The Body In The Bog Part 26

you never wanted to hear from me again. Or made it clear to my answering machine, I should say. And why would I throw a brick through your window? Why would anyone?"

His anger intensified his good looks. A bit of the moors-of Heathcliff-swept into the room.

"That was insensitive of me, I'm sorry. I should have spoken with you in person, but I wasn't sure I'd go through with it then."

Gus appeared to be fearing the rekindling of a flame he had considered doused, the ashes raked into the ground. "We're wandering here. If Hallowell didn't make the calls, who did?"

Dunne answered. "Nelson again." He regarded Lora with pity. She was going to have a great deal to work out. "He just wanted to hear your voice."

There wasn't much to say after that-or rather, there was, but no one wanted to voice the sentiments. It was sad, horrible, scary. Millicent broke the mood.

"So, Gus, what are you going to do about the bog?"

Before Gus could reply, Sam intervened. "You don't have to answer that, especially not in my nice, peaceful house."

Everyone laughed. Gus put the tips of his fingers together. He regarded each face in turn. Faith knew what he thought about the project. She wondered what he would say-if anything.

"The bog. The d.a.m.ned bog, as far as I'm concerned. Joey would still be alive. Probably not poor Margaret, but it gave her crazy husband a way to do her in. I'd just as soon never see the bog again or hear about it. But we own it. It's ours."

Millicent wasn't one to back down. "I know that, but you don't have to go through with Alefordiana Estates. There are other options."

Gus nodded. Lillian was poking him in the ribs. "Don't worry, Mother, I'm not going to embarra.s.s you. You're right, Millicent. We have lots of options, but they're our 239.

options. I don't mind consulting with you, but not with that group you got up. That's got to go. Divides the town into warring factions, and we have enough natural divisions." Gus reached across the table to shake Sam's hand. "Thank you for your advice and for dinner. This is the first time we've been invited to your house." Fix turned scarlet. "Now, Fix, don't feel bad. We haven't invited you to ours, either. And all of us have lived in Aleford since we were hatched. We have a lot of work to do."

Faith knew she was witnessing an occasion as historic as the events celebrated each Patriots' Day. But she was tired. Someone had tried to kill her and come very close. She wanted to kiss her sleeping children. She wanted to make love with her husband.

"Tom, let's go home."

"I couldn't sleep a wink all night."

Lora and Faith were having a late lunch at Geoffrey's on Tremont Street in the South End. When Faith considered the local options for their tete-a-tete, none had seemed suitable. A picnic at the bog, and anything reminiscent thereof, was out. So was The Minuteman Cafe or the inn-too public. The Fairchild kitchen meant constant interruption. And obviously, meeting at the Deanes was impossible. Lora did have two apartments, but Faith wanted the teacher off her own turf, vulnerable, and ready to spill her guts. Geoffrey's had great food and was close to Chandler Street. After meeting with Lora, Faith planned to visit Bridey. She felt she owed the woman an explanation, and besides, she wanted to see her again. With Nelson securely behind bars, Tom was happy to watch the kids and give his wife an afternoon out. Niki was making the bourguignon and meringues, with Fix as sous-che.f. All bases were covered-a rare occurrence. Faith had driven into town, a little lightheaded, and entertained a fleeting thought of keeping on going-that primal urge to run away from home that most women experience at times. "Why, I could just keep on driving."

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Lora had been waiting at the restaurant and started talking before Faith even sat down. They ordered and Lora picked up where she'd left off.

"I kept wondering whether all this would have happened if I had gone to the police in the first place, as you and Reverend Fairchild wanted me to."

The same thing had suggested itself to Faith-as soon as Detective Dunne had revealed the source of the calls.

Resisting the urge to say, "I think there's a lesson here," Faith settled with, "I think I understand why you didn't want to go to the police, but the phone calls themselves were a crime and shouldn't have been covered up. Charley would have helped you get the phone company to trace them."

Behind her gla.s.ses, two big tears welled in Lora's eyes. Her hair wasn't pulled back and she did have some makeup on, but otherwise she looked like her everyday self.

"I could have saved Joey's life. I'll never be able to forgive myself."

There was enough guilt in the world. Lora wasn't a parent yet, but she had a mother. Faith couldn't let her sit there and suffer, weeping into her grilled-vegetable sandwich.

