Pix was the town coordinator for the Girl Scout cookie drive again, even though Samantha hadn't been a scout for some time. It was one of those jobs that, once having fallen to Pix, stuck. She was active in everything from the preschool PTA to Meals on Wheels. All the organizations in town knew a good thing when they saw it, and she was the original girl who couldn't say no.
“Don't you ever think of shedding a few of these responsibilities?" Faith wondered.
“Believe me I try, but they say 'just one more year' and I agree. But this really is the last year for the cookies. Sam was very annoyed at having his precious Porsche outside while the Tagalongs and Trefoils were in the garage.”
Sam Miller, a Boston lawyer, had purchased the sports car as a defiant gesture toward the depredations of middle age when he had turned forty several years earlier. The other less benign gesture—the prerequisite affair with a younger woman—made at the same time had fortunately not been repeated, nor did it seem likely that it would.
“Give me your calculator and let me help you with this. If there's one thing I'm good at, it's set tling accounts," Faith offered.
Pix put a cookie in each of Ben's hands and placed him high up on a stool so the dogs wouldn't eat the cookies before he could, then put a plate of them on the table. She poured two mugs of coffee and they settled down to work. Faith had become used to drinking bottomless mugs of coffee in Aleford's suburban kitchens. Her espresso days were definitely over, she thought with a slight inward sigh.
The job was soon done.
“You're a wizard, Faith. It would have taken me hours to do it."
“It's good practice for February, when I start the business again. My profit depends on calculations like this."
“I can't wait. I'll never have to cook for another dinner party again." Pix, who had shot the rapids whitewater canoeing coast to coast, regularly skied the bowl at Tuckerman Ravine, and had taught her teenage son to drive, went completely to pieces at the prospect of entertaining in Aleford.
“I've told you. I'd be happy to get everything ready for you anytime. You don't have to hire me," Faith protested.
“No, you're a professional. It's your bread and butter, so I'll wait my turn.”
Ben was opening Pix's cupboards and soon became engrossed in her museum-quality and -quantity Tupperware collection. There was a shape and size for every food yet discovered. Faith knew Pix didn't mind the mess.
Pix was the only person, apart from Tom and Charley MacIsaac, whom Faith had told about Howard Perkins' letter and Chat's call. Pix had lived in Aleford all her life, but her ear had always been kept to a different kind of ground than Milli-cent's or even the chief's. A camping ground. Still, she might know something about some of the people Faith had met the night before, and she started off by asking about the younger Hubbards.
“Of course I know Charmaine and Donald. They've lived in town since they got married, which must have been about ten years ago," Pix responded. "But our paths don't cross very often. Besides, Charmaine is away a lot. They don't have any children, so I guess she gets bored around here. She's always off to Florida or on a cruise somewhere."
“Boring stuff like that," said Faith.
“Well, boring to me. Muriel was a couple of years behind me in school. I always felt sorry for her. It wasn't that she was unattractive, but she was so serious no one ever dated her much, and she didn't even have many girlfriends, except for a few who were in Future Nurses. I remember her mostly rushing to class with a big stack of books—all by herself."
“What about someone named Edsel Russell? Ever run into him?"
“His older brother was in Sam's and my graduating class, but I don't know Eddie. There's a big age difference."
“You mean Eddie Russell is from Aleford! I should have guessed," Faith exclaimed.
“He's from Aleford, though he hasn't been here much. He left when he was a teenager. I don't know if he ever finished school. His father, Stanley, ran off when the kids were young, and his mother died about ten years ago, so there was nothing back here for him. His brother, Stanley Junior, is a career Army man. He's at some base in Texas."
“I wonder why Eddie came back to Aleford," Faith mused.
“I can't tell you that, but I can tell you how. It was pretty hot gossip at the time—about two years ago. Charmaine met him down in Boca Raton. He was the golf pro or something like that at the resort where she was staying. Hubbard House had an opening, and he must have needed a job."
“And maybe Charmaine decided he could be of service in other ways?"
“It has been hinted. She's not known for her devotion to Donald, and a lot of people wonder why he ever puts up with her."
“Love, my dear, blind infatuation. It sticks out all over him."
“Last night must have been very interesting then. Tell me, what did Charmaine wear? Anybody who wears a chartreuse body suit and a lace T-shirt to do her marketing in was bound to look pretty spectacular at the ball.”
Faith filled her in, and they spent some more time talking about the Hubbards and Eddie Russell, in particular, but it was peculation that didn't take them anywhere. Faith stood up. "I've got to go and get supper ready. Let me know ifyou remember anything more about the Hub-bards or Eddie. I have a hunch that whatever Howard found out has to do with Charmaine and Eddie. Maybe they're operating some sort of scam using Hubbard House as a front—kickbacks from the hospital suppliers, that's a possibility, or doctoring the books. From the giant Rolex Eddie was sporting, it's my guess he likes a healthy cash flow."
“But Dr. Hubbard or Muriel would know if something like that was going on. Besides, it isn't likely they'd let Charmaine anywhere near the books, and Eddie would only have access to transactions dealing with maintenance. Of course, that could be pretty lucrative.”
Faith made a face. "Don't be so logical. Charmaine and Eddie are the only leads I've been able to come up with so far, slim though they be. Well, there's still plenty of time before Christmas to find out. Although I would have liked to have had more to report to Chat. She's calling tonight. I got a letter from her yesterday announcing the fact so that she'll be sure to find me home, I suppose."
“Anyway, you're having fun, aren't you?"
“Yes, I suppose I am. I like the people at Hubbard House, even though some of them are a bit like characters from that game Clue. The cook, Charmaine, Sylvia Vale, Leandra Rhodes—her name may not be Mustard, but I heard at the ball her husband is a colonel, retired, and he does have a mustache."
“Just so you don't find a body in the conservatory with a candlestick next to it."
“Don't worry. Whatever this is, it isn't murder.”
She slipped Ben back into his polar-fleece jacket and headed for the door. The dogs began to bark in disappointment. Ben started to join them.
“He has got to stop identifying with your dogs so totally," Faith said. "When Lizzie was over the other day, they were running from bush to bush lifting their legs and falling down convulsed with laughter.”
Pix was convulsed herself, and they left her surrounded by her canine children, Dusty, Arty, and Hanky.
Chat did call that night and seemed satisfied by Faith's description of her activities to date. After Faith told her about Eddie and Charmaine, she commented, "They sound like the types who go around selling shares in nonexistent diamond mines—not literally, because the residents of Hubbard House seem too savvy for that, but its equivalent. Perhaps this delightful duo approached Howard, or someone else told him about a scheme. Try to see if you can get close to them and maybe they'll try to rope you in. Act dumb and naive. I know that's a stretch, dear."