Рита Браун - The Big Cat Nap

Victor Gatzembizi was intelligent and slick. She understood his self-interest—not necessarily a bad thing. She sensed he was a ruthless competitor, although the form that took appeared to be honest. He cared about his appearance. He really had built a successful business. Her own work on this told her that. Big shops across the state, forty-six employees, a few part-time. That was a pretty lean number, so he saved money there. By all accounts he paid very well, rewarding good work. His employee turnover stayed low.

Coop returned to her squad car, where Rick bent over his laptop. He’d walked through the repair shop and the body shop. He had wanted to see those splatter patterns on the computer and he had a special meeting that night with the county commissioners, not public. Not only would this murder come up, so would the budget. He wanted to be prepared, and if he sat in headquarters it would be one interruption after another. As for all sheriffs or police chiefs, battles over funding were a major obstacle—a bleeding ulcer, really—yet everyone expected law-enforcement services.

He shut off the computer. “Well?”

“Rick, everyone’s been helpful. Victor Gatzembizi freely answered any questions. He said Walt was his best mechanic. Still, neither Victor nor anyone else seems remotely distressed over Walt’s murder. Oh, they’re all horrified at the way it happened. No one says they wished him dead, but no one wishes him back, either.”

“Strange.”

“I’ll say.” She cut on the motor and drove off the ReNu lot.

G otcha!” Miranda tossed a weed over her shoulder into the half-full wheelbarrow. “Death to weeds.”

The Very Reverend Jones sneaked up on her as he trod softly on her beautiful herringbone brick walkway. He clucked. “Miranda, plants are living. God made all living things.”

She stood up with some help from Herb. “You’ve come to test me, I see.”

His deep voice, always soothing, replied, “I came to see one of my favorite people. And, as always, your garden puts others to shame.”

She shook her index finger at him. “Now you’re testing me for the sin of pride?”

“Well, it’s true. Your garden dazzles and, of course, Big Mim tries hard to cover her envy about your emerald thumbs.”

They both laughed, for the Queen of Crozet, Big Mim Sanburne, lavished huge sums of money on her gardens, tended by three gardeners, and while beautiful, those gardens couldn’t hold a candle to the small but exquisite gardens of Miranda.

“How about some iced tea? I need a break. Un-tea, as I recall.”

“I’d love some.” He patted his stomach. “I do miss sweetened tea, but I am trying to cut back on the sugar.”

“You’ve lost weight.”

“Thank you.” He smiled. “Thirty more pounds. Tell you what, Miranda, the pounds just creep up. Too much sitting.” He smiled again. “You slimmed down.”

They walked to her back porch, screened in as most back porches were in this part of the world.

“Did. Tending to Didee put me off food.” She poured tea from a cooler she kept on the table when she worked outside. “Herb, it’s easy to have faith when everything’s going your way. Watching my sister die, well, I asked painful questions and I have no answers.”

“None of us do. You were wonderful to your sister and she was grateful. You have a deep capacity for love and hard work, Miranda. You endured George’s passing with similar fortitude.” Herb mentioned her late husband.

“That was so long ago,” she said almost wistfully. “And mercifully quick.”

“I pray for a heart attack.” He held up his hand. “It’s up to the Good Lord, but why linger?” He paused. “Is there anything I can do, sweetie?”

“Your friendship is healing. You, Harry, Susan, and the girls.” She referred to BoomBoom and Alicia as the girls. “I have such wonderful friends.”

“Because you’re a wonderful friend.”

They drank their tea, both in rocking chairs, pushing away.

“Recovered?” she asked him.

“From what?”

“Finding that body at ReNu.”

“Poor fellow didn’t have a chance. It was gruesome. But somehow I can’t stop thinking”—he shifted his weight—“that if only I had walked in a few minutes earlier, I might have been able to stop it. Rush forward, yell, anything. Know what I mean?”

She nodded her agreement. “I understand.”

They rocked some more. A soft breeze lifted the wisteria climbing over the back porch and onto the roof, yet another chore Miranda would attend to in time: taming her wisteria.

“Herb, to change the subject. You picked up your truck from ReNu.”

“Finally, yes. The sheriff’s department wanted to examine every vehicle on the lot.”

“Are you satisfied with the work?”

He put his glass down. “Sure, but I just got the truck back. Hopefully I won’t have further problems.”

“Safe and Sound gave me a list of acceptable repair garages. ReNu is the only one in our area. Now, that doesn’t seem right. I’m not paying to have my Outback towed to Richmond. But Latigo Bly says ReNu does good work at good prices.”

“Any idea how long it will take for your car to be repaired?” Herb asked.

“Once I get on the schedule, it should take a day. Of course, they cover themselves by making me sign a paper saying if more damage is discovered they will not perform the work until Safe and Sound agrees to it. Herb, this goes on and on.”

“Well, it does. I went through the same thing. Everybody is covering their butt.”

She changed the subject. “I bought a Dell. Lots of good stuff for a good price. Well, there’s another company. You try getting something fixed or help from a so-called geek at Dell. What a nightmare. I’m learning about more than computers!”

“I’ve heard Dell’s support is dreadful.” He fished the mint out of his tea to chew. “Comes down to service. As long as everything works, you’re fine. Those great online deals make you feel like you’re smart. I’d rather pay more for a product and know the people that sold it to me will stand behind it.” He smiled at her sideways. “You know I stand by my product.”

She laughed. “You stinker. Did you come over here to try to get me to leave the Church of the Holy Light? I know you think I’m a Holy Roller.”

“Did I ever say that, Miranda? Even once?”

“You didn’t have to. You high-church people can be such snobs. You aren’t, though.”

“Well, now, I am a Lutheran pastor and I will always be a Lutheran pastor, but I believe we can all work together. I guess where I have trouble is reaching out to the fanatics, at least those whom I consider fanatics. The folks who preach about a God of vengeance.”

“Yes.” She sighed. “Sometimes Reverend Paisley gets carried away with the fire and brimstone.” She brightened. “Other than that, I do love my church. I feel I have a direct relationship to God, and I don’t feel that in what I think of as the high churches.”

He considered this. “Yes. I know what you mean, Miranda. I really do, but I believe in the liturgy, as well. You know how I feel and I know how you feel. We both do the best we can with what we have.”

“Some days are better than others. Some days I’m bitter about how my sister suffered.”

He nodded. “But she’s gone home.”

“She has. I like to think that Mama and Daddy, and Yippy, her little Pomeranian, were there to welcome her. Well, here I am getting misty.”

“Miranda, one of the reasons I cherish you is that you’re not afraid to show your feelings. And while we’re on the subject of feeling, you know Harry has her checkup this afternoon.”