Рита Браун - Catch As Cat Can

“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.

49

A light southerly breeze carried the fragrance of honeysuckle over meadows and mountains. The bumblebees showed up in full force, as did the carpenter bees. Tiny praying mantis babies crawled over trumpet vines, greening up nicely but no deep-orange blooms as yet.

A curving hill at the back of Harry's land provided the perfect spot for a picnic. Still not trusting the footing, she didn't drive the truck back there but loaded up the hamper and cooler with drinks on the John Deere tractor. She made it in one trip, spread out the checkered tablecloth blanket, and put a spray of thyme tied with ribbon in the middle of the blanket. A votive candle in a clear glass holder was next to the spray.

When Diego arrived he sat in the tractor seat while she stood in front of him, driving.

Tucker ambled along since she didn't pop out of second gear. Mrs. Murphy and Pewter stayed back, laying a trap for the blue jay. They carried sweet feed in their mouths to the lawn near the lilacs. They opened their mouths, dropping it. Three trips and they'd created an enticing pile. They repaired under the lilacs to wait.

Up on the hill, Harry and Diego chattered away, never experiencing that awkward lull that sometimes occurs when people are getting to know one another.

“. . . swollen from handshaking.” He recalled how Lottie introduced him to anyone and everyone at the alumni dinner.

“She was in her glory.”

“She was and she's good at it. She'll pry money out of those old men and maybe even some of the middle-aged ones. Oh, why does it take so long to make money?” He laughed. “We need it most when we're young.”

“You think?”

“Oh, yes, while we're still open for adventure, before we become too accustomed to creature comforts, before the children arrive.” He surveyed the pastoral scene. “Perfect.”

“That it is.” She leaned against the maple tree. “What adventures would you like to have before settling down?”

His eyes sparkled. “Rafting the rivers on the western side of the South Island of New Zealand. Riding through Patagonia at springtime. Hiking Wyoming's Grand Tetons and the Bighorn Mountains. Sailing throughout the Greek isles, although one could do that with children, I think. Ah, I'd love to play tennis in Cape Town, croquet in England, polo in Argentina. I want to see the aurora borealis and I want to have more picnics in Crozet, Virginia. What about you?”

“The Dublin Horse Show. I'd like to see that. I'd like to see the south of France and Tuscany and the opera house in Vienna. I'd like to see the Ostsee and then go over to Stockholm and tour the Swedish countryside. And I'd like to see the British Museum, but if I don't get to see any of those things I can read about them. Mostly, I'm happy with what I have. It isn't much by the standards of the wealthy and the powerful but it pleases me, and, Diego, how much does one need to be happy?”

“For some people, enough is not enough. They have cracks in their soul. No?”

She nodded. “Here I am, the postmistress in Crozet, Virginia. Most of humanity has never heard of Crozet and certainly not of me. But I think about the world. I wish people good lives and I know there's not much I can do to help them except take care of myself and not be a burden to others. I don't know if the human race can be helped.”

“A very Protestant concern.” He smiled, his teeth white against his tanned skin.

“I suppose it is, isn't it? This dreadful concern to improve one's self and the world. You'd think after all these centuries we would have learned to thank God for what we have and leave well enough alone.” She smiled sadly.

“Do you believe in fate?”

A honeybee darted down on the mayonnaise while Harry considered this, then darted off again. “Yes.”

“So long?” He laughed.

“I had to think about it. It drives my friends crazy. I'm not very spontaneous. I think things through and I don't know if I make fewer mistakes that way but it's just the way I am.”

“I can see that. I'm the opposite, naturally. Opposites attract.”

“I wonder.” She laughed; his bubbling spirits delighted her. “Another sandwich?”

“Yes.” He knew the ham sandwiches would make him too thirsty.

She handed him a sandwich, then pulled a small piece from her sandwich for Tucker, who devoured it instantly. “Forgot to light the candle.” She reached into her jeans pocket. “Oops, forgot to bring matches, too.”

Diego fished in his pocket, pulling out a brightly colored matchbook. “Here.”

Harry stared at the Roy and Nadine's matchbook in his hand. “Diego, where did you get those matches?”

“These?” He read the address. “Lottie's car.”

Harry fervently hoped he was telling the truth. She knew the minute the picnic was over she'd call Coop.

“Have you ever been to Lexington, Kentucky?”

“No. I'll add that to my list of adventures.”

Back at the house another small adventure was unfolding. The blue jay, perched on the weather vane on the roof, had observed the two felines laying the trap. He waited until the humans returned, Diego left, and the cats, disappointed, walked back into the house. Then he swooped down, gobbled up the grain, shouting in triumph. By the time the cats raced back out of the house half the sweet feed was gone.