The Tail of the Tip-Off Page 4

  “Susan Tucker.”

  “See, I’ve solved a literary mystery.”

  “Now back to the real mystery. Why did H.H. leave Anne?”

  “That.” A long pause followed. “He was having yet another affair.”

  “Ah, I am sorry to hear that. Did she say who or did Little Mim?”

  “No, but I have a feeling it’s not one of his usual casual romps.”

  “Ugh.”

  As Harry and Susan had been friends since infancy they could speak to one another in shorthand and often they didn’t need to speak at all.

  “You got that right. Once the tears have wrung you dry, anger sweeps in like the north wind. Let’s hope he comes to his senses. Everybody feels temptation. You wouldn’t be human, right?”

  “Yes,” Harry reluctantly agreed.

  “Victory means you turn away from it. God, I sound like my father. But it is true. And H.H. has a lovely, sweet twelve-year-old daughter to consider. That’s such a great age, too.”

  “You don’t think it could be BoomBoom, do you?”

  “Harry, every time someone has an affair in this town it isn’t with BoomBoom.”

  “You’re right. Half the town is female.”

  “Oh pulease. Will you get over it?”

  A long silence followed.

  Finally Harry muttered, “I am. Almost. I am.”

  “Good. I love you like beans, Harry, like my second skin, but this has gone on long enough. I don’t want my best friend to turn into some embittered woman, and besides, it was a relationship that didn’t really go anywhere. He’s paid his dues.”

  “I guess we all have and I know it’s snippy to say something like that about BoomBoom but she’s so, uh, sultry. Men just eat that up. If I live to be one hundred and ten I will never figure out why they go after women who are so obvious. Is there another word? I’d like to think some of them are attracted to sophistication.”

  “Some are. They made Grace Kelly a star.”

  “Women made Grace Kelly a star.”

  “Harry, you are being argumentative. Very few actors become megastars unless they appeal to both sexes.”

  “You’re right. Okay then, Smart One, Sage of Crozet, who is today’s Grace Kelly?” A hint of triumph crept into Harry’s pleasant speaking voice, once heard never forgotten.

  “Well, how about Gwyneth Paltrow? Cate Blanchett?”

  “You know, they are impressive but it’s not fair to compare someone to a vanished goddess or even a living one like Sophia Loren.”

  “And now back to something you just said, that half the town is female. You recall that?”

  “Yes.”

  “How do you know some women aren’t lusting after BoomBoom?”

  “I don’t.” Harry laughed. “But she’s not lusting back. Oh, I would love it, I mean love it in capital letters if BoomBoom were a lesbian. What a blessed relief.” She thought a moment. “Hey, I usually don’t think of that, you know, someone being gay, but what if H.H. left Anne for a man? He’s always fooling around. Maybe it’s a cover-up or a way to run away from his true orientation. You think?”

  “Not likely.”

  “Yeah, but it would be juicy. Heterosexual scandal is a little trite. I mean, there’s so much of it.”

  “You kill me. Anyway, if H.H. were gay, we’d know. You can always tell with men. It’s a lot easier than with women. Some women.”

  “True, but who? Not gay, I mean who is he sleeping with?”

  “Who knows? It’s not like he doesn’t meet a lot of women. Many of his clients are good-looking, often married, since he’s usually building houses. ’Course now he’s switched to large commercial projects.”

  “He hopes to switch to large commercial projects. He’s not in Matthew Crickenberger’s class,” Harry commented.

  “In time, he could be.”

  “True. You’re saying he meets bank officers and corporate types. I’m sure many of them are good-looking women. Have you ever noticed how many successful people are good-looking?”

  “I have. They may not be drop-dead gorgeous but they make the most of what they have. That bespeaks intelligence. You really can’t succeed if you don’t look good.”

  “I’m sure there’s some animal reason for it.”

  “Is she going to say something about us?” Pewter wondered.

  “Don’t know.” Mrs. Murphy listened to the conversation although it was hard to hear Susan.

