The Body In The Basement ff-6

by Katherine Hall Page

  “Don't say like," Pix said automatical y. "Why don't I tel al this to John? He knows Duncan and he also seems to know a lot about teenagers.”

  Samantha brightened. "That's a great idea. Maybe he can talk to al three of them together. He's done that for some other kids who are having problems at home here.”

  Duncan Cowley disposed of, Samantha wanted an update on what was going on at the Bainbridges. Pix gave her the PG-13 version and soon Samantha headed for her room to write letters to Aleford friends. There was a lot to tel .

  Pix went to the phone to cal John. She was more disturbed about Duncan's behavior than she wanted Samantha to know and the sooner someone talked to the Athertons, the better. As she dialed, she realized Duncan had to be added to the list of suspects. He was clearly drug-involved and might have graduated from mice and poultry to larger game.

  John answered immediately. He sounded cheerful.

  "Hel o, Pix. I just sent off a large piece to a congregation in Australia."

  “Congratulations"

  “And I accept them. I've been working on this altarpiece for several months. Now, what can I do for you?"

  John was not one for idle chitchat.

  He was completely quiet as Pix related what Samantha had told her.

  “And I don't know whether I should talk to Valerie and Jim, try to talk with the boy first, or what. You know him better than we do and I thought you'd have an idea about what would be best to do"

  “Poor Duncan. He has never been al owed to grieve properly for his father. He feels responsible, you know. They were caught in a terrific storm and had al been taking turns at the helm—or rather, Bernard and Valerie were. Duncan was sitting up with his father to help him stay awake while his mother got some rest. The child became exhausted himself and agreed when his mother suggested he sleep for a while. That's when Bernard Cowley was washed overboard."

  “How horrible!"

  “I knew Duncan was fascinated with certain aspects of the occult. It's a way to make himself feel powerful, but I didn't think it had gone this far."

  “The whole thing is terribly sad. I'm sure his parents wil understand."

  “Maybe and maybe not. Jim is a pretty straight arrow and I'm sure any suggestion of witchcraft wil have him on the phone to that school he's always threatening Duncan with. Not that I blame Jim. .He walked into a pretty hopeless situation. There was no way Duncan would ever have accepted him."

  “But we can't simply ignore this and hope it goes away.

  Some night, one of the kids is going to get hurt or worse up in the quarry."

  “I agree. I'm not suggesting we ignore the matter. Let me handle it. I'l talk to Valerie in private without getting too specific. This worked after Duncan took her car earlier in the summer. The main thing I'l do is start seeing more of the summer. The main thing I'l do is start seeing more of Duncan. I've been so involved in this commission that I haven't had time for him these last months. He likes to come to the workshop. I'l go see if I can round him up right now. I have the feeling it won't take much to start him talking. We've talked a great deal about the supernatural before. I've lent him some books, so he won't think it odd if I bring it up.”

  Pix felt relieved, although she would have thought the Hardy Boys or, since the boy was interested in other worlds, perhaps Tolkien, more appropriate for John to have suggested.

  “Thank you so much, John. And let me know how things go."

  “Thank you for tel ing me." He'd been speaking in a serious tone of voice and now it took on almost a warning note. "You've had a pretty ful plate and I'm sure it hasn't been pleasant. And then there's this business with the Bainbridges. I hope you're not getting too involved."

  “Involved?"

  “Like that friend of yours—Faith. There are things about the island better left alone. I know you summer people think it's paradise, but paradise has a dark side, too, remember.”

  Pix was stung by his remark: "summer people" She'd thought they were better friends, and even his closing words did not mol ify her.

  “I just don't want anything to happen to you. I care about al the Mil ers deeply. You know that. Bow out, Pix. Bow out."

  “Don't worry. Nothing is going to happen. I'l let Samantha know about what we're doing and if either of us finds out anything more, we'l let you know”

  She hung up feeling much less satisfied than she had earlier in the conversation. She walked back out to the deck and picked up her list. How wel did she know John, anyway? Loaning books about the occult and supernatural to Duncan? John was a very colorful, at times charismatic figure. He had a great deal of influence over the youth of the island, most especial y Duncan Cowley, it seemed. Maybe too much? And what kind was it exactly? Mitchel Pierce had stayed with John. She had to find out why Mitch left.

