The Body in the Cast (29 page)

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Authors: Katherine Hall Page

BOOK: The Body in the Cast
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Faith had always admired Penelope Bartlett. Never more than now. Still, it would have been better for all concerned if her husband had taken up skydiving.
“So, you paid her to leave Francis alone.” It was very clear. What was not was what any of this had to do with the matter at hand.
“Yes, I did. I didn't want the time Francis had left to be complicated by ugly rumors. As I said, she was a very firm person and I have no doubt she would have continued to insist on the paternity of her child until Francis submitted to some sort of test. It was all too unpleasant to consider.”
“But this was almost twenty years ago,” Pix said, anticipating Faith's question.
“Yes, I know, except I have not been allowed to forget it. You see, Alden found out certain things.”
Of course, Pix and Faith read each other's minds.
“I couldn't take such a large sum of money from the bank without Francis's knowledge. We were a traditional couple by today's standards,” she commented wryly. “He gave me plenty of money for the household accounts and clothing, but he controlled the rest. There was only one way for me to get it without telling him, and telling him was out of the question. That was to sell some shares in a family business in New Hampshire my father had left to me. Unfortunately, one of the conditions of the bequest was that they had to be offered to family members first, several cousins and Alden. I tried my cousins. They were not interested, so I was forced to go to Alden, who was. He never asked me why I needed the money and I thought all would be well.”
“Surely this is not what he and Dan Garrison have been alluding to during the campaign? They kept talking about your taxes.” Faith realized there must be more. There was.
“I did a very stupid thing. I didn't declare the income from the sale of those shares that year. Francis was still well enough in February to go over our taxes with Barry Lacey, who helped him prepare them. I never intended to cheat the government. I just couldn't let Francis be worried.”
Faith understood completely. She would have done the same thing herself.
“Francis died in early September, a little more than a year after he had become bedridden. When I was settling the estate, I told our lawyer that, in the stress of Francis's illness, I had neglected to declare the sale of the shares to my brother and asked if he and Barry would straighten it out. I said I would pay the penalties. And they did. But during the course of all this, Alden must have discovered what I had done. He never said a word. Not until the debate the other night.”
“Oh, Penny! What a terrible shock that must have been for you.” Pix empathized.
“It was. Alden knew there had to be some reason out of the
ordinary that I was selling my shares. He was just biding his time. But I was darned if I was going to drag all this past history out into the open when it had nothing to do with the campaign. And, in fact, I
had
made amends and paid the fine. But hearing this alone without the whole story would have caused a ruckus. You know what sticklers people around here are about their—and more especially
your
—taxes. And I'm glad I didn't say anything. Especially since Francis can't be here to defend himself. I know this town, and there would have been more than one sly comment at his expense.”
Something more was puzzling Faith. If Penny hadn't known until recently that Alden knew about the tax return, why didn't she speak to him?
“But what was it that led to the coolness between you and Alden? You haven't spoken to him for years.”
Penny sighed. “I feel like that child with a finger in the dike. The difference is, I've taken mine out and now the water is pouring in from everywhere.”
“This may not be something we need to know,” Pix offered soothingly.
Maybe Pix would not make such a good partner, after all. Faith was about to say something to the effect that it might be a relief for Penny to unburden herself when Penny did so of her own volition.
“It's horrible to be glad someone is dead. When I heard the news, it was as if a huge weight had been lifted from me—a weight Alden put there when I was a child. My half brother was a very twisted individual. He had few friends, both as a child and as an adult. I was not surprised that he never married. It must have been difficult for my poor mother. She had to cope with Alden and was pregnant with me almost immediately after she married my father. I think Alden must have hated her and hated me. Perhaps his mother's death caused whatever was good in him to die also, yet I think he would have been a disturbed person no matter what. When I was twelve years old, he tried to molest me. I escaped but was too ashamed to tell
anyone about it. And frightened. He told me if I told anyone, he would hurt my mother, and I believed him. She'd been ill off and on since I could remember and I was in the habit of protecting her. I couldn't take the chance that he would harm her. What I did do was stop talking to him. He was in college at the time and our paths did not cross much. Most people probably didn't even realize it then. In my own childish way, I must have thought if I stopped talking to him, he would disappear.”
Faith had one of Penny's hands; Pix the other. All three women had tears in their eyes.
“When I met Francis, I knew this was someone I could tell and I did. It was one of the reasons we had such a short engagement. My mother had died by then and I wanted to get out of the house. He confronted Alden, who denied it, of course, but Francis told him we would be watching his every move and if he ever tried anything like that again with anyone, we would go to the authorities.”
“Do you think Alden stopped?” Pix asked.
“Yes, he threw himself into his work and we did watch—very closely. But I never spoke to him until I had to sell him the shares. He knew I must be keeping something from Francis, yet he didn't dare talk to him. He was afraid of strong men like my husband,” Penny said with pride. “Then after Francis died, I would catch Alden looking a me with a knowing smile. How much he knew, I wasn't certain, but he never let me forget.”
Faith sincerely hoped Penny was right about Alden's activities. She knew personally that he was given to lewd remarks, and there had been that encounter in the woods during the shooting of the nude scene. Perhaps he'd channeled his impulses in these directions.
“That's why I can't go back until the police catch the real murderer,” Penny announced firmly. “It was clear as soon as Charley made the announcement. I would be the prime suspect.”
“Because of Alden finding out about your taxes? And the
very justifiable dislike you had for him? I doubt that very much,” Faith assured her.
“That—and the fact that under the conditions of Daddy's will, I inherit everything he left to Alden, including the house. It's quite a bit of money.”
Prime suspect sounded just about right.
 
