Рита Браун - The Tail Of The Tip-Off

"You ever run into Mychelle at a game?"

"Now, I rarely saw her at football. Stadium's so big, you see. I know she was there but I didn't see her. I'd see her at basketball. Men's and women's. Big fan of women's. Big fan."

"Do you recall if she had dates? Do you remember seeing her with anyone consistently?"

He thought hard. "I'd usually see her with a bunch of girls. All about her age. A couple of times I saw her with a fellow but"-he shook his head-"couldn't tell you who."

"I would guess Mychelle would be good with numbers."

"Sure."

"Fred, I have to chase down any and every idea."

"Guess you do. Guess you do."

"You won't like this question but I have to ask you. Do you think she could have been taking bribes to overlook anything not up to grade?"

Fred vigorously shook his head. "No way, José. No way."

"Do you have any idea why Mychelle might have been killed?"

"I don't, but I sure hope you catch the bastard who did it. She was a good girl, Sheriff. Kept to herself. Not a flashy girl but she did her job and she did a good job. She had a future, she did."

"And someone took it away from her," Lorraine quietly said.

"Mrs. Forrest, do you have any idea why someone might kill Mychelle Burns?" Rick thought she was relaxed enough to speak up if she had a thought.

"Sheriff, I don't. I don't think she was a happy girl. She was a person finding her way in life but I can't imagine her in some kind of trouble, trouble like this."

"Drugs?"

Fred interjected. "I'd have known. An employee can only hide drugs or booze but so long." Then he turned to his wife. "Why do you say she was unhappy?"

"She did her job just like you said, dear, but I never saw Mychelle animated about anything." Lorraine held up her hand because Fred was going to interrupt her. "Except for UVA sports, like you said. But she never talked about hobbies or her friends or a special friend. My personal opinion is that she was a lonely girl without a lot of social skills. I don't think she was happy."

"You never told me that."

"Dear, you never asked."

24

Susan and Harry munched their doughnuts in Susan's station wagon, the cats and dogs in the rear seat, a beach towel on the leather to protect it.

"I am not driving down to the Clam."

"Didn't ask." Harry wrinkled her nose.

"That shows some good judgment for a change," Susan replied in a singsong voice.

"We could go over to Tazio's office. See if she's there."

"Something tells me this has nothing to do with the church guild."

"Coop left with her. Come on, Susan. Just cruise by. You don't have to stop."

As it wasn't far out of the way, Susan drove by Tazio's office. She'd converted the old barbershop just south of the railroad overpass. Tazio's big truck sat in the parking lot.

"She's done a great job on that old building."

Just then Tazio and Brinkley opened the door, turned to shut it.

Harry rolled down her passenger window. "Taz!"

Tazio turned to wave. "Hey."

Susan pulled up next to Tazio's truck since Harry was half hanging out the station wagon window letting in the cold air.

"Tazio, any luck?" Harry asked as Susan parked next to the truck.

"With Coop?"

"Hi," the animals called to Brinkley who responded in turn.

"This is my brother, Owen." Tucker introduced the corgi.

As the animals chatted so did the people.

"-empty." Tazio pulled her scarf tighter around her neck as she walked to her truck. "Makes me wonder, though. What if Mychelle told other people she was seeing me Monday? She was whispering about it, as you well know, but being emotionally obvious, if you know what I mean. Someone out there might think I know more than I know-which is nothing."

"If Cooper thought you were in danger, she'd tell you," Susan sensibly reassured the architect.

"I'll cut to the chase." Harry opened the door, got out so she could stand face-to-face with Tazio.

This irritated Susan who now had to twist her neck and lean over even farther.

"What chase?"

"Did you sleep with H.H.?"

"Harry, I can't believe you asked me that!" The pretty woman's voice rose.

"No time to pussyfoot." Harry lamely defended herself.

"I can't believe it, either." Susan agreed with the disgruntled Tazio. "On second thought, I can. She's capable of anything including bad manners-rarely happens but she is capable."

"Come on, you all. Two people are dead. You're fretting over manners?" Harry crossed her arms over her chest.

"No." Tazio folded her arms over her chest, too.

"Then it was Mychelle." Harry leaned back against the station wagon.

"You don't know that." Tazio was again surprised.

"No, but that's my guess. A crime of passion."

"Anne Donaldson might have wanted to kill him but she's not the type." Susan gave up and got out of her car. "I don't believe it."

"Susan, why would anyone else want to kill H.H. and then Mychelle? There is no other motive. They weren't stealing money. We'd have seen it. People can't have money without spending it. Actually, this is America. We don't even need to have money and we spend it. So I can't think that's behind it. Drugs?" She threw up her hands. "What's left? Sexual revenge?"

"You can't jump to conclusions like that and really, Harry, you're usually more thoughtful," Susan chided her. "There could be other reasons. As I've said before, the murders may not even be related."

"What other reasons?" A frosty breath spiraled upward when Tazio spoke.

"I don't know. Someone could have made a bad business deal with H.H. Something we know nothing about, something even his wife knows nothing about. Maybe Mychelle had a boyfriend she crossed. The murders don't have to be related. There really are coincidences in this world." Susan put her hands in her pockets. "What if one of H.H.'s ex-girlfriends flew into a rage when he left Anne for Mychelle? Well, we think it was Mychelle. Why didn't he dump his wife for her, the ex, I mean? People do crazy things."

Harry stubbornly stuck to her guns. "If that's the case, then I am right. The murders are related."

As the humans argued, Brinkley proudly told the little pack in the station wagon, "I carry Tazio's plans. She doesn't have to get up from her chair. I can carry blueprints without making a tooth mark."

"What about slobber?" an unimpressed Pewter said.

"I don't slobber," Brinkley replied.

"Tucker does." Pewter felt like being a pill.

"I do not."

"She does not," Owen grumbled. "Corgis don't slobber."

"He's right. They nip your heels. Very big on herding." Mrs. Murphy wrapped her tail around her. It was growing colder in the vehicle. "Death from the ankles down."

Finally, Harry and Susan climbed back in the car.

"I'll see you at the board meeting. And Harry, how could you even think I would sleep with H.H.? I still can't believe you asked me that."

"He wasn't that bad looking."

"Not my type."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I was kind of rude."

"Kind of!" Susan exclaimed.

"Like you haven't done worse." Harry flopped back against the seat. "See you." She waved to Tazio who put Brinkley in the cab of the truck. Then Harry rolled up the window.

"I may have done worse to you but not to an acquaintance."

"I apologized."

"With no enthusiasm. I am taking you back to your truck. I am not driving you anywhere else. I will not risk more social embarrassment."

"Sure. Get your doughnuts and forget your best friend. I know how you are."

The animals snuggled up to one another, although Mrs. Murphy kept her ears cocked in case the humans said anything of importance.

"My advice to you is to concentrate on other things."

"I told you this was about sexual revenge. I'm going to tell Cooper, too."