Faith was surprised. She wouldn't have expected the two ladies to be friends.
“Donald was just here looking for her too. He went out to the Porters' cottage to see if she was there."
“Then I'll go up to his office." She stood up and swayed slightly.
“Are you sure you're all right?" Faith asked. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me," Denise said with a flicker of her old grin.
The trays were done and Faith took her leave of Mrs. P.—Violet—and went upstairs to the dining room. Sunshine streamed in through the windows and there were yellow lilies in several large vases around the room. Sylvia Vale took care of the flowers, and Faith wondered where she'd found these gorgeous lilies in the midst of winter. The lady herself stepped through the doorway and Faith asked her.
“I really can't take any credit at all, my dear. Winston's sends me an assortment of cut flowers twice a week, and I simply put them in the containers.”
People began to take their places at the tables, and Faith stood and considered which group would provide the most fodder. She settled on the Cabots. There was another couple she didn't know at the table. Two places were left. She turned to Sylvia, "Would you like to sit with me? I'm staying for lunch today. We could join the Cabots over there."
“Oh yes, how lovely—and the Porters.”
So she'd be able to find out immediately if Charmaine had turned up, Faith realized.
The room was filling up rapidly. Dr. Hubbard sat at a table by the window, and Muriel joined him. She looked as imperturbable as ever and reached out to give her father's hand a reassuring pat as she sat down. Everything was proceeding normally at Hubbard House on the surface, anyway.
Mrs. P. was giving them beef pot pie today, which Faith had tried to bourguignonize a bit by adding mushrooms, diced bacon, and wine. It wasn't too bad.
She didn't have to worry about drawing people out. Eddie Russell's death was the topic of the moment. Julia seemed particularly upset that Faith had been in the same room.
“We have a couch that makes up into a bed. I should have had you stay with us."
“Julia, please don't trouble yourself about it. Who could possibly have predicted something like this would ever happen?"
“I feel responsible too," Sylvia said. "There are any number of other places you could have slept. I don't know why Leandra took you to that old guest suite—it's so cold and drafty in the winter too. It is where we put our notables though," she gushed on, "and I suppose she meant it to be an honor.”
Some honor, Faith thought, and stifled the urge she had to giggle or say something naughty that she had had ever since she sat down to eat with all these grown-ups.
“It is so sad," sighed Naomi Porter. "Danforth and I were very fond of Edsel. He was such a help to us in the greenhouse, carrying sacks of loam and really doing all the dirty work. It was lovely that he took such an interest in horticulture. He even had his own little section. Whenever I water his plants, I'll think of him.”
Faith made a mental note to tell John Dunne tomake a surreptitious raid on the Porters' greenhouse. She had a pretty good idea of what Eddie had been growing there, and it wasn't oregano.
“Be that as it may," Ellery Cabot was saying, "I hope the young man's death doesn't bring all sorts of negative publicity to Hubbard House. Let's hope the police clear it up quickly and we can go about our business.”
Julia looked less sanguine. "I have a feeling finding out who killed Eddie Russell could be very complicated."
“Why do you say that?" Faith asked.
“Because he was—" The rest of Julia's words were interrupted by Denise's frenzied entrance into the dining room.
“Dr. Hubbard! Dr. Hubbard! Come quickly! Someone's attacked Charmaine and locked her up in the furnace room!”
Roland ran out of the room, closely followed by Muriel. Everyone looked at one another in stunned silence for a moment before a general hubbub broke out.
Faith got up.
“I have to make sure Detective Dunne has been notified.”
She dashed down the corridor to the annex and took the elevator to the ground floor. She assumed the furnace was in one of the maze of rooms across from the kitchen, and as she drew closer, she heard voices. When she opened the door, she saw Donald and Roland Hubbard bent over Charmaine, who was stretched out on the floor. Her blouse was torn and there was a pil- lowcase lying next to her. She was moaning softly.
“Now, honey, the shot should take effect any minute. Be brave, my darling," Donald was saying.
