Catch as Cat Can (26 page)

“Dammit!” Harry cursed, took a deep breath, gently squeezed the correct calipers, and swung the ball back.

Big Mim, back on her feet, realized what Harry was doing.

The roar of car engines and squeal of wheels were heard from behind the building. People scattered again.

Harry ran the ball up to the nose of the crane, positioning it directly above the gate. She blessed Sean for putting out the colored floodlights.

She didn't know the exact time it would take from when she squeezed the calipers to when the ball would hit, dropping straight down vertically. She prayed she'd get it right as she kept her hand on those calipers.

Lottie took the corner around the main building on two wheels. She crushed the trellis. Tucker dodged out of the way. The cats fled to the safety of hiding under the crane.

“Hurry, Tucker, Thomas will be right behind,”
Mrs. Murphy called to her dear friend.

Tucker ran for all she was worth.

Rick, gun in hand, reached the corner of the building, too. He fired at Lottie's tires but she saw him and swerved. Thomas, not ten feet behind her now, also saw Rick and he turned his vehicle straight at the sheriff, who tucked and rolled as Thomas swerved to miss the side of the building, narrowly missing Fair, who leapt on top of a car hood, then onto another one.

The guests, mesmerized, watched.

Diego, realizing Thomas was part of the drama, stepped away from the crowd as he edged toward the parked cars closest to the gate.

Tucker made it to the crane in the nick of time.

Cooper, shoes off, ran over the pea gravel in her stocking feet. She'd grabbed her gun. She hurried around the other side of the building.

“My God, she's going to ram the gate!” Big Mim screamed.

Just as the nose of Lottie's car hit the gate, Harry squeezed the release calipers and down dropped the wrecker's ball.

Smash! The ball hit the hood, driving the engine out the bottom. Lottie, no seat belt on, flew through the windshield with such force that she catapulted into the caved-in gate, killed on impact.

Harry picked up the ball and swung it toward Thomas. She lowered the ball. He had little room to maneuver with Lottie plastered in front of him. The ball crashed into the passenger side of the Mercedes with a metallic splintering sound.

Diego Aybar ran to the car, pulling out a dazed and bloody Thomas.

53

Monday morning, Rob Collier tossed the mailbag through the front door of the post office. “Harry, way to go, girl.” He held his thumbs up.

“Thanks.” She sheepishly smiled.

By then most of Crozet had filtered into the post office for their mail and to talk over events.

“I figured it out. I don't know why people are complimenting her,”
Pewter groused.

“Yeah, yeah.”
Tucker, tired from greeting everyone, sat by the table.

Miranda must have hugged and kissed Harry ten times. Every time she thought of the younger woman's quick thinking and cool head—after all, Lottie or Thomas could have shot her right out of the crane if they had kept their wits about them—Miranda had to hug and kiss her again.

A tired Coop finally rolled in at eleven. “Hey, partner.” She smiled. “I think we've dotted the
i
's and crossed the
t
's.”

“Will Thomas live?” Miranda asked, always concerned even when people were worthless.

“His face is a mess. He's full of broken bones but amazingly that's all.”

“It was Lottie who opened Don's safe, wasn't it?” Harry figured that out.

Coop curled her upper lip. “Thomas blanched when I gave him a wad of bills to inspect. He's blaming everything on Lottie and she's not here to give her version of events.”

“Was it drugs?” Miranda offered Coop a cup of steaming tea which she gratefully accepted.

“No. No, it wasn't. It was a lot more sophisticated than we realized. They were selling stolen cars in Uruguay. A four-year-old Mercedes sedan can bring as much as two hundred and twenty thousand dollars, a new car brings three hundred thousand. Thomas, thanks to his job, could ship stuff down there very easily.”

“Cars, entire cars. Wouldn't the airlines or the shipping companies check the registration numbers?”

“That's where Roger and Dwayne came in. Roger would grind out the number on the inside of the front door and make a new plate. Who's going to check the engine number? He'd repaint the car. Rick and I thought he might be running a chop shop but this was less work and more profit thanks to Thomas. People in Uruguay and Paraguay will snap up expensive cars like candy. Thomas, of course, knew everybody, as did Lottie. It was Lottie who brought Thomas to Roger.”

