The Body In The Basement ff-6

by Katherine Hall Page

  her mother said with a very amused look in her eye.

  Saying good-bye to Sam had been hard. He would try to get up again for a long weekend, but the likelihood was that they wouldn't see each other until August. She didn't want to think about it. They'd checked in with Samantha at the games and the kids were not as upset as Pix had feared, especial y since the judges had awarded them the prize for Best Walking Group. Everyone was studiously ignoring the incident, except for some of the younger campers who were stil giggling. Samantha's sidekicks, Susannah and Geoff, were among the worst. They would get in control, glance at each other, and burst out laughing again. Pix watched in amusement herself at her daughter's struggles to be firm with the two. Samantha had told her that their initial homesickness had quickly given way to a friendship based mainly on a mutual love of corny "Knock, Knock" jokes and mischief.

  Jim and Valerie were overseeing the three-legged races, laughing just the right amount as they partnered unlikely combinations--fifteen-year-olds with five-year-olds.

  Everyone seemed to be having fun. Duncan was nowhere in sight. Samantha's camp duties ended after the Odd Fel ows Lobster Picnic and she told her mother not to worry, which Pix correctly interpreted as meaning mother would not see daughter until midnight. She was tempted to extend Samantha's curfew—it was a holiday—yet the girl was stil looking pale, quite unlike her usual hale and hearty self. Pix wondered whether anything was wrong—unrelated to health. Samantha had seemed preoccupied for the last few days. Of course with everything that was happening, this was a reasonable response. But Pix's motherly intuition was picking up more, her antennae were twitching. She'd try to talk to her daughter later. Maybe the two of them would drive to El sworth for dinner and a movie tomorrow night. She needed to get her in the car for a good long drive.

  Pix spread her blanket out on a choice spot on the library hil overlooking Sanpere Harbor and waited to see who would join her for the fireworks. They were due to start at 9:00 P.M. and it was 8:30 now. You had to arrive early to grab a good place. Her mother had decided to forgo the fireworks this year, as she had for the last two years. The first summer she'd declared she was going to bed early and had seen enough fireworks to last the rest of her life had Pix ready to check her mother into Blue Hil Hospital for a thorough examination. Ursula loved fireworks—or so she had always claimed. "It's the beginning of the end," Pix had told Sam mournful y. "First fireworks, then she'l stop going out of the house altogether." Sam had reacted less dramatical y. "Just because your mother doesn't want to sit on the damp ground with hundreds of people chanting ooh and aah while they get cricks in their necks plus kids running around throwing firecrackers, waving sparklers in everyone's faces, doesn't mean she's cashing in her chips."

  And of course he'd been right. But Pix didn't like things to change.

  Wel , her mother had made it both to the Lobster Picnic and the Fish and Fritter Fry. Few Rowes would miss the chance to eat lobster, dripping melted butter and lobster juice al over themselves and their neighbors at the picnic tables the Odd Fel ows erected especial y for the occasion in the bal field each year. Some of the older people always reminisced about the days when lobster was so cheap and plentiful that they would beg for something else. Ken Layton, Sanpere's resident historian, would remind everyone that around the time of the Civil War, lobsters, regardless of weight, were two cents apiece—and they pul ed in bigger lobsters then. It had al happened again this year and Sam had managed to eat two lobsters, since he was going to miss the Fish and Fritter Fry, but Pix had stopped at one to save room.

  She lay back on the rough wool blanket, an old army blanket of her father's, and gazed up at the sky. You never saw so many stars in Aleford and certainly not even a quarter in Boston! She felt as if she were peering into a big overturned bowl and the milky white constel ations were tumbling out above her. The fireworks would have some competition.

  Just as she was beginning to feel a bit sorry for herself, no kith nor kin by her side, Jil came and sat down. "Do you have enough room for me?"

  “I have enough room for ten or twelve of you," Pix said, sitting up. "Sam had to go back early and Samantha's off with her friends."

  “What a day! Business hasn't been this good in years."

