Whiskers in the Dark Read online

  Whiskers in the Dark is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2019 by American Artists, Inc.

  Illustrations copyright © 2019 by Michael Gellatly

  All rights reserved.

  Published in the United States by Bantam Books, an imprint of Random House, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.

  BANTAM BOOKS and the HOUSE colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.

  LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

  Names: Brown, Rita Mae, author. | Brown, Sneaky Pie, author. |

  Gellatly, Michael, illustrator.

  Title: Whiskers in the dark: a Mrs. Murphy mystery / Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky

  Pie Brown; illustrated by Michael Gellatly.

  Description: First Edition. | New York: Bantam Books, [2019] | Includes

  bibliographical references and index.

  Identifiers: LCCN 2018061011 (print) | LCCN 2019000441 (ebook) | ISBN

  9780425287194 (Ebook) | ISBN 9780425287187 (hardcover: alk. paper)

  Subjects: LCSH: Women cat owners—Fiction. | Cats—Fiction. | Women

  detectives—Virginia—Fiction. | Murphy, Mrs. (Fictitious

  character)—Fiction. | Haristeen, Harry (Fictitious character)—Fiction. |

  GSAFD: Mystery fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3552.R698 (ebook) | LCC PS3552.R698 W49 2019 (print) |

  DDC 813/.54—dc23

  LC record available at lccn.loc.gov/​2018061011

  Ebook ISBN 9780425287194

  randomhousebooks.com

  Book design by Diane Hobbing, adapted for ebook

  Cover design: Victoria Allen

  Cover illustrations and hand lettering: Sara Mulvanny

  v5.4

  ep

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  The Cast of Characters

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Dedication

  The National Beagle Club

  Acknowledgments

  Other Titles

  About the Authors

  THE CAST OF CHARACTERS

  THE PRESENT

  Mary Minor Haristeen, “Harry”—She’s loyal, logical, loves her husband, her animals, her friends. She farms on her old family farm. Her weakness is her curiosity. Her husband is Pharamond Haristeen, DVM, “Fair,” an equine vet specializing in reproduction. More sensitive than Harry, he provides ballast.

  Susan Tucker—She’s known Harry all her life; they are now forty-two. She tries to keep Harry out of trouble, rarely succeeding. Ned Tucker, her husband, is a first-time representative to the Virginia House of Delegates. Susan’s grandfather was a former governor of the state, who owned Big Rawly Estate.

  The Very Reverend Herbert Jones—As the pastor of St. Luke’s Church, he knows his flock and is a central part of the community. Widowed, he has three Lutheran cats: Lucy Fur, Cazenovia, and Elocution.

  Arlene Billeaud—Master of Blastoff Beagles, she was wounded in the Middle East while in the Army. She has a prosthetic leg and moves around easily. This year she is in charge of the Hounds F4R Heroes fundraiser for veterans held at the Institute at Aldie, Virginia.

  Jason Holzknect—Retired from the foreign service where he built a fine career in communications, he is Master of Chesapeake Beagles. He’s made bundles of money through his car dealership.

  Clare Lazo Holzknect—Joint Master with her husband, she was a Navy captain, having met Jason overseas.

  THE EIGHTEENTH CENTURY

  CLOVERFIELDS

  Catherine Schuyler—Highly intelligent, she assists her father in his business. Her passion is breeding and training horses. Impossibly beautiful, she is married to Major John Schuyler, a hero of the Revolutionary War. It is a good marriage.

  Rachel West—A warmer personality than her older sister, by two years, the twenty-year-old Rachel is married to a former POW, a British captain, captured by Catherine’s husband at the Battle of Saratoga. Both are involved in building St. Luke’s Lutheran Church, which Charles designed, thereby finding his passion apart from his wonderful wife.

  Ewing Garth—The owner of Cloverfields, the father of the above sisters, he is a sound businessman. He pays attention to the economy, nascent, as well as Europe’s. He is a warm, kind man who greatly misses his deceased wife.

  Maureen Selisse Holloway—Rich beyond imagination, she owns Big Rawly, still in the Holloway family today. Susan Tucker’s maiden name is Holloway. Maureen’s younger second husband, Jeffrey Holloway, not well born, works with his hands and is divinely handsome, which overcomes the above. Maureen has a sharp business sense, is farsighted, and can be brutal and ruthless when she needs to be.

  Yancy Grant—Infuriated more than anyone by the above hasty marriage, he hates Jeffrey. Being challenged to a duel by Jeffrey wounded both men, yet a respect resulted from this.

  THE SLAVES: CLOVERFIELDS

  Bettina—A cook of magical abilities, she is also head slave woman on the estate. When Ewing’s wife was dying, Bettina nursed her and stayed with her. When Isabelle died, Bettina promised her mistress she would take care of Catherine and Rachel. She kept her promise.