  The animals wished Harry would buy a modern phone system with a speaker switch. Reconstructing the other half of a conversation called for kitty creativity and logic.

  Harry felt sorry for Anne. “If there’s anything I can do, let me know. I mean, you’ll know before I do. It’s such a terrible feeling, that moment when you find out.”

  “The wonder of it is that Anne didn’t know before now.”

  “People don’t know what they don’t want to know,” Harry said.

  “Maybe I’m blind.” Susan’s voice faltered a moment.

  “Not Ned. He’s true blue.” Harry’s brightened. “I have some idea what Anne’s going through, although it was a little different for me. Fair said he had to ‘find’ himself. Where do people get these dreadful phrases? Anyway, he found himself BoomBoom. But you know, I think he fooled around before. It’s so easy for an equine vet to do it, you know? All those wonderful farm calls. But it’s water over the dam.” She paused. “Did Anne catch him red-handed?”

  “I don’t know. If I find out anything more, I will call. Little Mim said that Anne and Cameron would spend the night at her place. It’s not a good night to drive anyway. Might not be a good morning to come in to work. Well, Miranda can open the P.O. for you.”

  “I can get in.”

  “We’ll see, but don’t be a hero.”

  “All right. Thanks for telling me. If I don’t see you tomorrow I’ll see you at the game Friday night,” Harry added. “Wonder if the Donaldsons will be there. That little Cameron loves basketball.”

  “If all else fails, I’ll take Anne and Cameron,” Susan said with authority.

  “Good idea. ’Bye.”

  Harry hung up the phone. Through her kitchen window, she saw the big owl that lived in the barn fly in the cupola, a flutter of wings in the snowy darkness, just enough motion to catch her eye.

  The phone rang again.

  Thinking it was Susan with a callback, Harry picked up. “Yes, boss.”

  “I like that.”

  “Herb, sorry, I thought it was Susan.”

  “Just me.”

  “Just you is very fine. What can I do for you?”

  “Given the weather I’ve canceled the meeting tomorrow but I managed to contact everyone by phone and get a voice vote.”

  “Clever.”

  He paused a moment. “Well?”

  “I’m on your team.”

  “It certainly saves time, doesn’t it? You sit there in those meetings and hear who shot John.” Herb used the Southern expression that means everyone gives their opinion whether relevant or not. In fact, one person can hold conflicting opinions all by himself—not that that ever stopped anyone from giving them out. “Here it is. Everyone, even Tazio Chappars, has come around to putting down carpet over all the needed areas.”

  “How did you do that?”

  “Matthew Crickenberger said he’d pay for it through his company, using his construction discount, and we could pay it back over two years with no interest. You know, he does a lot for the community. Except for his foreman, I think most of his workers are illiterate. He’s giving them good salaries, a chance to learn. I’ll say an extra prayer for him.”

  “I will, too.” Harry paused. “This has nothing to do with the carpet but I just heard that H. H. Donaldson left Anne.”

  Herb didn’t immediately reply. “I’d hoped it wouldn’t come to that.”

  “The Donaldsons are Episcopalians.” Harry wondered how Herb knew anything concerning their marriage.

  “True
enough.”

  “You sure have good resources.”

  “Reverends have our own pipeline, missy.” Herb sighed.

  “Guess you do. Maybe H.H. will wake up.”

  “Yes. Speaking of which, I am very glad to see you and BoomBoom working together. Forgiveness is at the center of Christ’s message.”

  “I don’t deserve much credit. I’ve dragged it out long enough and you’re the second person to push me today. Susan was the first.”

  “She’s a true friend. There are people who go through this life without true friends. That must be hell. Real hell.”

  “Yes.”

  “All right, that’s my sermon for the day.” He laughed.

  “You forget, I get them on a daily basis from Miranda.”

  “Oh my, Miranda, now, what a Lutheran she would have made.” He chuckled. “She’s another friend, and every time I see her with Tracy I have to smile. Life is full of miracles and love finds you when you least expect it. A kind of emotional roulette.” Herb lost his wife five years back to a heart attack.