  Jil was clearly excited. "People stuck around after the parade and I even sold the lobster-pot lamp that one of the Sanfords made. It's been sitting in the store for years”

  Pix knew the lamp wel . She had threatened to give it to Faith more than once and vice versa. Not only had the resourceful craftsman wired the pot buoy but he had attached netting, cork floats, and, as the pièce de résistance, a whole lobster that glowed when the lamp was turned on. The plain white shade had been lavishly painted with yet more bright red crustaceans.

  “That's great, especial y about the lamp." Pix laughed.

  “Don't worry," Jil said, "you can stil have one. He's bringing another one up tomorrow! If I'd known, I might have been able to sel them as a pair!"

  “I doubt it. When you buy such an object, you like to think it's one of a kind."

  “The only thing about being so busy was that I didn't close for lunch or dinner. I missed the picnic and the fry." Jil sounded very disappointed.

  “I think I ate enough for both of us," Pix said. "And everyone at the parade and in your shop must have gone down to Granvil e for both. I've never seen so many people!

  Mabel Hamilton told me they went through three hundred pounds of potatoes, a hundred and sixty pounds of fish, twelve gal ons of clams, fifty pounds of onions, and goodness knows how much else for the fry!"

  “That's wonderful. Al the profits go to the scholarship fund for kids from fishing families, which real y helps the island. Those women are amazing. Think of al that peeling.”

  But Pix was not thinking of peeling potatoes or any other vegetables. She was thinking of what Earl would say.

  Seth Marshal was standing next to them, obviously waiting for an invitation. Jil gave it.

  “You said there was room, didn't you, Pix? Why don't you sit down, Seth." The woman actual y patted the blanket.

  It wasn't that Pix disliked Seth. It was just not the way things were supposed to be. And come to think of it, Seth wasn't exactly flavor of the month.

  He appeared to realize this and eyed his hostess a bit warily as he sat down.

  “You do know we're pouring tomorrow," Seth said.

  "Yes, Earl told me this morning. I'l be there at seven. That about right?"

  “You don't real y need to be, unless of course you want to," Seth added hastily.

  With the start in sight, Pix was feeling generous. "Don't worry, I'm not going to hang around al the time. I just want to see the foundation go in and cal Faith." It was the least she could do.

  “No problem," Seth replied.

  Pix sighed. She had the feeling she'd be hearing this phrase often in the weeks to come. And Seth was also sitting awful y close to Jil . In the moonlight, his resemblance to one of Captain Kidd's mates was even more pronounced. Maybe Jil found him romantic. Pix thought him hirsute—and suspect. She started to think what he could possibly gain from Mitchel Pierce's demise—she'd never been happy with Seth's explanation for being at the site—

  when a long shadow fel across the blanket.

  “May I join your party?" Norman Osgood asked. Pix was delighted. She might have the chance to work in some of her questions, although with Jil and Seth around, it might be hard to steer the conversation toward Mitchel Pierce.

  Jil had made it plain that she didn't want to hear anything at al about the subject whenever Pix had referred to the event.

  “Are Addie and Rebecca watching from their lawn?"

  Pix asked.

  “No, Addie is stil not feeling wel and she needs Rebecca. I suggested they go over to the Medical Center or at least cal a doctor, but Addie won't hear of it."

  “According to my mother, neither lady has ever had any contact with the medical profession," Seth said.


  “That's amazing." Norman was astonished. "At their ages. Not even tonsils?"

  “If they did have them out, the doctor did it in the kitchen, and since that meant a boat trip in Addie's case, it might never have been done”

  Norman was stil shaking his head when the first rocket went up and they al said "Aah.”

  A huge golden chrysanthemum shape fil ed the sky and the petals dropped slowly toward the sea, leaving trails of golden sand. The show was spectacular. The finale was positively orgasmic and the cries of the crowd grew louder and louder as bursts of color and sound exploded overhead. Then suddenly, it was finished and only smoke hung in the air like dense fog.

  Norman sighed happily. "That was wonderful. I love fireworks, especial y over the water. I was in a boat on the Hudson for the Statue of Liberty display in 1986. Sublime, but this came close."

  “Have you lived in New York City al your life?" Pix asked as a way of starting her inquisition.

  “No, my dear, I haven't, however you'l have to wait for the tale, which is a lengthy and enthral ing one. I told the Bainbridges I'd be back as soon as the show was over, and I am a little concerned about Adelaide. She hasn't been eating, and you know how she enjoys her table.”

