“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 Minuteman 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 husband’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 heart-beat 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 contacted 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 informed 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.
“Is this the no-MSG place? Changhai?” Brad asked.
“Of course.” Pix was indignant. The young man was lucky he had even been asked to dinner. There was no need to cast aspersions on her culinary judg-ment. She had picked up a thing or two from her employer. They had stopped using the place that drenched everything in red dye number two sweet sauce months ago.
Charley and John arrived, creating another round of confusion. Contrary to usual practice, Detective Dunne was ready for food. He and Charley had had to leave a perfectly good meat-loaf dinner, barely touched, on the table at the Café. He grabbed a container of rice, one of pork with black-bean sauce, and dug in, first carefully removing his Sulka tie.
“What have we missed?” Charley asked.
“Nothing,” Faith answered. “We’ve been waiting for you. Is Nelson conscious?”
“Yes, but he’s not making much sense. You hit him good and hard. He seems to think he’s getting married on Saturday—to you, Lora.” Charley was sitting across from the Deanes. He added, somberly, “Seems to believe it absolutely. Says he gave you a ring.” All three Deanes dropped their forks.
“You were getting married and you didn’t tell us!” Lillian wailed.
“He’s old enough to be your father!” Gus thundered.
“Stop shouting at me! I don’t even really know the man!” Lora protested. “Somebody tell me what’s going on?”
John had wedged a chair next to Faith’s. He was annoyed with her for setting the trap. They’d suspected Nelson Batcheldor for some time and were trying to collect evidence. It was true they hadn’t come up with much, but Dunne did not approve of ordinary citizens taking police matters into their own hands, especially at considerable risk. But then, Faith wasn’t an ordinary citizen. He reached for another container. He wasn’t picky when it came to Chinese food. This one had some kind of chicken with fruit. It tasted like oranges or tangerines.