The Body in the Cast ff-5

by Katherine Hall Page

  He was so unfair. Maybe she could get Dale Warren to unwittingly spill the beans, because she wasn't going to—no matter what incentives they posed to reveal Penny's whereabouts.

  “Why is it so important that you find Penny? She didn't murder Alden.”

  Charley and John exchanged glances. She was beginning to think they'd rehearsed the routine.

  “How do we know when we can't talk to her?" Charley pointed out reasonably.

  “Because you know Penny, even if John doesn't!" Faith retorted.

  “Why did she run off?”

  Dunne almost got her. She stood up. It was time to go. "Mrs. Bartlett probably thought you'd arrest her and the real killer would remain at large.”

  So there.

  They watched her work her way through the crowd. "I'll have Sully put a tail on her."

  “Good idea. Want some more sandwiches?”

  It was an hour before Faith pulled into the Heunemans' sloping driveway in the Crescent Hill section of town. Amy needed changing and Faith had decided to also. The suit was a little severe. She stocked the diaper bag with toys, and the Snugli, in case Amy could be convinced to nestle quietly against her mother. She buckled her daughter securely into her car seat and received a cheerful smile for her troubles. "Amy,”

  “beloved"—the name had been a good choice.

  Faith was feeling cheerful. Much to her delight, she'd managed to get Dale to give her the information John and Charley had dangled tantalizingly in front of her. She'd called the station immediately upon her return and, as she hoped, he was the only one around. Charley was still savoring the feast at the Garrisons'. "Oh dear:' Faith had said, "I think he wanted to get my fingerprints again—to eliminate them from the ones on the basement light switch."

  “I don't think so, Mrs. Fairchild," Dale had reassuredher. "We didn't find any prints on the switch. In fact, we haven't found any prints anywhere they should be. It was all wiped clean. Don't worry about it." Faith had thanked him profusely. Such a nice boy.

  Crescent Hill had been the brainchild of a group of Cambridge architects about thirty years earlier. They'd purchased the large tract of land collectively and created a small community of unique houses, complete with a shared pool and park. Over the years, the group had gone on to greater fame and fortune. The houses were highly prized—not by people of Millicent's ilk but by everyone else. Most sold through word of mouth before they even reached the market. They were set far apart and now that the landscaping had matured, it was hard to see them from the road.

  Faith located the Heunemans, by the name on the mailbox, turned up the drive, and parked in the carport. The house had a dramatic glassed-in entryway on one side, next to a small pond stocked with goldfish in the summer. The sun had burst through the clouds shortly after the funeral, and passing from the cold of March into the warmth of this solarium made Faith regret the lack of such an amenity at the parsonage. She rang the bell.

  f Audrey was surprised to see Faith at her door, she did not show it. She asked her in, duly admiring the baby. James was nowhere in sight and had apparently returned to work.

  Faith refused an offer of coffee. She sometimes felt she was swimming in it in Aleford, and it was never espresso. Somewhat awkwardly, she sat down on part of the large sectional sofa in the second-floor living room, which overlooked the yard, and unzipped Amy's snowsuit.

  “I think I know why you left the service so suddenly this morning," she began.

  Two bright red spots appeared on both of Audrey's cheeks. "It's really not something I care to discuss.”

  Faith felt she had to continue. She knew Penny would agree.

  “I don't mean to push you into talking about anything you don't wish to, but I think in this case, it might make you feel better.”

  Audrey started to interrupt.

  “No, please, let me tell you what I came to say and then you can do whatever you want. I have learned a great deal about Alden Spaulding since his death, and there is no question that he was a very disturbed individual, especially sexually.”

  Audrey breathed in sharply. She looked alarmed.

  “He tried to molest his own half sister, Penny, when she was a child. She didn't tell anyone until she got married and her husband confronted Alden, who denied it. The Bartletts thought their warning, and surveillance, would prevent any other attacks. But I don't think they were right."