  She put it on the "To Do" list.

  With Samantha occupied with her own writing tasks, Pix got out the folded paper and started to fil in the columns. Under "Suspects," she decided to list everyone, no matter how far-fetched, starting with Mitchel 's death.

  There weren't many. Duncan Cowley, the knife wounds were suggestive of some sort of ritual slaying. Seth Marshal , just because he had access to the spot and could pour the foundation when he pleased. John Eggleston, because he might have nurtured some sort of grudge since Mitchel had lived with him or because Mitchel had found something out about John during that time. Norman Osgood. These were far-fetched, but she had to put something down. Osgood might have had some kind of fal ing-out with Mitch over antiques. Last, she wrote down Sonny Prescott's suggestion: unknown partners in crime. Of course, others could be known ones, yet as she jotted down this final possibility, she was forced to admit it made the most sense.

  Now Adelaide—If, in fact, she had been murdered.

  The only thing pointing toward foul play was the quilt. She went over to the "Who Benefits?" column. Adelaide may have left at least part of her estate to her nieces and nephews. Seth Marshal was a nephew. She wrote him down. Who else? Norman Osgood again? Although if he was hoping to do a book with her, that wouldn't make sense. But he was there. Maybe Addie had found out something about him. She wasn't known for her reticence.

  Pix considered the other bed-and-breakfast guests and reluctantly ruled them out. Unless they were seriously deranged people, which the police were no doubt checking, she couldn't come up with any motives.

  She listed Seth under "Who Benefits?" with the initials A. B. after his name. She couldn't think of any way he would benefit from Mitch's death, unless Mitch was blackmailing him. Mitch a blackmailer: It was a thought. He had been charming and eminently likable, but if desperate for money, he might have done anything. He certainly hadn't shied away from other crimes. Except he hadn't been desperate for money. He'd had a huge bank account and it was the result of what? As Jil suggested he might have made a kil ing—strike that phrase—a huge profit from the sale of something. Then again, he might also have been blackmailing someone, or more than one person. Pix sighed. She wasn't getting anyplace. Maybe you had to be in a large English country house staring out the window at the hedgerows. But at least she had a list. She'd get Mother to find out about Addie's wil . Rebecca surely must know.

  “Causes of Death." Mitch was stabbed and Addie's was unknown at the moment. She'd like to cal Earl, yet she had a feeling she'd do better to wait. It was certainly too soon to know anything and she thought he probably wouldn't take kindly to being hounded right now. She remembered the look on Adelaide's face and the stench.

  The woman had obviously been violently sick and the police might have found further signs in the bathroom—al of which pointed to poison of some kind. Addie had been sick for days and Pix recal ed the graphic account of her symptoms. What did one have to do with the other? Was her il ness merely a coincidence? Poison. This made absolutely no sense. Things like this didn't happen on Sanpere.

  Then there were the quilts, two red-and-white quilts.

  Three quilts, includin
g Pix's purchase with the disappearing mark. She would cal Earl later to find out whether there was a cross on Adelaide's. It would be impossible to sleep otherwise. She also wrote down sails. As Faith had pointed out, they were red and white, too. Sails were made of cloth, so were quilts. Quilts and sails. Sails and quilts. Mitch had been wrapped in Drunkard's Path. Could there be some connection between the name of the quilt pattern on Addie's and her death? Pix closed her eyes and concentrated on remembering the spirals she'd seen that morning. She drew a square at the bottom of the page and fil ed it in as best she remembered: two pinwheel shapes, the tiny dotted fabric alternating with the red. She'd go through her quilt pattern books after supper and try to find the name.

  It wasn't much of a list, not up to her usual standards.

  But it was a beginning. She went to the bottom of the stairs and cal ed to Samantha to come for a walk with the dogs.

  They al needed to get out.

