“What on earth do you mean?” Faith was genuinely aghast.
“You may not have figured it all out yet, my dear, but you are so clever that I'm sure you will and I really can't have that. You never should have taken the book
down.” She eyed Faith reprovingly much as she would have if Faith had been caught taking pennies from her purse.
“Well, really, Eleanor, I can't imagine what you are talking about and I only took the book because I am getting interested in local history and heard it mentioned. Now I really must go. Tom will be wondering where I am.” Faith walked toward the door firmly, but was stopped by the sound of a drawer opening followed by a small steely click and the even steelier tone of sweet Eleanor's voice.
“Faith, if you don't sit down, I'll have to shoot you. And Benjamin.”
Faith managed to make her way back to the chair, where her wobbling legs collapsed beneath her. This couldn't really be happening. She was in Aleford, sitting in Eleanor Whipple's sunny parlor, facing a tiny but menacing-looking gun firmly clutched in the hand of the woman who held the record for top sales of needlework at the church bazaar. It had to be a dream.
“It's father's gun. He always believed a house should be armed, though he never had occasion to use it himself.”
Eleanor's poker face was gone, yet the one Faith knew so well, the gentle, slightly bemused pleasant face she was accustomed to see in church, was not in evidence either. Eleanor looked tired, a little sad, and very determined.
Faith realized she had absolutely no idea in the world what to do. Screaming was useless. She couldn't pretend that Tom was arriving soon as she had so fatally revealed that he didn't know where she was only a few minutes before. She remembered you were supposed to try to keep an attacker talking until help arrived and, failing anything else, she figured she might as well try it.
“Eleanor, don't you think you could put that away or at least hold it lower?”
At the moment the gun was aimed just where Faith's eyebrows met, or would meet but for assiduous tweezing. Slightly hysterically, Faith wondered if she would ever tweeze her eyebrows again, before forcing herself to concentrate on getting out of the parlor alive. Eleanor lowered the gun, but did not loosen her grip.
Would Eleanor really kill her? Faith wondered. And an innocent little baby? Was it worth the risk to make a run for the porch? Unfortunately Eleanor's house was set far back from the sidewalk and further obscured by a tall Canadian hemlock hedge. But surely she wouldn't shoot them both? Maybe the gun wasn't really loaded.
Of course, Faith reflected, as the numbing realization that Eleanor had already killed two people hit her, two more murders at this stage might not seem to matter much. She decided to stay where she was for the moment and play dumb.
“Perhaps you'd like to tell me what you imagine I know? Eleanor, really, I don't know what is going on and things seem to be getting a little out of hand.”
“Now Faith, you do know what it is about and I will excuse the minister's wife from a lie in view of the circumstances, but I do so wish you had not interfered in all this. I will miss you at our Alliance meetings.”
Eleanor sounded a bit peevish and the allusion to missed Alliance meetings had not escaped Faith. And by now Eleanor was right. Faith knew exactly what was going on.
First Eleanor had killed Cindy, then two weeks later Patricia, and now Faith and Benjamin had ingenuously walked into her parlor to be the third and fourth victims. Spilled curds and whey were nothing compared to what Eleanor had in mind.
Eleanor was thinking out loud.
“It's a shame I never learned to drive. It really makes things awkward.” She paused.
Faith could feel her heart beating against her chest. She was surprised it didn't send Benjamin bouncing up and down. Talk. She must keep Eleanor talking. Murderers always liked to discuss their crimes, she had read. So be it.
“Eleanor, can you really be saying that you killed Cindy and Patricia and that this is what I have figured out?”
Maybe she would deny it and this whole business would turn out to be some sort of passing dementia. Faith half expected Eleanor to laugh and hand over the gun. But only half.
“Why, yes, Faith. You see, I knew you knew,” Eleanor sounded triumphant.
“But why? What possible reason could you have for killing them?” Faith found herself looking forward to Eleanor's explanation in spite of everything, although the circumstances were not what she would have wished. Better to have had Eleanor explaining from a straitjacket.
“Why?” Eleanor sounded puzzled, “For the money, of course. I thought you would realize that. For Grandmother's money.”
Faith realized she had missed an episode.
“Grandmother's money?”
Eleanor sighed. Faith had not been as clever as she thought.
“You see, Faith, my grandfather and great-grandfather made rather a lot of money with their ships. My grandmother was a very forward-thinking woman who realized that men make much more money in this world than women do, so she had better take care of her female descendants. Unfortunately Grandfather didn't want to have his estate divided. He wanted the money to go with the house, so whoever had it would always be able to
keep it up. As if there wasn't plenty,” Eleanor gave what could only be described as a snort of disgust.
“Yes, I heard all this,” Faith said, “But forgive me, what does it have to do with killing Cindy and Patricia?”
As she spoke, Faith suddenly understood exactly what it had to do with killing them. She knew what Eleanor would say now. She owed Tom a dinner. And the sooner the better.
“My grandmother always intended the money to be shared equally, no matter what the will said. But when she died Hattie got everything. Elnora, for whom I am named, never married and lived with them, so she never needed any money. I suppose in a way she did get her share. But my poor mother, Rose, didn't get anything much.” Eleanor was beginning to speak a bit dreamily. Faith watched and waited for her chance.
“You know I didn't grow up in Aleford, Faith. Oh, no. My father was just a poor country doctor who worked hard every day of his life for us. We had to move to this house when he died. It belongs, or I should say, belonged to Patricia. We have life tenancy. Tenants!” Eleanor spat the word out.
