Read The Body In the Belfry Online
Authors: Katherine Hall Page
The Body In the Belfry (24 page)
Faith figured she had nothing more to lose and when they got to the bottom, resolved to throw herself against Eleanor and try to get the gun. But at the foot of the stairs, Eleanor suddenly leaned forward and turned on a light switch. Faith was momentarily disoriented and it was enough time for Eleanor to push her along into another room.
The basement was a rabbit warren of rooms, each for a distinct purpose: the laundry room, the lumber room, the trunk room, the furnace room, and so on. Before she could think what to do and with Eleanor's pistol jabbing her in the back, Faith was standing outside a sturdy-looking door with the key in the lock.
“I told you I didn't enjoy the killing part, Faith, and have no wish to shoot you and dear Benjamin.”
Faith couldn't believe her ears. Hope sprang anew.
“But you will have to die.” Eleanor sounded unpleasantly definite.
She turned the key and pushed Faith into a pitch-dark closet.
“Now dear, I have to go upstairs and clean up all the mess you made.”
It looked like that was to be Faith's epitaph. Eleanor Whipple had locked them in her airless preserves cupboard and left them to die. She wasn't going to kill them. She would let time do it for her and since this was perhaps the last place anyone would think to look in the search that would undoubtably take place, time was on her side. Faith felt her palms sweat and a dizzy nausea overcome her as the terror of the situation became real. She was alive, but as good as buried. Buried! How would Eleanor get rid of their bodies? Then she remembered the well. There was nothing funny about it now.
Eleanor would never crack. No, she would be as genuinely concerned and grieved as she had been at Patricia's funeral. She would no doubt help, tramping through the woods, making pots of tea, and offering advice about where to look. It would never occur to anyone that this sweet little old lady was well on her way to mass murder.
Benjamin was awake and babbling. In spite of the absolute darkness Faith knew exactly what his face looked like. Would she ever see it in the light again? Hopelessness took over as she pictured their lifeless bodies falling down the well and she began to cry.
Somewhere around the fiftieth sob, she stopped suddenly. It didn't seem possible to be in any greater fear, but here it was.
There was a sound in the tiny room and it wasn't coming from her or Benjamin or the countless jars of rosehip jelly, pickles, tomatoes, and corn relish.
There was something or someone else there. The sound was breathing. Very heavy breathing. Faith put her foot out cautiously in the direction of the sound. Nothing. Then she remembered she had the diaper bag with her purse in it. Matches. Picked up last week, only last week? in New York, so she could remember the name of a restaurant, Bouley. She reached into the bag and
pulled them out. She lit one and the warm glow filled the room, bringing a momentary sense of safety.
pulled them out. She lit one and the warm glow filled the room, bringing a momentary sense of safety.
There were no mysteries lurking in the corners now, only rows and rows of tidy jars filled with the fruits of summer, and under one shelf, sprawled in what must be a drugged sleep, was Jenny Moore. The match flickered out and Faith stumbled over to the child.
She didn't know whether to be relieved that Jennifer was still alive or in despair at what lay ahead for them all. She sat down on the cold earthen floor and cradled Jenny's head in her lap.
There wasn't long to wait. Jenny woke up slowly and understandably it took a moment for her to grasp that Faith and Benjamin were in Cousin Eleanor's pantry with her. After a while she was able to tell Faith what had happened.
“I came home from school and the phone was ringing. It was Cousin Eleanor. She wanted me to come over to get a pie she had baked for us and some of her preserves. I didn't want to go, but Mom always told us to be especially nice to her, so I said I would be right there. She gave me a glass of lemonade. She always does and I hate it because she never puts in enough sugar, but this time it was really sweet.”
To mask the drug, Faith thought. Eleanor had really been very clever. Nothing to make Jenny suspect anything, just a visit to Cousin Eleanor's like any other, except there wouldn't be any other.
“I was really tired and wanted to go home, but she insisted that I get the preserves, so we went into the basement and in here. She began to put a lot of jars in a basket and I don't remember anything after that.”
Jenny began to cry. She was completely conscious now.
“What's going on, Mrs. Fairchild, why did she put me in here and what are you and Benjamin doing here?”
Faith put her arm around Jenny and pulled her closer. She felt as if the three of them were huddled on a raft.
