Catch as Cat Can (23 page)

46

The daily sun and wind reduced the size of the puddles, the depth of the mud. Still not trusting the ground, Harry didn't drive her tractor to the creek. Large tree limbs were wedged along the banks; a few weak trees had crashed into the creek, their uprooted trunks looking like paralyzed squid tentacles. She needed to chainsaw the trunks into smaller portions, wrap heavy chains around them to drag them out. Once the wood dried she'd cut it for firewood, stacking it neatly on the porch. She'd also built a weather-tight woodshed next to the shavings shed. As spring and summer progressed she'd slowly fill the woodshed until full. That would hold throughout the next winter.

The mercury climbed to sixty-four degrees at noon, just warm enough to shed a coat but still cool enough for a midweight shirt. Harry took the opportunity before the weather shifted to hot and hotter to crimp a standing tin seam on her barn roof. The seams separate sometimes. You fold the longer piece over the shorter and squeeze them together. Her father had taught her how to do it. She wore sneakers, the rubber soles helping to give her traction on the roof pitch. Only one seam needed work, which made her happy.

Pewter and Murphy reposed under the large white lilac bush. Tucker slept under the lavender lilac bush. Both cats were awake but stretched on their sides to their full length.

“Do you like bacon?”
Pewter reached out to bat at an ant, who easily avoided her.

“You know I like bacon.”

“If you had to choose between bacon and beef bits what would you choose?”

“Beef.”

Pewter rolled on her back.
“What about between beef and tuna?”

“Tuna.”

“Tuna and salmon?”

“H-m-m, tuna.”
Mrs. Murphy had to think about that one.
“Why are you asking me? Are you hungry again? You ate a huge breakfast.”

“When I'm not eating I like to think about food. Food preferences are clues to personality.”
This was said with great conviction.

“Pewter, you need sunglasses.”

“Huh?”

“You're getting West Coast.”

“Close-minded,”
she sniffed.
“Figures. Tuna, a most conventional cat.”

Mrs. Murphy lifted her head.
“She's stopped.”

Pewter lifted her head off her outstretched paw also.
“What improvement will she tackle next? She's exhausting. She needs to learn to take naps.”

Out of nowhere the blue jay screeched by them, shaking the lilacs.
“Mouse breath!”

Pewter leapt up, shaking herself.
“Death!”

“Don't go out. Move back. Let's see if we can draw him into the bush. Then we've got him.”

The blue jay turned, flew around the walnut tree, diving for the lilac bushes, too smart to be lured in. He screamed,
“Tapeworm host.”

“That does it!”
Pewter shot out of the bush but he'd already begun his climb.

To show off he flew in the center aisle of the barn and out the back side.

“If we find his nest we can climb up and kill him.”
Mrs. Murphy logically suggested.
“If we can't get him or his mate we can push their eggs to the ground.”

“I'd love to hear them splat, little tiny splats since they're little tiny eggs. Death to the next generation.”
Pewter's pupils enlarged in excitement.

The only other excitement of the day was Diego calling Harry in the evening. He was back in Washington and looked forward to seeing her the next weekend. Since Fair was taking her to the Wrecker's Ball, he asked her to check her calendar so he could take her to the next dance, picnic, anything. Then he said they'd make their own picnic. She agreed. They'd enjoy a repast Saturday noon and if it rained, they'd eat in the barn just to be halfway outside.

She hung up the phone and began whistling.

“What an awful sound,”
Pewter meowed.

“It is,”
Mrs. Murphy agreed, running to Harry, begging her to stop.

“Sorry, girls, I forgot how sensitive your ears are.” Harry laughed and stopped whistling.

“Doesn't bother me,”
Tucker said.
“If you whistle I come running.”

“Don't brownnose, Tucker, it's such an unattractive trait,”
Pewter grumbled.

“You know, Pewter, you're so fat I bet there are shock absorbers on your cat box.”

That made Murphy laugh so hard she rolled off the sofa, hitting the floor with a thud.

“Murphy, you're supposed to land on your feet.” Harry picked her up, kissing her forehead while Pewter, enraged, thumped down the hall into the bedroom.

The phone rang again. Harry walked into the kitchen to pick it up. On hearing BoomBoom's voice she squeezed her eyes shut for an instant.

