Mrs. P. turned that thing off.
“I'm making a nice Lady Baltimore cake. People around here need something to lift their spirits." She looked at Faith darkly.
Faith had to protest. "Mrs. Pendergast, it wasn't my fault Eddie Russell was murdered. I just happened to be spending the night in that room. It could easily have been somebody else sleeping there. You, for example."
“Well, I stayed in my bed all night. That's all I know. And I never sleep in the guest room. It's too cold." She unbent a little. "Why don't you make up some frosting for the cake while I put this batter in to bake?”
Faith wondered if others at Hubbard House were blaming her indirectly. She supposed if she had stayed in her bed, Eddie and whoever would have seen she was there and the murderer would have canceled his plans—or pinioned Faith to the bed too for some knife-throwing practice.
It was a busy morning, and they were interrupted several times—first by Donald Hubbard, who was looking for his wife. She had been due to meet him in his office at ten o'clock.
“She's usually late," he said indulgently, "but not this late. I've already asked Muriel and some of the people Charmaine knows here. So far no one has seen her. Her car is in the parking lot, so she's around someplace."
“Did you try the Porters? She likes to go see Naomi's orchids, you know," Mrs. Pendergast offered.
“Good idea. I'll do that. Thanks, Mrs. R" Donald was in a good mood. The murder of Eddie Russell hadn't cast a pall on him. But his mood did have a thin overlay of concern, and Faith wondered whether it was totally due to the question of Charmaine's whereabouts. His next comment increased her doubts.
“I haven't had a chance to speak to you before, Mrs. Fairchild. It must have been a terrible shock for you to find poor Edsel. And then all the police interrogation."
“Of course it was horrible, but the police have been very kind."
“I don't suppose they've told you anything about a suspect," he said casually—too casually.
“No, I don't think there is one at the moment." She was about to ask him his opinion when Boot-sie Brennan came flying through the swinging door, and he wisely beat a hasty retreat.
She left as quickly as she had come after asking what "we" were giving them for lunch today.
Faith and Mrs. Pendergast looked at each other when she left and exploded in a fit of laughter.
“Someday I'm going to tell her 'we' are giving them bread and water today. Bet she says, 'That sounds yummy.' “
The next visitor was Denise. Faith hadn't seen her since the night of the Holly Ball, and the change was startling. Denise looked dreadful. She was wearing sweatpants and a worn Champion sweater under her fur coat. She didn't have any makeup on, and if her hair had been longer, it would have been unkempt. There were deep circles under her eyes, and the moment she entered the kitchen she reached into her bag and took out a cigarette. "I don't care what Roland says, I've got to have a smoke." They didn't stop her. She walked shakily over to the counter and sat down on one of the kitchen stools.
“Have you been ill? The flu?" Faith asked.
“Something like that," Denise said shortly. When she lit her cigarette, Faith noticed her hands were unsteady and several of her nails had been bitten to the quick.
“Where's Charmaine? She was supposed to meet me here. We're having lunch. Have you seen her?”
Faith was surprised. She wouldn't have expected the two ladies to be friends.
“Donald was just here looking for her too. He went out to the Porters' cottage to see if she was there."
“Then I'll go up to his office." She stood up and swayed slightly.
“Are you sure you're all right?" Faith asked. "I'm fine. Don't worry about me," Denise said with a flicker of her old grin.
The trays were done and Faith took her leave of Mrs. P.—Violet—and went upstairs to the dining room. Sunshine streamed in through the windows and there were yellow lilies in several large vases around the room. Sylvia Vale took care of the flowers, and Faith wondered where she'd found these gorgeous lilies in the midst of winter. The lady herself stepped through the doorway and Faith asked her.
“I really can't take any credit at all, my dear. Winston's sends me an assortment of cut flowers twice a week, and I simply put them in the containers.”
People began to take their places at the tables, and Faith stood and considered which group would provide the most fodder. She settled on the Cabots. There was another couple she didn't know at the table. Two places were left. She turned to Sylvia, "Would you like to sit with me? I'm staying for lunch today. We could join the Cabots over there."
“Oh yes, how lovely—and the Porters.”
So she'd be able to find out immediately if Charmaine had turned up, Faith realized.
The room was filling up rapidly. Dr. Hubbard sat at a table by the window, and Muriel joined him. She looked as imperturbable as ever and reached out to give her father's hand a reassuring pat as she sat down. Everything was proceeding normally at Hubbard House on the surface, anyway.
Mrs. P. was giving them beef pot pie today, which Faith had tried to bourguignonize a bit by adding mushrooms, diced bacon, and wine. It wasn't too bad.
She didn't have to worry about drawing people out. Eddie Russell's death was the topic of the moment. Julia seemed particularly upset that Faith had been in the same room.
“We have a couch that makes up into a bed. I should have had you stay with us."
“Julia, please don't trouble yourself about it. Who could possibly have predicted something like this would ever happen?"
“I feel responsible too," Sylvia said. "There are any number of other places you could have slept. I don't know why Leandra took you to that old guest suite—it's so cold and drafty in the winter too. It is where we put our notables though," she gushed on, "and I suppose she meant it to be an honor.”
Some honor, Faith thought, and stifled the urge she had to giggle or say something naughty that she had had ever since she sat down to eat with all these grown-ups.
“It is so sad," sighed Naomi Porter. "Danforth and I were very fond of Edsel. He was such a help to us in the greenhouse, carrying sacks of loam and really doing all the dirty work. It was lovely that he took such an interest in horticulture. He even had his own little section. Whenever I water his plants, I'll think of him.”
Faith made a mental note to tell John Dunne tomake a surreptitious raid on the Porters' greenhouse. She had a pretty good idea of what Eddie had been growing there, and it wasn't oregano.
“Be that as it may," Ellery Cabot was saying, "I hope the young man's death doesn't bring all sorts of negative publicity to Hubbard House. Let's hope the police clear it up quickly and we can go about our business.”
Julia looked less sanguine. "I have a feeling finding out who killed Eddie Russell could be very complicated."
“Why do you say that?" Faith asked.
“Because he was—" The rest of Julia's words were interrupted by Denise's frenzied entrance into the dining room.
“Dr. Hubbard! Dr. Hubbard! Come quickly! Someone's attacked Charmaine and locked her up in the furnace room!”
Roland ran out of the room, closely followed by Muriel. Everyone looked at one another in stunned silence for a moment before a general hubbub broke out.
Faith got up.
“I have to make sure Detective Dunne has been notified.”
She dashed down the corridor to the annex and took the elevator to the ground floor. She assumed the furnace was in one of the maze of rooms across from the kitchen, and as she drew closer, she heard voices. When she opened the door, she saw Donald and Roland Hubbard bent over Charmaine, who was stretched out on the floor. Her blouse was torn and there was a pil- lowcase lying next to her. She was moaning softly.