Рита Браун - The Purrfect Murder

Tazio, no fan of Mike’s, did appreciate his task. “Call her tonight. Spread a little oil on the waters.”

“I can make her life more miserable than she can make mine.”

“That you can, but how often do you want to attend special hearings or, worse, testify in court if she brings suit against the county? She’s the type, you know.”

Jamming his notebook back in his pocket, he grumbled, “Right.” He paused. “You know, I’m against abortion. But I tell you, Carla Paulson makes a strong case for free abortion on demand. If only she’d been flushed out of the womb.”

Shocked at Mike’s harsh statement, Tazio wondered what was happening in his life to make him so crude.

5

Rain poured at long last. At times Rev. Herb Jones’s cats, Elocution, Cazenovia, and Lucy Fur, could barely see out the window. Dutiful, the three felines attended every vestry-board meeting. Sometimes, Harry’s cats and dog also attended, but not this morning, Saturday, September 20.

Harry, Susan, Folly, BoomBoom, and Herb eked out a quorum. Nolan Carter, the local oil supplier, was in Tulsa on business. Marvin Lattimore, Penny’s husband, was also out of town on business. He bought used airplanes, from Piper Cubs to 747s, refurbished them, and sold them to rich individuals and to corporate clients. For the heck of it, five years back, he’d started a small charter airline, and business had boomed.

“We should table this until Marvin can study the figures,” Folly insisted.

“We can’t put this off indefinitely.” Tazio didn’t think Marvin knew all that much about heating systems, but Folly was dazzled by him. This fact was not lost on Penny Lattimore, although Ron, Folly’s usually jealous husband, didn’t seem to notice. Twenty years older than Folly, Ron Steinhauser—brash, controlling, opinionated—had begun to slump into a slower gear. At seventy-five, he’d pushed himself hard, drunk too much at times, and finally his body was rebelling.

“When does Marvin come back from Moscow?” Harry asked the obvious question of Herb.

“Next week. I’ll be sure he gets the study, and I will also be sure he knows we are operating under some time constraint. The last thing we want is for the furnace to be torn up when a cold snap hits us.”

Folly listened to Herb, then replied with a lilt of humor in her well-modulated voice, “Doesn’t seem likely.”

BoomBoom said, “One October—first week, I think—we had a freak snowstorm, and the weight of the snow with the leaves still on the trees brought down branches all over Virginia. You could hear the creaking and breaking.” She paused a moment. “Actually, we don’t have to wait until next week. We can e-mail this to Marvin.”

“Good idea.” Susan nodded.

Folly, not an obstructionist, had never lived in a structure built shortly after the Revolutionary War. She had little sense of how cold it could get even with a half-decent heating system. “Well, do be sure that he doesn’t feel pressured. We want Marvin on board.” She smiled at her little pun.

“We do.” Harry smiled at Folly, trying to do as Susan asked.

“All right, then.” Herb turned to BoomBoom. “You do it.”

“Happily,” BoomBoom agreed.

It was not lost on the group that Herb asked BoomBoom instead of Folly to communicate with Marvin. Obviously, he’d heard the gossip, too.

Shortly thereafter, the business part of the meeting frittered away and the group focused on what they really wanted to talk about: Dr. Will Wylde.

Herb glanced at his agenda, noted the request for smokeless tapers, and figured it could wait. He was amazed that he’d kept the lid on it this long.

A gust of wind splashed so much rain on the hand-blown windowpanes that it sent the cats jumping off the ledge. They joined the group.

“Usually, these political killings, well, someone wants to take credit. The newspaper or TV station receives an acknowledgment. Hasn’t happened.” Folly plucked an orange out of a large bowl.

“Maybe they’re waiting, or maybe they want people to think this was the work of a single crazy” BoomBoom got up and left the room, calling over her shoulder, “Tea or coffee?”

“Both.” Susan rose to help her. “Anyone for iced tea?”

Folly raised her hand.

Harry said, “I hope this doesn’t kick off a wave of violence across the country—doctors being targeted, clinics blown up.”

“I do, too.” Herb leaned back in the old club chair, Lucy Fur now on his lap. “Benita…” He shook his head, tears welling up. “Remarkable.”

“She is.” Folly also teared up. There was no need to recount that Folly, BoomBoom, and Alicia were with Benita when Rick told her what had happened. Everyone knew.

Susan and BoomBoom reappeared with two trays of drinks.

“What does Ned say?” Folly asked Susan as she poured tea.

Without taking her eyes off the cup, Susan said, “It was funny in a way. They happened to be in session, and when the news crept into the chamber, thanks to a zealous page, the men who came in on the coat-tails of the far right, vociferously antiabortion, couldn’t distance themselves fast enough. Ned said as much as he mourned Will Wylde; it was all he could do not to laugh out loud at these opportunistic buffoons.”

“Ned’s pretty conservative.” Folly did not yet have the feel for Virginia politics. In her mind, Democrat equaled liberal.

“About financial issues, he certainly is. He’s live and let live on everything else.”

Herb smiled at Folly and said, “Ned’s what you might call an old-time Southern Democrat. Well, let me amend that: he’s a new-time Southern Democrat. He’s not racist and he’s not pushing women back in the kitchen, but he’s part of the old-time religion.”

“Which is…” Folly arched an eyebrow.

BoomBoom, smiling, handed a plate of cookies over to Folly, who passed it on. “When you go into the voting booth you ask one question, ”Is it good for Dixie?“ ”

Folly, thinking this was a joke, laughed. “Oh, BoomBoom, you don’t mean it.”

The others in the room realized it was best to shut up.

Tazio returned to the murder. “Yesterday I was at the Paulsons’ house, meeting with our fave, Mike McElvoy, and I was surprised to learn he’s antiabortion. But he seemed genuinely upset about Will.”

“He’s a perfect ass,” Folly said venomously.

“That insults mules.” Harry was surprised at Folly’s emotion. “He’s a dumb human.”

“Ego,” BoomBoom simply said.

“Give a little man a little power and he abuses it every time.” Tazio had Mike’s measure.

“Carla’s on the floor about Will. She’d gotten to know him socially. He was her doctor, too. She’s a mess.” Folly shrugged. “But you know Carla, she’s not one to let slip the opportunity to call attention to herself.”

Herb laughed despite himself. “We can pray that Carla… um… Let me think about this.”

That lightened the mood.

“Carla’s like Teddy Roosevelt. She wants to be the bride at every wedding and the corpse at every funeral.” Susan used the famous quote.

Herb looked at BoomBoom, then Folly. “Girls, thank you for being with Benita. Boom, give my thoughts to Alicia, too.”

“I will. The kids fly in today, and that will be a big help.”

“Will Junior is the spitting image of his father.” Harry liked the whole Wylde family.

“Funeral date?” Folly wondered.

“Can’t do anything until the coroner releases the body.” Susan knew a bit about this procedure, since Ned was a lawyer. “In the case of any suspicious death it takes longer, but I expect the funeral will be next weekend, if all goes as it should.”

“Oh, no, that’s the fund-raising ball for Poplar Forest, in Bedford County, September twenty-seventh. Everyone has to be there.” Folly’s face registered disappointment.