Read Online The Body in the Birches by Katherine Hall Page - Free Book Online Page B

then we can concentrate on enjoying a bang-up Fourth.”
    Sophie was standing at the sink finishing the dishes. Bev had been feeling off-color—the heat again, she’d said—and Sophie had convinced her to go back to bed with one of the ancient electric fans The Birches had in abundance trained on her—fans with lethal-looking blades and frayed cords that Sophie had seen for sale in antiques shops with warnings to use for decorative purposes only. She’d put a glass and a pitcher of ice water on the bedside table, tucking a piece of paper under one leg to stop the wobble. It wasn’t that Bev’s room had been furnished with discards. All thefurniture in the house was like this. Bev hadn’t wanted anything more than water—“Never could eat when it was hot. And my waistline won’t suffer.”
    It was true that Bev was an armful, but it suited her. Sophie couldn’t imagine her any other way than the small plump woman whose hair had gone from carrot to pale rust in the years Sophie had known her. Sylvia had wanted to give Bev some sort of herbal remedy, but the housekeeper had firmly rejected the offer before going up to her room. “Took some plain old table salt and that will do it. And putting my feet up.”
    Sylvia was one of those remaining in the kitchen, although she had been up for hours and eaten an early breakfast. Her children were the attraction. Will Tarkington, who did seem to be making himself useful in all sorts of ways, Sophie thought grudgingly, had picked Autumn up in Bangor at the airport last night. Her plane from San Francisco had been late. Rory had appeared late, as well. He’d flown from California to Boston several days earlier and driven up. Sylvia was quizzing him now about whose car it was—or was it a rental—and what friends he’d been visiting; so far she’d gleaned very little. It occurred to Sophie that her cousin, who looked like a stereotypical surfer dude with his sun-bleached hair even blonder than she recalled and a deep tan, was showing well-practiced adeptness at humoring his mother while revealing almost nothing.
    Uncle Paul’s announcement deflected Sylvia’s attention from her son.
    â€œI’ll go tell Simon before he leaves,” she said. “He and Forbes are playing golf at the country club in Blue Hill this morning. Deirdre and Felicity are going, too. Some old school chum of Deirdre’s has a house there on Parker Point.”
    â€œThank you, Sylvia. About two o’clock then, in the living room.”
    And Colonel Mustard with a candlestick, jumped into Sophie’s mind. Must be Uncle Paul’s Christie reference that had her leapingto the mystery game. In any case, she reflected, Cousin Sylvia seemed to have appointed herself the town crier as well as keeper of tabs on everyone at The Birches’s whereabouts.
    As for what she would do with herself until the meeting, Sophie wasn’t sure. Bev had started to plan lunch, but Sophie had stopped her and emphatically told her she was not to worry, that Sophie would do it. So there was that to organize. She’d take the car and engage in a little hunting and gathering, harder on Sanpere than in New York or London. She had a sudden pang at the thought of the Waitrose around the corner from Ian’s flat. All that lovely prepared food, as well as the best ingredients for Londoners who had time to cook. She still had the customer card in her wallet. Well, that was one thing she’d do right now. Throw it away, along with other reminders like her Oyster Card for the Tube.
    What mattered was the here and now. Sanpere Island. The Birches. Uncle Paul.
    It had been just like him to get right to the point. They did all know why they were here, although she would be glad when the specifics were made clearer. Had Aunt Priscilla designed something like the Twelve Labors of Hercules? Except that was penance. No, maybe something like