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Faith Fairchild is busy at home and at work as Halloween comes creeping into the small town of Aleford, Massachusetts. Yet, when First Parish asks her to cater the church's restoration campaign kickoff at historic Ballou House, she gamely agrees. She's never done a Murder Mystery Game benefit dinner before, and there's the additional draw of four famous local mystery writers to join in the fun. But the evening's merriment is brought to a grisly halt when a beautiful young woman dies moments after finishing every ...
Faith Fairchild is busy at home and at work as Halloween comes creeping into the small town of Aleford, Massachusetts. Yet, when First Parish asks her to cater the church's restoration campaign kickoff at historic Ballou House, she gamely agrees. She's never done a Murder Mystery Game benefit dinner before, and there's the additional draw of four famous local mystery writers to join in the fun. But the evening's merriment is brought to a grisly halt when a beautiful young woman dies moments after finishing every last bite of the dessert Faith has prepared!
Now Faith is in serious trouble. Her phone is ringing off the hook with job cancellations, and Aleford's wagging tongues are suggesting that it was Faith herself who laced the goodie with cyanide, having discovered her husband Tom's perhaps overly pastoral interest in the victim. Then young Ben Fairchild's elementary-school principal reveals that he's been receiving anonymous threatening phone calls. Faith's world feels steeped in poison and the one person she'd normally turn to for comfort and advice seems locked in his own private hell. Tom is barely speaking to her.
Never before has Faith's amateur sleuthing hit so close to home — and never before has it been more crucial. She has to find out who killed Gwen Lord to save her business, her marriage, and possibly her freedom. But before she does, there's a body in the moonlight — a body that carries an unmistakable warning for Faith Fairchild....
"Patsy, sorry to wake you. It's Faith."
Fully awake, even though it was only 6:30, Patsy Avery got out of bed and walked into the hall, away from her sleeping husband.
"What's wrong? I can hear it in your voice. What's happened?"
"I think I may need you; that is, I think I may need a lawyer."
"Don't say another word. I'm on a cell phone. Get over here -- or do you want me to come to you?"
"I'll come, but I'll have to leave in time to get ready for church."
"Heavens above," Patsy said mockingly, "I certainly wouldn't want to be responsible for the minister's wife missing the service."
Faith said good-bye without either laughing or responding to the quip with one of her own.
Things must be very bad.
Patsy pulled a dressing gown over her large frame and debated whether to awaken Will. He was a lawyer, too. She'd wait and ask Faith.
She went downstairs to the kitchen, pausing at the thermostat to hike it up several degrees. It was October, and she knew that by New England standards she shouldn't even have the heat on until the first snowstorm forced a grudging acknowledgment that it could be a mite nippy out. She went back and flicked it again, hearing the furnace respond with a satisfying rumble. She was from New Orleans, and as far as she was concerned, it started getting cold up north just about the time you thought summer might finally have arrived. Damn cold.
The days were getting shorter and by the end of the month daylight saving time would end. It would be dark when they got home from work. It was dark now, but an early-morning dark already starting to thin to gray. The birdswere up and creating their usual bedlam. Traffic noise didn't bother her, yet when they'd left the city for bucolic Aleford, it had taken months for Patsy to learn to sleep through this avian chorus.
Her eye fell on the calendar hanging near the phone. There would be a full moon tonight. The house gave an appropriate groan. Just the wood expanding and contracting, the Realtor had hastened to explain when a bansheelike wail accompanied their ascent up the attic stairs. Patsy didn't believe in ghosts, especially northern ghosts. She chuckled to herself, remembering her mother's comment: "Don't worry, honey, from what I've heard, those old Yankees don't like giving space to tenants who don't pay any rent."
Patsy had spent most of the fall traveling back and forth to the Midwest on a case, returning from the latest trip only on Friday. She and Will had spent the day before getting reacquainted -- and that did not include a trip to the market -- but she knew Will would never let them run out of coffee beans, and their freezer was always full of food. She quickly brewed a large pot, then dug around for some of the sticky buns her mother-in-law regularly sent up, along with vats of gumbo and the occasional sweet-potato pie. Faith Fairchild wasn't just the minister's wife but also a successful caterer. Besides a whole lot of other things in common, she and Patsy shared the sincere belief that food was an antidote to misfortune, easing the pain as well as loosening the tongue.
