Рита Браун - The Tail Of The Tip-Off

"She was her usual hostile self or maybe 'demanding' is a better word." Tazio stopped herself a moment. "But there was something else."

"Fear?" Harry interjected.

"Well-no, not exactly. She baited me because she knew I didn't want to see her. Apparently, Fred loathes Matthew so much he'll carry garbage from other construction sites and dump it at Matthew's. And she said H.H. would get copies of blueprints on buildings Matthew had done. She admitted she was baiting me and said she had more to tell me so I'd better see her."

Cooper drained her cup, needing the caffeine and sugar. She started to perk up. "Did you ever hear of any improprieties about her? Payoffs? Under-the-table kind of stuff?"

Tazio vigorously shook her head no. "She was honest. She was . . . I guess the word is 'incorruptible.'?"

"Can you tell us how she was killed?" Harry wanted details.

"Stabbed to death."

"How awful," Tazio said.

"In the Clam. That's what I don't get. Why there?" Harry's mind raced along.

"Do you have any notes or correspondence from Mychelle?" Cooper waved for another latte.

"Official documents. Nothing personal."

"I'd like to look at them."

"Of course. I can take you over to the office right now when we've finished our coffee."

"Maybe she wasn't a betting woman but her luck sure ran out." Cooper sighed.

"Maybe she was another chicken the fox got at," Mrs. Murphy commented.

"Some fox." A note of bitterness crept into Tucker's voice.

22

As Cooper and Tazio drove off in their respective vehicles, Harry ordered a coffee to go. She needed the buzz this morning. She also ordered three doughnuts. One for her, one for Susan, and one to be shared among Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker.

As she shepherded her small brood into the 1978 Ford half-ton, she considered whether H.H.'s and Mychelle's murders were connected by anything other than location. Both were UVA fans, but their social circles didn't overlap. They shared no hobbies. Their connection through construction must have been rife with tension.

Of course, it was possible that the demise of both people was not connected. Yet both murders occurred within days of each other. It was too suspicious, at least in her mind.

Even though neither H.H. nor Mychelle was close to her, murder comes as a shock. To snatch life from another human violated everything she had been taught. Murder created disorder. Harry loathed disorder.

A morose Tucker, paws on the dashboard, watched the road.

"Tucker, you did what you could," Mrs. Murphy sympathized.

"It must have been a slow, agonizing death," Tucker said.

"Well, think of all the abandoned animals who die slow, agonizing deaths. Put it in perspective," Pewter counseled since she certainly didn't believe human life was more important than animal life.

"I guess." The strong little dog sighed, pushed back from the dash, and landed on Pewter who complained loudly.

"All right, you two." Harry cruised down Susan's driveway, lined with blue spruces. She cut the engine. "Back door. We are wiping paws." She held up the towel she kept in the truck for this purpose. "And we are not begging for food. Do you read me, Pewter?"

"I do not beg for food. I merely put myself in the vicinity of food."

"Pulease." Mrs. Murphy held up her paw as Harry wiped it.

"Yeah, pulease." Tucker drew out "please" even more.

"Mock me if you must." Pewter sniffed.

Harry opened the back door. "It's me."

"Den," Susan called out.

The three animals rushed in, greeting Owen, Susan's corgi and Tucker's brother, followed by Harry.

"Where is everybody?"

"Ned took Brooks to Barnes Noble after church. He promised her a book if she made an A in her last history test and she did. And once there you know she'll drag him to Old Navy and they'll have to check out the shoe stores and then he'll pop into the clothing store. Ned has more ties than David Letterman, I swear. The shopping will exhaust them. So they'll eat at Hot Cakes or maybe Bodo's. I'll get a loaf of bread from Our Daily Bread. Ain't motherhood grand?"

"Susan, shut up!"

"What?"

"Mychelle Burns has been killed. Her body was found at the Clam. Stabbed."

"What! You waited all this time to tell me?"

"I couldn't get a word in edgewise."

"Mother can talk," Owen laconically said.

"Can't they all?" Tucker agreed with her brother.

"I brought you a doughnut. We've got figuring to do."

Harry, knowing Susan's house as well as her own, walked over to the writing desk, picked up a tablet and a pencil.

"If I'm going to eat this doughnut, I'll perish from sugar shock. I'll make us sandwiches, then we can eat the doughnut."

"Susan, later. Come on. Look at this." She rapidly drew a sketch of the Clam, the parking lot, and a cutaway view of the interior of the Clam.

"Harry, you brought coffee but you didn't bring me any?"

"Oh-I'm sorry. I didn't think of that."

"Selfish." Susan walked to the kitchen, returning with a large mug of coffee. She sat next to Harry on the leather chesterfield sofa.

"Okay. Here's where H.H. fell down. X marks the spot. There are broom closets on each floor but if I remember correctly, the first one going in from the main doors is about here." She made another X. "I wonder if the killer works at the Clam."

"Honey, I hate to cast stones at your theory but I don't think where they were found matters. The question is why."

"I know that!" Harry got testy. "But wouldn't you agree that two deaths, murders, right here and here practically back to back are frightening-and probably connected."

"How'd you find out?"

"Coop tracked down Tazio and me after church."

"What's Tazio got to do with it?"

"Nothing except that Mychelle cornered her at the Mountain View Grille"-Harry named the restaurant-"and told her she wanted a meeting with her right then. This was yesterday. Tazio declined nicely and Mychelle became un-nice. Her specialty. Said that Tazio better see her first thing Monday morning. Tazio assumed it had to do with some code violation. I was right there with Fair and Herb. Anyway, we all saw it. Mychelle left, her pout intact."

"Speak no ill of the dead."

"Oh, I just can't be that big of a hypocrite." Harry dismissed the ancient protective phrase.

"I can't resist." Susan reached for the doughnut.

"Me, me, me," Pewter cried piteously.

"That's why I bought this extra doughnut." Harry divided it into four pieces which irritated Pewter who tried to steal Mrs. Murphy's, receiving a box on the ears for her efforts.

Susan savored the delicious glaze. "If Mychelle was the woman behind H.H.'s-"

"Already thought of that. Only one person has a motive under those circumstances. Anne Donaldson."

"I can't believe Anne would kill her husband and then Mychelle."

"People are totally irrational about what we call 'love.' I call it 'mutual psychosis.'?"

"Bull."

"I need to trace Anne's activities."

"Like hell you do. That's Rick and Coop's job, and if you've thought of it, you can rest assured they've thought of it. And furthermore, Harry, it's in bad taste snooping around Anne."

"Not if she killed them."

"She didn't."

"Who died and made you God? Since when do you know the unknowable?"

"I know Anne."

"Listen, Susan, she was sitting smack next to him at the game. She could have easily slipped him the toxin, not poison, but toxin, or scratched his neck where the tiny puncture was, is. I suppose it's still there. I mean, he won't decay for some time."

"That is the most gruesome thought." Susan made a face.

"Well, the embalmers load them up depending on the viewing time, the temperature, I guess they factor in stuff like that. And even though he's in the ground he's still intact. That's all I was saying."