Killing Gifts by Deborah Woodworth Page A

sister’s death.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œWell, I just can’t believe that Dulcie . . . I mean, she’s such a hard worker.”
    Rose realized she would get little useful information about possible suspects from Fannie, who saw mostly the good in people. She sipped her tea and allowed herself to pause as the minty liquid warmed her throat. “Tell me about the others,” she said.
    â€œDulcie is engaged to be married to Theodore Geist, our hired farm manager. He would not perhaps be my first choice for Dulcie, but worldly love often leads one astray, I find.”
    â€œWhat do you dislike about him?”
    â€œWell, not dislike precisely, it’s just that he can be somewhat overbearing. Mind you, he’s a fine farm manager. He watches over the other hired farm workers and keeps the shirkers in line, but I’ve heard from some of the novitiates that he challenges their authority. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll take good care of Dulcie.”
    â€œYou are very fond of Dulcie, aren’t you?”
    A kitchen sister arrived to clear their table, and Fannie did not answer.
    â€œI’ve told everyone why you are here,” Fannie said, when the sister had left. “I’ve asked them all to cooperate with you. The novitiates, in particular, are frightened that the police won’t treat them fairly, so I hope they will see you as a friend.”
    â€œUnless one of them is the killer.”
    â€œI refuse to think such a terrible thought,” Fannie said. “I’m sure you will find that the killer is an outsider, perhaps a vagrant or someone from Pittsfield with whom Julia kept company.”
    â€œYou don’t suspect any of the hired workers, either?”
    â€œOf course not.”
    â€œWill the hired workers talk to me?” Rose asked.
    â€œI’ve told them to be totally honest with you. They may hesitate at first, but I’m sure you’ll win them over.” Fannie filled their cups with the remains of the spearmint tea. The set of her chin made it clear she could not suspect anyone known to her of such a heinous act as murder.
    â€œNow,” Fannie said, “let’s discuss something cheerier. We are having such a special celebration for Mother Ann’s Birthday on the first of March.”
    â€œSpecial? In what way?” For Rose, Mother Ann’s Birthday was special enough, just as it was usually celebrated. What could be better?
    â€œAnother of my foolish brainstorms, I’m afraid,” Fannie said, pushing back her chair. “Such hard times all around—I thought that this year we’d have a big celebration and include our neighbors. We’ve been working for weeks, cooking candies and sewing special Shaker dolls to sell and to give to some of the poorer children, making sweetbreads and cakes, and so forth. We plan to make Mother Ann’s Birthday Cake twenty times over, even if it means going without butter for months. That’s why, you see, we’ve hired several extra people, including Carlotta, in the kitchen. She’s a friend of Dulcie’s.”
    Rose’s head was beginning to swim with potential suspects, and they hadn’t even discussed the individual novitiates.
    â€œI suppose she knew Julia, as well?”
    â€œOf course. I believe the three girls grew up together. I’m afraid I can’t tell you much about Carlotta, though. I hired her on Dulcie’s recommendation.”
    â€œAre Dulcie and Carlotta in the kitchen now, do you think? Perhaps we could just drop in, so I could get to know them at once.” Rose swung her ladder-back chair upside down onto a couple of wall pegs and headed for the door back into the main dining room. There was no point in talking further about the hired help; she’d learn more by observing them herself. Besides, she was tired of idle sitting.
    â€œBetter yet,” Rose said, as they headed toward the stairs, down to the