Body in the Bookcase

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Night had fallen in Aleford, Massachusetts, and its inhabitants—those who were still awake—were involved in a variety of pursuits.

At the First Parish parsonage, Faith Sibley Fairchild was sitting in the living room with her husband, the Reverend Thomas Fairchild, before the unlighted hearth. It was an attractive room, stretching from the front of the house to the back.

A deep blue Oriental rug bequeathed by some previous inhabitant lay on the floor, its colors repeated in the room’s drapes and upholstery. A few spindly chairs, also hand-me-downs, had been supplemented by the Fairchilds’ own, more comfortable furniture. Their belongings decorated the walls, personalized the tabletops.

Their two children, Ben, five, and Amy, twenty months, were mercifully sound asleep upstairs.

The morning paper and the book she was reading lay untouched on the coffee table in front of Faith.

She was enjoying the rare sensation of doing nothing and her mind drifted to thoughts of May—thoughts of the current season.

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