Not a Creature Was Stirring by Jane Haddam

He suddenly felt as if he’d been on one of those acid trips he never actually took.
    He was beginning to think he ought to give up dope.
3
    At 5:59 Bennis Hannaford, fresh from a two-way trek through the wilds of the kitchen yard and an even stranger trek through the wilds of her brother Christopher’s mind, came in out of the wind to the warmth and humidity of the kitchen. Mrs. Washington was at the stove, pulling a tray of hot cheese canapés out of the lower oven. Bennis popped off her boots—nobody in their right mind made a mess of Mrs. Washington’s daily-waxed floors—and went over and stole one. She had to snake her thin white hand under Mrs. Washington’s broader black one, but this was a game they had been playing since Bennis was three. If Mrs. Washington ever started making it easier for her, Bennis would be wrecked.
    Mrs. Washington decided to make it harder by putting the canapé tray on top of the refrigerator. “That man isn’t here yet,” she said. “Stuck in the snow out there, I guess.”
    “The snow is awful,” Bennis said. “The canapés are good.”
    Mrs. Washington didn’t respond to that one. Her canapés were always good. “Did you find those two?”
    “I found Chris. Stoned.”
    Mrs. Washington took another tray of canapés, ham and cheese this time, and shoved them into the lower oven. “That boy always did have money where he should have had brains. What happened to the other one?”
    “I don’t know. According to Chris, they were both out there all afternoon, and then just before I came Teddy took off. Actually, what Chris said was that Teddy took off because I came, but that doesn’t make any sense, does it?”
    “Nobody makes any sense,” Mrs. Washington said. “Maybe he went up to see your mother.”
    “Did he come through here?”
    “I haven’t seen him yet.”
    “I saw him at lunch. God, but it’s tense around here. I don’t know how you stand it.”
    Mrs. Washington smiled. “Forty-five thousand a year and a ride to Mass every Sunday. And it’s not so tense when the whole pack of you aren’t here at once. He’s always a nuisance, but your mother and Anne Marie aren’t bad.”
    “I’d rather live with him than Anne Marie,” Bennis said. “At least I know what’s going on with him.”
    “There’s your brother Teddy now.” Mrs. Washington waved her spatula at the wall. “He’s going down the east hall. You can hear the brace.”
    Bennis could quite definitely hear the brace. She’d forgotten what a distinctive sound it made. “I wonder what he’s doing over there,” she said. “I can’t believe he’s going to pay a visit to Daddy.”
    “If he does, your father will beat him to a pulp,” Mrs. Washington said. “My, the energy you people waste on hating each other, it’s amazing. Myra came through here a little while ago—”
    “To give you a lecture on nouvelle cuisine?”
    “Wanted to know if I knew where Bobby was. Looked right through the pantry, like he was going to be hiding in the potato bin. Came out and called him an ugly name. Things are tense around here when she shows up.”
    “Has she been showing up a lot?”
    “Once a week or so since your mother got out of the hospital. I’d put it down to worry about Mrs. Hannaford, but she never goes up to see Mrs. Hannaford. Nobody does. Even he waits for her to come down.”
    “Maybe he doesn’t want to impose on her,” Bennis said.
    Mrs. Washington snorted. “Take one of these ham and cheese things,” she said. “Then get out of my kitchen. With all the coming and going around here today, I’m half an hour late.”
4
    Bennis wandered into the back hall, and then into the foyer, and then—for no reason in particular—into the east wing corridor. She was bone tired. She’d spent most of the day with her muscles tight and her breath coming in hitches, wondering when one or the other of them was going to go too far. It was one thing to moan and wail about your family to