Free The Body In the Belfry by Katherine Hall Page Page A

in with the murder, that there was something she had that would incriminate the murderer.”
    Faith wondered how she could get upstairs and take a look at Cindy’s room. The police were obviously going over it with a fine-tooth comb for fingerpints, stray hairs, distinctive buttons, calling cards. She was pretty sure from the way the chandelier shook that Dunne was up there.
    It was going to have to be the old bathroom trick. She stood up and excused herself demurely.
    â€œWhy don’t you use the one upstairs, Faith?” Patricia never missed much.

    The stairs and upper hall were carpeted with an oriental runner, so Faith was able to linger undetected for a moment outside Cindy’s bedroom door. “Ransack” had been a mild description. Detective Dunne, his back to her, stood in the center of a room that looked as if the Vikings had joined Attila the Hun to pay a call on the Sabine women. All the drawers were pulled out, the bed torn apart and the pillows slashed. Enough shoes for an Imelda were flung about the room, and pictures had been ripped from their frames. Faith was fascinated. From what she could see, it seemed Cindy had an entire mirrored wall of closets. She glanced at the ceiling. No. Robert and Patricia must have drawn the line somewhere.
    She was just about to take a step nearer when John Dunne glanced in one of the mirrors and their eyes met in mutual annoyance. He turned abruptly, strode to the door in one step, and shut it.
    Faith continued down the hall to the bathroom. She might as well use it as long as she was there; it would give her time to think. It was possible that the Moores had interrupted the intruder before he or she had had a chance to find anything. This was certainly the thought behind Dunne’s thorough search. Faith doubted she would be asked to join the team, so she had to think of something else. Or someplace else?
    She went back downstairs and stopped in the study to check Benjamin. He was sound asleep and looked cherubic. These were moments to treasure and recall when you were wiping baby cereal off your clothing.
    Jenny was outside the door. She looked a little lost and more than a little angry.
    Faith said sympathetically, “I know. Cindy again. It is dreadful and shouldn’t be happening.”
    â€œShe would have been very ticked off at the mess they made of her room, though,” Jenny said with some satisfaction.

    Faith looked at Jenny and the tiny thought that had sprouted upstairs burst into bloom.
    â€œJenny, maybe what they’re looking for was never in Cindy’s room. This house must have dozens of hiding places. If they bothered to rip open picture frames, it must have been small. Can you think of any place she might have hidden something that size?”
    â€œWell, the maple secretary in the study has two secret drawers and so does a little lap desk that they used to take to sea long ago, but I doubt she would use these because we all knew about them. And besides Mom is always cleaning and she might find it.”
    Jenny paused. “If I were going to hide something, I think I’d put it in the playhouse, because no grown-ups ever go there and there are no little kids anymore.”
    â€œWhere is the playhouse?”
    â€œDown near the river. Do you want to go look?”
    I thought you’d never ask, Faith thought as she replied, “That sounds like a good idea.”
    She ducked her head into the living room to tell Tom she was taking a walk with Jenny. He was discussing the funeral again with Patricia and Robert and she knew she wouldn’t be missed.
    It was beautiful outside and warm. They rustled along in the leaves down the long slope to the river. Nestled under the trees was a white playhouse, the kind every child dreams of having—a small porch in front and two child-sized rooms. There wasn’t much in it—two chairs, a table, and a wooden play stove in one room; some doll beds and a