The Body in the Snowdrift (14 page)

Faith went into the kitchen and picked up the phone.

“What's up, honey?”

“Do you think you could get over here for a few minutes?” Tom sounded extremely agitated, and Faith could hear several angry voices in the background. The loudest was Betsey's.

“What's wrong? It's not one of the kids is—”

“No, everyone's fine. But the condo's been burglarized.”

“What! How can this have happened? There've been people around all day! Has it been trashed?”

“No, thank goodness.”

“And the kids? Do they know about it? Where are they?”

“The kids are with Mom and Dad down at the Sports Center. Pete and his crew made a sled run for the junior Vikings. And they don't know about the break-in. We won't be able to keep it from Ben, but no one will say anything to Amy. Dennis called the Staffords, and they're on their way over. We're trying to establish the times people were here, so it would help if you could come, too.” He lowered his voice. “Betsey's gone bonkers. It would also help if you were here to calm her down.”

Faith hadn't mentioned the Betsey blowup to Tom. It hadn't seemed necessary. She and her sister-in-law were now on speaking terms—Betsey's lips clenched perhaps a bit tighter than usual, her vowels and consonants a tad more clipped. Despite this crack in the veneer, Faith was definitely not the person to calm Mrs. Parker down.

“Why is she so upset, apart from the fact that it's horrible to go through something like this, as well we know.” The Aleford parsonage had been completely cleaned out several years ago, and Faith still had nightmares about coming home to find the back door smashed in, not to mention the response of the first policeman to arrive on the scene: “Was it like this when you left?”

“One of the missing items is the diamond ring Dennis gave her for Valentine's Day.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can,” Faith said, a string of expletives in a variety of languages coursing through
her mind. Out of all the diamond rings in the world, why, oh why, did it have to be her sister-in-law's?

 

Betsey jumped up from the couch and started shouting questions at Faith the moment she walked through the door. “What time did you leave here? Were you alone this morning?”

Valiantly suppressing the urge to request that her sister-in-law stop treating her as a suspect, Faith walked in and sat in a chair next to Tom.

Craig was pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace. Glenda was sitting on one of the stools by the breakfast bar. Scott and Andy, whom Faith had incorrectly assumed would be with their grandparents, were sitting on the bottom stair and looking guilty as hell. Betsey sat back down, and Dennis put his arm around her shoulders. Faith assumed it was the pose her entrance had interrupted. Robert was standing near the back door, as far away as he could get without actually going through it. As a family reunion, it could have been staged by Albee or O'Neill.

“What did they take?” Faith asked, deciding to ignore Betsey for the moment.

“Betsey's ring and Scott's laptop are all we've determined so far. You didn't bring any good jewelry, did you? I've had a look in our room. Nothing seems disturbed, but I don't know what you brought,” Tom said.

“Only what I'm wearing now and the silver necklace I wore Saturday night.” The latter was a sterling collar made by Maine silversmith Ron Pearson. Faith considered it her all-purpose ornament, liking the way it rested on her collarbones, whether she was wearing
a V-necked T-shirt or a scoop-necked cashmere top, as she had for Dick's party. “Oh, and my glass beads, the ones from Penrose.” Ricky Bernstein's studio was out in Sheffield, Massachusetts, and was always a favorite destination. While both items could be replaced, the feeling of loss could not.

“The silver necklace and the beads are in the drawer.”

Faith was relieved, but only for a moment. “What about our camera—and you brought one too, didn't you?” she asked, looked anxiously at Betsey and Dennis.

“I had ours with me,” Betsey said. “I wanted to take pictures of our picnic, and Tom says
yours
is where he left it.” Another accusation: Why hadn't Faith suffered any losses?

“I think what happened,” Tom said, “was that someone saw us leave, took a chance and came inside, grabbed the ring and the laptop, and then left. Maybe he went upstairs and didn't see anything worth taking. The camera is still up on the closet shelf in the gym bag I packed it in.” The Fairchilds tended to take the camera along on vacations, with every intention of using it to record their experiences, then, when it remained untouched, vowed on the way home to take lots of pictures next time.