“I'll be, poor Roger.”

“He said one time too many that he was a rich man, trying to win Lottie. The more he drank, the more he boasted. Roger was becoming a liability. She put on a big show, too big a show of disdaining him. Both she and Thomas figured Roger'd blow it somewhere soon. In time they'd find someone else to punch out new plates. Roger was dispensable. Thomas put the poison in a china sugar bowl along with a handful of raw sugar. Thomas's mother, sick, was on quinidine. We think he simply pilfered her prescription. They had a china bowl. It wasn't Aunt Tally's. He said Lottie was in charge of putting the bowl in the pantry. He picked it up. It was hidden behind plates. I don't know how she did it. He says he doesn't know but their plan was to kill Roger in front of everyone. The more people around the safer they'd be. Lottie made the coffee for Roger and she backed into Thomas as he was reaching for the bowl. It hit the floor and broke as planned. They wanted his death to appear natural. Sean's views on honoring the dead were well known.”

“Bold though. They were certainly bold,” Miranda acclaimed.

“What about Dwayne?”

Coop answered Harry. “He stole stickers, license-plate registrations, titles. Bill Boojum, on the Kentucky end, had someone doing the same thing at their Department of Motor Vehicles.”

“He funneled stolen cars through the business?”

“Boojum, like all the big dealerships, had a body shop. What they stole from Louisville or Lexington or across the river in Indiana, they'd quickly paint over. Dwayne would drive it back and hide it in Roger's shop. Roger took care of any details left unfinished from Boojum. His drop-offs to Boojum from the Virginia end were legitimate.”

“What Dwayne occasionally stole from Newport News, Richmond, and Staunton, Roger would paint, grind out registration numbers, and so forth. It was a lucrative setup and Thomas paid everyone in cold cash.”

“Did Sean know?” Miranda wondered how wide their net cast.

“He swears he didn't know.”

“Why didn't Sean recognize Dwayne?”

“He was out of it but I think Dwayne might have threatened him. I don't know and I'm not one hundred percent convinced that Sean didn't know more than he's letting on. If it turns out he was an accessory, well, he'll be needing a good lawyer.” Coop shrugged. “It might come down to ‘Am I my brother's keeper.' Maybe Sean did know and was trying to get Roger out of the business.”

“Why did they kill Dwayne?” Harry asked.

“He wanted more money. He said he was taking the most risk in driving the cars and stealing them. He wanted more, a lot more. Thomas said he'd give him fifty thousand cash and arranged to meet him at the elder-care home. He had to act fast because Dwayne knew he killed Roger. That didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out. He was pushing Thomas and Lottie hard. Fifty thousand dollars was no longer enough.” She mused, “I guess Dwayne wanted to move up, so to speak, in his profession. Boy just couldn't stop stealing, little things, big things. He was a born thief.”

“I don't know if I would have ever figured it out,” Harry thoughtfully said. “What did Don have to do with it?”

“He could repair damage to upholstery. He could change the whole color of an interior if need be but he also stole cars. The money was good—Thomas swears he didn't kill Don. He said it was Lottie. I think Don was delivering something to Lottie or Thomas—cash, fake titles, something. And before Dwayne was killed he may have been back by Durant Creek with Don. He probably stayed in the cabin back there. How he lost his Mercedes star—could have been a fight with Don. He was probably putting the screws to all of them. My hunch is once Don realized Roger was murdered he was scared shitless—a liability in crime. Dwayne wasn't scared. Thomas said he never acted scared, just greedy.”

“Cooper, was all that five hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars Don's?”

“Yes. It's what he acquired over the last three years. Thomas, by the way, believes he has diplomatic immunity. He thinks he won't have to stand trial. We are pretty sure the business raked in close to four million a year.”

“Does Thomas have immunity?” Miranda asked.

