But there was no sign of any blue thread—in a cross or not.
Pix stood up to steel herself. She looked around the room. There was no sign of a struggle. Addie's comb and brush, along with several bottles of scent, Evening in Paris vintage, were arranged neatly on the embroidered dresser scarf gracing the top of the painted Victorian dresser that matched the rest of the furniture in the room. Her quilting frame and the quilt she'd been working on were in one corner, next to a chest fil ed with sewing supplies. When Pix was a child, Addie had let her play with the button box kept there. Pix suddenly realized she did want to say good-bye.
She'd been forgetting this was Addie, her friend. She got down close to the body and pul ed back the quilt—at the end she'd have expected the feet to be, after Rebecca's description.
It was horrible, and a more lengthy good-bye would have to wait for the funeral service. Rebecca must have assumed Pix wouldn't uncover the body. Adelaide Bainbridge had died in great agony. Her face was contorted in pain and there was a foul smel of vomit. Pix jumped up and headed for the door. This was definitely a police matter.
She almost col ided with Earl on the stairs. He put a finger to his lips, so it was obvious he didn't want the whole house roused yet. He also made it plain from a look of annoyance she'd never seen directed at her be fore that he wasn't pleased with her presence at the scene—or upstairs, at any rate. She passed him quickly.
“What wil they do now?" Rebecca asked tremulously as Pix reentered the kitchen.
Pix took the mug for a refil and decided to make herself some tea, as wel . Her legs were shaking and it was al she could do to answer Rebecca.
“I'm sure Earl cal ed the state police. They'l probably be here soon. They'l take pictures of everything and ask everyone who's here a lot of questions." She tried to keep her voice steady. It was going to be a bitch was what it was, but she couldn't say that to Rebecca Bainbridge with her companion of many years--and the object of the investigation—lying dead upstairs.
“I hope we can have the funeral tomorrow. Reverend Thompson wil do a beautiful service, I know, and Addie liked him so much better than Reverend McClintock, although I never minded him myself. It was the candles on the altar that did it. Addie stopped attending after that until he left." Rebecca was speaking calmly, even affectionately.
Pix decided to try to keep her going on the same track.
Now was not the time to suggest that a funeral tomorrow was extremely unlikely.
It was the calm before the storm. The state police and the coroner arrived in two cars and the guests were roused.
Pix was kept busy making tea and coffee. Norman Osgood seemed to be in almost as bad shape as Rebecca.
Besides Norman, there was a couple from Pennsylvania and a young woman from California. The Californian was in the smal downstairs room off the parlor the Bainbridges used when they were crowded. She was excited by the drama of it al , she told them breathlessly, bemoaning the fact she was such a heavy sleeper that she had missed everything. Pix was a bit puzzled by this last remark, then realized the woman believed if she had only managed to wake up, she could have caught the perpetrator single-handedly. The perpetrator. The whole thing was insane.
Someone going around kil ing people and then wrapping the bodies in quilts? A lunatic? A serial kil er? Who could possibly want to get rid of Adelaide Bainbridge? Pix needed to get to a phone. She had to cal Faith.
It was going to be quite a while before she would be able to chat with anyone except the police, she soon realized. First, they questioned Rebecca. Earl thought it might be a good idea for Pix to come with them, since Rebecca was unable to let go of Pix's hand and had sent an imploring look his way. The older woman had been bewildered by al the activity and had sat in a rocker in the kitchen, shrinking away at the arrival of every new stranger.
Adelaide had been sick for a couple of days, she told them, and was no better or worse the night before when she, Rebecca, had looked in on her before going to bed at about ten o'clock. The noise of the fireworks had kept them up a bit later than usual, Rebecca explained, and Addie had been a bit put out. Addie had first felt il Sunday night after the clambake. They had both assumed it was something she ate, then when it didn't go away, just a touch of summer sickness.
“Summer sickness?" Earl stopped writing for a moment. It was a new one to him.