“Jenny, everything is going to be all right and you mustn't be afraid, but Eleanor is the person who killed Cindy and your mother. She put me in here too, because I found out.”
Jenny shrieked. “Cousin Eleanor killed Mom! Why? She must be crazy!”
Jenny was frantically struggling to get up and Faith held her tighter. “Eleanor is very, very crazy and she got the idea that if she murdered all the women in your family, she would inherit the money and the house.”
Jenny pulled out of Faith's grasp, “You mean she wants to kill me, too? Oh, Mrs. Fairchild, we've got to get out of here!” She stumbled against Faith as she tried to find the door in the dark.
“Jenny, sit down. We can't panic”âat least not yet, Faith thought. “Eleanor has locked the door, so we have to concentrate on finding a way out or staying in and keeping her out until someone finds us.”
A brave hope, but not totally impossible. Faith realized she had been momentarily diverted from her own terror. Having another person to take care of, especially one who could speak, was doing a lot to quell her fears. Someone had to be the grown-upâand there weren't too many candidates.
Faith lit another match. The closet was about nine feet square and lined with deep shelves from just above the floor to the ceiling. The door was between two narrower shelves and opened in. When Faith held the match to the keyhole, she could see the key was in it. But even if they succeeded in pushing it to the ground, there was no room for it to pass under the door. It was a tight seal, guaranteed to keep the jars cool and dry. The door itself was backed with tin. The match started to scorch her fingers
and she blew it out. It was depressing to be back in the darkness again.
and she blew it out. It was depressing to be back in the darkness again.
“I think the best thing is for us to sit to one side of the door, so we would be behind it if she opens it.”
“Yeah, and then we can knock her out with one of these jars,” Jenny responded enthusiastically.
Ah, for the optimism of youth, thought Faith. Because there was very little to be optimistic about. The tour of the room had shown her what she had feared from the moment Eleanor closed the door. There was no way for any air to get in and when what they were sharing now was exhausted, they'd be dead. She squeezed her eyes shut on her panic. This was no time to hyperventilate.
She insistently pushed any calculations about how long it would be before they used up the air in the room back to the word problems that had plagued her in Algebra I. “Two women and an infant are locked in a closet. A train traveling to Chicago passes the house. What time will it be in Milwaukee when there is no more oxygen left for them to breathe?” Instead she tried to remember Biology I.
“Jenny, just in case it takes some time for them to find us, I think we should try to use as little air as possible. So that means we shouldn't talk much or move around. But first let's see what we have here. You take Benjamin and I'll open the diaper bag.”
It was a veritable bonanza. This will teach Tom to laugh at all the stuff I put in here, thought Faith. It was nice to be right, although she might not have the chance to tell him.
There was a rubberized pad for changing Benjamin, which they spread on the cold floor with one of his receiving blankets over it. In addition there were a bottle of juice, a bottle of formula, a banana, zwieback, a package of baby wipes, diaper pins, two disposable diapers, a complete change of clothes for Benjamin, an apple, some
toys, a cloth diaper, a bib, two fairly large slices of pumpkin piñon bread with cream cheese, and miraculously a small penlite flashlight Benjamin's doctor had given her. It was from some drug company and Faith resolved to write a fervent note of thanks to the president when and if she ever saw the light of day. It was for checking Benjamin at night and Faith pressed it and turned it on him now. He was smiling happily in Jenny's arms. Faith rapidly concluded her inventory. She had tucked her small purse in the outside pocket of the bag, along with a novel she was reading. The novel could wait, but she checked her purse: comb, lipstick, blusherâat least her looks wouldn't have to goâabout fifteen dollars and some change, not enough to bribe Eleanor when she was going for the big money, the matches, her Swiss Army knife, a clean handkerchiefâmother would like thatâand a small notepad and pencil, which someone had brought her from Florence and that she carried because it was so elegant, but rarely used. She could leave a note for Tom. A note he would never get. She felt a lump in her throat and quickly turned to Jenny. They were in the dark so as not to waste the penlite battery, but she still didn't want to transmit her deep fears. Fears as deep as a well.
