The Body in the Birches (10 page)

“She's dead.” The repetition was uttered in the same voice. Devoid of emotion, the two words a declaration of fact. As if observing the weather: “It's cold.” “It's raining.” “It's hot.”

“It's Bev and she's dead.” A catch in the voice. The start of a cry?

The person who was alive was Sophie Maxwell.

“I killed her.”

And then Sophie screamed.

Faith knelt down and held her close. She struggled for words of comfort, but the sight of the body on the ground next to them and Sophie's hysterical cries left her speechless. A light rain, almost a mist, was starting to fall. Earlier she had greeted the report of a break in the weather with relief. Now she knew she had to act quickly before the storm worsened.

Faith let Sophie go and leaned over the lifeless form to feel for a pulse both at the wrist and neck. Nothing. From Sophie's outbursts, she'd assumed that had been her initial response, too, but Faith needed to make sure. Sure that the housekeeper was beyond all attempts to resuscitate her.

Sophie's screams turned to moans. “I
knew
she wasn't feeling well. It wasn't the heat! I should have made her go to the medical center. Driven her. Should have taken over everything. She was up at five baking biscuits!
Biscuits!
”

“You couldn't have known this would happen,” Faith said, but further reassurances would have to wait. They had to get help immediately and one of them had to stay with the body. Obviously
that was not going to be Sophie. Was she even going to be able to call 911 in the state she was in?

“Sophie.” She pulled the girl to her feet and gave her a slight push toward Ursula's house, which was the closest. “Go call 911. And Earl Dickinson. His number is near the top on the list by the phone. If any of the Millers are there, tell them to come at once. Can you do that?”

Sophie nodded and started down the path, stumbling over the roots. Faith called after her, “Earl is Sergeant Dickinson with the state police and lives on the island. Tell him I'm staying here with Bev until someone comes.”

Except she wasn't Bev anymore.

The rain was coming down harder, but it wasn't yet the storm predicted. Faith knew the ambulance corps would be here soon—volunteers who lived nearby would make it before the ambulance, which was garaged in Sanpere Village by the fire station.

She sat back on her heels and thought about what Sophie had said. Could this have been prevented if the woman had sought medical attention? She looked over at the body. Bev had been carrying a lot of extra weight, and although Faith didn't know the woman's exact age, she was pretty sure she'd been in her seventies at least. It was more than likely she'd had a heart condition, not helped by the kind of food she cooked. As for assuming more of Bev's work, from what Gert had said, since she arrived Sophie had been doing most of the meal preparations, and other household chores, without help from any of the other occupants of The Birches. This was no doubt an attack waiting to happen. Sophie had nothing to feel guilty about.

The air was cooling rapidly. The woman in front of her wouldn't be feeling anything, but Faith wished she could cover her with something. She didn't have anything to put over the body, not even a jacket. In any case, she'd been witness to enough crime scenes to know not to touch anything.

Crime? She felt some relief that this wasn't one. This was a death due to natural causes—Tom would have no cause to be upset that she'd become caught up in murder again. He had been taking an increasingly dim view of her involvements for years, but the almost fatal end for them both during their anniversary trip to Italy had been the last
paglia
—straw.

The trees were keeping most of the rain from the body, which was facedown on the path, pointed toward The Pines. The right arm was bent at the elbow and mostly under the substantial torso. Faith imagined Bev—what was her last name?—walking in the woods to get a breath of air as Faith herself, and apparently Sophie, had been doing. Her mind formed a vivid picture of Bev falling forward, clutching at the pain in her chest, grabbing her heart. From all appearances, it had been a quick death. The body lay straight, no obvious spasms or attempts to crawl for aid. In the beam of the flashlight, the silver in Bev's hair, which she wore short, glistened. The left hand was by her side. Her fingers, nails short and well tended, were long and surprisingly thin. No wedding band. No ring of any kind. An old-fashioned Timex was strapped to her wrist. The only incongruity was what she was wearing—a long nightgown peeped out from below the kind of chenille robe Faith had only seen in vintage clothing stores lately. She was wearing shoes—sturdy Enna Jetticks—but no socks. The impulse to go outside must have come as she was about to go to bed. Maybe the room had been extremely stuffy? But from the little she knew about her, Faith wouldn't have imagined Bev as the type of woman to go outdoors in her nightclothes.