They replenished their cups with hot tea and coffee. Faith and Pix took a few bites of their barely touched salads. No one said much. Faith was trying to figure out how to make the right thing to do coincide with what she wanted to do. Of course Penny should turn herself in to the police, but Faith's instincts also told her they might concentrate on building a case against Mrs. Bartlett, to the detriment of finding the real killer. Even Charley and John. There was the additional possibility Penny could be in some kind of danger from the murderer if all this had something to do with the Spaulding estate. The house alone, with its several acres of prime Aleford real estate, had to be worth over a million dollars. Faith tried to think of a tactful way of asking Penny the disposition of her estate without making it appear that she thought there was a chance Mrs. Bartlett could be receiving posthumous thank-you notes soon. Millicent had once mentioned that Penny's dog was like her child, so presumably there was a bequest in that direction, but unless someone at Angell Memorial had gotten wind of things and decided they had to have a new pet-care facility
now,
this line of thought led nowhere.
What was nagging at her? She'd hoped Penny's story would link the two murders. Sandra Wilson had been born in Boston. Could it have been her mother who approached Penny?
“Do you know what happened to the secretary after you gave her the money?”
“Oddly enough, yes. She sent me a postcard from Texas, I believe, thanking me and saying she'd had the baby—she didn't say boy or girl—and was moving to California.”
It all fit. It being … ? If Alden had discovered that Sandra
Wilson's mother had tried to blackmail Penny some twenty years ago—no wait, why would he want to kill her then? He'd want to keep her alive as evidence. All roads seemed to lead to Penny. She could have killed the girl. Why? Sandra was blackmailing her? Sandra really was Francis's daughter and the mumps thing wasn't true? She looked at Penny's honest face, less careworn than an hour earlier. Impossible.
But it was becoming more and more plain that if Penny came forward with all these stories, it would hopelessly divert the boys in blue from their job.
“Faith, I don't think it's absolutely necessary we mention to anyone except Millicent that we happened to bump into Penny at the flower show. We're going to be very busy with tonight's shoot and probably won't even see Detective Dunne or Charley.” Pix had been going down the same road.
“I agree, but we do have to tell them somehow that something terrible hasn't happened to her. Penny, why don't you write a letter saying you are fine and left because you needed some time to think or something like that? I can say it was in our mailbox, I know not how.”
Penny was enthusiastic. “I can't thank you enough, and I'm sure they'll find out who did this soon. Maybe they have already. In the meantime, you know where I am. I think I'll stay indoors a bit more and eat at the Y for the time being.”
“What about the election?” asked Pix. “I hope you're not thinking of withdrawing?”
“It did cross my mind. James would do a fine job, but it doesn't seem right when so many people have worked so hard.”
She's afraid of Millicent, too, Faith thought.
“Of course, I can't stay at the Y forever,” Penny mused. “I do hope the police will be quick.”
The police, with a little help from their friend. Faith was sure she would be able to figure out who had killed Alden. The funeral was the next day. People in medieval times believed that the corpse would bleed again if the murderer walked by. She'd
have to keep a sharp eye out for red drops on the blue chancel carpet.
 
Back in Aleford, Pix dropped Faith off at her front door and slipped Penny's letter in Faith's mailbox. There had been a convenience store across from the Y and Penny had bought some envelopes and a pad. “Such a shame I can't use this time to catch up on my correspondence. I owe so many people letters.” She'd brightened at the thought. “Why not write them and mail them when I get home?” With that happily decided, Faith and Pix had left her to go home themselves.
Tom was in his study and miraculously both children were sound asleep, judging from the quiet that reigned. Faith thought it a bit suspect to walk in carrying the letter, so she let it lie where it was. Better for Tom to find it when the mail came.
“Any luck?”
On the drive back to Aleford, Faith had agonized over what to say to her husband. Pix had a similar problem with Sam. They had decided to seek refuge in confidentiality.
“Such a funny word, ‘luck.'” Faith stalled. “So much of the course of our lives is determined by chance encounters, lucky or otherwise.”
Tom didn't mince any words. “So you did find Penny.”
“I can't really talk about all this yet, darling, but the moment I can, you will be the first to know.”
“And I'm supposed to take comfort from that?” He regarded his wife closely. “I hope you and Pix know what you're doing. In fact, I'd like to believe it … .”
“Here comes the
but
,” Faith interjected.
“Forget the but—all the
buts
—and just be careful. Please.”
“I promise,” Faith swore. This was certainly the most confusing case she'd ever been involved in, yet she truly believed nothing posed any threat to her personally.
However, it was a little difficult to maintain objectivity when Tom came into the kitchen with the mail, the letter from Penny, stamp uncanceled, already opened.
“And what are we supposed to tell Charley about this?”
“About what?” Faith began, but it was her husband, after all. “Oh, Tom. You tell him you don't know how it got there, and you don't.”
“I
tell him. So that's it. If you're not there in person, there hasn't been any subterfuge.”
“Something like that. Now I have to get going. I talked to Niki and everything is ready for tonight, but I want to be there early to check. I hear Amy stirring, and Ben will not be far behind. I'll get the kids up and I've written down what's for dinner. They can watch Winnie-the-Pooh tapes on TV until then, which might not be according to Brazelton, but I'm beginning to think the reach may permanently exceed my grasp.”

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