  For once, Samantha was staying home. After an early supper of toasted cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, one of the Mil er family's favorite repasts, the phone rang.

  During the course of a lengthy conversation, Pix heard Samantha tel Arlene she was tired and ask her how about the fol owing night. The phone rang again as Pix was getting out her quilting books. It was Ursula. Rebecca had agreed to stay the night, since Earl had promised to water the garden. So that's where he was, Pix thought. She'd been trying to reach him.

  She started to ask her mother about Adelaide's wil and how big the estate might be, but Ursula cut her off, obliquely indicating Rebecca had attached herself limpet like and was at Mrs. Rowe's side every waking moment.

  “I understand completely. Poor Rebecca! I know you can't say anything, but could you find out if she has any further thoughts about where that quilt might have come from'? And perhaps see if she knows what the provisions of Adelaide's wil are?”

  Even though her mother would not be able to comment at length, Pix had expected a note of disapprobation to sound in her reply—Pix was prying—but Ursula said in an even tone, "Good idea, dear. I'l do that.”

  It amounted to approval. Addie's death had changed things and it might just be that Mother was on the trail, as wel .

  It was much too hot for a fire in the fireplace, but they sat in front of it, anyway, Pix with her quilting books and Samantha curled up on the couch with E. B. White. She was rereading Charlotte's Web, as she did every summer.

  Charlotte had finished saving Wilbur's life the first time and Samantha stood up and stretched. She real y was tired, yet that was not why she'd put Arlene off until tomorrow. Fred wanted to go back to Duncan's and check out the trunk. He was convinced Duncan was responsible for what was going on at the camp, including the dead gul .

  Arlene also hinted that Fred thought Duncan might be responsible for the other bizarre things happening on the island. "Fred's good and steamed," she'd told Samantha.

  Samantha was afraid he might be right and she, too, thought they'd better look around the cabin some more, but she just couldn't handle it after everything that had happened today. She'd known the Bainbridges al her life and Addie had always been nice to her. At the moment, al Samantha wanted to do was read about Charlotte, Wilbur, and Fern until she fel obliviously asleep.

  Pix found the pattern shortly after midnight. It had become an obsession. Samantha had long since gone to bed. Pix, though, remained wide awake and when the design jumped off the page at her, she was jolted into even-greater consciousness. Her mother's earlier words regarding Mitchel Pierce's kil er came immediately to mind. Whoever was responsible was not simply evil, but nasty.

  The name of the pattern was End of Day.

  Eight

  The next morning Samantha left for work after a big breakfast of sour-cream pancakes and fresh strawberries.

  Pix had picked the first ones in the garden, thankful the heat hadn't ruined what looked to be a bumper crop.

  As soon as her daughter was out the door, Pix piled the dishes in the sink and went to the phone. As she dialed, it struck her that she was spending an inordinate amount of time on this instrument—especial y for Sanpere. Other summers when it did ring, it was usual y for one of the kids, and she seldom made many cal s herself.

  Earl was in his office, as she had hoped. He'd recovered from whatever feelings of pique her actions at the Bainbridges' had engendered and said he didn't see any harm in tel ing her no cross of any color had been found on the quilt surrounding the corpse.

  “Now whether the quilt's an old one or not, I can't tel you, because I don't know. The other one wasn't, though”

  Pix was grateful for this confirmation of her suspicions.

  “I thought I might do some more antiquing," she told him. "Maybe head up toward Bar Harbor. I'm hoping Jil wil come along." Pix had thought of asking Valerie, too, but decided that a third person would provide a further excuse for Jil to avoid talking about her love life.

  “Wel , say hi from me, that is if she remembers who I am.”

  Pix returned to what was obviously a more cheerful topic. "Do you have the results of the autopsy yet?”

  “So far, al I've heard is heart failure."

  “Then it may not involve any foul play?”

  Pix was finding comfort in phrases like this. The alternatives were overly specific.

  “Not necessarily. Could be something was given to her to cause the heart attack. But could also be she was due.”

