The Body in the Ivy by Katherine Hall Page Read Free Book Online Page A

forward to meeting you. It should be a most illuminating week.
    Sincerely,
    Faith frowned. After all that fine, no doubt laborious calligraphy, Bishop’s signature was a mess, indecipherable. Faith knew that this was not uncommon among authors who had to sign thousands of copies of books. Some, and obviously Ms. Bishop was one, had developed a scrawl. She recalled a story a bookseller had told her about an elderly gentleman who, upon being handed the book he had asked a famous mystery author to sign, handed it back and said sternly, “Now, young man, sign it so I can read it. The way your teacher taught you to!” The author, not known for complaisance, instantly complied.
    She changed into her work clothes, not bothering to unpack. Ms. Bishop had asked that tonight’s dinner be a buffet. Faith had supposed it was to accommodate late arrivals, but now she was assuming it was to create an informal ambience for the group’s first night together. That long boat trip would be difficult in the dark even with the fancy GPS and other devices Faith had noticed. The women would surely all be here at sundown. There would be no late arrivals. She’d have the cocktail hour on the front porch, which by chance or design facedwest. As the sun set, everyone could move indoors. The living room had numerous tables besides the Nakashima gem and Faith decided to make it a movable feast. She didn’t know how often these alums got together, but if they were anything like Hope’s friends, it wouldn’t matter. They’d pick up where they left off. Having to graze would facilitate conversations.
    She wished she could call Tom—or her neighbor and closest friend, Pix Miller, and of course Hope! Her cell certainly wouldn’t get service out here. She turned it on, and the total lack of those annoying little bars confirmed her fear. How did the writer communicate with the outside world? She must have satellite service.
    As she was leaving her room, she noticed a small white box tied with sheer silver ribbon on a table that served as a desk beneath the window. She opened it, and inside there was an exquisite necklace. A card from the author, her name engraved on the top, read, “This is the work of my favorite jewelry designer, Sharon Adams, who is based in the Boston area. You may be familiar with her name. A little thank-you for what I know will be a week of culinary delights.” Faith did indeed know of Ms. Adams’s work and this was no little thank-you, but a very generous gesture. She had always wanted a piece of the jeweler’s work, and this choker was a treasure. An insert from Ms. Adams described the piece’s materials as chalcedony with almandine garnets. The chalcedony was translucent, and the beveled pieces looked as if they had been carved from moonlight; the tiny garnets flashed red, bits of Mars. She put it away, resolving to wear it tonight.
    Back in the kitchen, Faith began the delightful taskof exploring. Few women, and an equal number of men, no doubt, could resist the opportunity to open cupboards, closets, and other doors in someone else’s house. Faith’s mother-in-law, Marian, was a show-house junkie, and with a husband and daughter in the real estate business, an open house one, as well. “I can give them tips,” she’d told Faith once. “Tell them how to make places more salable.” Possibly, Faith had thought. Her mother-in-law did have good taste and a good eye, but it was really Marian’s insatiable curiosity about the way other people lived that motivated her. Faith could recognize the trait, because she had it herself in abundance. Taking a stroll at night and looking into lighted rooms was almost as good as a Broadway show.
    Two sinks, one deep for washing vegetables, were placed beneath a window that overlooked the garden. A door leading outside was to the left. The pale green of new leaves and other colors that gleamed against the