She turned the flashlight off to save the batteries and hoped it wouldn't be much longer before someone came. Earl might still be on duty in Granville. The “fireworks” didn't end with the official show and the Fourth was always a headache for Earl, he'd told her, with drinking, fights, and explosions gone awry. Faith had a sudden fear that the ambulance might be off the island on a run with a casualty from one of these kinds of Independence celebrations.
She made herself more comfortable, leaning against one of the larger birches.

Again she reflected, the woman hadn't been someone Faith knew much about. Just part of The Birches, a fixture. She was always there in the background the few times Faith had visited the McAllisters. She had a sense Bev had been with them for many years. Like Gert Prescott and Ursula—these women who kept their employer's lives running smoothly over time. Ursula called Gert “a member of the family,” but she wasn't. She was the help and had a family of her own. Did Bev?

She heard someone running along the path from the direction of The Pines, and soon Sophie appeared. She was breathless, but Faith was glad to see that she wasn't screaming, although when she spoke her words rushed out in a frantic torrent.

“Ursula came home. Pix dropped her off but was gone before I could stop her. I left a message for Sergeant Dickinson. The ambulance is on the way to Blue Hill with someone who may have lost an eye setting off a Roman candle in the quarry and the closest ambulance volunteer wasn't answering the page, but someone will be here soon. Ursula called a neighbor, and they're driving over to tell Uncle Paul.” Spent, she slumped down next to Faith and buried her face in her hands. Faith patted her back.

Sophie's voice was muffled, but Faith could still hear her. “I should have insisted yesterday that she go to the doctor. If not here, then off island.”

“And do you think she would have listened?”

Sophie lifted her head. Her eyes were brimming, and even in the dark Faith could make out the tormented expression on her face.

“Maybe not—and I know you're trying to make me feel better, which is very kind of you—but I feel responsible.” She stopped speaking. Someone was coming from the direction of The Birches. Someone with a bright lantern.

The two women jumped to their feet and soon were caught in a wide pool of light, caught with the body at their feet.

“Sweet Jesus! What happened?” Will Tarkington said, bending over the dead woman.

The fifth of July is inevitably a letdown. With the Fourth on a Thursday this year, it also meant a very long weekend with guests who had begun to smell ever so slightly of spoiled fish—or in some cases were already reeking like the proverbial three-day-old ones.

The mood at The Birches was somber. Sophie had not been able to sleep, so she got up and did what she thought Bev would have done—bake and bake some more. Muffins, biscuits, scones, and pancake batter ready to pour. She boiled eggs for egg salad and made a long list of food they didn't need. The fridge and pantry were well stocked, but she felt impelled to prepare for all eventualities.

Last night Will and the ambulance corps volunteers who were with him had quickly taken charge. He'd been having dessert at the Harbor Café, open late after the fireworks, with one of them, an Ed Ricks, when Ricks had been beeped. Sophie had found herself literally pushed out of the way and had gone back to The Birches with Faith Fairchild. Faith had insisted that Sophie not be alone. Ursula was there with Paul, and they had the sad task of definitively confirming the news Ursula had already brought.

Sophie was taking a batch of blueberry muffins from the oven when her uncle walked in. He was wearing the same clothes as the night before and she knew he hadn't been to bed. She walked over and put her arms around him. He allowed his head to drop onto her shoulder and held her for a moment.

“I've just been on the phone with the state police.” He sat down at the table, and she quickly poured him a cup of coffee, putting it before him. She doubted he'd want anything to eat just yet. She hadn't wanted anything, either.

“What did they tell you?” She joined him with a cup herself.

“It's all pretty straightforward—if you call losing someone you've loved straightforward. Bev has been with us since shortly after Priscilla and I got married. Was married herself, young. Lost her husband in Vietnam and said she never wanted anyone else. They didn't have any children, much to her regret, but she was close to her nieces and nephews. They're taking care of”—he choked up—“. . . things.”