Why on earth would Faith need a lawyer? A criminal lawyer? Patsy worked mostly with juveniles, but she kept her hand in with a few adult cases now and then. She put the rolls in the microwave to defrost and poured herself a cup of coffee. Despite the urgency in Faith's voice, Patsy knew it would take her a while to get to the house, although they lived within walking distance. The parsonage was one of the white clapboard houses tidily arranged around the Aleford village green, a hop, skip, and a jump through the old burying ground to the First Parish Church, where the Reverend Thomas Fairchild held forth. The Averys' move from Boston's South End last year had taken them to one of Aleford's "modern" architectural offerings, a large Victorian on a side street off the green. But Faith wouldn't be able simply to walk out the door. She was a woman with responsibilities.
Patsy stood at the kitchen window, holding the oversized cup in both hands, bringing the fragrant steaming liquid to her mouth. Still too hot to drink. She turned off the overhead light she'd switched on when she'd entered the room and looked outdoors. The tomato plants, blackened in late September by an unusually early frost, and other horticultural detritus filled a rectangular plot in the back comer of the yard. Neither Will nor she had had time to put the garden to sleep, as they whimsically expressed it in these parts. Patsy hadn't even had a chance to harvest the green tomatoes. Dipped in cornmeal and fried, they were one of Will's favorite vegetables. How did the man stay as thin as a rail? She smiled reminiscently, savoring the day before. He didn't want a skinny woman, thank God. Next year, she'd make sure she harvested the tomatoes or, if she had to be away, leave a reminder for Will. It had obviously slipped his mind. He was even busier than she was. No, she wouldn't wake her husband unless there was a very good reason.
It was almost day now, and she had a sudden impulse to go outside and sit on the bench next to the bluestone path that wound its way through the yard. Will had given her a fountain for her birthday, turned off now. The grasses surrounding it, bleached out, dry, and swaying ever so slightly on the morning air, looked beautiful. But Faith would be here soon, and besides, there was the cold.The Body in the Moonlight. Copyright © by Katherine Page. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.
Posted July 27, 2003
Posted September 16, 2002
Katherine Hall Page's "cozy" mysteries have been getting successively darker and more depressing starting with "The Body in the Bookcase" where Ms Page's introduction explained how she was victimized by a recent home invasion. Faith Fairchild is no longer fun to read and might benefit from Prozac. (Aleford might not approve, but some of Faith's fans would like to see her get rid of the depression she has been in for the 3 most recent books.) Please bring the old Faith back to life.Was this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted December 9, 2008
In Aleford, Massachusetts, an already fully occupied Faith Fairchild and her catering business are drafted to provide the food for an upcoming church fund-raiser. As the wife of the minister, Faith agrees to help. However, the daily alterations to the murder mystery theme by the party planner Paula Pringle frustrates the caterer. <P> At the event everything seems to be going well except Faith feels jealous watching her husband Tom dance cheek to cheek with Gwen Lord. Still, the event is working until dessert is served and Gwen keels over dead. Someone taking advantage of the ammeretto topping poisoned Gwen. The police rule out the possibility that Faith or her Have Faith employees committed the act, but cannot find a motive. After reading about the homicide in the Globe, Faith knows her business and her professional reputation is at stake. She also realizes that rumors prevail linking Tom with Gwen. Faith begins her own brand of investigation, not yet realizing that her actions place her in danger from a maniac who will kill again. <P> THE BODY IN THE MOONLIGHT is an enjoyable amateur sleuth tale, starring a delightful heroine in her eleventh novel. The story line is fun in a Christie like style that will please both fans of award winning Katherine Hall Page and the great icon. The deeper insight into the relationship between the heroine and her spouse provides a bonus for the long time audience and introduce newcomers to the heroine. Although the motives of the killer require a leap of faith, the well-written cozy still thoroughly entertains the reader. <P>Harriet KlausnerWas this review helpful? Yes NoThank you for your feedback. Report this reviewThank you, this review has been flagged.
Posted June 8, 2011
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Posted January 28, 2010
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