Faith had learned from their burglary that speed was of the essence to a thief, also portability and salability. Other than their camera, which wasn't a new one, the only thing of value in the condo that fit the bill was Scott's laptop. The TV, VCR and DVD player were good ones and fairly new, but the owner had secured
them to the large unit that housed them. Betsey's ring outshone everything else, literally—but why hadn't she been wearing it?

“Where was your ring? Why didn't you have it on?” Faith asked.

Betsey flushed angrily. Faith could tell she'd been crying.

“I took it off to wash the breakfast dishes. Everyone else seemed to have other things to do,” Betsey said pointedly. Another accusation: If Faith or Glenda had done the dishes, Betsey would still have her rock.

“Then I was busy making sandwiches, Mom and Daddy came, and we left. You must have seen it in the saucer by the sink. I can't imagine why you didn't put it somewhere safe.”

“I wish I had seen it, Betsey,” Faith said, meaning it with all her heart. It was terrible to have something stolen from you. What Faith had regretted losing most from their break-in was her charm bracelet, each charm a gift from her parents. It had to be even worse when you'd left the item in plain sight.

“I didn't see it, either,” Glenda said quickly. Craig stopped pacing and went over to his wife.

“Of course you didn't, darling.”

Glenda's chin was raised, and there had been a slightly defiant note to her denial. But before Faith could wonder about it, the Staffords arrived in full force—Harold, Mary, Fred, and Naomi Stafford, that is.

Fred rushed over to Betsey and Dennis.

“I am so, so sorry about this. In all these years, we've never had anything like it happen before. People take VCRs, even microwaves from the kitchenettes in
the hotel units, but not often, and we can usually track them down. Occasionally, some ski equipment left outside will disappear, but even that almost never happens. And since people live up here year-round, we don't have a problem with off-season break-ins. Simon is down at the Nordic events and can't get away, but he'll be stopping by later.”

Naomi took Betsey's hand and sat down on the couch. Naomi was an armful, and with Dennis on the other side, Betsey was squashed in the middle. “Fred tells me your ring was a Valentine's Day present from Dennis. We're going to do everything we can to find out who did this and get it back!”

Betsey started to work the room. “He gave it to me early. It was a complete surprise. Just the most beautiful ring there ever was. To make up for not having a big engagement ring. I've only been wearing it a few days, so I didn't miss the feel of it on my finger, not the way I would my other rings.”

Naomi nodded sympathetically.

“When did the police say they'd get here?” Faith asked, breaking the mood. She had to get back to the kitchen. There was no telling what her crew might think were authentic Scandinavian touches.

“We, uh, haven't called the police yet,” Fred said. “We wanted to have all the information first.”

Faith thought this was what the police usually did. Gather information.

“Well, I was here all morning. Scott and Andy were eating lunch when I left. Then Tom came back with the kids in the late afternoon. That's as much as I know. Oh, Pete fixed the tub, and Candy came by with linens.
But aside from it being preposterous to suspect them, I was still around.”

“And the doors weren't locked?” Harold asked.

“With the kids coming and going, besides all of us, we've been leaving the place unlocked,” Tom told him. “I really didn't think there was anything of value. I gather from my parents that the owners do the same thing. Mom and Dad do, too. Pine Slopes isn't the kind of place where you think to lock your doors.”

“Fortunately, both the ring and the laptop are insured for their full value,” Dennis said. Faith was startled for a moment by his voice, which was deep and strong. He spoke so rarely at family gatherings that she'd always assumed whatever he said would be in a whisper.

“That's not the point,” Betsey snapped. “The ring, fine, but how is Scott supposed to do his work this week? And what about everything on his hard drive?”

“Mom, I don't have that much to do, and everything on the drive is backed up on CD-RWs. Don't worry,” Scott said.

“I'm not the one who should be worrying,” she shot back. “If you don't pull that
A
-minus in French up to an
A,
what college do you think will take you?”