  “No," Audrey said softly, "they weren't?' Holding Amy on her lap, Faith moved closer to Audrey. The woman started to sob uncontrollably and Faith put an arm around her. The tears were streaming down Faith's cheeks, as well. It was only when the bewildered baby began to add her own cries that the two women pulled apart and Audrey, taking a tissue from her pocket, said, "You may not want any, but I have to have some coffee—or something else.”

  In the kitchen, with Amy comfortably ensconced in her mother's lap, daintily devouring the Cheerios Audrey had spread in front of her, Faith felt enormouslyangry—angry that she had attended this man's funeral; angry that she had been correct.

  Audrey sat with her hands around a mug from Disney World. Her kids would be home from school soon, so she'd decided to go with coffee.

  “You never stop feeling vulnerable. You never stop feeling afraid. When my girls were born, my first reaction each time was panic—how could I keep them safe when I hadn't been kept safe? It wasn't joy. He robbed me of that, too.”

  Faith wrapped her arms around Amy a bit tighter.

  “My father was an early investor in COPYCOPY. The whole idea was so new and everyone connected to it was terribly excited. Eventually, when he made enough money, Spaulding bought everybody out, and they never got the big return he did, but they didn't do badly. My father was fascinated by the process and by Alden. The two spent a great deal of time together, going over different systems and, when things got started, overseeing the stores. Mother felt sorry for Alden because he lived alone and she often invited him to dinner. Our houses were close together and he told me to come and play in his grounds whenever I wanted”

  Her voice became dreamy. "You can't imagine how beautiful it was. I would take my dolls and have all sorts of pretends. It was my private, special place. I was eleven. Then one day, he was waiting for me and he made me do things to him. Horrible things. I screamed, but no one could hear me. It was impossible to get away from him. He told me if I told anyone, especially my parents, he would take all my father's money away and we would have to leave our home. That I would have to go into an orphanage."

  “He was a monster!”

  Audrey nodded. "I didn't believe the part about the orphanage, but I did about the money. I was an only child and a bit old for my years, in spite of my dolls, and I knew what this business meant to my father. He hadn't been particularly successful before. So I never said anything. I was very careful never to be alone with Alden, and I never went back to my special place, but he forced himself on me three more times—once in my own bedroom."

  “Oh, Audrey, how horrible!"

  “The day Daddy said he'd accepted Alden's offer and would no longer be involved in the business was the happiest day of my life. I thought we wouldn't see each other anymore, and gradually that is what happened. Yet from the first moment he made me touch him, I swore I would get even.”

  And how did you do that? The question hung in the air. It was difficult to imagine this small woman, who looked more like one of her daughters in a pair of Guess jeans and a striped turtleneck, wielding a piece of lumber with such deadly accuracy, but years of rage may have granted her the power.

  “I didn't kill him." She spoke almost wistfully. "I've thought about it so often over the years that it was what finally pushed me into therapy. I had told James. Told him even before we married. That's another thing Alden stole—years of sexual enjoyment. James wanted to go to Alden immediately, hurt him. But my parents were both alive—still are. Alden Spaulding had done enough. I couldn't have Mother and Dad find out after all those years. They would ha
ve felt so helpless and guilty. And now I'm the parent.”

  Faith shifted Amy. The baby was getting drowsy and becoming heavier as she relaxed.

  “I thought of sending anonymous threatening letters to frighten him, except I was afraid he'd hire detectives and I'd get caught. So I did little things. Like the coffee urn. It's made me feel better. But the big revenge was the election. As soon as I heard he was running, I begged James to run. I wanted to see Alden lose. I wanted him to be humiliated. It wasn't rational. Probably, if anything, it was Penny's chances we were hurting."

  “Actually, once Alden started his vicious campaign against Penny, it was a godsend James was running."

  “I hadn't thought of that. Anyway, that's my story. I wanted to go to the cemetery and laugh at his grave, but I couldn't even make it through the service. And all I've done since I came home is cry”

  Audrey was crying now. Crying for that little girl who was robbed of her innocence and the feeling of being safe that is every child's right. Crying for that adult woman whose sexuality and first moments of motherhood were compromised.

