Рита Браун - The Tail Of The Tip-Off

The lightbulb switched on in Harry's head. Of course, she thought to herself, how easy, both had access to H.H. Under my nose and I never saw it. One of those women is, was, H.H.'s lover. I'd bet my life on it!

"Harry?" Fair touched her hand.

"What?"

"You didn't hear a word I said."

"Fair, I'm sorry, I just had an idea." She smiled. "I'm listening, really. You have my full attention."

18

Coaches ride a roller coaster. While the best of them hope to build students' character, prepare them for life's unpredictables, they still must win and win convincingly. The most successful character builder in America isn't going to get a renewed contract if his or her team doesn't win. And of all coaches, the two most visible to the public are football and basketball, the college sports with the largest following, the lucrative TV contracts.

In the dark ages, no one even knew the women's basketball coach's name. These days they were stars with all the perks and pressures their male counterparts had endured and enjoyed for close to one hundred years-except one. Women's coaches didn't sleep with male students. Male coaches used to cut a swath through the girls, although those days, too, had waned thanks to administrators finally waking up to the abuse inherent in such a relationship even if freely contracted. Then again, the male coaches were usually married, a sticking point.

Married women coaches would pace the sidelines, their husbands and children breathlessly watching. The unmarried women coaches would pace the sidelines, the unmarried men breathlessly watching.

It never occurred to Coach Ryan and her assistant coaches that a murderer was watching. H. H. Donaldson's death, now known to be suspicious, wasn't connected to basketball. At least, no one thought it was.

Since Cameron loved basketball, idolized the players, and worshipped Coach Debbie Ryan, H.H. had purchased a block of ads to run concurrent with the women's basketball season thinking it would make his little girl happy. He'd even bought her a subscription to the University of Virginia newspaper so she could read the fuller accounts of the very games she had witnessed.

Each Monday, Georgina Craycroft, BoomBoom's sister-in-law and head of Virginia Graphics, would design an ad for H.H. based on that week's opponents. The last of H.H.'s ad designs would run out Sunday. Georgina didn't know whether to continue. The staff of The Cavalier Daily didn't want to bother Anne Donaldson but H.H. had paid for the season. Still, Georgina didn't wish to create more designs if Anne wasn't interested. She'd refund whatever monies were outstanding. Georgina was a fair-minded person.

Georgina called BoomBoom, who was closer to Anne than she was. BoomBoom was also on good terms with Coach Ryan.

Anne declared the ads were important to Cameron and, no doubt, fun for the team. BoomBoom then relayed this to Georgina who hastened to her office this beautiful Saturday morning. Old Dominion University, always tough, would be an opponent in the coming week, as well as Georgia, reputed to have the best center in women's basketball this year.

BoomBoom, curiosity rekindled by her sister-in-law's call, drove out to Harry's just as Harry pulled into her driveway.

Each disembarked at the barn.

"BoomBoom, what's up?"

Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, noses pressed against the kitchen window over the sink, watched. Tucker barked at the animal door which Harry had secured so the dog wouldn't follow her down the drive when she motored back into town.

"What's she saying?" Pewter pawed at the window.

"I can't read lips," Mrs. Murphy replied.

"We thought you could do everything," the dog, also irritated, said.

"First, she leaves us here to go fox hunting. Then she comes back, unloads Poptart, gets everything organized, gets back in the old truck, and drives to Crozet leaving us again!" Tucker was beside herself.

"She did give us a treat before she left," Pewter said.

"They're coming inside. Tucker, go shut the door to the bedroom. Hurry," Mrs. Murphy ordered.

"I didn't shred the socks she left on the bed. You did." Tucker stubbornly tossed her head as she moved to the kitchen door.

"I hate dogs." Mrs. Murphy soared off the kitchen counter followed by Pewter, who slid down lest she land with a thump.

The two cats raced for the bedroom. Pewter flopped on her side as Mrs. Murphy pushed the door from behind. When the door was almost closed the tiger cat slunk around it, careful not to open it more than necessary. Then she, too, flopped on her side, claws out to the max. The cats hooked their claws under the door-there was just enough space-pulling it shut. The latch didn't click but it was shut enough that a casual walk down the hall would not reveal their depredations.

"-good of Anne." BoomBoom hung her coat on one of the pegs by the back door.

"She's a strong woman." Harry hung her jacket there as well. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No. I'll tell you why I dropped by unannounced. Talking to Georgina and then Anne reminded me of that awful night. You have a knack for figuring things out. I bet you have thought about it."

"Well-I don't know anything." Harry motioned for her to sit at the kitchen table.

"Why don't we go down to the Clam and walk it out?" BoomBoom's lovely face became quite animated.

"What do you mean, 'walk it out'?"

"If you and I start from where H.H. was sitting in his seat to where he fell, we'll know how far the killer trailed him."

"How do you know the killer did?" asked Harry.

"I've been reading about poisons."

"But the paper didn't say exactly what kind of poison."

"Exactly." BoomBoom was triumphant. "By the process of elimination I know it wasn't arsenic because it takes too long to kill you and the victim suffers from diarrhea. Wasn't cyanide or his skin would have been red. I think he was given the poison right there at the basketball game. In reviewing what I remember, I wonder if I'm correct. Know what I mean? You now know something, and when you look back, well, maybe today's knowledge clouds yesterday's events. I mean yesterday as in the past. Not literally yesterday. I've thought about who had coolers full of drinks. He could have been handed a poisoned drink. Or popcorn or a candy bar."

BoomBoom folded her hands together. "From my reading, I've learned that poisons and toxins aren't exactly the same thing. A toxin is anything that can kill or upset a living organism. But a poison is a subgroup. Poisons usually enter the body in a single massive dose or they can accumulate into a massive dose over time. Also, poisons are easy to identify."

Alert, a fascinated Harry leaned forward. "I didn't know that."

"Another thing is poisons can usually be nullified with fast treatment. With toxins"-she shook her head-"not so easy."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, toxins can kill you with minute levels. And worse, they can disguise themselves, the symptoms are masked. It takes extremely sensitive analytical instruments to detect low levels of toxins and not all of these dangerous substances have antidotes."

"So technically, you think H.H. wasn't poisoned?"

"No. If he had been, Sheriff Shaw would certainly know by now what had poisoned him. What did kill him was something used in a tiny amount. And it kind of mimicked a heart attack."

"Risky. Fingerprints. And cruel. What if Anne or Cameron had drunk from the same can? Nibbled on the candy bar?"

"Hi." The two cats smiled as they entered the kitchen.

"There you are. I wondered where you all were hiding." Harry reached down to rub Mrs. Murphy's then Pewter's head. She was thinking about BoomBoom's research.

"You'll sing a different tune when you see what they've done," Tucker warned.

"Shut up, tailless butt." Pewter flattened her ears.