toys, a cloth diaper, a bib, two fairly large slices of pumpkin piñon bread with cream cheese, and miraculously a small penlite flashlight Benjamin's doctor had given her. It was from some drug company and Faith resolved to write a fervent note of thanks to the president when and if she ever saw the light of day. It was for checking Benjamin at night and Faith pressed it and turned it on him now. He was smiling happily in Jenny's arms. Faith rapidly concluded her inventory. She had tucked her small purse in the outside pocket of the bag, along with a novel she was reading. The novel could wait, but she checked her purse: comb, lipstick, blusherâat least her looks wouldn't have to goâabout fifteen dollars and some change, not enough to bribe Eleanor when she was going for the big money, the matches, her Swiss Army knife, a clean handkerchiefâmother would like thatâand a small notepad and pencil, which someone had brought her from Florence and that she carried because it was so elegant, but rarely used. She could leave a note for Tom. A note he would never get. She felt a lump in her throat and quickly turned to Jenny. They were in the dark so as not to waste the penlite battery, but she still didn't want to transmit her deep fears. Fears as deep as a well.
“Jenny, do you have anything in your coat pockets?”
Fortunately they both had their coats, Eleanor wouldn't have wanted them hanging in her hall. Jenny evidently had never taken hers off and Faith had picked hers up when she'd first tried to leave. So they weren't coldânot yet anyway.
“I'm sorry, Mrs. Fairchild, I just ran out of the house quickly. All I have is my house key, some tissues, and half a Milky Way.”
“Well, you might as well eat that if you want and when we get out of here, I'll give you some really good chocolate.”
Obviously the Moores had not been teaching their children much about food. Today's Milky Ways were too sweet. Faith would get her some Côte d'Or chocolate to start. Starvation was not their problem in any case. Aside from their own provisions, there were all these jars. Faith hoped she would live long enough to be forced to open a few. She might even choke down some watermelon pickles.
“Jenny, you keep holding Benjaminâhe's not messy, is he?”
“No. At least I don't think so.”
“You'd know it. I'd just as soon wait as long as possible before changing him. I'll have to feed him soon, though. But maybe there's a window behind one of the rows of jars. It's dark now, so we wouldn't see the light. You sit still and I'll look.”
Before she tackled the shelves, Faith examined the door. She took the awl on her knife and poked the key to the floor. No light was showing and she realized the amount of air that was admitted through the tiny hole was negligible, but it made her feel as if she was doing something and slightly less claustrophobic. Then she dug away at the earth at the bottom of the door to see if she could let in more air, but she came up against cement almost immediately. It was as if Eleanor had had the closet especially constructed for their imprisonment.
She turned to the shelves. It was not an easy task. They were built onto the wall and didn't move. Faith concentrated on taking jars from the top of the shelves down to the middle. It wasn't likely that there would be a window on the bottom. After thirty minutes of fruitless effort, but more than enough fruit, she stopped to feed Benjamin and rest. She knew she was moving around too much, but she had to try.
“How can she possibly eat all this?” Faith wondered aloud.
“I don't think she does. She just likes to have it. And it's all really terrible. I hope we don't have to eat any. She doesn't put enough sugar in the jam and she puts too much salt in the tomatoes. Oh, I don't want to think about it! I'm beginning to get hungry.”
Faith was hungry too, and Benjamin was eagerly sucking away. They could eat the apple, banana, and bread for now.
Jenny was calmer, Faith noted. She seemed to have no doubt that Mrs. Fairchild would find a way out and Mrs. Fairchild did not intend to disabuse her of this notion, a notion that was fast becoming an impossible one.
They ate and Jenny began to confide in Faith, “It's kind of a relief to know Eleanor did it. I mean it means it's not who I thought it was.”
Faith was puzzled. Surely Jenny couldn't have suspected her father.
“I know this doesn't make any sense, but in the beginning I thought maybe Dad had killed Cindy by accident. There were a lot of things going on. I heard him arguing with her one night and she was threatening him. It was horrible. Mom was crying and Cindy was screaming. Dad didn't want to pay for the wedding and he wanted Cindy out of the house. Then after Cindy was killed, Mom seemed afraid of something. And Rob was acting weird, too.”
Her voice became slightly muffled, “I put the rose in your mailbox, Mrs. Fairchild. I read about somebody doing it in a book once and I was afraid you'd find out that it was Dad who killed Cindy.”
Faith felt irrationally relieved. So no one had been trying to kill her after all. At least not then.
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