  “The kids are going to be home soon. I don't want them to see me like this." She grabbed another tissue. "I suppose you have to tell the police?" It was definitely a question.

  And Faith didn't know the answer. Nor did she know the answer to the larger question: f Penny or Audrey hadn't killed Alden Spaulding, who had?

  She reflected a moment. She didn't intend to reveal Penny's whereabouts until the next day. She also didn't intend to reveal what Penny had told them about Alden ever, unless it was absolutely necessary. Audrey's confession—which Faith had sought—fell into the same category.

  “I don't think there really is anything to tell the po- lice at this point. What happened was in the past. Maybe we can keep it that way.”

  Audrey looked enormously relieved. "I wasn't happy to see you pull up outside, but now I think you are a kind of angel. I'll be telling James everything when he comes home. We don't keep anything from each other, and it's possible he may look at this in another way, though I hope not.”

  Nice that the Heunemans shared so much, Faith reflected. It was an interesting approach to marriage and one she ascribed to in theory, but when fact in the form of the cost of one's clothing and a husband who thought all wardrobe needs were covered by a single Lands' End catalog entered into things, budgets had to be surreptitiously adjusted. In this case, hers, which came from Have Faith's profits.

  The two women hugged at the door. It had been a long journey.

  That night, the Fairchilds were uncharacteristically quiet at the dinner table. Partly because the children were eating with them, which limited topics, and partly because both Faith and Tom were fatigued—emotionally and physically.

  Ben made a face at his bowl of lentil stew. "It looks yucky," he complained, and Faith realized she did not have the energy to explain to him that the lentils were the delicious tiny ones from France, the beef stock homemade, the carrots, mushrooms, leeks, onions, and garlic the choicest available—all simmered together for several hours. Instead, she put a spoon in his hand and said, "Eat it. It's good for you." Sensibly, Ben gauged the direction of the wind and dug in. Tom followed up with, "And none of these," pointing to the plate of hot,flaky Cornish pasties filled with ground beef and spices, "until your bowl is clean." Then he lapsed back into silence.

  Faith realized, despite her thoughts at the Heunemans, she really did want to tell Tom everything she'd learned. It was too much to carry around by herself.

  “Honey, did you ever consider that Alden may not have been what he appeared to be?" She spoke before she had time to consider.

  “I'm not sure what you're asking. Was Alden Spaulding an alias of some sort? No, I don't think so. Did we know everything about the way he conducted his life? No again, so the answer would be yes.”

  Tom must be extremely tired.

  “You don't have to work on your sermon tonight, do you?"

  “Either tonight or tomorrow night, and that begins to cut things a little close.”

  Faith sighed. She missed him.

  After the kids were in bed, she brought a cup of tea into his study.

  “Look, love," he said, "you're not very good at keeping secrets and I have the feeling these are not exactly run-of-the-mill. We've both been under a lot of pressure lately. You seem suddenly to have two jobs, besides the wife/mother stuff. And I have a new one, which is tying up all the loose ends. Why don't you just tell me what's going on?" He put the cup on his desk and pulled his wife onto his lap.

  “Alden was a child molester."

  “What!"

  “I can't figure out how it connects with his murder, unless there's a third victim I don't know about and it was her husband, father, mother—or the woman herself."

  “It was Audrey, wasn't it? That's why she left the service this morning. Dear God!”

  Faith nodded.

  “I wish I had known. I wish I could have helped her earlier—and James"

  “They're doing all right—better now that Alden is gone. Perhaps, in some way, it's satisfying that he had a violent end."

  “And the other is Penny. You don't have to break any confidences. I can guess.”

  Tom was very shaken. It was difficult for the shepherd to learn the flock had been suffering so.

  “You still don't want to tell me where Penny is? You're sure she's all right?"

  “I promised—and she is all right." Pix had been in touch with Penny and had called Faith. Penny's major concern of the moment was her dog, and when she learned Millicent was taking care of him, she was fine.

  “I hope this will all be over soon." Tom tightened his arms around Faith, the same way she had around Amy earlier.