“What worthy cause are you roping me into now?”

“Well—the Special Olympics need volunteers. They're going to be held at Wintergreen”—she named a local resort—“and we need people who know sports. I thought maybe you could be the starter for the races.”

“Oh. Sure.”

“That was easy.”

“I like the Special Olympics.” Harry smiled, then changed the subject. “Think our little trap will catch a mouse?”

“I hope so.”

“I keep forgetting to ask you, how did you meet Thomas?”

“Big party at Vin Mattacia's.” Mattacia had been Ambassador to Spain in the late 1970s. An urbane, outgoing man, he was at the hub of those people retired from the diplomatic corps who lived in the area.

“Oh.”

“Great party. A Valentine's party. I enjoy him but I don't think the relationship will go anywhere. It's just—fun.”

“Oh.”

“I don't know if I ever want to marry again. Some days I think I do and some days I don't.”

“It's a quandary.”

After a bit more chitchat Harry hung up the phone, realized it was getting late, and took a shower.

Pewter, on the bed, ignored both Murphy and Tucker, who sat on the hooked rug by the bed.

“Can you imagine standing in a shower? It's like standing in the rain,”
Mrs. Murphy asked the dog, settling down for a good night's sleep.

“It's a human thing.”
Tucker half closed her eyes.
“It's right up there with using a knife and fork.”

47

Coop breezed in the back door of the post office at seven-thirty in the morning. She tacked up the bogus auction poster on the bulletin board in the front part of the building.

Miranda and Tracy both knew what was afoot. Every single person who came into the post office commented on it that day.

Lottie wondered if the Clatterbucks were that hard up. She then sarcastically said she thought Harry would be in the first row of the attendees since Harry couldn't resist sticking her nose in other people's business.

Mim, just returned from New York, thought it much too soon. One needed time before sorting and selling.

Little Mim questioned who would want to buy bears' paws and the like.

Jim Sanburne merely shrugged. He accepted a broader range of behavior than did the women in his life.

The Reverend Herb Jones thought the whole thing was too sad.

Sean O'Bannon read the notice without comment.

At the end of the day, Rick Shaw listened to Marshall Wells on the phone. The lab report had come back with all due speed. Roger O'Bannon had been poisoned with quinidine, a drug which, taken in excess of one gram, kills within fifteen to twenty minutes. It can be administered in pill or powder form. Unlike most other poisons, this one kills without producing horrible convulsions. It is sometimes given to heart patients to suppress acute arrhythmias.

Coop, standing next to him when he hung up the phone, simply said, “Do we arrest Lottie Pearson?”

“She handed him the coffee. Can you prove she poisoned him?
Intentionally?
” He emphasized the word.

“Not just yet. She's not going anywhere.”

At three o'clock that night, a car, lights off, glided down Don Clatterbuck's short driveway. The driver emerged, noiselessly closed the door, and walked to Don's shop. What no one had noticed when they left Don's shop after re-installing the lock was that the tiny red light on the video camera was reflected in the windowpane. The thief noticed and left.

48

The week roared by in a welter of chores, seemingly so important at the time yet quickly forgotten. Fortunately, mail volume was light, so Harry skipped out Friday morning to do her grocery shopping. Miranda, whose refrigerator remained full, gladly gave her the time. Tracy kept Miranda company at work.

“Have you decided what color dress you're wearing?”

“The magenta, the color of my peonies.”

“You'll be the prettiest girl there.” He smiled, deciding that either a white or pink corsage would complement her dress. “I don't remember Tim O'Bannon being so interested in charitable pursuits.”

“Tim was tight as the bark on a tree. He used to embarrass Ida. When the boys took over the business they became involved in community affairs. I think they did it out of the goodness of their hearts but I don't expect it hurt business either. ‘Each one must do as he has made up his mind, not reluctantly or under compulsion, for God loves a cheerful giver.'
Second
Corinthians
, Chapter Nine, Verse Seven.”

“What a memory.”

“We're back!”
Tucker announced gaily.

“Mom drove home, put stuff in the fridge, gave us a treat, and now I'm ready for the mail cart.”
Pewter hopped in, causing the cart to roll a bit.

