had something of particular importance relating to the case which she had decided to tell them.
Her exact words were, Dale recalled later, “I have decided to tell them something which may help clear things up.” Accordingly Dale left a message with the secretary
at the courthouse and told her it was urgent. But somehow it didn't reach Charley until close to dinner, arriving just before the message of her death. He had in fact been in the cruiser on the way to the Moores' when the news came over the two-way radio.
at the courthouse and told her it was urgent. But somehow it didn't reach Charley until close to dinner, arriving just before the message of her death. He had in fact been in the cruiser on the way to the Moores' when the news came over the two-way radio.
The police were speculating that Dave overheard Patricia's conversation with Dale and killed her to prevent whatever it was from coming out. Everyone knew how fond Patricia was of Dave and it was not unlikely that she might have been shielding him in some way. Just as he had killed Cindy in a moment of passion, he killed again.
When Robert found Patricia, she was sprawled out on the floor, a few feet from the phone. Her coral twin set was covered with vomit and one hand was still grasping her mouth in an expression of intense pain. The small daybed in the room was in disarray, the pillows flung to the floor. When the coroner arrived, he told Dunne that she had probably gone to lie down, feeling unwell, then convulsions started. She managed to get up to try to get help, but it was too late and she may have gone into a coma.
They had the answer soon.
Metaldehyde, administered in the strong, hot tea Patricia was so fond of drinking, a habit all Aleford knew about.
Metaldehydeâan unpleasant last meal for snails and slugs. An excruciating one for humans.
So it was Dave again. He met all the classic tests: means, motive, and opportunity. The snag was personality and Charley tried hard to convince himself that indeed anyone could kill, as he had so emphatically told Faith.
Dave had, by his own report, left the Moores' at noon, which was the approximate time the poison was administered, according to the coroner. Friday noon for Cindy
and Friday noon for Patricia. Could it be simply coincidence?
and Friday noon for Patricia. Could it be simply coincidence?
Dave had gone home, eaten lunch, and left for an afternoon class. Just a normal day. The next morning he was hauled in for the murder of the woman he had loved best next to his own mother.
When Dave entered the police station, Charley could hardly bear to look at him. He tried to put a comforting hand on Dave's shoulder, but it was shrugged awayânot so much in anger as sadness. Charley thought he had never seen anyone look more tragically defeated than Dave sitting slumped over, his eyes fixed on the concrete floor, waiting.
Tom and the Svensons arrived and Dave broke into noisy sobs. But they didn't last long. The lawyer came soon after and tried to talk with him, but Dave wasn't saying much. It was as though he was afraid that if one word escaped, a whole torrent would gush out and he'd never regain control. Finally a statement was taken.
Tom turned to the Svensons. “Why don't you go home for a while? The others will want to know what is happening and I'll stay with Dave. I'll call if there's anything new to report. We
know
Dave didn't do this, so it's a question of sitting tight until the police find the real murderer.”
know
Dave didn't do this, so it's a question of sitting tight until the police find the real murderer.”
The Svensons reluctantly left and a few minutes later Dunne asked Dave and his lawyer to come with him to review and sign Dave's statement. Charley and Tom looked at each other wearily.
“Thanks for getting rid of the Svensons, Tom. The way Eva was staring at me, I was beginning to feel so guilty I almost confessed myself just to get that look off her face.”
“I know,” Tom agreed, shaking his head. He was sitting in a swivel chair across from Charley's desk. He was becoming horribly familiar with the decor of the
Aleford police station and it left a lot to be desired. The calendar from the Patriot Fuel Oil Company appeared to be the only thing that wasn't gray or dark green.
Aleford police station and it left a lot to be desired. The calendar from the Patriot Fuel Oil Company appeared to be the only thing that wasn't gray or dark green.
“Charley, I know this probably isn't necessary to say, but I hope when I have to leave, you'll keep a close eye on Dave.”
The chief looked surprised.
“I don't think he's going to try to escape,” Tom said. “Or at least not in the way you're thinking. I'm afraid he's so depressed now; he might try to take his own life.”
“It's crossed my mind, too, Tom. He's never been a high-strung kid, but Lord knows what's happened in the last two weeks would do it to anyone. Dale has known him for a long time and I'll make sure he's with him all the time. Once he starts to really talk, the danger will be past. I've seen it before.”
“Maybe he'll talk to Dale. Of course the one person he would have opened up to isn't here.” Tom looked grave.
“You know, Tom, I simply can't make any sense of this one. Patricia Moore was just about the finest woman I've ever known and if it does turn out to be Dave, it would have to have been insanity. Maybe Millicent is right and there is some sort of lunatic loose. Last night I was awake all night. What did Patricia have to tell us and why didn't she tell us sooner? Why didn't she tell Robert, her own husband? He says something was definitely bothering her lately, but when he asked her what was wrong she told him it was something she had to work out herself. It all ties in with what she was saying to Faith last weekend, too. Obviously she knew something, but what? I know it wasn't Dale's fault, or the secretary's. We were in closed court, but dear God if only she had called yesterdayâI was at the station all day. She might be alive now.”
