Read Online The Body in the Sleigh by Katherine Hall Page - Free Book Online

a computer printout. Not typed on a typewriter. Much smoother.”
    â€œI thought the wording of the note might mean something,” Mary said, picking it up. “Not the ‘Keep him safe’ part, although since she wrote that first I’m sure it means she thinks or knows he’s in danger—but the ‘Raise him to be a good man’ part. Sounds like she hasn’t had much luck there—or worse.”
    â€œI’d guess worse,” Faith said. “It sounds like Christopher’s father is not her idea of a model father figure. Maybe not her own father either. Or it could be her father who is the ideal, but then why wouldn’t she go to him for help, or her mother, for that matter?”
    â€œMaybe both passed away?” Mary handed the note to Faith. “She didn’t sign it. Just stopped writing. Do you think she was interrupted or was it that she couldn’t think of any way to finish it?”
    â€œEither or neither,” said Faith. “But she has to be someone you know, Mary. Your name was on the basket and in the letter. Plusshe knew you had a barn and kept goats—knew your routine, that you’d be out to milk them at six. She wasn’t taking any chances that the baby wouldn’t be found quickly.”
    â€œI’ve been going through all this since I found him, believe me. And I can’t think who she could be.”
    â€œAnd you didn’t hear a car? Or notice footprints in the snow?”
    Mary shook her head. “She’s a smart one. I figure she stepped in the ones I made earlier. What puzzles me, though, is that I didn’t hear the nannies. They can raise quite a hubbub if a stranger comes near.”
    â€œWhich further suggests it’s someone you—and the blessed goats—know.”
    Faith put the clothes down. She had to get going soon.
    â€œWhat else?” she wondered aloud. “The afghan—exquisitely handmade. But it doesn’t tell us anything except she’s a good crocheter or went to some kind of fair that had a handwork table.”
    â€œMy neighbor Arlene could read it like a book. Tell us where the yarn came from, who does that kind of stitch—at least on the island. Maybe we can think of a way to show it to her without having her get suspicious.”
    â€œThe cloth diapers suggest she’s pretty green.”
    â€œYou mean inexperienced?” Mary asked.
    Faith laughed. “No, as in environmentally friendly, ecoaware. No disposables, but washable cloth diapers.”
    â€œA tree hugger. Well, I’m with her on that one. Easy enough to wash diapers.”
    â€œWait and see. The jury’s still out on whether you use more resources washing the cloth ones than those other diapers consume. And they do cut down on diaper rash. I know how much time you spend tending your herd, but babies are even more work than your nannies.”
    Mary doubted this, but she was on shaky ground here.
    â€œComputer access, environmentalist, young—that’s a logicalpresumption—and can’t keep her baby. This all says ‘student’ to me.” Faith was feeling quite Holmesian and wished there had been a bit more evidence such as cigar ash or mud from a shoe, so she could say that the young woman had been in Morocco recently, purchasing smokes at a stall in the bazaar from a red-haired man with a limp named Abdul.
    Hair!
    â€œAre there any strands of hair on the blanket—or on Christopher himself?”
    â€œHow stupid. There was one and I forgot to mention it. It’s dark like mine, or like mine used to be.” Mary was starting to go gray. “It’s not mine, though, because it’s long. Not Christopher’s either, but the same color.” Mary’s hair was sensibly short. She cut the bangs herself and exchanged cheese for a trim from one of her customers who’d worked as a beautician before moving to Sanpere. The name of her