“You know, the heat and some kind of bug. There's a lot going around." Rebecca seemed surprised that she'd had to explain.
“And she didn't go to the Medical Center?" he asked.
"No, Addie didn't hold much with doctors. Said they'd only send her up to Blue Hil for a lot of expen sive tests or tel her to lose some weight, which she already knew she needed to do and wasn't going to." She seemed to be repeating the words verbatim.
“And you didn't hear anything during the night?”
Rebecca shook her head and started to cry. "If only ..."
She couldn't finish. They waited for her to compose herself, which she did, finishing her sentence with "I had" and adding, "There was a bathroom off her room, so even if she was up in the night, I wouldn't have heard her in the back where I am. Sometimes I hear the guests, but after they al came in from the fireworks, I didn't hear a thing until this morning."
“And what was that?"
“Oh, the first birds and a cricket or two. It was stil dark.
Addie and I have always been early risers.”
Pix knew this to be true, but she hadn't known just how early. It made the Rowes, who carried some sort of puritanical gene that made sleeping beyond seven o'clock physical y impossible, look like layabouts.
“When you opened the bedroom door, what did you see?"
“Nothing"
“Nothing?" Rebecca was getting flightier as the questions went on, what with birds, crickets, and now this.
“There was no one in the bed or in the room. I thought she was in the bathroom and so I went in to cal to her. I didn't want to wake the others, of course. They do like their sleep. Why, we had a couple here last summer who didn't get up until noon every single day!"' Earl tried to lead her back to the matter at hand.
“You didn't see her, so you cal ed to her at the bathroom door?"
“Oh no, I didn't get that far. Why, you couldn't miss seeing that quilt, and I had no idea Addie was in it until I pul ed it off and then it was her feet first and I knew right away she had passed, because they were so stil ." The tears were running down her cheeks again.
“And you're sure this wasn't one of her own quilts or a quilt that's been in the house."
“Oh no, not a red-and-white one. Addie didn't like them. Said they looked too plain. Hers had lots of colors,"
Rebecca added admiringly.
“But isn't it possible the quilt was one someone else made and it's been in a drawer or trunk for a while?" Pix gave Earl credit. He knew the ways things happened in these entrenched families. She was sure there were things in the trunks in the attic at The Pines that neither she nor Mother had ever laid eyes on.
“No," Rebecca said firmly. "We cleaned out everything last fal and there isn't a trunk or drawer in the house and barn we didn't go through. Got rid of a lot of rubbish. Made some money from it, too. What people wil pay for worthless junk never fails to astonish me”
And that appeared to be that. Earl took Rebecca back to the kitchen and left her under Norman's care. Another state police officer was chatting with the guests. Her grandparents had come from the western Pennsylvania town where the couple had lived al their lives and they were having a grand time playing "What A Coincidence!" and
"Do You Know?”
After Rebecca was settled, Earl returned and said to Pix, "So your mother cal ed you first?"
“Yes, I think she wanted someone to be with Rebecca as soon as possible and I'm not that far away. I'd like to take Rebecca over to Mother's when you're finished. It must be very painful for her to be here”
Earl was shaking his head. "First, R
ebecca doesn't cal me, then your mother waits God knows how long." He was taking it altogether much too personal y.
“They're old ladies. Even a policeman they know as wel as you is frightening at a time like this. I'm sure nothing was hurt by the slight delay”
The state police officer looked tired.
“We understand you went upstairs after you arrived."
His tone indicated it wasn't clear whether she'd be indicted or not.
“Yes. I wanted to say good-bye." Pix had the grace to lower her eyes.
Earl was getting impatient. "Look, we have to talk to the rest of the people. Pix, what do you make of al this business with the quilts? Beats me how there can be any connection between Mitchel Pierce and the Bain-bridges. I doubt he ever did any work for them. Addie wouldn't have trusted him."
“I didn't see any mark on this quilt. Of course I wasn't in the room long and most of it is wrapped around the body.