“You never knew Mother, of course. She was much more suited for the Captain's house than the Moores. After Hattie died, it should by rights have gone to her and that was what grandmother had intended. Patricia and Polly's mother, Phoebe, was nice enough, but she wasn't a real lady like mother. And her husband, Lewis, was just a common boy.
“Mother died two years after we moved here and I think part of what caused her death was seeing what had happened to all her things and having to live in this pokey little house. Then everything went to Polly, but she just wanted the money. So much for Grandfather's idea. She was happy to let Patricia and Robert live in
the house while she and that husband of hers flitted all over the place. I remember when my sister Rose and I heard the news that they had been killed. Rose just looked at me from where you are sitting now and I knew what she meant. There is some justice in this life after all.” Eleanor sat up straighter with a complacent smile on her face.
“You know I am a very devout woman, Faith, but it did give me just the tiniest bit of pleasure to kill Cindy. She was an extremely wicked girl and she hurt Rose's feelings terribly one time. No, it was necessary to kill her so I could inherit, but it wasn't exactly a disagreeable thing to do. I used to see her go up there,” Eleanor waved the gun toward the belfry, then swung it immediately back toward Faith.
“That Friday when I saw her, I knew she would be meeting somebody and I'd have to go quickly, so I just nipped off one of my roses and slipped out the kitchen door. She was inside on one of the benches and didn't even bother to get up when I entered.”
Eleanor was indignant and Faith resolved if she ever got out of this to teach Benjamin all the social amenities. One never knew when manners might save one's life.
“Really,” Eleanor sounded surprised, “she made it so easy. I didn't have to think. I just stabbed her. I have been studying father's medical books, so I could get it right and I did,” Eleanor sounded proud. “The rose was in memory of Rose, and Mother too, of course. I wish I had thought to do all this when they could have been here to enjoy it with me. I know Rose especially would have been glad that Cindy was dead.”
“But Patricia? I thought you liked her?”
“Of course I liked Patricia. She was a very good woman, but Faith, dear, don't you see, I wouldn't get the money if Patricia was alive. I didn't want to hurt her, so I just put the snail killer in her tea. Dave Svenson
was in the back talking to her about her garden. Not that he ever thought to help me with mine. I knew the police would suspect him again. It was really very lucky.”
Faith saw everything now and spoke aloud a thought better left alone, “So you plan to kill Jennifer as well?”
Eleanor was quiet for a few moments.
“I don't think you ought to be asking so many questions. You know I saw you go up the hill that day and was glad we hadn't met. I certainly never intended for you to be involved in all this. And sweet little Benjamin. It never concerned you.” Eleanor looked at Faith reproachfully, using the tone of voice she might have if Faith had been asking her for whom she was going to vote in the next election.
“And now it's too late.”
“So you sent me that rose to stop me from getting involved,” Faith said, hoping to distract her from the implications of that last remark.
“Rose, what rose? I never sent you any roses, Faith, although it was a splendid year for them.” She glanced out to the garden where the stalks stood stripped of leaves and flowers in lethal thorniness.
“You didn't put a pressed rose in my mailbox!?”
Eleanor looked at Faith kindly, “No, of course not. What an odd notion!”
Odd notions seemed to be on a rampage.
Faith could not resist one more question before she acted.
“But why do you need the money?”
Eleanor looked at her as if to say, You of all people.
“Why does anyone âneed' money? I want to buy nice things and travel and mostly get out of this house. You have no idea how noisy it is living so near the green and the center. Plus it's very damp. No, the Captain's house is much healthier.”
At the word “healthier,” Faith seized her chance. She leaped up suddenly and overturned the loaded tea table directly onto Eleanor's lap. Then she sprinted for the door. As she raced down the hall to the front door she could hear Eleanor's enraged cries behind her.
At the door, she grabbed the lock, twisted the bolt free, and reached for the ornate brass door knob. She turned hard, heard a click, but the door wouldn't budge. In vain she pulled with all her strength as she realized that Eleanor must have locked the door with another key and taken it.
There was still the kitchen door, which might not be locked at all. Faith turned and ran down the hall. Eleanor was presumably buried under a mound of broken English ironstone and soggy digestive biscuits, but it wouldn't be for long.
She quickly pulled the kitchen door behind her. Damn, there was no way to lock it. The outside door was also locked, but Faith could see through the door that a key hung conveniently on a nail under the porch eaves, well within reach if she smashed the glass. Eleanor's shadowy backyard and Belfry Hill behind it never looked better and she grabbed an iron skillet from the top of Eleanor's stove to break the pane.
It was too late. Eleanor, wet and furious, strode rapidly across the room and shoved the gun against the small of Faith's back. It did not feel pleasant and Faith began to sob in fear and frustration.
“put that pan down, Faith. You have made a horrible shambles and broken some of my treasures. Now it appears you are about to cause further damage.” She nudged Faith toward the other end of the kitchen. Faith put the pan down on the table, abandoning any thought of using it to smack Eleanor over the head. The gun would surely go off and the bullet travel straight through her body into Benjamin's. Eleanor herself
seemed to have grown a foot and any previous hint of frailty had disappeared. Faith began to suspect Eleanor was both a lot younger and a lot stronger than she had thought.
“I should have done this immediately and not let you sit and talk so long. Now, open the door on my left slowly and go down the stairs,” Eleanor said in a commanding voice, “Remember, I will shoot you both if you try anything else.”
Faith was crying again as she moved toward the door she knew must lead to Eleanor's basement. There didn't seem to be anything else to do, although she had little hope of melting Eleanor's heart with her tears. Slowly they moved down the steep wooden stairs.