"You should have reported the calls, but remember, you didn't tell us about them until that Wednesday. You went away the following weekend, which we'll get to in a minute, and Nelson must have known that. He didn't make any more calls, so there would have been nothing to trace. Then Margaret's death was Monday night, or, strictly speaking, Tuesday morning. You got a brick through your window, then moved to Gus and Lillian's house."

"You're right! I never got any more calls. He must have been too nervous to call. I didn't recognize his voice, but I'd never talked to him much, and he may have used a handkerchief. I've seen that on TV. I bet he thought grandfather would, though."

Or he was too busy cutting up magazines, filling balloons with chloral hydrate, attending his wife's funeral-no idle moments for Nelson, Faith thought.

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"But I still don't get it. Why was he threatening me if he was in love with me?" Lora asked.

"It's hard to say. Maybe somewhere deep inside, he was conflicted about his attraction to you and wanted the temptation removed? Or more likely, he hoped if you moved away, he'd be able to see you without the whole town knowing."

"He probably doesn't know himself. Kind of an approach-avoidance thing." It seemed Lora was reading more than Dr. Seuss.

Faith took a bite of her southwestern chicken salad. Lora had perked up considerably during their foray into the unconscious. Now was as good a time as any.

"Why have you been living in two apartments?"

Miss Lora blushed.

"This is very embarra.s.sing-especially because you're one of my mothers." Faith presumed she was referring to the preschool and not any special devotion on Lora's part.

"I have a certain image in Aleford. 'Miss Lora'-she's so good with kids, never gave her parents or grandparents a moment's worry. Will make some nice man the perfect little Betty Crocker wife someday. Sure, she's a bit homely, but some men don't care about those things."

All of it was true. Each item had crossed Faith's mind at some point or been introduced into conversation. There was no doubt-in Aleford's collective conscious, Lora Deane was Miss Goody Two-Shoes come to life.

"I love to dance. When I went off to college, I discovered that music did something to me, released something, and I felt so free. One of my roommates was really good with makeup and clothes. She encouraged me to get contacts, but I don't see as well with them as with my gla.s.ses. Still, well enough for a date. Well enough to dance."

"But why the double life? Why not just be who you are all the time?"

Lora appeared to be about to go into her "give me a break" routine, but stopped. She sighed instead. "First, I would have caught h.e.l.l at home. My dad was still alive, 242.

and he was just like his father. My brothers are the same way. They all actually thought it might be a good idea for me to be a nun when I was deciding where to go to school! Then Dad died so suddenly and everybody was a mess. I couldn't upset them then."

"And the money? Weren't you afraid Gus might not give it to you if he disapproved of the way you were behaving?"

Lora hesitated. She pushed a piece of eggplant that had escaped from the overstuffed sandwich around her plate with a fork.

"Well, yes, that did cross my mind." She ate the eggplant. "Okay, I thought about it a lot and it didn't seem fair. He never said anything when my brothers sowed their wild oats, and believe me, it was quite a crop. When I got the money, I used some of it for rent here and I really did use some for tuition. It's true that I'm working on my master's."

Faith was glad to hear it. Miss Lora was so good with children.

"And no one knew about Chandler Street?"

"No. I left a letter in the box where I keep all my important papers in the Aleford apartment-in case I got hit by a car or something."

There were so many somethings going on lately that Faith thought an explanatory letter showed foresight.

"What are you going to do now?"

"I'm not sure. I don't want to keep deceiving people, especially my grandparents. But I don't want them to get mad at me, either. My mom won't care. She has a whole new life and she'd probably be glad I was having one, too. She used to get a little fed up with being one of the Deanes all the time."

"And you?"

"I'm proud of the family, but we are pretty old-fashioned."

It was time for Miss Lora to grow up and become Ms. Lora.

"Why don't you start by telling them you want to leave 243.

the Aleford apartment and move into the city. Say that you found the perfect place." Faith didn't think Lora had to be too precise about when she had found it.

"Then gradually start changing your appearance. Wear the plum-colored dress, then immediately go back to a jumper the next day. After a while, everyone will have forgotten how you looked before. They might say, 'Have you cut your hair?' or "There's something different about you; I can't quite put my finger on it.' " Faith thought she had worked the whole thing out rather neatly.

Maybe not.

"How do you know I have a purple dress? I've never worn it in Aleford."

Faith gave a hasty and abbreviated account of the day the Fairchild family shadowed Ben's teacher, then suggested dessert.

