Рита Браун - Whisker Of Evil

“But that’s what makes Barry’s death so disturbing,” said Harry. “His throat. The killer wanted to pin it on an animal. He wasn’t sick—I mean, he wasn’t sick when I found him. No one would have known he had rabies if the pathologists in Richmond hadn’t run a dFA test on a brain-tissue sample.”

Mary’s blue eyes clouded over. “Well, there might be a connection. You can’t assume there is, but you can’t assume there isn’t.”

Driving back down Route 250, Harry noticed the rich green of the leaves, a green that would deepen throughout the summer. “Fair, I’ll help you go through the files.”

“Thought you might.”

“May I use your cell phone?”

“Sure.”

She called Big Mim, explaining why she couldn’t attend the hen party and hoped that Alicia would understand. Big Mim, horrified to hear that Sugar had rabies, told Harry to take care of herself.

Harry hit the End button. The phone was in a cradle, and a speaker was fastened to the roof of the cab so the driver need not hold the phone. “There. I really want to talk to Alicia Palmer.”

“There’s something else I need to tell you.”

“What?” Harry’s face registered worry.

“Kind of odd. I was at Sugar’s yesterday. Ultrasound on his big mare. And he said the strangest thing. He asked me if he should die, would you and I take over his mares. He has no family, and he knows we’ll do right by the mares.”

“Good Lord.” The tears rolled down Harry’s cheeks.

21

T his silver’s more valuable than the gross national product of Ecuador.”

Big Mim, Little Mim, Aunt Tally, and Alicia stood in front of the huge trophy case in the large paneled tack room of the main barn.

Silver glistened. Loving cups, large inscribed plates, small bowls, and one enormous bowl festooned with carved grapes filled the case. Ribbons covered the back of the case, their blue and red reflecting on the silver. Mim never threw away a ribbon, but she displayed only the Championship, Reserve, First- and Second-place ribbons. The others she carefully laid flat in heavy cardboard boxes, putting them in her attic for safekeeping.

Usually Big Mim’s dogs and Little Mim’s dog—an offspring of her mother’s English springer spaniel named Carbon Copy—would accompany them, but today, Sunday, they decided to surround a groundhog hole. The groundhog turned a deaf ear to their entreaties to come out.

“I remember when you won that one. Mary Pat nearly died. She wanted that trophy.” Alicia indicated a large loving cup with two graceful handles.

The cup was inscribed, Virginia Hunter Champion, 1970. Horse: Interest Rate, Rider: Mrs. James Sanburne.

“She was a good sport about it.” Big Mim relished that triumph.

“Mary Pat was a good sport.” Aunt Tally leaned on her cane. “She came right back and beat you at the Washington International that year.”

The Washington International was one of the premier horse shows in the mid-Atlantic.

“She fussed at me because I wouldn’t show.” Alicia smiled. “I told her people looked at me enough. I needed time off.”

“You foxhunted. That’s what really counts.” Big Mim had her priorities straight.

Brinkley entered the barn from the opposite end, bounding into the tack room.

“Where did you come from, big boy?” Little Mim thought the yellow Lab one of the loveliest dogs she had ever encountered.

“Tazio must be here.” Big Mim introduced Alicia to Brinkley, who, being a gentleman, offered his paw.

Little Mim stuck her head out of the tack room. “She’s with Paul.”

“Ah.” A twinkle lit up the eye of Aunt Tally, who thought romance should be promoted enthusiastically and regularly.

“Don’t start,” Big Mim admonished her aunt.

“Oh, la,” Aunt Tally insouciantly replied.

When Paul and Tazio entered the tack room, Big Mim introduced Tazio to Alicia. Paul had already met her.

“We’ve walked over the two possible sites for the new barn,” Paul said.

“And with your permission, I thought Paul and I could drive over to Morven to look at the barns there. Both the old ones and the ones that Mr. Kluge commissioned.”

“Excellent idea.” Aunt Tally beamed.

Big Mim cut her eyes at Aunt Tally but agreed that it would be a good idea.

“I called the hospital about Sugar. Just in case.” Paul liked Sugar.

“Yes, I did, too.” Big Mim shook her head. “Miracles happen, but I don’t think one will happen for Sugar.”

“Mother, how long can this go on?”

Big Mim shrugged. “Possibly a week. Hopefully less. Bill said Sugar started thrashing around, so they’ve heavily medicated him to alleviate some of the suffering. And by the by, I had my reservations about this new doctor, but the way he’s handling this, I think we’re lucky to have him.”

“It’s such a terrible thing. One rarely hears of rabies today. When you told me yesterday, I thought surely there must be a mistake.” Alicia couldn’t imagine a worse death.

“Barry Monteith, too,” Little Mim grimly added.

“Fortunately, he didn’t know it and neither did we.” Big Mim spoke in her perfectly modulated voice.

“What about the raccoon?” Little Mim wondered.

“No results yet.” Paul answered, since he’d kept in touch with Fair Haristeen. “Fair is pretty sure the raccoon had distemper, but he’s still waiting on word from Richmond.”

“They take too long,” Aunt Tally grumbled.

“Well, the state of Virginia in its wisdom will squander millions on a road going to a state senator’s house in the backwoods but will not add more people to the agencies that actually serve the people,” Big Mim complained.

“That could be said of any administration, anywhere, anytime.” Alicia laughed, having abandoned the idea of a just government decades ago.

“I should rule the world,” Aunt Tally simply stated.

“Well,” Big Mim took a deep breath, “we’d all know exactly where we stand.” She turned to Tazio and Paul. “Teatime. Please come up and join us. Brinkley, too.”

Paul, like most single men, was never one to pass up food. Tazio was delighted to be invited, also.

Once they were all settled on the summer porch, an array of scones, cookies, biscuits, jams, marmalades, jellies, cream, and butter appeared. Black teas and green teas were served. Aunt Tally, under the glaring eye of Mim, drank a shot of straight vodka, chased by a bracing cup of tea. The others chose to wait until later for spirits.

They chatted about the upcoming yearling sales, summer horse shows, and garden shows, about Tazio’s plans for a new shed for Harry, about new building materials, round barns from the eighteenth century, and about design in general, whether for buildings or gardens.

After the impromptu gathering broke up, Little Mim drove Aunt Tally back to her farm. Big Mim and Alicia were alone, watching the long slanting rays of the sun, about a half hour before sunset.

The two had stayed in touch after Alicia moved to Los Angeles, and then Santa Barbara.

Mim, who adored traveling, would visit Alicia at her California home or on the set at least once a year. Alicia would return to Crozet for short visits, to recharge her batteries, to check on St. James. Fortunately, the farm manager and his wife were honest and hard workers.

“Little Mim is the spitting image of you. It’s funny to see the two of you together.”

“Well, I wish she’d find direction. Something.”

“She has her boyfriend.” Alicia defended Little Mim. “And she is vice-mayor of Crozet. You’re hard on her.”