The Body In The Bog (27 page)

Nelson was still reminiscing about Patriots' Day. “I felt a bit groggy, but I knew that everything would be all right. If I died, then it would be God's will and my love would not have proved as pure and holy as I had believed.”

At some point soon, he would be coming around to her side of the counter to knock her out, with the pistol butt probably. He wouldn't expect her to put her own head in the oven. There was a smoke alarm. It was hooked up to the alarm company. If she could set it off, help would arrive quickly, but perhaps not fast enough. And setting it off would involve starting some sort of fire. Nelson would not stand idly by while she burned some newspaper and held it to the alarm.

“I love the reenactment. It's one of my favorite days of the year. She looked so lovely in the morning mist. A goddess.”

The only possibility was to get to Nelson before he got to her. It would have to be when he came near. Faith had often thought what an ideal setting a kitchen would make for murder.
Batterie de cuisine
could easily become battery by cuisine. Knives, heavy pots, pans, cleaning fluids, the oven—Nelson's own choice…. She tuned back in to what the man was saying. She thought she had a plan. Under his watch
ful eye, she backed toward the coffee and poured another cup. Quickly she turned the burner next to the pot on simmer.

“It was a shock when Joey called me and said he'd figured out that I had killed my wife and staged the attack on myself. But I wasn't too worried. I played along and gave him three thousand dollars in cash to start. He was to collect another seven and we arranged to meet at the bog. I'd been keeping some cash on hand for some years. You see, I wasn't sure exactly what I might need. I was glad I had been so foresighted, because this has been rather expensive. I had to give five hundred dollars to POW! Anonymously, of course. The last thing I wanted was for the group to disband due to lack of funds. Then Joey's blackmail money, although I didn't even bother to bring the second payment. I used that for the ring.”

“The ring?” Faith was paying close attention now.

But Nelson was off on his own tangent.

“Blackmail. A terrible thing. And if a man can't have privacy in the bathroom, where can he, I ask you!” It was a rhetorical question and he did not pause for an answer; although at this point Faith would have agreed with anything the man said just to keep him talking.

“He had such a smug expression. I expect he thought he could bleed me dry. I'd have had to sell my house, although I do hope to move. Sauntered down the path to meet me. ‘Got something for me, Nelson, old buddy?' he said. As if we could ever be friends. I grabbed his hand—he'd actually had the nerve to ex
tend it in greeting—then inserted the knife. The library had a wonderful medical text I was able to study at length. I had never realized that you could employ a knife with such a relatively short blade—one a little over four inches, and we happened to have exactly the right size at home.”

It was as Faith had imagined, even down to Joey's greeting. She didn't think she could stand to hear Nelson say any more, but the hands on the clock had barely moved. Unless Charley and John decided to come early, too, she had to keep the conversation flowing.

She asked her question again. “What ring, Nelson? You mentioned a ring.”

“The engagement ring for Lora. Didn't I tell you? We're getting married.”

Faith sat down on the stool. It was that or fall down. Her knees had buckled beneath her.

Nelson spoke dreamily. “I think I must have always loved her. You know how she is with the children. We plan to have a large family. She comes from a large family, but I've never known the pleasure of siblings.”

Some siblings might dispute that characterization, but Faith wasn't about to interrupt.

“Of course, I'd seen her in town. Watched her grow into full womanhood, but it wasn't until last fall that I knew my destiny had arrived. I had a kind of epiphany the day the Story Lady came. It might be interesting to talk to your husband about this sometime. It was a religious experience.”

Faith thought now would be as good a time as any, but was sure that Nelson would not.

“The Story Lady?” Her questions had been brief ones throughout Nelson's monologue. It was so unbelievable, more complex inquiries eluded her.

“Lora has a friend who is a professional storyteller and actress. She came to entertain the children one day. I'm surprised Ben didn't mention it,” he said accusingly.

In her son's defense, Faith spoke at greater length. “I do remember now. Ben was very upset at missing the visit from the Story Lady. The children talked about it for weeks afterward. But he was home with chicken pox. Amy had it, too.” Faith had soaked them in so many Aveeno baths that the skin on her own arms had never been softer.