“Yes.” Coop put her cup down. “But his government promises to prosecute him in his own country. For all I know he'll walk free.”

“What a scam!” Harry shook her head.

“Lottie fell into it. She met Thomas at a party held in Washington. She'd make the rounds but that's part of her job. He sensed she was bright, cold-blooded, on the make. And she was.”

“Coop, what an awful story.” Miranda sighed. “‘And He said to them, “Take heed, and beware of all covetousness; for a man's life does not consist in the abundance of his possessions.”'
Luke
, Chapter Twelve, Verse Fifteen.”

“I'm glad Diego wasn't in on it—was he?” Harry's voice dropped.

“We don't think he was but his career will be tarnished by it. That's the way the world works.” Coop accepted a refill. “His government has already called him back to Uruguay. He'll have to testify at the trial.”

“Their families are old friends. I wonder what pressures will be brought to bear on Diego?” Harry sadly said.

“You know,” Coop mused, “Rick and I found the registration blanks and the title blanks. They were in Roger's files in his shop. We went over those files, so they had to have been moved there after we combed the shop. Funny thing, a monster rat, absolutely unafraid, watched us.”

“Bet we know what he called them,”
Tucker laughed.

“Oh, Harry, I've got something for you.” Coop walked out the back door, returning with the pileated woodpecker, which she placed on the table. “Released from jail.”

“Isn't he beautiful.” Harry admired Don's work.

“And so big.” Miranda had never seen a woodpecker up this close. “I'd stay on the good side of him.”

“I can't wait until she takes him home. I am going to shred him. It's my woodpecker. Feathers everywhere,”
Pewter promised.

“You wouldn't.”
Mrs. Murphy tilted up her head.

“Just wait and see.”
The gray cat puffed out her chest, laughing.

Dear Reader,

My big news is I've found three fox dens, two reds and one gray. I watch from a distance. Foxes and cats are natural enemies since we compete for the same game. However, there are enough field mice this year to keep us all busy.

Oh, I've seen more hawks, falcons, and raptors than I can ever remember. And green herons as well as the big blues. Birds make me cackle, I can't help it.

Thank you again for the photographs you send me. Even horses send their photos.

It's been a good time on the farm. The hay crop was really good. Next year comes the timber harvest, all things being equal. Mom still can't afford to build a new bridge but she did patch up the old one. John Morris and Robert Steppe used the big tractor and did a pretty darn good job with Dana Flaherty directing all. Really fixing the bridge is about a $15,000 task but we all did our patch job for $1,700 worth of stone.

Part of the roof blew off in high winds. That hurt. Poor Mom. She was able to fix up the roof but she still doesn't have the money to repair the inside of the house and it does look pretty awful.

But we all have each other. We're all healthy. The fences are strong. The cattle are fat and the horses are so happy, they're silly.

Farming is a hard life if your goal is to be wealthy but I agree with Mom and Harry, it's the only life for us. When the sun rises and the Blue Ridge Mountains turn scarlet, the roosters wake up, the horses, too, and I can smell the earth, oh, I tell you, this is as close to paradise as a kitty can get. Sometimes, I climb into the big wisteria twining on the front entranceway to the house. The leaves flutter over my head, the praying mantises are everywhere, birds dart in, and sometimes they don't even know I'm there! It's the best of the best and I hope you are having half as much fun in this life as I am.

Yours in catitude,

Sneaky Pie
www.ritamaebrown.com

About the Authors

Rita Mae Brown is the bestselling author of several books. An Emmy-nominated screenwriter and a poet, she lives in Afton, Virginia.

Sneaky Pie Brown, a tiger cat born somewhere in Albemarle County, Virginia, was discovered by Rita Mae Brown at her local SPCA. They have collaborated on nine previous Mrs. Murphy mysteries:
Wish You Were Here; Rest in Pieces; Murder at Monticello; Pay Dirt; Murder, She Meowed; Murder on the Prowl; Cat on the Scent; Pawing Through the Past;
and
Claws and Effect,
plus
Sneaky Pie's Cookbook for Mystery Lovers.