  Pix hung up, feeling better than she had for days. No mark on the quilt and the possibility that death was from natural causes. Addie's weight and eating habits—she disgustedly referred to salads and the like as "rabbit food"—definitely put her at risk. And as for the quilt, it was no doubt one Rebecca had simply forgotten about.

  Next she cal ed Jil .

  “Oh Pix, I would like to go. It's so horrible about Addie. I can't think about anything else, and if I don't get out of the shop today, I think I'l go insane”

  Pix was surprised at the intensity of Jil 's reaction. She hadn't realized the two women were so close. Maybe Jil was some kind of niece, too.

  “But I don't have anybody to cover for me. I can't afford to just close up. There are stil so many tourists in town.

  Would you mind waiting while I try to find someone?"

  “Of course not. Too bad Samantha's working at Maine Sail, but she does get through after lunch. We could go then if you don't find anyone sooner."

  “That would be great. I'l cal you in an hour if not before to let you know what's happening.”

  Pix was not in the mood to sit by the phone. "If you don't get an answer here, cal me at The Pines. I want to see how Rebecca is." And maybe get a few words with Mother, she added to herself. She also wanted to drive out to the Point on the way and inspect the foundation. There hadn't been any time yesterday to make sure Seth was doing as he had promised.

  Seth and his crew were taking a break when Pix drove up. Nobody jumped up to greet her, but she didn't care. The sight before her eyes was greeting enough. The foundation and basement floor for the Fairchilds' house had been poured and the tart smel of fresh concrete fil ed the air. It was more fragrant to Pix than any number Chanel.

  Seth did come over to her as she walked the perimeter of the house, inspecting the job intently.

  “It'l be smooth as a baby's bottom. Don't worry," he said.

  “I'm not. It looks fine." Pix believed in credit where credit was due.

  “We're working on the stairs to the beach today. If the weather holds, we should be able to strip the forms and start framing the floor by Thursday, maybe even Wednesday. The wood's already cut and Barton's is holding everything for me—nice number-two Douglas fir.”

  Pix nodded. Maybe this wasn't going to be Mr.

  Blandings' dream house after al . Maybe Seth would come through.

  “The family is some upset about Aunt Addie. Don't understand why Earl had to get al hot and bothered. There was no need to get Augusta involved. Gorry, we'l be
lucky to have the funeral by Labor Day." Seth sounded extremely annoyed.

  Pix's recent wel -being vanished.

  “He had to cal the state police. Rebecca never saw the quilt before—and it was a red-and-white one, just like the one here." She had been consciously trying not to recal what had recently lain beneath the surface of the ground now covered by the gray concrete.

  “Rebecca doesn't know the color of the blanket on her own bed once she's out of it. No, Earl had no right to ship Addie off for them to cut up. He's been watching too much TV. This is Sanpere, not New York City.”

  Seth had bent down and picked up a stick. He was poking the ground ferociously with it as they walked. Pix made sure to keep wel to one side.

  She could understand why Adelaide Bainbridge's relatives might be upset, but surely they wanted to find out what had happened. She made a mental note to ask Ursula what she'd heard about their reactions through the island grapevine.

  Pix tactful y changed the subject. "It's going to be lonely for Rebecca in the house now, but I suppose she'l keep running the bed-and-breakfast."

  “Wel , she may not be there for long," Seth stopped stirring up the dust with the stick and gave it one final shove, driving it into the soil. "She has life tenancy under Addie's wil , unless she's found unable to be left on her own, and that seems pretty certain."

  “Where wil she go and who wil get the house then?" If you didn't ask, you didn't find out.

  Seth did not seem too concerned about Rebecca's future and Pix realized that of course Addie was the relation and Rebecca merely a distant in-law to some one of Seth's parents or grandparents.

  “Probably a nursing home on the mainland or maybe one of the Bainbridges in Granvil e wil have her. The house wil be sold and the whole kit and caboodle gets divided in equal shares”

  Given what Addie's quilts sold for plus the value of the lovely old house and barn, it would add up to quite a caboodle, Pix figured.

  She had the answer to one question at least.