Рита Браун - Catch As Cat Can

“I'm so sorry about Roger. I know I've said that before, but I don't know what else to say.” She played with the ring on her pinkie finger, right hand. “When you worked as closely as you did with Roger it must be doubly disastrous.”

“The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away,” Sean replied. “At first, I was so shocked I wanted to sell the business and walk away. Mom talked sense into me. Running away doesn't solve anything. Three generations of O'Bannons sweated into this ground. With any luck there will be a fourth and a fifth.”

“I certainly hope so.” She smiled. “You can imagine yourself an old man watching your grandson move statuary.”

“By that time they'll beam it up. You know, rearrange the molecules and send it without a crane and a flatbed.”

“Maybe.” She shifted her weight to her left foot. “I heard through the grapevine that you're going through with the Wrecker's Ball and I wanted to help.”

“Thank you, Lottie.”

“I thought perhaps I could perform some of Roger's chores.”

“That's just it. I don't know the half of what he did. He'd burrow down there in the garage and I was up here. He took care of the catering. I did the decorations but there were so many things that just happened. I'm afraid I never closely examined Roger's contributions to the business, or my life. I feel so—so guilty.”

“Sean”—she placed her hand on his forearm—“nobody does. It's not you. None of us knows what someone gives to our life until they're gone.”

“Uh—thanks.” He kicked the gravel path, then looked at her. “You'll be coming to the ball?”

“Of course. Well, I didn't mean to stay so long. I just wanted you to know I was available to help.”

41

On a hunch, Cooper had sent out the mug shot of the false Wesley Partlow to all state agencies. At four-ten in the afternoon, she was sitting at her desk writing a presentation. Next Wednesday she was to give a speech at Western Albemarle High School about law enforcement as a career. Much as she loved her job, she was tired and drawing a blank.

Part of the exhaustion came from always dealing with people who were themselves under great stress. She'd received a blast from Sean about the exhumation next Monday. He was honoring his mother's wishes but he thought the request was ghoulish and would prove inconclusive.

Once he let off steam she asked him if he knew about Roger's purchase of a share of a stock-car syndicate for forty thousand dollars, a big chunk of change for a hobby, and Sean said it wasn't any of his business how his brother spent his money. He regularly visited the track at Waynesboro and it made sense that Roger would want to get involved at the higher end of the sport if he'd saved some money. Dale Earnhardt and Richard Petty were his heroes.

“You can't take it with you” is exactly what Sean O'Bannon had said.

Then Coop had to meet Don Clatterbuck's mother at the bank to open his safety-deposit box. The title to his truck, his birth certificate, a few stocks and bonds were in the narrow metal box along with the combination to the safe.

Mrs. Clatterbuck swore she didn't know the combination and thought the safe was another one of Don's finds. Sooner or later he might sell it. He liked to trade. She didn't know where he acquired that trait. Neither she nor her husband were traders.

No love letters were sheltered in the safety-deposit box.

Coop thanked Mrs. Clatterbuck, wrote down the combination, and finally returned to the office.

At four-twenty she wandered over to the coffeepot. A jolt of caffeine might trigger speech ideas. All she could think of was, “How would you like to pick up drunks, deadbeat dads, and squashed accident victims? For variety you could question a drug dealer with his jaw shot off.” She knew if she continued in that vein she'd descend into the truly morbid. She no sooner had the coffee to her lips than Sheila buzzed her phone.

Returning to her desk, Coop picked up. “Deputy Cynthia Cooper.”

“Louis Seidlitz, the bartender from Danny's.”

“Yes, Mr. Seidlitz.”

“I remembered that little puke's name: Dwayne Fuqua. It was driving me crazy.”

“When I dropped by you said he didn't come in often.”

“No, he didn't. Like I said, maybe once a month. Dwayne was on a mission.”

“Sir?”

“Girls.”

“Lucky?”

“No more than most.” Louis laughed.

“Mr. Seidlitz, do you have a fax in the office there?”

“Yeah.”

“Don't hang up. Give me the number and I'll fax you a photograph. Tell me if you recognize anyone.”

He gave her the number. She faxed the photo of Donald and Roger.

She could hear the fax machine in his office grinding out the photo.

“Deputy?”

“Yes.”

“The guy with his hands in his pockets. He'd hang out now and then. With Dwayne.”

“Mr. Seidlitz, thank you so much. You've been a great help to me.”

“Sure. Any time.”

She hung up the phone, silently berating herself for being discouraged when she had first stopped by the bar. She'd felt she'd been sloppy. Well, Louis came through. He had just identified Donald Clatterbuck.

42

. . . Cool. A beautiful fall day.” Diego described the day in Montevideo, for the seasons were reversed south of the equator.

“Raining here. When the animals walk two by two I'll worry.” Harry laughed.

“Can you believe they're talking about the weather?” Pewter wrinkled her nose.

“And you don't?” Tucker felt a craving for bacon and wished Harry would make a bacon, lettuce, and tomato sandwich.

“So much has happened since you left.” Harry didn't want to spend a lot of Diego's money on a long phone call. She had no idea how much money he really had but she certainly didn't want to waste any of it. “Don Clatterbuck was shot and killed. You might not remember him.”

“Vaguely. Virginia sounds like the Wild West. Are you safe?”

“Sure. I'm of no importance to anybody.”

“You are to me. I hope to see you again—soon.”

“Thank you.” She smiled, her voice lifted. “What do you have to do tomorrow?”

“Thomas and I fly over to Buenos Aires, which isn't far. If you look on a map you can see how the cities sit.” A clock chimed behind him.

“Where are you now?”

“At my family's apartment in the city.”

“I heard the chimes.”

“A grandfather clock brought over from France in 1846. Oh, my father can tell you stories, but I didn't call to speak of my father. I called to tell you I will see you the weekend of the party, the ball.” He paused. “I know you have a date for the ball. I will give him a run for his money.”

“Please do.”

“What can I bring you from Buenos Aires?”

“A picture of the polo grounds, where the Argentine Open is played. And you. I'd like to see you.” This was about as flirtatious as Harry could bring herself to be.

“Sí!”

They said their good-byes, then hung up. Harry hummed to herself, then checked the kitchen clock.

“I'd better get moving.”

“Take us.”

43

What a crackbrained idea,” Pewter complained.

“Unfortunately, humans don't consult us before they go off on a toot.” Mrs. Murphy agreed with her friend's assessment of the situation. “Silly of them, I know.”

“In theory it's a good idea.” Tucker stayed on the other side of the room, away from the welding torch. The odor, the sparks, the flame bothered her more this time.

“If whoever is doing this stuff is dumb, it's a good idea.” Pewter sniffed. “But I doubt they're that stupid. They'll see the camera. It's like a bank camera.”