“I bought pork chops.” Harry sounded triumphant, up to the challenge. “I'm going to make stuffed pork chops according to your recipe. The only thing is, does Diego like pork? Some people don't.”

“Feed him a loaf of bread, a jug of wine, et cetera. . . .” Tracy slapped her on the back.

“You men. All alike.” She teased him for quoting the
Rubaiyat
because the next line was “and thou.” Tracy assumed all Diego needed was Harry.

“Gender wars!”
Pewter called out from the bottom of the mail cart.
“I pick women to win.”

“Of course you'll pick women, you twit. You're female.”
Mrs. Murphy jumped in the cart, too.

A loud discussion followed, after which Mrs. Murphy jumped right out, hit the floor front paws apart, and pretended to chase a mouse into an opened mail sack.

Tucker stuck her nose in the sack. Murphy batted at the dog, who snapped her jaws, appearing quite ferocious.

“Oh, to be a cat or dog.” Harry admired their untrammeled joy.

“Your cat or dog.” Tracy waved as Coop passed by in the squad car.

Within minutes she came through the back door. “Hi. Didn't want to park out front. I'll only be here a minute.”

“More news, I hope?” Miranda offered her a cookie, which she took.

They knew about Roger. Rick had allowed Cynthia Cooper to tell them. After all, they were in on this mess. They'd helped with the safe and they'd not gotten in his way. He couldn't decide if he was mellowing or if he was too tired to bitch and moan.

“The sheriff from Washington County, Paul Carter, called. Two people at Boojum's recognized Dwayne Fuqua. Said he dropped off cars regularly. They also recognized Roger, of course, but what was interesting is that Roger would pick up Dwayne from Boojum's. Bill Boojum had to know.”

“Hi.” Susan popped through the front door followed by her youngest, Brooks.

“And why aren't you in school, young lady?” Miranda pointed her finger playfully at the high-school girl.

“Teachers' conference day.” Brooks smiled.

“They didn't have those when I was in school.” Miranda frowned. “I remember George Washington was good at math.” She broke into a tinkling giggle.

“Oh, Miranda.” Harry rolled her eyes.

“Brooks, I'm glad you're here. I was going to come over tonight and ask you some more questions. I wish they'd occur to me all at once but they don't.” Coop leaned over the dividing counter as Brooks came up to lean on the other side.

“Will you stop running around,” Harry commanded Mrs. Murphy, who had abandoned the mail sack to play tag with Tucker.

“Spoilsport.”
Murphy did sit down, though, as Tucker crashed into her, rolling them both over.

“Sorry, my brakes don't work.”
The dog licked Murphy's cheek to make up for the block.

“Ha, a likely story,”
Pewter called out from the mail cart.

“When you brought sugar to the table, who handed you the sugar bowl?” Coop pulled out her small notepad.

“Chef Ted.”

“Did anyone stop you on the way to the table?”

“No.”

“And it was a bowl of raw sugar?”

“Uh-huh.” Brooks folded her hands, leaning harder on the divider. “I put it next to the silver creamer at the end of the table.”

“The broken sugar bowl was china.”
Mrs. Murphy jumped up with a start.
“China. Oh, now why didn't I notice that at the time?”

“And you weren't called in to clean up the sugar on the floor?”

“No. Someone cleaned it up. One of the guests, I guess.”

“Thomas Steinmetz. Lottie backed into him.” Coop had several eyewitnesses who corroborated that fact. “When you put the sugar bowl on the table, did you see who reached for it first?”

“Uh—Daddy. He was fixing a cup of coffee for Aunt Tally.”

“Then why isn't Aunt Tally dead?” Susan held up her hands in frustration.

“You know, people have been asking that question for years,” Harry devilishly replied.

“But that wasn't the bowl!”
Murphy yowled.

“Save your energy,”
Tucker advised.

“I can't believe I was so stupid.”
Murphy was distraught.

“Don't be so hard on yourself, pussycat. Roger O'Bannon was sprawled on the floor with Little Mim yanking on his arm. That would get any cat's attention,”
Tucker soothingly said.

“Right under my nose.”
Murphy bent her head, putting her forehead on Tucker's chest.

“Hey, it's right under their noses, too. They haven't figured it out and they think their intelligence is superior to every other creature on the face of the earth.”
Tucker levelly offered that criticism.