  Jeddie Rice—With good hands and a light seat, he has a sure touch with horses and soaks up everything Catherine teaches him. At nineteen he’s a man but evidences no interest in anything but the horses. He is ambitious without being obnoxious, for a horseman can rise in the world, slave or free.

  Ralston—Seethes with competitive anger at Jeddie. He’s not a bad hand with the horses, but he lacks Jeddie’s marvelous gifts. At sixteen he thinks he knows everything. He has discovered women and is making a mess of it.

  Tulli—He might be eleven but he looks about nine. Such a sweet little fellow, he works at the stables and tries very hard.

  Barker O—Runs the stables, drives the horses, is splendid on the seat of the carriages. He enjoys a big reputation among horsemen, much deserved.

  Roger—Being butler, his is a powerful position. He mus
t know most of the people who call on Ewing, as well as how to treat them according to their station. He’s a good, reticent man.

  Weymouth—Roger’s son, in his twenties. He does a good job but he lacks his father’s drive.

  Bumbee—She’s in charge of the weaving, buying yarns and fabrics. She’s an artist, truly, and the ladies who work with her do as they are told.

  THE SLAVES: BIG RAWLY

  DoRe—Runs the stables, is Barker O’s counterpart. As Jeffrey Holloway now builds sumptuous carriages, DoRe shows them off to buyers. He has been courting Bettina.

  Elizabetta—As Maureen’s replacement lady’s maid since Sheba vanished with a fortune in pearls set amidst diamonds, hers is a nonstop position. She’s lazy when Maureen is away. She’s a decent sort.

  William—Worked in the stables but escaped Big Rawly riding a neighbor’s blooded horse. He has sneaked back, foolish, but he’s come to steal more things and he’s come for Sulli.

  Sulli—Pretty, in her teens, she believes she and William can run away together and live happily ever after. Not only will they be free; they will be free and rich. She thinks she’s in love.

  THE ANIMALS

  Mrs. Murphy—Harry’s tiger cat, who often evidences more brains than her human.

  Pewter—A fat gray cat with an inflated opinion of herself. She believes the world began when she entered it.

  Tee Tucker—An intrepid corgi bred years ago by Susan Tucker, the sensible dog watches out for Harry and endures Pewter.

  Pirate—A half-grown Irish wolfhound who came to Harry and Fair when his owner died. He is very sweet and learning the ropes from Tucker. Rule One: Never believe anything Pewter says.

  Tomahawk—Harry’s retired gray Thoroughbred.

  Shortro—A gift from Joan Hamilton of Kalarama Farm, this young Saddlebred is adjusting to hunt seat. He’s smart.

  Ruffy—A beagle ghost living at the Institute.

  THE EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY ANIMALS

  Piglet—The corgi that started the corgi line still at Big Rawly. He endured the war and captivity with Charles West.

  Reynaldo—A blooded horse, terrific conformation and fast. He’s young, full of fire.

  Crown Prince—The above’s half brother, calmer.

  Black Knight—Thoroughbred stolen by William, he has come to Cloverfields, where he has been restored to health and happiness.

  Chief—A bombproof horse who takes care of Ewing Garth.

  Sweet Potato—A saucy pony for the children.

  1

  April 5, 2018

  Thursday

  “Did you kill anybody?” Harry asked as the firelight flickered on her face.

  “Do you think I’m going to answer that question?” Arlene Billeaud laughed at her.

  Harry Haristeen, her best friend, Susan Tucker, Arlene Billeaud, Jason Holzknect, and his wife, Clare Lazo Holzknect, sat by the fireplace in the large stone building known as the Institute in Aldie, Virginia. Built in the 1850s as the Loudoun Agricultural and Chemical Institute, it had weathered many a storm. In 1855 an advertisement claimed that courses would benefit the farmer, the merchant, the engineer, certainly a broad student base. But the panic of 1857, a damaging depression for so many, ended the Institute. Next came the war. Still it persevered, today being the home of the National Beagle Club of America.

  The people in the inviting room had come from Maryland and Virginia to clean up paths, move downed trees, and repair the kennels, as violent storms had swept through Loudoun County and much of Northern Virginia.

  They were there to prepare for the annual competition hosted by Hounds F4R Heroes at the end of the month. Anyone could enter two pairs of beagles—four hounds—to hunt, prizes being given to the top couples.

  The purpose, to raise money for veterans, drew many spectators and competitors. The funds were used to provide veterans with fishing and hunting events. This was done in other states as well and was growing nationally.

  The small group arrived early for tomorrow’s work. Others would drive in the next morning. Harry and Susan stayed in one of the cabins, the first ones built in 1917 when the Institute was just up and running. Other cabins were added later, tight, warm if you kept the fire going, with enough windows to let in the light. Harry’s two cats, Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, along with her two dogs, Tucker, a corgi, and Pirate, a half-grown Irish wolfhound, were back at the cabin. No dirty paws at the Institute.

