The Body in the Basement (26 page)

Read The Body in the Basement Online

Authors: Katherine Hall Page

Even though her mother would not be able to comment at length, Pix had expected a note of disapprobation to sound in her reply—Fix was prying—but Ursula said in an even tone, “Good idea, dear. I'll do that.”
It amounted to approval. Addie's death had changed things and it might just be that Mother was on the trail, as well.
 
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 really 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 gull. 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 all her life and Addie had always been nice to her. At the moment, all Samantha wanted to do was read about Charlotte, Wilbur, and Fern until she fell 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 Mitchell Pierce's killer came immediately to mind. Whoever was responsible was not simply evil, but nasty.
The name of the pattern was End of Day.
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—especially for Sanpere. Other summers when it did ring, it was usually for one of the kids, and she seldom made many calls herself.
Earl was in his office, as she had hoped. He'd recovered from whatever feelings of pique her actions at the Bainbridge's had engendered and said he didn't see any harm in telling 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 tell 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 Jill will come along.” Pix had thought of asking Valerie, too, but decided that a third person would provide a further excuse for Jill to avoid talking about her love life.
“Well, 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, all 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 called Jill.
“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'll go insane.”
Pix was surprised at the intensity of Jill's reaction. She hadn't realized the two women were so close. Maybe Jill 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 still 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'll call 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, call 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 Fairchild's house had been poured and the tart smell of fresh concrete filled 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'll 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 all. Maybe Seth would come through.
“The family is some upset about Aunt Addie. Don't under. stand why Earl had to get all hot and bothered. There was no need to get Augusta involved. Gorry, we'll be lucky to have the funeral by Labor Day.” Seth sounded extremely annoyed.
Pix's recent well-being vanished.
“He
had
to call 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 recall 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 well 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 tactfully changed the subject. “It's going to be lonely for Rebecca in the house now, but I suppose she'll keep running the bed-and-breakfast.”
“Well, 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 will, unless she's found unable to be left on her own, and that seems pretty certain.”
“Where will she go and who will 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 Granville will have her. The house will 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.
Seth Marshall, unaware that his name had just been starred under two columns, called to his crew to get back to work.
“I'd love to chat with you some more, but I wouldn't want you to think we were wasting time.” He smiled warmly to
soften his sarcasm. It almost worked. He really was attractive, particularly at the moment, stripped to the waist because of the heat, his skin glistening slightly with sweat. Maybe Jill was tired of good old Earl and wanted a fling with bad old Seth.
“I have to get going, anyway,” she said. “If Jill can find someone to cover the store, we're going to drive up to Bar Harbor.” She decided not to get too specific about what she intended to do. She needn't have bothered to be circumspect.
“Yup, so I hear. Going antiquing, right?”
Pix's mouth dropped. He laughed. “Heard it on the CB just before you drove up. Jill's got one of the Ames kids. I heard her asking her dad if she could do it.”
“There are no secrets on this island,” Pix remarked.
“Oh, I don't know about that,” Seth said as he walked toward his crew, the sound of their hammers ricocheting in the still air. “I'd say there were plenty.”
 
Doris Ames was sitting at the register reading the latest issue of the
National Inquirer,
and from the speed at which she was chewing her gum, Pix suspected the story was more racy than some of the fare: MOM SELLS KIDNEY TO BUY FURNITURE or SPACE ALIEN BABY FOUND ON MOUNT EVEREST MEDICAL DR. SAYS NOT HUMAN.
“Oh, hi, Mrs. Miller. Jill has been trying to get a hold of you. She's upstairs.”
“I'll go on up, then. How's everything with you this sum, mer?”
“I can't complain. Making good money and don't have to work days.” Pix remembered that one of the Ames girls was waitressing at the inn, which was only open for dinner, and it must be Doris.
“I hear the food is even better than last year.”
Doris made a face. “It's too fancy for me. I like to recognize what's on my plate. I eat at home before I start.”
Pix laughed. “Well, maybe some of it is an acquired taste.” She decided to take Ursula and Samantha to the inn soon, all
three of them having acquired a taste for any and all good food.
Jill had a snug little apartment over the store. Pix walked up the outside stairs and knocked at the door. Hearing no reply, she pushed it open, stepping inside. She could hear water running and Jill had obviously decided to take a quick shower while waiting for Pix.
“Jill,” she called loudly, not wanting to startle her when she emerged, “It's me, Pix.”
“Oh great,” Jill replied above the noise of the spray. “I'll be out in a minute. I just had to cool off.”
The apartment was divided into two large rooms plus bath. The front room was Jill's bedroom and the larger back room served as living room, dining room, kitchen, and storage for the overflow from the store. There were several large boxes in the corner by the door, but this wasn't what caught Pix's eye. She was struck by the change in the room's decor since she'd been there last summer. Jill had been buying a great many antiques over the course of the year and the Goodwill finds spruced up with paint and fabric that had previously filled the room were mostly gone. An Early American cupboard with open shelves on top stood against one wall, behind a trestle table and chairs from the same period. Pix walked over to take a closer look. She wondered whether Jill had gotten the things from Mitch. Spying a pumpkin pine stand that would make a perfect bedside table, she also wondered whether these things were for sale. She tripped on one of the uneven floorboards and her hip bumped into the corner of the cupboard. Jill's apartment had originally been used for storage by the cobbler's shop below and the floor had never been finished off. One of the cupboard doors flew open. Pix bent down to close it, rubbing her hipbone, which, with little cushioning, smarted sharply.
She didn't close the door; rather, opened it wider. The shelves were filled with various items: some wonderful folk art carvings, especially one who looked like one of the prophets;
miniature furniture—the kind that used to be carried around as samples; and several patchwork quilts. The shower was still running. Pix was sure Jill wouldn't mind if she looked at the quilts. At least that's what she told herself. Her self also wondered what they were doing up here instead of down in the store, where they would certainly attract buyers. For that matter, all the things in the cupboard would. Perhaps Jill was saving these things for herself.
Pix careful removed the top quilt and opened it up. It was an applique sampler quilt, every square a different wreath or bouquet and intricately quilted. The quiltmaker had used red, green, yellow, and white. It was museum-quality. The shower stopped and Pix started to call out her appreciation, but her words froze in her throat as her eyes moved down to the lower corner. Moved down to a tiny, barely perceptible blue cross.
She folded the quilt up and quickly put it back, latching the cupboard securely. When Jill came out, she found Pix sitting in a low rocker by the window reading this week's
Island Crier.
“The parade pictures are wonderful. Sonny is going to love the shot of him as Burt Dow,” she said brightly—too brightly.
 
Driving across the bridge to the mainland with Jill at her side, Pix was in a quandary. Should she come right out and ask Jill about the quilt and the other antiques? She probably should have done so immediately, but she wanted to take time to reflect. What could it possibly mean? That Jill had unwittingly bought a fake quilt—or wittingly? It was the latter possibility that was keeping Pix's tongue securely tied. Was Jill somehow connected to an antiques scam? At this point, Pix was certain it had been one of Mitchell Pierce's activities. Had they been in it together? She had certainly gotten antiques from him. This would explain Jill's recent attitude toward Earl, and perhaps her new alliance with Seth. Supposedly, Seth had
learned everything he knew from Mitch. Did that include how to construct old from new?

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