The Body In the Belfry by Katherine Hall Page Page B

each other. She darted a quick glance at Tom and felt reassured.
    Both Robert and Patricia were tall, fair-haired Yankees with slightly equine faces and well-shaped feet and hands. Capable hands.
    Patricia was an avid and knowledgeable gardener, president of the local garden club, The Evergreens. Robert was some kind of lawyer. Faith never heard him talk about his work. Only sailing. The Moores had a summer house on the coast of New Hampshire and Robert sailed every chance he could get. They were still tan from all this outdoor activity, but the tan seemed to have faded overnight, like one of the countless watercolor landscapes done by Patricia’s forebears that hung on the walls, bleached from years of sun.
    Even Patricia’s normally crisp white round-collared blouse looked wilted. Faith always wondered where on earth Patricia found her clothes and had decided that she must have a stockpile of vintage Villager shirtwaists in Liberty cottons, John Meyer A-line wool skirts, matching sweaters, and blouses. Patricia also wore those Pappagallo pumps that look like bedroom slippers and she had on the discreet diamond and sapphire circle pin Robert had given her when they got married. Aside from
her gold wedding band and diamond solitaire from Shreve’s, it was the only jewelry Faith had ever seen her wear. And the diamond was usually in a dish by the sink, since Patricia’s hands were usually in the soil.
    â€œDid Cindy have a favorite poet or piece of music that would be appropriate to the service?” Tom was asking.
    Faith thought for a moment that a look of irritation crossed Robert’s face before he replied, “None of which we are aware, Tom. Why don’t you choose something?”
    â€œMaybe Wordsworth? ‘A slumber did my spirit seal’? Or part of ‘Tintern Abbey’?” Patricia offered.
    Patricia had been an English major at Wellesley, Faith recalled.
    Reaching back to her own British Poets 101, she thought “I travell’d among unknown men” would have been more appropriate, but she kept her mouth shut.
    â€œWordsworth has always been a family favorite,” Patricia said and stopped abruptly. She started again before Tom could say anything, “And to be perfectly honest, if Cindy had a favorite, it would undoubtedly be inappropriate if not blasphemous.”
    Faith decided it was time for someone to do something about the situation. These people were simply too good to be allowed to suffer like this.
    â€œPatricia, Cindy was not Tom’s favorite youth group member and although I am appalled and angry at what has happened, she was not someone I found easy to like either.”
    The Moores breathed a collective sigh of relief.
    â€œThat’s it exactly, Faith. Thank you. We have to make the service a decent one, but not ludicrous. Cindy hurt a great many people in this town. It was our fault, really, for allowing her to get so out of hand, but we can’t be hypocrites. The last few years with her have been very difficult ones and enough people, which is to
say all of Aleford, know, so any pretentious show of mourning would be a lie,” Robert spoke bitterly.
    â€œWe are to blame,” said Patricia, “but I don’t know what we could have done differently. The person I feel sorriest for is Dave. He’s lost his fiancée and the police suspect him of murder, which is, of course, absurd. Apparently Cindy and Dave had a fight Thursday night and the police believe her murder was a crime of passion.” She gave a somewhat crooked smile.
    Tom spoke. “We can’t believe it was Dave either, and I’m hoping he’ll get in touch with me.” Faith noticed he didn’t say “again.” He was learning, or maybe already knew. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he came to you, Patricia, you’ve always been so close.”
    â€œYes, I keep looking out at the garden, half expecting to see him