After Rebecca was settled, Earl returned and said to Pix, “So your mother called 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, Rebecca doesn't call me, then your mother waits God knows how long.” He was taking it altogether much too personally.
“They're old ladies. Even a policeman they know as well 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 all this business with the quilts? Beats me how there can be any connection between Mitchell Pierce and the Bainbridges. 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”âshe was thinking out loudâ“Rebecca just said they sold a lot of things from the barn and attic. Maybe they sold some of it to Mitchell, except I don't know what that tells 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, tooâand Rebecca was definitely absentmindedâbut the fact that the quilts around both bodies were the same colors had to be more than a coincidence.
“It's possibleâmaybe 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'll 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 tell her if there was a cross on the quilt and maybe what had killed 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 tell 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'll 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 still 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 I had to tell her Addie was dead. I didn't mention the quilt, but it will 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 all 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. Marshall 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'll 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 summerâexcept for the guests, whom of course they didn't know until they'd been there a whileâwhen 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 small peninsula and often there was water on either side of them. The view of Eggemoggin Reach was spectacular at this point. Today it was filled 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 Hills, watching the granite shore meander along below the tall evergreens. Sailing always bordered on voyeurism: a house at the end of a private road exposed for all 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 fall. 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.” Typically, 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.
“Mitchell Pierce was interested, you can imagine. Addie met him in the IGA and told him she would sell 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 dollars for an old yellow 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 recalled 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 well and truly snookered.
Rebecca's next remark confirmed the impression. “He took all the junk. There were some dirty old blanket chests. One even had the top off. And he wasn't even interested in our Wallace Nuttings. I was beginning to think
we
knew more about antiques than he did.”
Pix pulled the car alongside the dock into the grassy area
that served as their parking area. “Well, I'm glad to know all 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 whereâand it was none of her business.
Rebecca didn't seem to mind, answering directly for once. “Oh nothing special. Addie just liked having money. âA heavy purse makes a light heart,' she used to say.”
Along with several thousand others, Pix thought.
Â
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 her teeth or properly dressedâshe'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 muchâwas 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 will Rebecca do now? She'll be so lonely.”
“Why don't we go outside for a minute. I'm sure it will be all right.”
Samantha nodded and they walked toward the waterfront. The sails were sparkling white againâthe 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 called 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 million 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 ⦠well, after the other thing, everyone's saying there's a killer loose on the island.”
Pix drew her daughter close. “We can't leap to conclusions 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.
“It's not only Mrs. Bainbridge. Everything's still going crazy at camp. There was a dead seagull on the dining room porch this morning when the breakfast crew arrived. None of the kids saw it, thank goodness. Arlene said it was horrible.”
“But these things happenâprobably an injured bird who just happened to end up there.”
“With its throat cut?”
Now Pix was shivering. Knives. Too many knives.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes, and Arlene thinks it's Duncan again. I mean after what we sawâ” Samantha stopped abruptly.
“After you saw what?” Pix had to know. This was obviously what Samantha had been keeping from her.
“Mom, I promise I'll tell you, but I can't now. I have to get back. The kids are very jumpy. They swear there's a ghost
around, although I think that's some of the older campers trying to scare the little ones.”
“How are your two imps?”
“Not exactly happy campers. Kids are so weird, Mom. One minute everything is fine, the next they're imagining all sorts of gruesome things, especially these two. I think maybe they are too young to be here. Anyway, all this is going to affect them for a long time. Susannah leaps a foot in the air if someone startles her, and she and Geoff are always off by themselves. At the moment they're feeding each other's fears. I can't even get them to tell their stupid jokes.”
Kids are so weird. The understatement echoed through the long tunnel of maternal memory. You never know, until you're there, Pix thought. Samantha was arriving sooner than her mother had.
“It's Parents' Weekend soon, isn't it? Maybe we should bring them to our house for a day, since they won't have visitors.”
“That would be really great, Mom. They need to be with the dogs.”
Pix understood. There was nothing more therapeutic than a good roll in the grass with an overly affectionate golden retriever.
“I've got to go, and I'm sure you want to get home and change.” Samantha clearly did not approve of her mother's choice of outfits.
“Honey, I was in a rush. I just grabbed what was on the chair.”
“That's all right. I understand.” To avoid more hand patting, Pix grasped her daughter's paw firmly in her own and pulled her to her feet. They walked back toward the car together and were saying good-bye when, as luck would have it, Valerie came out of the director's office, a vision in a short Adrienne Vittadini brightly patterned sheath with a matching scarf tied carelessly around a broad-brimmed chapeau.