“I'll call Emerson and we'll make arrangements to have her taken over there immediately," Dr. Hubbard said. He was leaning over her, prodding deftly at various parts of her body.
“No!" screamed Charmaine. "I hate hospitals! Don't make me go to a hospital!"
“Honey, it's just to make sure there are no internal injuries. We have to have some X rays." Donald talked in a soothing tone of voice.
Muriel stepped out of the shadows and spoke to Donald in a low voice. "Why don't we move her upstairs for now until she's less hysterical?”
Donald smiled at her gratefully.
Faith entered the room. She felt slightly awkward intruding on this domestic scene, but somebody had to.
“Has anyone notified the police?”
Donald looked up. "I asked Denise Samuelson to do that immediately, Mrs. Fairchild. We expect them at any moment."
“I know it's uncomfortable for her here, but I think they would probably not want her moved.”
Nobody likes a know-it-all, and all four Hub-bards looked at her with varying degrees of annoyance Charmaine's deathly pallor displaying the least.
“Do you happen to know if Denise was going to call the state police or the Byford police?" Faith asked.
“I didn't give her a list of telephone numbers." There was no attempt to disguise the exasperation now. "My wife had just been attacked. I told her to call the police.”
Faith was torn. She didn't know whether she ought to stay to make sure nothing was moved or go find Denise and make sure she had called Dunne. She decided to stay. If the Byford police arrived, she'd have to try to keep Chief Coffin from destroying whatever evidence there was. So far all she could see was the pillowcase and a piece of rope lying next to it. Presumably the attacker had pulled it over Charmaine's bouffant hairdo and tied it around her neck with the rope.
“Water, I need some water," Charmaine groaned, and tried to get up.
“Don't move, my dear. Mrs. Fairchild is unfortunately correct and we must let the police see exactly what happened," Dr. Hubbard advised. "I'll get you something to drink.”
It was sweltering in the furnace room, and Faith half-heartedly hoped Roland would appear with a tray of frosty glasses for them all, but he returned with only one tumbler for Charmaine, which he lifted to her parched lips.
A few seconds later John Dunne appeared with Detective Sullivan and his paraphernalia. The room suddenly grew too small for the assemblage, and Faith found herself wedged next to Muriel. But leaving was out of the question.
Dunne took a stride over to where the victim lay. Faith could have sworn Charmaine's skirt had been hiked up several inches in the interim.
“Mrs. Hubbard, can you tell me what happened?”
Charmaine's accent moved south from the Carolinas to Georgia.
“I arrived here at about ten o'clock. I was meeting my husband, but first I went to find Mrs. Samuelson. We were supposed to have lunch today, and I wanted to tell her I couldn't make it. I thought I'd look in the kitchen when I didn't see her upstairs, and when I came out of the elevator, someone put a bag on my head and everything went black. When I came to, I was in here. I got the bag off, then I must have passed out again. I don't know how long it's been." She looked up at Dunne piteously. He didn't budge.
“Did you get any impression at all of your assailant? Did he or she say anything?"
“Not a word. Whoever it was was taller than I am, though. I think it was a m
an. I tried to grab at the bag and I believe I hit a shoulder. I was knocked out right after that." She touched her head gingerly. "This is where I was hit."
“She has a sizable contusion and there may be some concussion," Donald said. "There don't appear to be any other injuries, thank God," he added.
“No indication of ..." Dunne glanced tactfully a little north of Charmaine's knees.
Donald choked slightly. "Absolutely not.”
“Who found her?" He looked around the room. "I did," Donald said. "Mrs. Samuelson and I were both beginning to get alarmed and were making a thorough search of the premises. My wife had made plans to meet each of us here, and her car was in the parking lot. And she's not a woman who breaks appointments.”
Faith bit her lip.
Donald continued, "I was checking all the rooms just opening the doors and looking in. Of course I didn't expect she would have any reason to be here, but there she was—unconscious on the floor.”