"I'm not seeing Eduardo anymore. Things were getting too heavy. Maybe I should go back with Brad. What do you think?"

Faith had a strict rule about giving advice to the lovelorn, arid she stuck to it now. The person involved usually ended up blaming you if it didn't work out, and sometimes if it did. She had the same policy when it came to discussing husbands.

Lora was eating a huge piece of chocolate truffle mousse cake. Faith was drinking espresso with a twist of lemon.

"The only thing we don't know is who threw the brick."

"I suppose there has to be some mystery left," Lora commented complacently. Mrs. Fairchild knew all about her now. It hadn't been too weird.

They went to see Bridey Murphy, who expressed great delight in the drama of the situation. She'd read about the murders in Aleford and seemed to feel she had played a small role in solving them. Faith wasn't sure of her reasoning, yet she did not disabuse her of the notion. Bridey was a wonderful lady. Then Lora insisted that they both see her apartment and advise her about window treatments-advice Faith did feel comfortable offering. And she 244.

always liked to see where other people lived.

Lora's apartment was more spa.r.s.ely furnished than Bri-dey's, but bright and cheerful. There were stuffed animals on the bed and in an old rocking chair Lora had painted blue. Combining the animal collection from the two dwellings might pose a serious design problem.

Faith got home about five. After being greeted by her family, somewhat picturesquely engaged in planting a flat of Johnny-jump-ups along the front path, Faith went inside and noticed the light on the message machine was blinking.

It was Brad Hallowell. "Urn, this is Brad. Um, Brad Hallowell. Could you give me a call, Mrs. Fairchild? Faith, I mean? Um, maybe I could come over? Or you could come here-no, that wouldn't be good. Look, just call me, okay? I want to tell you something."

Apparently, this was the day for true confessions. Faith dug out the Aleford phone book from the stack in the cabinet next to the phone. Brad had either forgotten to leave his number or a.s.sumed that she knew it by heart. She didn't.

He answered after the first ring.

"h.e.l.lo, Brad? This is Faith. I got your message."

Never one to mince words, he dispensed with any small talk. "Look, this is kind of embarra.s.sing." She'd heard that before today, too. Was Brad Hallowell also leading a double life? Maybe he actually hated computers and was secretly holing up in a garret in Cambridge writing his coming-of-age novel in longhand.

"I know I should be telling the police, but... well, it's my mother, and she didn't mean any harm."

Mother, harm, police. This was getting interesting.

"What has she done?"

"She threw the brick through Lora's window."

"Your mother!" Faith couldn't help herself-her voice rose near a screech.

"After I left the Millers' last night, the brick thing kept bothering me. I mean, everybody there thought I did it. I guess I was pretty steamed by the time I got home, and 245.

Mom was waiting up for me, as usual." He sounded resigned but not pleased. "I told her all about what had happened to you and also about the brick business. She got terribly upset and told me she'd done it."

"All because Lora broke up with you?"

' 'Basically, yes. I had been taking it badly, especially at first. I knew she was mad at Lora and I guess she just kept thinking about it. She was edging a new bed she'd put in the garden and somehow got the idea that heaving a brick at Lora's house would make her feel better. She didn't intend to break the window; Mom has terrible aim."

Faith was pretty sure Mrs. Hallowell's aim was much better than her son believed. But then, apparently he was willing to believe anything.

' 'Let me get this straight. Your mother was out putting bricks in her garden in the dark of night and had an extra, so she drove over to Lora's and let it fly?"

"We have floodlights in the back. Mom often gardens late at night. She likes to hear the crickets."

No more mysteries. Except for a few that would forever surround Mrs. Hallowell.

"She's outside now; otherwise, I wouldn't be able to talk. She doesn't want anyone to know about this, but I don't want the cops, or Lora, to go on thinking I did it."

So much for Mom.

"I'm glad you called me, but shouldn't you be telling this to Chief Maclsaac?"

"I have the feeling he's a little antagonistic toward me. You know I kind of lost it at the selectmen's meeting that time."

This was true, and now Faith knew what was coming- and why Brad had called her.

"I was hoping you could talk to him. Maybe Mom wouldn't even have to know." He was wheedling and sounded exactly like Danny Miller when he wanted to get out of doing his homework.

"I'll talk to him-but your mom will have to know," Faith told him.

No more mysteries.

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Eleven.