“Ha,”
Pewter called out.

“Do you remember party guests walking into the kitchen?” Coop asked.

Brooks thought a moment. “Mrs. Sanburne, Little Mim, Aunt Tally, Sean—”

“Sean?”

“He came in to ask when the coffee would be ready. There might have been a lot of other people because I was carrying dishes out. Action central.”

“I believe that,” Miranda said.

“Anyone going into the kitchen passes through the large pantry for china and silver. The food pantry is on the other side of the kitchen.” Coop was thinking out loud. “Brooks, do you remember if all the silver bowls were used?”

“No, ma'am.”

Coop smiled. “Well, there's no reason for you to have noticed. How were any of us to know what would happen? Sometimes I think solving a crime is like putting together a mosaic, it's thousands and thousands of tiny bits of information until finally a picture emerges.”

“What an interesting thought.” Miranda passed the cookie dish over the counter.

Brooks happily ate one. Susan resisted, willpower to the max.

“You've questioned the chef, of course?” Tracy asked.

“Yes. I was impressed with his memory for detail, especially about food.” She smiled.

“Mind if I call Aunt Tally?” Harry asked.

“No,” Coop said.

Harry dialed.

Tally picked up, greeting the caller. “Queen Bee and it better be good.”

“Hi, Aunt Tally, it's Harry.”

“Do I have a package?”

“No, I'm here in the post office with Deputy Cooper, Miranda, and Tracy, Susan, and Brooks.”

“A little party.”

“It would be much livelier if you were here.”

“You're right about that.” She laughed. “Now, what's on your mind, Mary Minor Haristeen?”

“When you hosted the tea dance, you used your own silver, china, and crystal, right?”

“Of course.”

“How many silver sugar bowls do you have?”

“Two. One for white cube sugar and one for raw sugar. I use cubes because what people don't use that day I'll give to the horses.”

“And both were in use at the tea dance?”

“My, yes, I think I had just about everything out there on that table.”

“Ask her about her china!”
Murphy hopped up on the table in the back and kept hopping, up and down.

“Calm down,” Harry admonished the cat.

“I am perfectly calm,” Tally answered.

“I'm sorry, Aunt Tally, I didn't mean you. Mrs. Murphy is pitching a fit and falling in it. Would you mind terribly going into your pantry and counting your sugar bowls, including china bowls if you have any?”

“No, but it will take me a minute.”

“That's fine.”

As Harry waited the others chatted. Mrs. Murphy anxiously ran over to Harry. She sat so she could hear Aunt Tally's response. As her hearing was acute she could hear if she was close to the receiver. She didn't have to have her ear smack on it.

“I'm back,” came the authoritative voice. “I have two silver sugar bowls. Same as when I started. It's a good thing, too, because they cost far too much to replace. I also have only one china sugar bowl, my breakfast set of china. Does that help?”

“Aunt Tally, you've been a
major
help. I'll see you tomorrow night at the ball.”

“Won't be the same without Roger. He'd get so loaded he'd start up equipment, make a mess, pass out on the railroad tracks. Everyone else will behave reasonably, I'm afraid.”

“You never know.”

Aunt Tally laughed. “Harry, in Crozet that's the truth, absolutely! Bye-bye.”

Harry hung up. “Her two silver sugar bowls are there. Her china bowl is there yet the china sugar bowl broke. How could we have missed that? It means the broken china bowl wasn't Aunt Tally's.” She smashed the palm of her hand to her forehead.

“We all did,”
Murphy commiserated.

“That doesn't solve our problem but it gets us closer to understanding just how Roger was poisoned.” Miranda sighed.

“Roger was poisoned!” Brooks's voice squeaked.

“Yes, dear, now keep it to yourself.” Susan's tone ensured obedience.

“Are you going out to Lexington? Sounds like Bill Boojum needs a face-to-face interrogation.” Tracy thought any transaction stood a better chance of success if conducted in person.

“Next week. We know the three murders are tied together. We know Boojum knows something he's not willing to share but we still don't know why. If we just knew why.”

“Always comes down to that.” Tracy nodded his head.

“Drugs. The setup was perfect but Rick's not buying that. At least, not yet.” Coop drummed the countertop. “We need one little slipup, one tiny mistake. Just one.”

She was about to get it.