  “I have a feeling it will. It has to”

  It was hard for Faith to leave for work the following morning, even though she knew that the movie company would be in Aleford only for another week if they continued to stay on schedule. The rest of the movie would be shot in L.A. Whether it was because of what she had discovered about Alden or simply because she had had very little time with her family lately, her impulse was to stay put in her own nest. She dragged her preparations out as long as she could.

  Tom had been unable to continue working the night before and they had gone to bed early, falling asleepclose to each other. He had planned to spend the morning with the children, but then he asked Faith whether Arlene could take them instead. She couldn't. However, Samantha Miller was free. She came to the door as Faith was trying to leave. Amy and Ben greeted the sitter with such uproarious delight that it was all their mother could do not to pick up the phone, quit the job, and assume her rightful place.

  As she drove to the catering kitchen, her arms ached slightly. Must be all the directions they are being pulled in, she thought dismally. She looked out the window as she passed the green, such a misnomer at this time of year. The "brown" would be more like it. Two weeks ago, they'd been shooting the scaffold scene here. Two weeks ago, Sandra Wilson and Alden Spaulding had both been alive. Life was beginning to imitate art, she realized with a sudden start. Max had intended the group of townspeople on the green and at Town Hall to represent the real sinners, as opposed to the people on the platform. Hypocrites, murderers, gossips—and child molesters. Who had been acting and who had not?

  Her crew was already busy packing things up and they were about to leave when the phone rang. It was James Heuneman.

  “Tom said I might be able to catch you before you left for work. I won't keep you long."

  “Is everything all right?"

  “Yes, or more right than it's been for a long time. Audrey wanted to thank you. I do, too. Talking to you was a tremendous help. After you left, Chief MacIsaac called. I was home by then. I hadn't wanted to leave Audrey for long. He asked me why we had left the service so abruptly. He also seemed to know you'd been to see Audrey. I told him to come over. We de- cided to tell him everything. It's great to have it out
in the open, not that we are telling the whole town, but we both thought the police had to be informed."

  “I'm glad, especially if it makes things easier for Audrey. She's a lovely person," Faith said, inwardly fuming. So Charley was following her!

  “And now we are on our way to see the Reverend. We should have taken this to him years ago. However, that wasn't my decision to make."

  “Everything in its own time." Faith was glad they were going to see Tom. It would make everyone feel better.

  “Well, I won't keep you. I just wanted to thank you—oh, I almost forgot. I'm dropping out of the race. I was doing it for Audrey and it's not necessary anymore. Penelope Bartlett belongs on the board”

  Here was news. Faith only hoped Penny would be in the neighborhood to serve.

  She hung up and went to tell Pix about Penny.

  “This has been a very strange election campaign," Pix commented.

  It was an understatement!

  The next few hours were busy as usual. It seemed they had barely finished the morning break when everyone started showing up for lunch. Max was working at top speed, too. Maybe he was superstitious. Get as much footage before the newest catastrophe. Cornelia was being run ragged, she told Faith proudly. With Sandra gone, Max had only Ms. Stuyvesant to turn to for the gazillion details that made her life worth living. She was coming for his lunch tray now. "Remember, he doesn't like the Calistoga water too cold." Evelyn also wanted a tray, and Cornelia told Faith she'd come back for it after she delivered Max's.

  “Oh, we'll bring it to her. Don't worry." Faith was feeling magnanimous. It would give Corny a few more precious moments with Max.

  “Thank you! I won't forget this," Cornelia promised. Which could mean a fruitcake at Christmas or a job when Corny was producing her own Maxwell Reed movies—or a postcard of Sea World.

  Evelyn wanted only a salad, some fresh fruit, andemphatically—plain Perrier. It didn't take long to prepare the tray. And Faith had a single perfect scarlet anemone to put in a bud vase. She looked around. Everyone was occupied, so she decided to take it herself. She'd never seen the inside of Evelyn's trailer, actually a huge RV, and she was curious. The trailer, with the star's bright red sports car parked outside, was placed well away from the house, barn, and the other trailers. Evelyn was manic on the subject of quiet when she wanted to rest. She didn't want to hear anything—or see anything.