Dunne looked tired. Faith was surprised. Obviously the attack on Charmaine had to be connected with Eddie Russell's murder, and Dunne should have been pleased that more clues were turning up. Although, she reflected, this meant more questioning and investigating, and the most obvious tie-in was the suggestion that some sort of maniac was on the loose. Not an appealing thought.
Dunne cleared the room and told the Hubbards Charmaine could be moved in a few moments. He motioned Faith outside into the hallway.
“Go home.”
She was indignant. "Well—"
“I'll see you later.”
His left eye twitched. It might or might not have been a wink.
Faith went upstairs and got her coat. She still wanted to find out what Julia Cabot had to say about Eddie Russell, but she could see her tomorrow. Tom's "chestnuts roasting on an open fire" would have to wait a bit.
Chief Francis Coffin, supported on either side by trusty minions, was coming in the door as she was leaving. He stopped dead in his tracks. "Now don't tell me you were snuggled up with this one too!" He laughed so hard, he had to sit down to recover his breath.
“No," Faith replied frostily, "I did not find Mrs. Hubbard. Her husband did. I was merely here to help in the kitchen." He shook his head and his cap fell off. "Seems you have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Better stay in your own kitchen. Bake some Christmas cookies." He heaved himself out of the chair and tottered out of the room. It was impossible to be angry at something so ludicrous.
She left quickly, got into her car, and was starting to back out of the space when Denise knocked at the window. Her face was blue with the cold and her teeth were chattering. She looked even worse than she had that morning.
Faith braked quickly and leaned across to open the door.
“Get in quickly. You must be freezing!"
“I am.”
Denise was immobile for a moment, staring ahead through the windshield. It was a beautiful winter landscape. The evergreens were frosted with snow, and in the distance the frozen Concord River slid like a silver ribbon under an old stone bridge. But Faith was certain Denise wasn't transfixed by the scene.
“Why don't you tell me about it?" she said gently.
Denise turned her head and considered.
“I suppose that's why I've been waiting. Is Charmaine badly injured?"
“I'm not a professional, but I'd say she was going to be fine." Surely Denise couldn't have been Charmaine's attacker, yet she was obviously relieved at Faith's words.
She shook her head slowly. "This whole thing is like a nightmare. And I didn't see how my life could possibly have gotten any worse.”
The car was warm and the windows had steamed up, making a kind of cozy cocoon, but the parking lot at Hubbard House didn't seem the best place for true confessions. "Look," said Faith, "let's go to my house and we'll get something warm to drink and sort things out."
“If we only could—but I'll come to your house, Faith. I have to do something.”
She slumped back in the seat and they drove to Aleford in silence. At one point Faith thought Denise might be asleep, but she opened her eyes again almost immediately.
Tom was in the kitchen. He started to say something jokingly to his wife when he saw Denise's face behind Faith and quickly pulled out a chair for her.
“Denise has come for some tea and sympathy," Faith told him.
“Then I'll leave you to it," he said tactfully.
“No, please stay, Reverend Fairchild. I'd like to have you here. I need—" She had trouble finishing her sentence. "I need some spiritual help.”
Faith put the water on, and soon a steaming pot of tea was ready. Denise was too. She sat up and looked better than she had since her arrival at Hubbard House earlier in the day.
“I have a problem with drugs." It was a bald statement and seemed to exhaust her, but she kept going.
“When I was married, my husband was heavily involved with cocaine—the recreational drug, you know," she said caustically. "It was one of the reasons I divorced him. His son, Joel, knew, and it was mainly why he wanted to stay with me, I believe." She took a large sip of tea. "Joel doesn't know about me. But Eddie Russell did. He was my supplier. I'm addicted to diazepam—Valium. My husband used to take it with the coke and there was always plenty around. At first I just took one or two when I felt stressed, and believe me there was a lot to be stressed about in those days. Then my dependency increased, and even after he was gone I couldn't function without it. I'd try to keep myself from taking one; then I'd have terrible anxiety attacks. I couldn't leave the house without my precious vial of pills. I had kept my eyes open at Hubbard House, so I knew Eddie." She looked straight at Faith. "And no, it is not why I went there as a volunteer—to score drugs. I went because I was trying hard to find some meaning in my life—through the temple and through my volunteer work. But things were too out of control. Eddie actually approached me. Maybe I looked like a user. Anyway, he said we could have a good time together and he had ways to make it even better. I wasn't interested in him romantically, but we did have a brief affair. Then the relationship was strictly business.”
