Рита Браун - Sour Puss

"I've never spent a minute with you that I didn't enjoy."

He smiled. "I don't know about that, but you're kind to say it."

"How's Mim's crop this year?"

"Beauties. She bred to Polish Navy, Mineshaft, Yankee Victor, and Buddha."

"Mim has a head for breeding. Alicia says that because Mim and Mary Pat were so competitive with each other, each pushed the other higher." BoomBoom mentioned Mary Pat Reines, now deceased, an excellent horsewoman.

"She had a good year last year. She came within a hair of taking the Colonial Cup." Fair cited a famous steeplechase race. "The Polish Navy colt is a beauty, great shoulder on that guy. She says he's going to be her old-age hunter."

"Did she happen to say when old age would begin?"

"Next Thursday." He burst out laughing.

Once BoomBoom stopped laughing, she said, "This global-warming thing—I was wondering if it will speed up all kinds of infections, in animals and plants. I was reading a book on the Black Death, and the ideal temperature for the bacillus to thrive in is between fifty and seventy degrees Fahrenheit."

"Pretty much the same as the ideal temperature for humans."

"Now there's thought that not only can the rat flea carry the plague, but the human flea can, too. Something like thirty-two different flea varieties can carry the plague. Hope I got that right."

"Warming might hasten disease spread, but I think more than anything you need the right kind of host and the speed of air travel."

"What do you mean, 'the right kind of host'?"

"A large population, living in filth, bad water supply, inadequate nutrition—they become the perfect host. All it takes is one visitor from a developed nation who is physically compromised to pick up the pest, be it virus or bacillus, get on a plane, and disembark in Berlin, Paris, London, New York, take your pick."

"It's a terrifying prospect." She paused. "The panel with Professor Jenkins and Professor Forland got me to thinking—could an enemy reintroduce the plague?"

"They don't have to reintroduce it, Boom, it's here. Fortunately our hygiene is good, but given some disaster like the great San Francisco earthquake, the rats will come out of their holes. Some of those rats will carry the plague. At least, that's what I believe."

"Any word about Professor Forland?" BoomBoom asked since she'd just spoken of him.

"No. No one knows what to think."

"He's dead. That's obvious to me, anyway."

"God, I hope not." He inhaled, then exhaled. "Why? Sure, it crossed my mind, but I can't think why someone would kill him."

A light breeze ruffled BoomBoom's long blonde hair. "There are always reasons to kill someone, Fair. Greed. Jealousy. Revenge. Profit. Religion. Politics. Sex. Even sheer carelessness. You kill someone by accident, don't want to pay the consequences, so you remove the body."

"I guess. Pretty dismal."

"The history of humankind is dismal, with a few bright exceptions."

"I see it just the opposite. We've progressed in every field. There are periods of backsliding and regression, but no one can suppress progress for long."

"A long discussion." She paused. "Back to Professor Forland. The news reported his car was found in Queen Charlotte Square parking lot. There are businesses there. McGuire Woods law firm has their offices there. There are apartments. He could have had good reason to be there."

"If Rick and Coop can find it."

"Or Harry." She smiled.

"Don't even say it!" He shook his forefinger. "Don't give her any ideas."

"Me? She's as curious as a cat. She won't be able to resist trying to find out what's happened to Professor Forland."

Sighing, he leaned on the fence with both elbows. "You're right. I guess the leopard can't change her spots."

Strangely enough, Arch Saunders was using that same phrase in talking to Harry, whom he ran into picking up mail.

They hadn't seen each other alone since Arch's return. Given that he hadn't been in Crozet a full month, that didn't seem odd, as he had a great deal to do in a short time. Harry, too, was extremely busy.

At first their conversation was polite, not too personal, then Arch asked her why she remarried Fair.

She replied that she loved him and he'd grown up a lot.

"The leopard doesn't change his spots," Arch said, a trace of bitterness creeping into his voice.

She compressed her lips, then changed the subject. "How do you like it at Spring Hill?"

"I'm going to make it one of the best vineyards in the state." He added, "Lot to do, though. Like this morning I found downy mildew on some vines Rollie bought last fall. I didn't like the way the rootstock looked. Rollie didn't know enough to screen for it."

"Can you fix it?"

"I can control it. I can spray with Ridomil. I have to spray every vine every twenty-one days, and it's expensive. But it's the only way."

"Good luck." She opened the door to the old F-150, the cats and dog on the bench seat.

"Hi there, Mrs. Murphy, Tucker, and Pewter."

"Hello,"they replied.

After good-byes, Arch watched Harry drive off. He thought she looked even better than she did when they dated.

That same afternoon, Hy Maudant called Toby Pittman.

"Toby, one of my men, a new man, Concho, did drive on your premises. He didn't see anyone so he left."

"Why'd you send him?" Toby angrily replied.

"I didn't. He's new, like I said. He's Mexican; his English is a little rocky. Anyway, he'd been visiting vineyards to schedule the use of my mobile bottling unit."

"That's half a year away," Toby said.

"Which is why I'm scheduling now. By the fall it will be too late."

"Thought you said his English was bad. Why would you send him out to make arrangements?"

Beginning to fume, Hy snapped, "Because I had a form drawn up. All Concho has to do is hand it to a prospective client. And furthermore, I said his English was rocky, not so bad he can't understand. He improves every day."

"Why would you send him here?"

"He's new! He doesn't know we don't get along. He was just going from vineyard to vineyard like he was told to do."

"You sent him to spy on me."

"You're crazy." Hy was losing patience rapidly.

"And you're a murderer," Toby accused loudly.

"What?"

"I bet you killed Professor Forland."

"You really are insane. Furthermore, he's missing. That doesn't mean he's dead."

"He's dead, all right. I know him. He would never disappear for a few days. You killed him because you're a jealous, scheming son of a bitch and you knew he was working with me. You can't stand that I'm better than you. That—"

"He visited everyone. There's no point in continuing this conversation." Hy slammed down the phone.

Fiona walked into the library from the next room. "Whatever is it?"

"He's mad. Totally insane." Hy's arms flailed in the air. "Toby Pittman accused me of murdering Professor Forland. They need to put him away."

The phone rang. Fiona picked it up.

Before she could say "Hello," Toby shouted, "If you or any of your men come on my farm I'll kill you."

"This is Fiona."

He paused. "I won't kill you, Fiona, but you must be dumber than snot to stay married to that low-rent bastard."

Now she slammed down the phone. "He called me 'dumber than snot.'"

Red flushed Hy's cheeks. He started for the door. "No one is going to insult you. I'll kill him before he kills me."

She grabbed him. "Hy, calm down. I believe he really will try to kill you."

"I'll kill him first."

"He's not worth the fuss."

Hy hit his palm with his fist. "Well, I am not putting up with him insulting my wife."

"He's off his rocker. Crazy people are more dangerous than sane ones."

And the sane ones are bad enough.

16

"Goddamned snotty Virginians. They want to see me fail. Well, I won't give the sons of bitches the satisfaction!" Rollie kicked his expensive wire-mesh designer wastebasket, sending white, pink, blue, and green pieces of paper all over the navy-blue old Chinese rug.