Рита Браун - The Tail Of The Tip-Off

"What is the matter with her!" A flicker of genuine anger flashed across Big Mim's well-preserved face.

"She's in love. Leave her alone. The question is, 'What's the matter with you?'?" Aunt Tally, as usual, was painfully direct in her manner.

"You saw what happened to her first husband, a wastrel if ever there was one."

Miranda and Tracy slipped by, not wishing to participate in the discussion. Big Mim and Aunt Tally blocked the door. Harry respectfully stood behind the two older women. Jim paid the bill for everyone over the protests of the men and a few of the ladies.

"Honeybunch, don't get yourself exercised," he called from the cash register counter.

"You always take her side." Big Mim grimaced.

"No I don't, but she has to live her own life. We made our mistakes. Let her make hers and you know what? This may not be a mistake. Now, honeybunch, you relax."

"Men," Mim muttered under her breath.

"Can't live with them. Can't live without them," Aunt Tally concurred, but she rather liked the living-with-them part, not that she'd married. She hadn't, but she certainly had had a string of tempestuous affairs starting back in the 1930s. As a young woman, in her late teens she blossomed into a beauty and even now, in her nineties, vestiges of that ripeness could still be glimpsed.

"I'm doing okay," Harry whispered to Aunt Tally.

"Me, too," BoomBoom agreed.

"You're both deluding yourselves." Tally did not whisper her reply.

Both women knew better than to disagree with Aunt Tally.

"Why are you all standing here looking at me?" Big Mim crossly addressed the others.

"You're blocking the door. Miranda and Tracy just squeezed out before you took up your stance." Harry couldn't help but laugh a little. She truly liked Big Mim despite her airs.

"Oh. Well, why didn't you say something?" Big Mim stepped aside.

Each bid her good evening. Fair had walked back to Jim to fuss over the bill.

"Get out of here. I have more money than is good for me. You go take care of horses," Jim good-naturedly said to the veterinarian.

The Sanburne generosity was legendary. Fair thanked Jim but made a mental note that his next barn call to Mim's stable would be gratis.

He opened the door and the chill brought color to his cheeks. Harry and BoomBoom were already in the parking lot.

"Hey, girls, wait for me."

"Oh?" Harry laughed.

BoomBoom, prudently, unlocked her BMW without comment.

"What this town needs is an after-hours bar," Fair jovially replied.

"In Crozet? Right. Get two people every Saturday night." Harry, like most residents, worked hard and rose early.

"You're right, but we might be the two." He waved as BoomBoom flashed her lights, then pulled out. "I know two kitties and one corgi who are lonesome for me."

"We like ourselves a lot tonight."

"I like you a lot every night."

The clear winter sky, the snow on the ground, the glow from a good meal, all added to Fair's potent masculine appeal. Plenty of women's eyes widened when they first met the tall blond. His warm manner, his slow-burn sense of humor, he just had a way about him.

"You are too kind." She fluttered her eyelashes, mocking what Northerners thought Southern belles did to ensnare men. Harry's experience was that men wanted to ensnare her a lot more than she wanted to ensnare them, but tonight Fair did look good.

"What about a nightcap?"

"Uh, okay."

They reached the farm in fifteen minutes. The cats and dog joyously greeted them.

Harry poured a scotch for Fair and made herself a cup of Plantation Mint tea.

They sat side by side on the sofa.

"Big Mim's being a snot about Blair."

Fair felt the warmth of the scotch reach his stomach. "He'll win her over-if that's what he wants to do. I still can't make up my mind about that guy."

"What do you mean?"

"He seems like a real guy but I don't know, modeling is, well, it's not a guy thing."

"Fair, that's not fair."

"Terrible to have Fair for a name. Am I prejudiced? To a degree."

"Well, at least you're honest." Harry decided not to get into an argument about male sexuality.

"Pewter and I ought to be models for Purina or IAMS or one of those cat food brands. We could sell ice to the Eskimos," Mrs. Murphy purred.

"Bet I could, too." Tucker put her paws on the sofa.

"You'd be irresistible, Tucker," Pewter complimented her. "Those expressive brown eyes, that big corgi smile."

"Thank you." Tucker, with effort, got up on the sofa.

"I don't know if I've ever seen Little Mim be silly. She wasn't even silly when we were children," Harry mused. "Nailing us with olive pits."

The tall man got up from the sofa.

"Where's he going?" Mrs. Murphy rubbed her paw behind her ear.

"Where are you going?" Harry echoed her.

"More ice."

He walked into the kitchen. Harry's refrigerator did not have an icemaker. He removed an ice tray, held it over the sink, twisted the plastic tray and the cubes popped out into the sink, onto the counter. Some broke, leaving little shards like glass glistening in the light.

Harry heard him curse. She joined him in the kitchen. The animals came in, too.

"I'll clean it up." Harry grabbed a dish towel.

"I made the mess. I'll clean it up. Damn, Harry, I'll buy you a new refrigerator with an icemaker!" He began picking up the fractured ice cubes. "Ouch!" A spot of blood bubbled on the tip of his forefinger.

"That's it!" the animals shouted.

Fair sucked his wound.

Harry tore a little strip of clean, soft napkin and held it to his forefinger.

The animals continued making a racket.

"Will you all shut up?"

"Pay attention! You want to be a detective. Detect." Mrs. Murphy thrashed her tail.

Harry shushed them.

Fair laughed. "It's not that bad." He put his hand over Harry's. He pulled her hand away. She still had a grasp on the napkin. The dot of blood, cherry red on the white, almost sparkled.

Both humans stared at it for an instant, then at one another.

"Fair?"

"I'm thinking the same thing." His eyebrows shot upward.

"Good God. It's diabolical." Harry sagged against the kitchen counter for a moment.

"Yes! Ice!" all three animals bellowed.

"But it makes sense." Fair swept the ice fragments into the sink. "Bill Langston mentioned cold's ability to numb. I should have thought of that." He frowned.

"None of the rest of us did. It's, well, it's so imaginative." Harry took his hand, leading him back to the living room.

They sat down. The cats jumped on the sofa as did Tucker with more effort.

"We're finally getting somewhere," Pewter said.

"You forgot your ice cube." Harry rose.

Fair pulled her down. "Forget it. Ice. An ice dart. The dart melts. No weapon. The poison is on the tip of the dart. The person wouldn't risk ingesting it. Perfect."

"Right. And the poison, I mean toxin-BoomBoom did some research on that-is delivered as the ice melts. But Fair, what in the world could work that fast?"

"I don't know." He sipped his scotch. "But our tiny weapon could have been delivered in a number of ways. Think about it. Fred could have stuck him in the parking lot. Or someone could have thrown it at him as he walked to his car. But how do you throw a piece, a little piece, mind you, of ice?"

"You don't. You'd have to stab." Harry listened to the logs crackle in the fireplace. "Unless you blow it. Like Little Mim blowing the olive pits."

"Yes-yes." He folded his hands together. "Some kind of blowgun. With that it would be pretty easy to hit H.H. as he walked through the parking lot. Or even the hallway." He thought a moment. "Too crowded. The parking lot."

"That gets Fred off the hook."

"Yes."

"A noisemaker. That could hide a blowgun. Fair, this could have been done at the end of the game while we were in our seats. H.H.'s body melts the ice sliver and the toxin hits him in the parking lot." She paused a long time. "Behind me. The killer sits behind me."