Tom and Faith had been listening intently. The shadows were lengthening in the yard, but Faith didn't want to interrupt things by turning on the lights. Instead she reached across the table and put her hand on Denise's.
“Oh, Denise, I'm so sorry. I wish I had known you sooner. You've been in so much pain.”
Denise seemed to falter again, then resumed speaking. "At first it was simple. I'd give him the money and he'd give me the drugs. Then he began to increase the price, and finally he began to really do a number on me by telling me he couldn't get any for a few days before coming through. I knew it was blackmail and I knew he was a liar and a sadist, but there was nothing I could do about it. When I heard he was dead, I went crazy. Fortunately Joel is away on a school ski trip. I haven't slept and I've torn the house apart looking for places I might have stashed some.”
It was now so dark, Faith had to turn on the lights, and she took the teapot to add some hot water. Tom moved his chair closer to Denise.
“I was meeting Charmaine because I always assumed they were in it together. I'm pretty sure he got the stuff from her that night at the Holly Ball.”
Faith remembered the mystery of the missing pocketbook—that big pocketbook, big enough to hold several CVS branches.
“So Eddie had something to do with the lights going off?"
“He liked to be dramatic. Told me to meet him by the main switch, and when he pulled it, he handed me some pills. He was like a kid that way.”
Denise was talked out. She sat with her hands around the cup for warmth. Her face was lined and she looked about fifty years older than usual.
Tom spoke. "You know that Faith and I will do everything to help you. Which means talking to the police and then a treatment program, if that's what you want. The important thing for you to remember is you're not going to be alone.”
Denise
put her head down on the table and sobbed like a child. Faith stood behind her and stroked her head.
A few hours later Dunne had left and Tom was driving Denise to McLean's Hospital. Faith was back in the kitchen waiting for her husband's return. She was idly leafing through her recipe file looking for something new to do with squash—squash tortellini in brown butter?—but her mind strayed to Hubbard House, as usual. She'd started to phone Aunt Chat earlier with an update and decided it was too complicated to explain except in person. Instead she'd written on a postcard of the Aleford green:
Think I know some of what was troubling Howard. Tell you all about it at Christmas.
Love and kisses
Faith
Denise's story had been deeply upsetting, but she seemed to sincerely want to end her dependency, and Faith sensed she had the strength to do so. It was impossible to avoid the thought that her relationship to Eddie gave her a strong motive for murdering him, but Faith pushed it from her mind. Denise had been at home on Friday night, no doubt in no condition to drive. Faith wondered when Joel had left for his trip. It would be nice if Denise could have a tidy little alibi.
Since she'd first heard that Eddie was a skilled practitioner in the art of blackmail, Faith had known other victims would surface. The question now was who next? She remembered the assurance with which Julia Cabot had spoken at lunch when she'd mentioned that it wouldn't be easy to solve the crime. What did she know? Faith closed her recipe file and decided to wait for Tom in bed. She was exhausted.
Upstairs she pulled the covers over her shoulders, leaving the light on so Tom could find his way. Just before she dozed off, she thought of what Dunne had said to her at the door away from the others as he was leaving. She'd looked at him quizzically. "So who's your favorite for the attack on Charmaine? Could be a pretty broad field.”
He'd laughed. "You don't really think Charmaine would let someone else mess up her hair, do you? The question is, why does she want us to think so? Now, say good night, Faith.”
And she had.
Down, down, down. Tumbling down until she came to a dead stop in a heap at the bottom.
The Body in the Bouillon ff-3 Page 14