But I agree. I can't see a connection. Although"—she was thinking out loud—"Rebecca just said they sold a lot of things from the barn and attic. Maybe they sold some of it to Mitchel , except I don't know what that tel s us"
“Good thinking." Earl was scribbling hurriedly.
“Isn't it possible that a woman her age might forget about a quilt or two?" the officer asked. "There seem to be enough quilts in this house to cover half the beds in the county.”
Pix had thought of this, too—and Rebecca was definitely absentminded—but the fact that the quilts around both bodies were the same colors had to be more than a coincidence.
“It's possible—maybe even more than possible. I don't see any reason why you shouldn't take her to your mother's after we ask her about who they sold the stuff to. We'l go over there if we need her for anything. And where are you going to be?”
Pix was glad Earl wanted to stay in touch. She was sure he'd tel her if there was a cross on the quilt and maybe what had kil ed Addie when he knew. It was hard to believe from the expression on the woman's face that the death had been a natural one.
“After I leave Mother's, I want to go over to the camp and tel Samantha what has happened. She's probably wondering where I was this morning and I don't want her to hear the news from someone else. Then I'l go home."
“Okay, but no details at the moment. I know you know how to keep your mouth shut.”
Pix thought Earl intended this as a compliment. It also meant she was forgiven for going upstairs. The state policeman was not so cordial. He didn't even look up as she left the room.
Rebecca was stil in her night things, but it didn't take her long to change. She seemed relieved to be going to Ursula's. Pix had phoned her mother while Rebecca was getting ready to say they were on their way and admonished her to keep quiet about what had happened.
“It's a little late for that, dear. Half the island has seen the police cars in the drive. Gert told me that when she got here an hour ago and of course 1 had to tel her Addie was dead. I didn't mention the quilt, but it wil get out soon enough. These things always do.”
So much for shielding Samantha, Pix thought, but she resolved to stop by the camp, anyway.
Driving Rebecca over to Mother's. Pix was struck by the normalcy of the day going on al around her.
Vacationing families were beachcombing alongside the causeway. Someone was taking advantage of the influx of holiday visitors and having a yard sale. The UPS delivery truck barreled past in the opposite direction and old Mr.
Marshal sat on his front porch overlooking the brightly painted Smurfs, flamingos, posteriors of fat ladies in bloomers, and other tasteful lawn ornaments that he made for sale in his woodworking shop out back.
“Mother says you're to stay as long as you want," Pix said.
“I know, it's very kind of her, but I don't like to be away from my garden. In this weather, I have to water twice a day.
Addie always loved my roses." She was breaking down again. "Now I'l be putting them on her grave”
There was a lot Pix wanted to ask Rebecca. She'd said there hadn't been any strangers around this summer—
except for the guests, whom of course they didn't know until they'd been there a while—when Earl had asked her. But Pix wanted to ask about Norman and also whether the Bainbridges had sold anything to Mitch. This last, she was able to work in. Rebecca had quieted down again by the time they turned off the main road. The Pines was at the tip of a smal peninsula and often there was water on either side of them. The view of Eggemoggin Reach was spectacular at this point. Today it was fil ed with sailboats, moving slowly. There wasn't much more wind offshore than on. Pix had a sudden desire to be on one, cruising gently toward the Camden Hil s, watching the granite shore meander along below the tal evergreens. Sailing always bordered on voyeurism: a house at the end of a private road exposed for al to see, occupants of that special beach no one else had ever discovered forced to share the secret.
Rebecca was looking with an appraising eye out the window at the postmistress's flower garden.
“So, you and Addie had a real turnout last fal . I'm hoping to do the same with Mother at The Pines this summer. We have no idea what's up in the attic"
“Not in the heat, deah," Rebecca said anxiously. "You won't make your mother go up there now."
“Of course not. Only if it cools down." And besides, Pix added to herself, I've never been able to make Mother do much of anything.