Nelson was mollified. “I'm sure she'll come back. A wonderful performer. She brought a suitcase filled with costumes and had the children act out the various stories with her. At the end, she spun a tale about a beautiful enchanted princess whose heart had been turned to stone because no one loved her. The Story Lady loosed Lora's lovely hair. It fell to her shoulders in a gleaming cloud.” Nelson was quite the weaver of tales himself.

“She put a gold crown on Lora's head and draped her in a purple velvet cloak. Lora took her glasses off and sat in the story chair.” At least Faith knew what this was—an oversized rocker where the children gathered to hear Lora read.

“The princess could only be rescued by true love. The Story Lady had the children think of all their favorite people and things. One by one, they expressed their thoughts to their teacher. It was a very moving experience. As they went around the circle, Lora began to glow, lifting one arm, then the other. Her eyes opened wider. She smiled. Their love was working. I directed all my thoughts toward her from the corner where I had been working. I'd stopped when the program began. At the end, Lora kissed each child. I thought for an instant she might kiss me, too, but that would have given us away.”

Lora with her hair down, Lora without her glasses, Lora with a crown—Faith knew what all that would have looked like. The Story Lady had unwittingly signed Margaret's death warrant.

But Lora and Nelson? What would Lora get out of the relationship, although it was clear that the Batcheldors had more money than Faith thought. You could get quite a decent diamond for seven thousand dollars, especially at the Jeweler's Building in town, but Nelson would have gone to Shreve's. He was a man who stuck to tradition.

He looked at his watch and uncocked the gun. Quickly, she tried to stall with another question.

“Have you set a date for the wedding? We're pretty booked, but it's possible we could fit it in. Niki does a beautiful cake—and it tastes good, too. Lots of butter-cream frosting with a hint of orange and—”

“You've finished your coffee.”

The innocuous phrase had never sounded so chilling.

Nelson stood up and moved toward the end of the counter. She couldn't act too quickly—or too late. He wasn't saying a word now and was holding the gun by the barrel, ready to strike. He seemed much taller. She watched him intently. He was coming around the edge. Dozens of eggs were lined up in their cartons. He knocked into one with his elbow but didn't look away from his prey.

When he was almost next to her, she jumped off the stool and pushed it straight in his path. At the same time, she kicked some of the large pots stored under the counter out onto the floor. They made a loud clattering sound. He stumbled, as she hoped he would, and the pots added to his confusion. He leaned down slightly to push everything out of the way, shoving the stool aside with his foot.

Using her apron as a pot holder, Faith immediately grabbed the heavy copper skillet she'd planned to sauté the beef in from the burner she'd turned on. The pan was red-hot. She brought it down on Nelson's head as hard as she could, letting it rest a moment. Her fingers were burning. He screamed in agony. The smell of his singed hair was nauseating. She hit him again full force and he fell to the floor.

“I thought you might need help,” a voice at the door called out.

It was Pix.

 

Chief MacIsaac and Detective Lieutenant Dunne were punctual men. Faith had said 6:30, so 6:30 it would be. They were sharing some supper at the Min
uteman Café—meat loaf—when their beepers went off. They jumped in John's car and arrived at the kitchen with several other officers of the law, sirens blaring—and Tom.

The first thing Pix and Faith had done was to make sure Nelson would not be mobile should his unconscious state prove brief. They did a thorough job of trussing him with twine Faith kept for the purpose, although in the past it had bound poultry and beef. Pix was good with knots. Then they called the police, Sam, and Tom, in that order. Sam walked into the parsonage to watch the kids just as Tom was hanging up, frantically wondering what to do about them.

“I'm not sure I'm made of the same stuff as Charlotte—you know, the one who continued to cut bread and butter as her lover was carried past the kitchen window stiff and cold on a shutter. Nelson wasn't my lover—far from it—but I still don't feel much like cooking tonight. It's going to be a while until I forget the sight of his body on the floor, and I may have to get rid of this perfectly good skillet.”

“Early days yet,” Pix advised. “We can wash the skillet and Twinkle its bottom.” It was at this point that the police arrived.

