Рита Браун - Whisker Of Evil

As the group hurried to finish, Paul de Silva, freshly showered, tiptoed in the back door. He lived in one of the small, charming dependencies on the estate. He lost no opportunity to show up at any social get-together where Tazio might appear.

Miranda explained that the program would be printed and bound, which thrilled everyone as this would cut down on speeches, the bane of any celebration.

Big Mim was already addressing that subject. “Since the printed program has testimonials—including, you will note, one from each pastor of each denomination in Crozet—we have trimmed the celebration speeches. My husband, the mayor,” she nodded toward Jim, who beamed back, “and Herb will have to say something, of course. I think we’ll set a record. Only two speeches.”

“Another sermon?” Tazio winked.

“The last thing to die on the Reverend Jones will be his mouth,” Aunt Tally cracked.

Without further ado the meeting broke up, perfect timing because Herb was just motoring down the driveway. While he knew there would be a party, Big Mim didn’t want him to know all the particulars, which was fine by Herb. There had to be some surprises.

“Preacher approaching,” Gretchen called out.

“Look holy.” Big Mim clapped her hands together.

By the time Herb passed through the front door, the assembled, all standing, were chatting amiably and waiting anxiously for the dinner bells to be struck.

Gretchen, who loved this part of her job, ceremoniously glided through the living room, striking three small hanging bells that she carried before her. The bells were suspended in a small frame, which was light and easy to carry. It was a bit like a glockenspiel without the flat bars.

“Dinner is served.” Gretchen hit the low note, the middle note, the high note. “Dinner is served.”

“I dare you to come out with a tuba,” Aunt Tally said as Gretchen walked by.

“I don’t have the wind for it, but you do.” Gretchen winked at the nonagenarian.

“I’ll get you for that.” The old lady, now on the arm of Fair, who had come alongside her, moved toward the porch.

Once they’d served themselves and seated themselves—this was as informal as Big Mim got—the volume increased.

Harry, Miranda, Susan, Tazio, Fair, Herb, and Paul sat at one table. Behind them were Tavener and Aunt Tally, whom Tavener begged to sit with him. Naturally, Fair protested, and Tally was in heaven. Little Mim sat with her great-aunt, as did Blair. BoomBoom and Bill Langston were at that table, too.

“Where’s Alicia?” Aunt Tally wondered loudly.

“Home. She said she couldn’t face a big group of people just yet.” Little Mim had called Alicia per her mother’s instructions.

“Surely she knew Mary Pat was dead,” Aunt Tally bluntly said.

“Knowing and knowing are two different things,” Bill Langston replied.

“Piffle.” Aunt Tally speared cold asparagus, fresh from the garden.

“Now, now, she’s a very sensitive woman. She’s an artist.” Tavener made certain Aunt Tally’s glass was filled.

“She had the most to gain. Everyone here knows that.” Aunt Tally adored Alicia, but that never prevented her from exercising her relentless logic.

Tavener’s face flushed for a moment. “She didn’t. Now, you know that. She didn’t kill Mary Pat.”

“Didn’t say that she did.” The old lady’s eyes glittered. “I just wanted to see you leap to her defense yet again. All you men were and probably still are wildly in love with Alicia. Everyone over forty, anyway. Everyone who remembers.”

“I loved Mary Pat,” Tavener quietly slipped this in, “which isn’t to say Alicia isn’t lovable or that you aren’t right per usual, Tally.”

“We’re all in love with you.” Fair leaned back from his table and winked at Aunt Tally.

“Liar!” The old lady was jubilant.

Herb stood up, lifting his glass. “Age cannot wither her nor custom stale her infinite variety. Tally Urquhart!”

Everyone stood, toasting the grand old lady of Crozet.

She nodded in recognition, then said, “I commend your good taste.”

Laughing, they all sat down.

Paul had a hard time not staring at Tazio, who, while being friendly to him, wasn’t exactly flirting. She liked him well enough, though. The other women could tell.

Meanwhile, Bill Langston drooled over BoomBoom. She was used to it.

Herb, taking all this in, chuckled in a low voice. “Ah, yes, another successful Virginia party.”

“Haven’t had a fistfight yet.” Fair picked up the thread of conversation.

“I remember when you and Blair got into it at a summer party,” Herb replied. “Should we line up for good seats?”

“Oh.” Fair blushed deeply, the red going right up to the blond roots on his forelock. “I—well, he was courting Harry. Lost my temper. Jealous.”

“Oh, honey, he wasn’t courting me. He was being neighborly.” Harry smiled, as this was three years ago.

“Wish I’d seen it.” Tazio thought the herbed cold salmon was delicious.

Fair cleared his throat. “According to Aunt Tally, at a successful Virginia party: someone has to fall in love, someone has to leave in tears, someone has to have a physical fight, someone has to be very young, someone has to be very old, and all must have a sense of humor.”

“You’re just trying to shift the burden off yourself.” Susan smiled at Fair, a valued friend.

“Actually, we haven’t had too many fistfights lately,” Miranda noted. “As for the falling in love, we’re doing quite well on that front.”

“Was Tavener in love with Alicia or Mary Pat?” Tazio whispered, not really believing Tavener’s gallant declaration concerning Mary Pat.

Miranda firmly said, “He was in love with Mary Pat. You never knew her. She was incredibly charismatic.”

“But she was—what, some fifteen years older than he was.” Tazio’s voice rose slightly.

Tavener said, “You never knew Mary Pat.”

Tazio apologized, “Sorry, Tavener, really. I was being nosy.”

He reached behind Aunt Tally’s chair, touching Tazio’s shoulder. “Being human. And this is Crozet. We’re all rummaging around in one another’s business.”

“I’d like some.” Aunt Tally tapped her glass with her knife.

“What?” Tavener was ready to rise and fetch her whatever she desired.

“Scandal. Then you could rummage around in my business.”

“Would you be my date at—you know.” Tavener cut his eyes toward Herb. “We could start a scandal.”

“Goody.” She clapped her hands like a child, while Little Mim looked at her mother, who glanced heavenward.

Keeping up with Tally Urquhart was a full-time job.

The room buzzed with chatter.

Fair, half-turned in his chair, spoke to Tavener. “I’ve been thinking about this rabies thing.”

Tavener tipped his chin up for a second. “Get ready for hell week. Buzzards will be all over us again tomorrow.”

“What’s on your agenda tomorrow?”

“Vet a purchase for Orsinis . . . umm, have to check my book. Why?”

“I have no desire to talk to the media. Do you?”

“No.”

“Why don’t we meet at St. James, the stables? That’s the epicenter of this earthquake.”

“Hell, Fair, the media will be crawling over that place. And another thing, the health department was there, the sheriff’s department, you name it, they’ve gone over that place with a fine-tooth comb. Even the state vet was there, and nada.” He threw up his hands.

“Alicia will bar the media. She’s hired security. I’ve spoken to her.”

“Fair, I don’t know what we can do.”

“Two things: We can look again ourselves, without other people around. And we can escape the media.”