“We may find there are things we want to get rid of, too," she continued. "Who did you get to take yours?"
Surely this was subtle and gentle enough. Pix felt a little guilty probing someone in the extremes of grief.
“It was Addie's idea." Typical y, Rebecca was answering some other question. "She had a horror that after she was gone, people would be going through her things. You know what it's like at those auctions.”
Pix did. She'd been to plenty of estate sales where Grandmother's letters to Grandfather were heaped in a box lot with the odd buttonhook and mismatched cups and saucers, but it had never struck her until now how awful this would be if you'd known the people. She resolved to winnow out her own mementos ruthlessly.
“But Addie wasn't planning on having an auction" Pix tried to keep Rebecca going.
“Mitchel Pierce was interested, you can imagine.
Addie met him in the IGA and told him she would sel him some things if he wanted”
It worked.
“What kind of things did he buy?"
“Rubbish. Addie got a good price. Do you know he gave us one hundred dol ars for an old yel ow painted shelf that's been in the barn ever since I can remember? It was fly-spotted and even had a chip out of the top!”
Pix recal ed an article in the paper about the skyrocketing value of country antiques, particularly those with their original paint. It sounded as if the Bainbridges had been wel and truly snookered.
Rebecca's next remark confirmed the impression. "He took al the junk. There were some dirty old blanket chests.
One even had the top off. And he wasn't even interested in our Wal ace Nuttings. I was beginning to think we knew more about antiques than he did.”
Pix pul ed the car alongside the dock into the grassy area that served as their parking area. "Wel , I'm glad to know al this and that you were able to make some money out of it. Did you do anything special with it?”
The last question popped out from she knew not where
—and it was none of her business.
Rebecca didn't seem to mind, answering directly for once. "Oh nothing special. Addie just liked having money.
À heavy purse makes a light heart,' she used to say.”
Along with several thousand others, Pix thought.
Ursula and Gert were waiting on the porch and as soon as they saw the car arrive, Gert ran down the steps to help Rebecca into the house. She was in good hands and Pix left soon after. She decided to head straight for the camp, although the fact that she had rushed out of the house so fast that she hadn't brushed h
er teeth or properly dressed—she'd thrown on a sweatshirt of Sam's with the sleeves cut off and a pair of shorts over her underwear and was glad she'd remembered this much—was beginning to bother her.
It was lunchtime and she walked into the dining room, where she soon spied Samantha pouring milk for a table of younger campers. She caught her eye and Samantha came straight over.
“Oh Mom, it's so sad! What wil Rebecca do now?
She'l be so lonely."
“Why don't we go outside for a minute. I'm sure it wil be al right.”
Samantha nodded and they walked toward the waterfront. The sails were sparkling white again—the extra sets. The red paint had turned out to be latex and those were being cleaned, so there was no great loss. Apparently it hadn't been the marine paint they used for the waterlines.
Pix was sure that Jim was relieved. It wasn't the money so much as the waste. She put her arm around her daughter's shoulders and they sat down on the dock. Samantha seemed extremely shaken by the news.
“How did you hear?"
“Gert cal ed Dot and she told us. Is it true that the police are there and there's something funny about the way she died?"
“The police are there, but it's not altogether clear whether anything's wrong. She was not in the best shape, avoided getting medical advice, and probably had a mil ion things wrong with her that she didn't know about. You know how short of breath she was. She could barely walk down and back to her own mailbox."
“I know. It's just ... wel , after the other thing, everyone's saying there's a kil er loose on the island.”
Pix drew her daughter close. "We can't leap to con elusions like that. There doesn't seem to be anything to connect the two events at the moment, except that both people died.”
And the quilts. But she didn't want to burden Samantha with that knowledge yet; besides, she was supposed to keep her mouth shut. A word to Samantha meant a word to Arlene, another Prescott, and it would be simpler to print up announcements and drop them from a plane over the entire island.
The Body In The Basement ff-6 Page 18