“Copper cleaner,” Pix explained. Then Faith explained a whole lot more.

Nelson wasn't dead, for which Faith was profoundly grateful. They took him out on a stretcher and he was already stirring.

Tom took Faith over to the end of the room. They sat in Ben's beanbag chair, with Faith on her hus
band's lap. The picture they presented would have been laughable if the situation had been comical.

“Faith, Faith, Faith…I almost lost you!” He held tightly to his wife, as he had since his arrival, rushing wide-eyed through the door.

The terror was over and Faith was beginning to breathe normally again. She was aware that her heartbeat had slowed. Nonetheless, she didn't mind the position she was in and was happy to cling in return.

Pix was starting to clean up, but John Dunne stopped her.

“I know you're trying to help, but this is all evidence and we have to do some work here. I want to make sure this guy goes away for a long, long time.”

“I don't think there is much doubt of that,” Pix replied somewhat acidly. She didn't want Faith to have to deal with the eggs and dirty dishes in the morning—and she doubted the police would tidy it all away. “He's killed two people and tried to make it three.”

“Why don't I call you when we're finished?” He smiled at her. She wasn't as used to his appearance as the Fairchilds and found herself instantly obedient.

“We should get Faith home now, anyway.”

“Good idea. Charley and I will drop by in a while.”

“Maybe we'll take her to our house. My husband is watching the children at the parsonage and my daughter is coming to take over. She can feed them and put them to bed. No need for them to see their mother upset.” They both turned toward the end of the room, where Faith and Tom were still ensconced in the
beanbag chair. They looked comfortable, but Charley and Pix couldn't see Faith's face. Pix put herself in her friend's shoes for a moment and knew she would need a drink and a whole lot of people to talk to right away.

It turned out to be what Faith wanted, too, and they went straight to the Millers'. She was happy to let them take charge of her life for the moment, only specifying pot stickers instead of the pu pu platter they were ordering as an appetizer from the local Chinese restaurant.

While they waited for the food, the seats at the Millers' long harvest table gradually became filled with people. Pix had been busy making calls. Millicent arrived with Brad, followed immediately by Gus, his wife, Lillian, and Lora. Sam phoned for more food and told his wife to stop alerting the populace. “We've got a quorum or whatever, and with Charley and John, there won't be any more room.”

Faith was sitting at the head of the table. She was feeling slightly dissociated. All around her, people were chattering away, expressing shock and relief. An hour ago, she had been on her way into her own oven.

“You okay, honey? Want to go home?” Tom asked anxiously.

“Not yet. I have too many questions. And I'm hungry.”

By tacit consent, everyone was waiting for the food and the police. Pix had given them a rough idea of what had happened at Have Faith when she'd con
tacted them, but no one was approaching the subject directly now.

Lora Deane got up from the table. She had followed her grandparents in, subdued, and been sitting quietly ever since. Looking at the young woman, Faith realized most of the questions that remained unanswered had to do with Miss Lora—both Miss Loras.

Lora bent over Faith's chair as she passed by. “I'm so glad you're all right! And I think you're incredible. I would have died with fear on the spot or fainted or something.” She leaned close to Faith's ear and added in an urgent whisper, “
Please
don't say anything about the apartment.” Faith looked at her in surprise. Lora explained, “Bridey told me about the ‘student' who'd been by and described her so well, I knew it was you. I'll meet you wherever you say tomorrow and tell you everything.” Lora straightened up and went on her way, presumably in search of a bathroom.

Faith was happy to comply with her request since it meant Lora Deane would tell all. Opportunities such as this didn't come along every day, and Faith could wait. She had a pretty good idea what the apartment was for, anyway.

The doorbell rang. It was the food. Opening the containers and serving the food caused some good-natured commotion. It wasn't exactly
Eat Drink Man Woman
, but the dishes smelled inviting. Gus and Lillian wanted fried rice. Millicent was reaching for the family-style spicy tofu. “Cleanses the blood,” she in
formed the table. Sam wanted some of everything and Danny wandered in, complaining they hadn't ordered any spareribs. Sam heaped a plate with food and sent him back to the computer and MYST.