Sophie kept quiet and moved closer. Paul took out a large red bandanna handkerchief—he bought them by the dozen—blew his nose and continued.

“She knew she wasn't doing well. She'd been seeing a doctor down in Massachusetts and he'd been against her coming up here. Wanted her to have heart surgery, but she was either too nervous or too stubborn. Anyway, that's what her niece said. When she got here, she went to the Island Medical Center to get her blood pressure checked out and make sure she could get some prescriptions transferred. That's why it's straightforward. She was under the care, even for a brief time, of a Maine doctor, so the medical examiner can sign off and they can issue a death certificate.”

This should be making me feel better, Sophie thought, but it doesn't. She still should have known something more serious than the extreme heat was wrong. Would it have saved Bev if she, or maybe Bev's friend Gert Prescott, had insisted she see the doctor again? Get checked into the hospital, or even go back to Massachusetts to that doctor?

Paul was echoing her thoughts. “I knew she wasn't feeling well and should have done something about it. Will feels the same. She'd been coming to Georgia with us for years. But it was a hard call. Bev kind of believed she was in charge of us, not the other way around. She was the one taking care of everybody.”

“What happens now? I mean, where will she go? I mean . . .” Sophie's voice trailed off.

“We talked about things like this. Arrangements. The three
of us when Priscilla was alive. People our age do. Bev was one of the lucky ones in that her husband's body was recovered and sent back here. He was buried, and then later his parents were interred in the same cemetery. All Bev's family is there as well. She and her husband had been high school sweethearts and known each other all their lives—his tragically short. She'll be next to him at last. The funeral home on the island is taking care of everything. I feel kind of useless. She didn't want a service, just something simple graveside. Will is going to take me down for it.”

“If you think it's appropriate, I'd like to come too,” Sophie said.

“As would we.” Simon strode into the kitchen. “Bev was like a member of the family.”

Sophie had to work hard to control the impulse she had to dump her coffee over her uncle's smug, smoothly shaven face. He smelled of Tom Ford Noir and it was making her slightly sick.

“Very kind of you,” Paul said, “but when her family”—was it Sophie's imagination or did Paul emphasize the word?—“lets us know the arrangements, Will and I are going to go alone. Probably fly from Bar Harbor.”

Simon put a hand on Paul's shoulder. “Of course—and I will drive you to the airport. Is the coffee fresh, Sophie?”

Tempted as she was to reply that it had been sitting for days, Sophie stood up and said, “Yes. There's also muffins and other things. And pancakes.”

“Two poached eggs, runny, and wheat toast.”

“Same for me,” Deirdre said, entering the room. Apparently the Proctors were watching their waistlines, or had overindulged at the clambake. “How
are
you, Uncle Paul dear?”

“Actually I'm feeling a bit tired and think I'll lie down. Sophie, save two muffins for me, and if you have some of that good bacon, it would go down a treat with some scrambled eggs later. That's a good girl.”

“I'm going over to the farmers' market in Granville in a few minutes and I'll pick up some more bacon, eggs too, from the
Sunset Acres people. And a whole lot of their goat cheese from Anne Bossi. I know your favorite is her brie.”

The minute Paul left and they were alone with Sophie, her aunt and uncle began to quiz her about Bev. What was she doing in the woods? What was Sophie doing in the woods? Had Bev been alive when Sophie found her? And on and on. Sophie poached their eggs and toasted their bread at warp speed. Putting their plates in front of them, she gave a quick summary of what had and hadn't happened last night, before grabbing her purse and exiting as quickly as she could.

“Whoa, what's the rush?”

She'd run straight into Will's arms outside at the foot of the stairs and quickly backed up. He seemed to be laughing at her, but when she looked at his face more closely she could tell the smile was one of surprise. The look in his eyes told her he had had as sleepless a night as she had and was also grieving for Bev. She realized he must have known Bev as well or even better than the rest of them, from time spent in Savannah with Paul and Priscilla.

“How are you?” he asked. “I stayed with the ambulance corps. I'm a trained EMT and they got another call while we were there. When I got back to the house, it was very late and you had gone to bed. It must have been a terrible shock for you to find her.”