Рита Браун - Cat's Eyewitness

Also part of her life was Paul de Silva, Big Mini's steeplechase trainer. They couldn't keep from touching each other's hands as they spoke to others. BoomBoom, Alicia, Fair, and Ned chatted with them as Harry and Susan joined in.

"Where have you been?" Ned asked.

"Took me forever to get my eggnog."

Ned peeked into the silver cup. "Doesn't look like it took forever to finish it."

"I'm sticking to one. Hank gave me fair warning."

"Every year Jim makes that concoction more potent." Fair laughed.

"Well, Harry, when are your mares due?" Paul asked.

"Mid-February"

"Fair, you'd better party now, because once January is upon us you'll be a busy man." Tazio smiled.

"Every foal is a gift. I never get tired of helping a new life." Fair meant it, too.

"I know all of you have bets on my mare. Did she get covered by Peggy Augustus's stallion or did she behave like a slut with that donkey down the road?" BoomBoom giggled.

"Girl's gotta have a good time." Harry giggled, too.

"If she gives me a mule I'll make it and ride it in the hunt field."

"BoomBoom, you will, too." Alicia laughed.

"May I have your attention, please," Jim Sanburne called out.

Took a few minutes, but everyone quieted as the band set up in the ballroom.

Big Mim stood alongside her husband. "Merry Christmas," she greeted the guests.

Jim raised his arms, a big smile on his face. "Every Christmas Mim and I love to have you with us. The Urquharts have kept Christmas in these rooms since 1809. Guess before that they celebrated in the log cabin." He paused and smiled. "I like to think of Christmases past; I like to imagine that those guests who danced before us are with us. And I like to think that Christmas brings out the best in each of us. This Christmas is very special to my wife and me, because we are pleased to announce the engagement of our daughter to Blair Bainbridge. Come on up here, honey."

"Daddy," Little Mim demurred, but Blair took her elbow and led her next to her father.

"To the future union of Marilyn Sanburne the Second and Blair Bainbridge." He stopped and held his glass over his head. "To the future!"

"To the future!" the assembled called back.

An eruption of noise followed this, as did the sounds of the band tuning up, then breaking into "The Virginia Reel," to announce that the dancing should commence.

As guests surged forward to congratulate Blair and to wish Little Mim the best, Harry, Fair, Susan, Ned, BoomBoom, Alicia, Tazio, and Paul slowly moved into the line.

Alicia mentioned to Harry, "Have you visited the Greyfriars' Web site?"

"Yes, why?"

"Tepid. Nothing about the tears," Alicia replied.

Harry moved along, hoping Fair wasn't listening to their conversation. He was bending down to listen to Paul, a shorter man than himself—but then, most men were.

Harry motioned toward Fair. BoomBoom winked.

Alicia understood and whispered, "Have you visited Web sites about the Virgin Mary?"

"Yes," Harry said.

Susan squeezed closer to hear.

"I found one mentioning the statue at Afton. Goes through the whole history—you know, the legend of the tears before World War One and World War Two. Tells about the tears now, and the Web master promises to pray for you at the statue, say a rosary if you like."

"No kidding?" Susan raised her voice.

"Susan." Harry elbowed her. "Don't let him hear you."

"Harry," BoomBoom whispered, "he was married to you. He knows you're up to something."

"He doesn't have to know what," she whispered back.

"The Web master—a pseudonym, I'm sure—is called Brother Love." Alicia reached for BoomBoom for balance when a large group of people crowded up behind them. "Brother Love is making a pretty penny."

"I know," Harry replied. "Cooper knows, too. I was playing around one night and found it. I called Coop, but she already knew."

Glorious though the party was, Harry couldn't wait to get home. Fair came home with her, and there was nothing to do but park him in front of the computer, too.

Silently, he read everything.

After they'd gone through it all, the cats on either side of the computer, Fair remarked, "Brother Love will take your Visa card number for a rosary. Extra prayers are available, too. Irritates me."

"That's capitalism." She anticipated his next question. "I didn't mention this to you because you were busy—me, too, and, really, I just found it myself yesterday."

"You should have told me right off the bat, dammit."

Harry squinted, took a deep breath. "Susan said something to me once. She said, 'Sometimes it's not who has the most to gain, it's who has the most to lose.' "

Neither Harry, Fair, nor the animals could have known that as they scrolled through the Bleeding Mary Web site, Brother Handle was suffering the long, dark night of the soul. He knelt on the cold floor of the chapel as he prayed. He knew the killer was in his flock, and he didn't think it was Brother Andrew. If he called in the sheriff, that would warn the killer, who must be relaxing thanks to Brother Andrew's arrest. He hoped he could flush the man out. He still couldn't imagine the reasons for anything so foul. He didn't know about the Web site, but even if he had, it wouldn't have led him to the murderer. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't think of how to set a trap. He couldn't confide in anyone. He didn't trust anyone.

As he prayed, tears falling down his cheeks, he thought this would be the worst night of his life. It was a blessing he couldn't have known what was to follow.

38

A massive lone oak, well over three hundred years old, graced the middle of the family cemetery at Blair Bainbridge's farm, which touched Harry's farm on the western border, a strong-running creek being the dividing line.

This cemetery contained the remains of the Rev. Herbert C. Jones's ancestors. The Rev always considered this farm the old home place, lost by his uncle's frivolous nature. The now departed man had sat under the oak among the hand-carved tombstones and read his life away. Fond of Russian novels, he had learned Russian, but he also devoured literature in French, Italian, and German. Brilliant though he was, the stout fellow hadn't a grain of common sense.

A parson barely makes enough to keep body and soul together. Herb couldn't step in to repair the outbuildings or the house. When hard necessity dictated the farm must be sold, he was glad a young, well-to-do man bought it. Blair transformed the farm into a tidy, working place, helped by Harry's country wisdom.

A light snow fell on the oak as Harry and Blair stood underneath. At 7:45 A.M. the skies promised even more snow to come, for clouds darkened in the west. In the country, people meet early, since the workday begins by six A.M. In summertime, it often begins at five A.M., so people and animals can beat the heat.

"There you have it." He smiled wanly. "I've poured my heart into this farm." He laughed. "If I'd known how much work these couple of hundred would be!" He whistled. "I would never have made it without you."

"You're a very intelligent man, Blair. You would have figured it out," she demurred.

"What I would have done is hire a consultant who would have charged me an arm and a leg. You did it all because you're a good neighbor. I don't think there's anything you don't know about farming." He sighed deeply. "It's so beautiful in this graveyard, with the wrought-iron fence, this oak, which was a sapling seventy years before the American Revolution. Guess you know why we're here."

"Well, Blair, I have a pretty good idea."

"You asked if I would come to you first if I decided to sell. I love this farm, but Little Mini wants to live at Aunt Tally's. She'll inherit that farm, and I guess both she and Stafford will inherit Dalmally someday."