  Something must be wrong indeed, Pix thought.

  "Please cal me if there's anything I can do. Maybe my mother could convince her to cal a doctor."

  “I doubt that the Almighty Himself could convince Mrs.

  Bainbridge to do anything she didn't want to do, but if I think otherwise, I'l cal . Thank you.”

  Pix had the peculiar feeling that Norman had become closer to the Bainbridges than she was—two people she'd known al her life.

  Seth picked up on it, too. "Who do you think is adopting who?"

  “I'm not sure," Pix said. "Maybe it's mutual.”

  Jil jumped up and said she was exhausted after her busy day. "Al I want to do is col apse." Pix said goodbye to them both and slowly began to fold up her blanket as she watched the crowd disperse—as she watched Jil and Seth go into The Blueberry Patch together.

  Duncan Cowley was lying on the mattress in his secret cabin, staring up at the rafters. Long-ago inhabitants had carved their names and various epitaphs into the wood.

  He'd painted over the ones on the wal s in disgust at such sentiments as "Maine Sail Camp. I pine for yew." He was disgusted tonight, as wel —and angry. What a bunch of pussies. They knew how important the ful moon was and stil his friends had deserted him for some stupid fireworks.

  The cabin glowed with the candles he'd lighted. He looked at his watch. It was stil too early. He closed his eyes yet knew he wouldn't sleep. Restless, he got up and went over to the trunk.

  He'd just have to do it alone.

  It was a long wait until midnight. Pix had been tempted to cal Faith but didn't want to bother her. If she was home, she'd be weary after working the holiday. She hadn't had a chance to tel Faith about the blood red sails at the camp.

  Amy had diverted her mother's attention just as Pix had remembered she hadn't mentioned the incident to Faith.

  She'd cal tomorrow. Tel ing Faith what was going on was making things clearer, or, if not clearer, making Pix feel better.

  She did cal Sam, to make sure he'd gotten home al right. She missed him more than ever when she hung up.

  Final y, she got into bed with the latest issue of Organic Gardening and tried to get interested in mulch. When Samantha did get home, just before the stroke of twelve, Pix cal ed out to her daughter to come say good night.

  “Weren't the fireworks awesome? The best ever."

  Samantha had clearly had a good night. Pix felt less worried.

  “Truly awesome," she agreed. "Whom were you with?"

  “Oh, the usual people—Fred, Arlene, their friends. How about you?" Samantha sounded slightly anxious.

  Oh no, Pix thought, don't tel me Samantha is starting to worry about poor old Mom. The way I do, a stil -deeper voice whispered.

  “We had quite a crowd on the blanket. I was by the library. Jil , the antiques dealer who's at the Bainbridges, some others." Pix didn't care to get more specific.

  Samantha was hoping to be a junior bridesmaid at Jil and Earl's wedding.

  “That's nice, Mother." Her daughter actual y patted her hand. "Now I see you've got your usual exciting bedtime reading, so I won't keep you from it a minute longer."

  “Don't you patronize me. And where's my kiss!" Pix grabbed Samantha for a hug. Sam had given them al magazine subscriptions last Christmas: Organic Gardening renewed for his wife, Sassy for his daughter, and the Atlantic Monthly for his mother-in-law. There they were in a nutshel .

  Pix drifted off to sleep. Maybe this was a new way to categorize people. She'd have to talk about it with Faith—

  The New Yorker, obviously. And who else? Valerie Atherton, House Beautiful, without question, and Jim, Boys'

  Life. Jil ? Not Modern Bride, not yet anyway.

  She thought she was stil thinking about magazines, then realized that dawn was streaking across the sky outside in shades of burnt orange and magenta. The phone was ringing. She grabbed the receiver in a panic. Nobody cal ed this early. It was just over the edge of night.

  “Pix, Pix, are you awake?”

  It was Mother.

  “What's wrong? What's happened? Are you al right?"

  Pix ignored the obvious question. Of course she was awake.

  “I want you to get over to the Bainbridges as fast as you can. Addie's dead.”

  Pix was momentarily relieved. "Oh dear, Mother, what sad news, yet I suppose with this weather, her age and al that weight, it—"

  “Rebecca found her on the floor of her bedroom with an old quilt Rebecca's never seen before wrapped around her—a red-and-white quilt."

