Free The Christening Day Murder by Lee Harris Page A

arrival to make sure the family would not dream up a reason not to be home.
    The door was opened by a woman in a maid’s uniform.
    “I’d like to see Mr. or Mrs. Eberling,” I said.
    “And you are …?”
    “Christine Bennett.”
    That was apparently enough, because she asked me to wait, and left. She returned a few minutes later and asked me to follow her.
    “Do I know you?” a handsome woman about seventy asked as I entered a beautiful little sitting room.
    “You don’t, Mrs. Eberling. I got your name from some people who used to live in Studsburg.”
    “Studsburg!” She smiled, sounding surprised. “Come in, dear. What was your name?”
    “Christine Bennett. Chris.” I walked over to the sofa where she was sitting and offered my hand.
    “Annie, take Miss Bennett’s coat, will you?”
    I took it off and sat in a chair. Mrs. Eberling called for coffee, and Annie left with my coat.
    “Who were the people you mentioned?”
    “The Stiflers.”
    “Stifler? I don’t remember anyone named Stifler. You’re sure they lived in Studsburg?”
    “Their infant daughter was baptized on the Fourth of July thirty years ago, the day before the town was closed.”
    “Yes, I did hear about that, but we weren’t invited. We were gone by then, of course. We commissioned this house a few months after the decision was made to flood the town, and we moved in a good month before the end. We came back that last evening for the fireworks, though. A lot of people who’d moved away did. And of course, J.J.—that’s my husband—kept the paper up till the end.”
    “You mean the press was still operating the day the town closed?”
    “Well, no. The businesses all had to close before that. The people who lived there were supposed to be out, too, but that girl was pregnant and the army let her stay till she gave birth. And then there was the christening, and everyone seemed to want to celebrate the Fourth one last time in Studsburg. We always made a big fuss about the holiday.”
    “How did your husband publish if the press was closed?”
    “Oh, he made some arrangement with another paper, I think. It was foolish of him and cost a lot of money, but he said he felt like the captain of a ship, and his paper would come out till the last day.”
    “So he came back to Studsburg to gather news every day?”
    “It was only a Tuesday and Friday paper, but yes, I suppose he did. Though now I think of it, I wonder where he worked from.” She looked thoughtful. “I think the priest may have given him a room in the rectory. That was one of the last buildings to go, you know.”
    “Yes, I heard.”
    “And would you mind telling me what your interest in all this is?”
    “A body was found in the basement of the church in Studsburg last weekend,” I said.
    “So I heard. Wasn’t that simply awful? Do they know who she was yet?”
    “Not yet, no. I’m working on behalf of an interested party who’s trying to find out.” I neglected to say that I was the interested party.
    “You mean you’re a private detective?”
    “No, I’m not, Mrs. Eberling. I’ve just had some experience in investigating.” It’s amazing how truthful you can be when you’re trying to avoid telling the truth.
    “And how did you think I might help you?”
    “Well, we’re pretty sure that the woman isn’t anyone who lived in Studsburg, so we’re checking out people who worked in town but lived elsewhere. I understand you had a young woman as a housekeeper. I wonder if you could tell me about her.”
    “Don’t answer that, Mother,” a woman’s voice said somewhere behind me.
    I turned and saw an attractive woman, probably in her forties, coming into the room.
    “You really don’t want to dredge all that misery up again,” Mrs. Eberling said.
    “Keep quiet, Mother.” The woman turned to me. “Who exactly are you and what do you want here?”
    “She knows people in Studsburg, Alicia,” Mrs. Eberling said. “It’s about that body they