  “Another drink?” Jason, tall, maybe mid-fifties, offered, pointing to the opened bottle of wine.

  “No thanks,” Harry, not a drinker, replied.

  “A smidge.” Susan raised her glass as did the other two women.

  Apart from the work they expected to face tomorrow, they talked about packs of hounds, both bassets and beagles; their hunting season, which had just ended; friends in common.

  “Oh, come on.” Harry tweaked Arlene. “We know you had a dangerous job before you retired.”

  “Not as dangerous as you might think. I was not an undercover agent.”

  Arlene had recently retired from the Central Intelligence Agency.

  “Rats.” Harry pretended to pout. “I want good stories.”

  “Well, this isn’t a good story, but my area was Russia, so I was responsible for absorbing and digesting information from that area.”

  “From undercover agents there?” Harry was fascinated.

  “I would never say we have agents there, but I can promise you we have their agents here.” Arlene smiled.

  Clare, a former Navy captain, sipped her white wine. “Not only does Russia have agents here but so do our allies. Everyone spies on everyone and yes, Harry, we, too, have agents everywhere. One must.”

  “The best way to look at this is that power is amoral.” Jason settled into his chair, having poured himself another glass of wine.

  “I know what you’re saying is true, but it drives me crazy,” Susan said. “All that money to sift through people’s computers, hacking this and hacking that. Following people, and I suppose killing some. Harry isn’t far wrong.”

  “So the question is if one must kill, say, a Nigerian undercover agent who is funneling American funds to a terrorist group, thousands are dying, is the murder justified?” Arlene asked a question back.

  “Well, if we aren’t being killed, no.” Harry was firm.

  “What about the terrorists, at least I think of them as terrorists, who kidnapped the girls in Nigeria? It doesn’t affect us, but you don’t kidnap hundreds of children.” Susan tried to think this out.

  “But sending operatives over there costs a lot of money, sending troops outright even more,” Jason said. “When I was in the diplomatic corps, depending on where I was assigned, we were always told and trained, ‘Hands off!’ ”

  Clare spoke again. “The theory is that every state has sovereign rights. They may treat their people quite differently than we treat ours, but we have no right to interfere in internal issues, no matter how repugnant. Hence agencies like the CIA, which does not necessarily interfere, but provides information to shape our foreign policy that a diplomat going through normal channels may not be able to provide.”

  “Jason, did you ever feel you were in a tight spot?” Harry’s curiosity kept her questioning.

  “Not physically. As you know, my longest posting was in Ankara, Turkey. I speak fluent Turkish, know the culture, and have a smattering of some languages of countries near Turkey. Enough to be able to read, say, a Russian headline. But Turkey’s geographic position guarantees it will forever be a trade and political crossroads. Any violence in surrounding countries, such as Greece—remember they’ve had riots—could spill over into Turkey.”

  “Greece would invade Turkey?” Harry was incredulous.

  “Not today.” Jason smiled. “But riots in Greece or in the Crimea, for inst
ance, might set off the disaffected in Turkey. Every nation has a pool of disaffected people who can take to the streets with or without much provocation. This includes us.”

  “Unfortunately, it does. Which is why Hounds for Heroes is important.” Arlene put her feet up on a hassock. “Those men and women, many of them, have seen service in miserable spots. But if you’ve worn our country’s uniform, you deserve some recognition. I’m thrilled we can provide sport.”

  Harry knew that Arlene had lost a leg in the Middle East. She had a good false limb masked by well-tailored slacks and socks. She’d served in the Army before being recruited, not a word that Arlene used, for the CIA. Her analytical skills and her IQ made her particularly valuable. Not that she wasn’t valuable in the Army, but while she was recuperating in a Veterans Hospital she was wooed. Turned out to be a wonderful job for her. She liked the Army but she loved the Agency. Then again, she was in no danger of losing her other leg in Washington.

  “I predict Ashland Bassets will win the basset day. Beagles, maybe Sandanona or Ben Venue.” Jason sounded authoritative.

  “Why aren’t we going to win?” His wife raised her eyebrows.

  “What do you think?” Jason asked Arlene.

  “Since I’m the director of the event for this year, I plead neutral. I’m hoping for good weather, whoever wins.”

  “Ashland Bassets, Waldingfield Beagles.” Harry gave her favorites.

  “Can’t do that, Harry. We know those hunts. Of course, we want them to win, but who knows?” Susan looked at her watch. “You know what, I’m turning in. We should be up and out at first light tomorrow, especially since we don’t know how much damage there is. We have five hundred and twelve acres to canvas.”