Рита Браун - Probable Claws

Harry laughed. “I’m sure they feel the same way about you.”

“I hope so.” Marvella smiled. “I truly hope so.”

“It’s just the two of us and I know I am a newer person in your life, but I have to ask: Do you trust Sean Rankin?”

Eyebrows knitting together, Marvella replied, “I have no reason not to trust him.”

“What about his father?”

“When Tinsdale and I moved here, Reg Rankin was slowing down, beginning to hand over, in bits, the company to Sean. I only met him a few times. Older generation. Proper. A man of his time.”

“Honest?”

“Well, again I don’t know. I’ve never heard anything to the contrary. Now let me ask you, why these questions?”

“Over the years a few deaths have occurred at construction sites.”

“Harry, that’s natural. Construction can be dangerous.”

“I know, but in going through Gary Gardner’s files, his building code files, I’ve found dates written in the margins for jobs wherein someone died. And 1984’s file is missing. That’s the year the man whose skeleton we found died. Now Gary is dead as is Lisa Roudabush, both of whom shared a fascination for earlier epochs, for dinosaurs, architecture later, obviously. Somehow it’s too close for comfort.”

“Be careful. If you mention this without hard proof you have just angered, or at the very least irritated, a powerful man, a powerful company with many employees.”

“That’s why I came to you. I’m not mentioning it.”

She breathed deeply. “I’m old enough to know there are many reasons to kill, a lot to cover up. Illegal transactions, that sort of thing. At least in private business if they have affairs it’s usually not fatal. In politics it used to be, but now they cling to Jesus, apologize, cry, and appear to be forgiven.” She let out a peal of laughter.

“I’ve often wondered if God has no sex, no women as partners in his life, how can he forgive infidelity for one?”

Marvella laughed again. “Because he doesn’t understand it.”

“Well, whatever this is about, I think sex has nothing to do with it.”

“But wouldn’t it be more interesting if it did?”

“You’re awful.”

“No, I’m not. I’m honest. Financial misdeeds are dull and those who commit them are dull. Now a roaring sexcapade? The best. Think of the South Carolina governor caught with his pants down. Oh, I so loved it.”

Harry laughed. “Too good to be true.”

“Too good to be true. You’re too young to remember, you weren’t even born, when Wilbur Mills, head of the powerful Ways and Means Committee, the most powerful committee in Congress, and always will be…Well, the esteemed congressman was found disheveled and drunk at a public fountain in D.C., cavorting, or hoping to cavort with, a stripper who had indeed shed some unnecessary garments. It was so public the press couldn’t cover it up. The gentleman’s agreement unraveled.” She shook with mirth.

“You’d think those guys would figure it out, especially now that the gentleman’s agreement is over.”

“Oh, Harry, men think they’re only as old as the woman they’re sleeping with.”

“It’s not working,” Harry shot back, and they both doubled over.

“You know, it’s not that I think women are better than men, truly, but I do think we are more realistic, especially about sex.”

“Marvella, don’t you think we have to be and always will?”

The elegant older woman nodded. “I don’t know if I would go so far as to say gender or race or the time at which you were born is destiny, but in many ways it fulfills the definition.”

On and on they chatted, delighted with each other’s company, then Harry glanced at the superb grandfather clock. “Marvella, forgive me. I have overstayed my welcome. You should have thrown me out.”

“I enjoy your company. You are a generation younger than I. I find our exchanges invigorating, and the fact that you were an Art History major is an extra bonus.”

“Thank you.” Harry stood up, leaned over to give Marvella a kiss on her smooth cheek.

Marvella stood. “Isn’t it fate that we meet people whom we feel we have known all our lives?”

“Yes.” As she walked to the door, Harry slowed for a moment. “You know, there are many dimensions to existence and we see only one. I think there are more and when we have these feelings, whether it’s knowing someone or déjà vu, I think we just get a peep of another dimension.”

“I do, too, but we are hag-ridden by logic. Speaking of which, your piecing together these disparate bits of information is logical, but with a leap of faith, if that’s what one can call it. Best to remember, that killer is out there and whatever is at stake remains at stake.”

“You’re right.”

“Consider, Harry, and again this is a function of age, anyone in power, whether political or financial, may not use force, but there is always implied force.”

“Well…” Harry digested this unsettling thought or tried to do so.

“Again, be careful. Maybe it’s better you don’t know.”

“I know you’re right, and I know you don’t want me to stumble into a nest of vipers, but I think I already have. And I think whatever this is involves both power and money, millions.”

“I hope you’re wrong. I fear you’re right.” This time Marvella pecked Harry on the cheek, opened the door, and watched her walk to her Volvo, open the door, and get in.

39

February 16, 2017

Thursday

“Thanks, Felipe.” Harry smiled at the slender dark-haired young man. “I know this request is a bit odd.”

“No, no. It’s always good to see you, and your wildlife people have helped us.”

“Takes all of us, I think.” Harry felt a tug at her jeans.

“Ask if he has any treats.” Pewter effected a sweet look.

“Pewts.” Harry looked down at Pewter and Mrs. Murphy.

She’d left Tucker and Pirate at home, thinking it might be too confusing and sad for the puppy.

“Hi, Harry,” Raynell called from behind her computer. “Holler if you have questions.”

“Thanks.” Harry walked straight back to Lisa’s office, which was as she’d left it.

The sheriff’s department carefully checked out everything then put it all back in place. There was nothing in her office or on her computer to give them any clues, at least not clues that they could currently understand.

First scanning Lisa’s shelves, with her own notes from Gary’s office in hand, she noticed a few books duplicated. One was The Great Warming by Brian M. Fagan. Of course, there were a few books on reptiles both extinct and current, one recent bestseller on birds that Harry also had read, and Why Birds Sing by David Rothenberg. Gary had most of the dinosaur books, the reptile books, alligators, crocodiles, stuff like that. She pulled a book out, jumped back, then giggled.

“What’s up?” Mrs. Murphy wondered.

“A big rubber spider behind the books.” Harry’s hand flew to her chest as though she’d understood her sensible cat.

“Ha. I have saved you every time we are at Gary’s. I battle real spiders,” Pewter bragged.

Mrs. Murphy jumped on the polished desk, where the book on dinosaurs that Lisa had been reading when she died was closed, sitting on the corner. Harry had pulled it off the bookshelf but hadn’t leafed through it yet. She was hoping it would give her a clue as to the dinosaur fascination.

Harry made notes, checked off those books that were the same. Then she sat down at the desk as Mrs. Murphy investigated the dinosaur book. Pulling open a long center drawer, she took out a sheaf of papers. The frog article sat on top. Gary had the same information. A long magazine piece about when the Blue Ridge Mountains were covered with water interested Harry, as well as the receding of the waters and the upheavals that created the Fall Line running throughout the state. The earth had been lowered to such a degree that running roughly southwest to northeast, waterfalls marked the break just like the Continental Divide in the far West. Tidying up what she’d read, she put them back in the drawer in exact order.