Tom had never heard Charley speak at such length.
He got up, went around the desk, and put his arm around MacIsaac's shoulder. Charley didn't shrug it off.
He got up, went around the desk, and put his arm around MacIsaac's shoulder. Charley didn't shrug it off.
“Charley, don't forget the strain you're under, too. The answer will come in time. The pieces are all here in Aleford in front of our noses, I'm convinced of that.”
“So am I. I just hope Dunne and I can put them together without breaking the town up too much.”
Charley was verging on metaphorical, Tom thought. It looked like he was being stretched to the limit.
“I'll be going now. Faith is meeting me at the Moores'. She wants to take Jenny back to our house for the next few days and maybe that would be the best thing for her. You can reach me there if you need me.”
“We'll be in touch, Tom, and thanks for all your help.”
Faith was waiting at the foot of the Moores' driveway. She wore a black wool dress quite unbecoming to her and her eyes were puffy from crying, yet there was a kind of wild beauty to her and Tom was momentarily startled. Faith was very, very angry.
“Everything is different now, Tom. Somewhere in Aleford there is a completely amoral, degenerate person who must be stopped. We could treat the whole thing with Cindy a bit lightly, but I understand now that it was just as bad. It was the taking of a life. I know you think I should stay out of it, but I cannot. Patricia was a dear friend. I'm not going to lock the door and hope whoever it is confesses.”
Tom took her in his arms and held her tightly. “Faith, Faith, my darling. I know. I feel that same way. Patricia stood for a lot of things for me, and not the least of them was her own personal courage and unselfishness ; but Patricia herself was worried that something might happen. She didn't realize it might happen to herself and not you. Still, she must have had a good reason for thinking
it might be you, and what good will you be to me and Benjamin dead?”
it might be you, and what good will you be to me and Benjamin dead?”
“I'm not going to die, Tom. What I am going to do is be very, very careful. You are the only person I am going to tell this to. As far as everyone else is concerned, including Dunne and MacIsaac, Mrs. Fairchild is scared silly and minding her own business.”
“So what do you plan to do then?”
“Just watch, Tom, just watch.”
He looked at her resolute face and they went up to the Moores'.
Patricia's house when Patricia had gone from it was like the husk of one of the milkweed pods in the nearby meadow when all the strands of shiny silk had blown away in the wind. Faith walked down the hall past the familiar ship pictures, the Queen Anne lowboy on which Patricia had placed a huge bowl of chrysanthemums only yesterday morning. They were as fresh as when she had gathered them and bore the mark of her own distinctive way of arranging flowersâtendrils of ivy and wild flowers mixed with their more cultivated neighbors.
Faith knew she was going to start crying again.
Robert took them into his study. He was shivering and Tom immediately lit the fire, which had been laid but not started. Faith went into the kitchen to make some tea. She filled the kettle, put it on the stove, then reached for the teapot before remembering that of course it wouldn't be in its usual place. She opened a cabinet to look for another one and felt totally overwhelmed at the sight of Patricia's neat shelves, her blue and white cups hanging from their hooks. Faith found it impossible to believe that she wouldn't ever sit down and look across one of these cups at Patricia. She closed the door and went into the dining room for some brandy instead.
When she returned, Robert's head was bowed and he
was mumbling to Tom. She left the decanter and went to find Jenny.
was mumbling to Tom. She left the decanter and went to find Jenny.
She was in her room with Rob. Both of them were momentarily cried out and sitting silently by the window leaning against one another. Jenny ran to Faith and put her arms around her and started to sob. There was really nothing Faith could think of to say, so she just sat and held the girl, stroking her soft hair. After a while, Jenny was calmer and Faith looked over her head at Rob still sitting in the window seat and apparently engrossed by the design on the cushion.
He looked up at her and spoke first, “It's not Dave, Mrs. Fairchild. You believe that, don't you?”
“Yes, I do.”
“But who? It had to be someone who knew her pretty wellâand knew the house.”
Jenny's room was flooded with sunlight and Faith was stunned by a sense of unreality as she sat with these two children talking about murder amidst Jenny's collection of foreign dolls and horse books. Their mother's murder.
Rob continued to speculate. Faith realized he was trying to cope with the whole thing by organizing it like a term paper. She half expected him to produce a card fileâand maybe it wasn't such a bad approach.
“The thing to figure out is what linked Mom with Cindy? Did she see something or did somebody tell her something? She was in town at the Museum of Fine Arts that day, so she couldn't have actually seen anything. I think it had to have been something somebody said later and Mom realized it didn't sound right.
“She's been pretty tense lately,” he continued, “And talking a lot about not judging people harshly. I thought she meant me, because of how I felt about Cindy. I know it is horrible, but I was almost glad she was dead. But maybe Mom was talking about somebody else.”
“Did she have any visitors lately? Especially anyone
who didn't come normally?” Faith asked, addressing the question to Jenny. Rob wouldn't have known who had been there that week.
who didn't come normally?” Faith asked, addressing the question to Jenny. Rob wouldn't have known who had been there that week.
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