Scott leaned back against the stair and didn't say another word. Faith saw Robert start to inch his hand toward the doorknob. He was out of here, and so, she decided, was she. She started to get up, then stayed where she was when Tom started to speak.

“We need to report the theft to the police, Fred. I think we have the facts now. I know Pine Slopes isn't responsible for missing articles, especially from indi
vidually owned condos, but the insurance company will need a report.”

It was Craig who responded—almost out-Betseying Betsey.

“Fine,” he shouted, knocking over an empty chair. “Call the police and let it get out all over the States and Canada that your stuff isn't safe at Pine Slopes. Why don't you just hang a ‘Closed' sign up at the turnoff and be done with it!”

“Craig, I think you're overreacting a little here, and I'm sure the Staffords agree that the authorities have to be notified.” Tom walked over to his brother and put his hand on Craig's shoulder. Craig shrugged it away. Tom picked up the chair and sat in it.

It was the Staffords' turn to speak, but aside from a few uneasy glances, none of them appeared to have anything to say.

Dennis stood up, and Betsey toppled toward the empty space.

“Look, I think Craig is right. The place has had a string of bad luck lately—I don't have to spell it out—and this is the kind of thing that gets blown out of proportion. I'll call my insurance agent and see what they need for documentation. Reporting it to the ski patrol here may be sufficient. And son”—he walked over to Scott and tousled his hair—“I think you just got a couple of days of real vacation. You were smart to back up your work. It's always a good idea.” Before his wife could vent, he placated her. “Maybe Scott can find some French-speaking kids to talk to, practice on. Seems I've been hearing every language under the sun these last few days.”

And so the matter was closed. Robert dropped his
hand from the doorknob and stepped into the room. The Staffords all stood up, and Faith put her coat on.

But Betsey wasn't finished. Unless Dennis could find a graduate of the Sorbonne who specialized in tutoring English-speaking students, his gesture wasn't cutting any
glace
with his wife.

“Fine and dandy. Everything's settled. But what about the criminal? How very, very convenient that your laptop has magically disappeared, Scott. Wasn't that the plan all along? But then there was my ring just lying there—a golden opportunity to make some money for drugs or whatever else she's into.”

“Shut up, Mom! Shut up now!” Scott yelled.

“There was one of those stupid Japanese
anime
tapes in the VCR when I put my exercise tape in. She left a calling card. Little Miss Ophelia!”

Faith looked at the Staffords, particularly Naomi. This was her daughter whom Betsey was excoriating. Why didn't Naomi say something?

“You know, sis, I think you might be on to something here. What do you think, Fred?” Craig asked.

“I think we'll look for Joanie and talk to her.” His face was grim. “Better wait before you call the insurance people, Dennis.”

“Nooooo!” Scott screamed. “You don't know her. Just because you hate her, you think she's doing all this shit! The pool, and now this. She's the most honest person I know. More honest than any of you! Yeah, we watched a tape while we ate lunch, but if we'd wanted to hide that we were all here, wouldn't she have taken it with her? You have no proof. No proof about the pool and no proof about this!”

Andy's head was in his lap, and Faith was pretty sure he was crying.

“Sometimes you may think you know someone, when in fact you don't, son,” Fred said wearily. “And as for proof, we found that hat of Joanie's, the orange-and-blue one that looks like a jester's, in the women's locker room right after that dummy was discovered. Joanie said she hadn't been in the Sports Center for a week or more, so how did her hat get there all by itself?”

“I hate you! All of you! You probably put the hat there yourself, Fred!”

“I want you to apologize to Mr. Stafford this instant, Scott. Then go to your room!” Betsey said. “I think we've heard enough from you on this subject. This is a family matter—a Stafford family matter.”

“No way. Everything I've said is true.” He was walking toward the back door.

Betsey was beside herself.

“You'd better not open that door, young man. If you leave here now, you will be severely punished. Joanie has been even a worse influence on you than I thought, but then, as she showed us at Daddy's party, she's no better than a little slut!”