  “I'l be there as soon as I can.”

  Seven

  Once when Mark Mil er had been about nine years old, he had inveigled his mother into trying out the new tire swing at the school playground. Somehow, Pix had gotten her feet caught in the rim and for what seemed like a giddy, reeling eternity was unable to stop or get off. The world whirled around. She was almost sick and momentarily terrified. As she pul ed into the Bainbridges' drive and opened her car door, she felt as if she was back on that swing.

  Rebecca opened the door before Pix could knock. The sight of the grief-stricken old lady, pathetic in a worn flannel robe, her gray hair untidily sticking out in clumps around her face, brought Pix soundly back to earth. She put her arms around the woman and hugged her hard. "I'm sure there's some explanation for al this.

  Maybe Addie had a quilt you didn't know about, felt cold, and got up to get it." It didn't sound especial y plausible, but it was something to say.

  Rebecca shook her head. Tears had been fil ing the soft wrinkles of her cheeks ever since Pix had arrived and obviously for a long time before that.

  Pix looked around the kitchen. Ever since she'd driven up, she'd had a sense something was wrong besides what was so obviously wrong, and now she knew what it was: No one was around. Where was Earl? Where were the B and B guests? The Bainbridges had countless relatives al over the island. Where were they?

  Rebecca fol owed her glance. "Your mother thought I should cal Earl, but I just couldn't, so she said she'd do it. I couldn't cal anybody except her.”

  Ladies like Rebecca and Adelaide did not get involved with the police. Wel , they were involved now. Pix wondered when Rebecca had discovered the body. But first things first. Rebecca appeared to be in shock.

  “Let me make you some tea. Are you warm enough?”

  It was already stifling hot again, but Rebecca was shivering. Pix took a jacket from one of the pegs inside the door and put it around Rebecca's thin shoulders. From the size, it must have been Addie's.

  “Tea." She managed only the one word and Pix took it as a yes. After a moment, Rebecca finished the thought. "I was on my way to make our morning cups when I went in to check on Addie. She's been poorly lately and I
wasn't sure she was awake or, if she was, whether she'd want any."

  Rebecca sighed heavily. Pix could imagine what would have ensued if her sister-in-law had awakened Addie or brought her a cup of unwanted tea. Yet Addie had been Rebecca's main job in life for so many years, now what was she going to do?

  “And there she was, al wrapped up like some kind of parcel. I went over and pul ed that strange quilt down. It was her feet first. Then I found her head and she wasn't breathing." Rebecca broke down completely and sobbed noisily. What was taking Earl so long? Pix wondered frantical y. She wanted to get Rebecca over to Mother's.

  Ursula had obviously cal ed her daughter first so someone would be there to take care of Rebecca, but the best thing of al would be to get her with her old friend. Pix debated waking Norman. He had become so close to the two old ladies. She decided to let Earl handle things and put a mug of tea with lots of sugar in Rebecca's hand. The warmth of the liquid seemed to steady her. She stopped crying to take a few sips.

  “Why don't you go up and say good-bye? They'l al be here soon and you won't have a chance”

  It was exactly what Pix wanted to do, except she hadn't wanted to leave Rebecca, and it wasn't real y to say goodbye.

  “Are you sure you'l be al right?”

  Rebecca nodded and patted Pix on the hand. There seemed to be a lot of that happening lately. "You're a good girl. Now run up quick. I'l be fine here”

  Adelaide's bedroom was a large one in the front of the house. Pix darted up the stairs, glad the rag runner was there to muffle her steps. She wasn't sure how many of the rooms were fil ed and she didn't want anyone waking up right now.

  She turned the old glass doorknob slowly—Rebecca had already obscured any prints—and went in. At first, the room looked empty. The big old four-poster that had been in the family for generations had obviously been slept in, but no one was there now.

  Then she saw the quilt. Rebecca had covered the body again. It was so close to the bed as to be almost underneath. Dark red patches in a spiral pattern stood out sharply against the white muslin background, which, as she bent down, she realized was not completely white. There was a second spiral, the material white, with the tiniest of red dots. Dots like pinpricks.