  “Funny, isn’t it?”

  “Life?”

  “Yeah.”

  * * *

  5

  On Friday, Harry walked through the lawn at the University of Virginia, the snow covering the undulating quad between the Rotunda and the statue of blind Homer. Footprints crisscrossed the deep snow. Walking directly behind her, since it would be difficult for them to plow ahead, trudged Mrs. Murphy, a crabby Pewter, and a very happy Tucker.

  “I don’t need exercise.”

  “Pewter, you need a personal trainer.” Tucker poked her nose at the rotund gray kitty.

  “Whose idea was this?” Pewter ignored the comment.

  “Mine,” Mrs. Murphy replied. “How was I to know she’d want a twilight stroll? I thought she’d just take a little spin, then drive over to the Clam.”

  “What’s she care about UVA for? She graduated from Smith.” Pewter’s pads tingled from the cold.

  “Beauty. The lawn is one of the most beautiful spaces in North America,” Tucker rightly surmised.

  “In spring,” Pewter grumbled.

  “Ah, but the snow’s blue, the dome of the Rotunda is changing shades with the dying light. Smoke’s curling low from the chimneys. Could be 1840,” Tucker imagined.

  “A poetic pooch.” Mrs. Murphy stopped a moment and let the dog walk by her. She rubbed along Tucker’s side.

  Harry led them back to her truck, parked on the side of the road, never a good idea at the university, but her luck held. “In.”

  They needed no encouragement, quickly nestling in their blankets.

  Snowplows swept away enough of the accumulation so people could drive and park at the Clam. Best to go slow.

  Harry, arriving forty-five minutes early, parked close to the main entrance. She’d picked up a Cavalier Daily, the student newspaper, on her walk. She cut the lights but kept the motor running for heat. She thought she’d use some of the time to read and to try and organize her errands for the weekend.

  She opened the paper and saw a half-page ad from H. H. Donaldson that read, “Trash the Terrapins.” Tonight’s opponent was Maryland. Two pages later a quarter-page ad showing a turtle, hands up, surrendering to a Cavalier, sword at his throat, had been purchased by Matthew Crickenberger.

  Incidentally, or not so incidentally, an article ran in the paper about the bidding war for the sports complex, how and why, according to the writer, Crickenberger won the prize. In one word: experience.

  The other firms barely garnered a mention, but Donaldson versus Crickenberger held the reader’s interest. Harry thought she learned more from this article than from the terse report in Charlottesville’s The Daily Progress.

  Although she liked H.H., she had to agree with the writer that Matthew did have more experience with these massive, highly technical projects. Despite H.H.’s competitive bid, his lack of experience at this level would probably have run up the bill. Matthew prided himself on bringing in projects on time and on budget. A project like a new arena would take a year to build and in that year the price of materials could rise. He tried to fold that into the bid as well as weather delays. It didn’t hurt, either, that he’d helped to build the Clam originally, back when he was a grunt.

  Matthew believed a lowball bid to win the project would only bring misery to all parties if something went wrong. It usually did and time is money. Every delay costs. As a young man working for other people he’d seen men come to blows over escalating costs. He’d seen banks call in loans, ruining people.

  H.H., less prudent, relied on a bit of luck. Lady Luck did take a shine to him. This did not always endear him to others.

  Harry finished the paper just as Fair rapped on the window. She smiled, folded the paper, fluffed up the blankets for the “kids,” then cut the motor.

  “Hey.” She hugged him as she stepped outside. “I’m surprised so many people showed up.”

  “UVA b-ball.” He smiled as he appreciated the dedicated fans.

  As they headed toward the main entrance, tickets in hand, friends and neighbors also streamed toward the glass doors. Miranda, wrapped in a long fuchsia alpaca coat, stood out against the snow. They caught up with her.

  Little Mim and Blair waved as did Big Mim and Jim. The Crickenbergers were there in force. Herb was there with Charlotte, the church secretary, her teenage son in tow.

  Tracy was waiting at the doors for Miranda. Fred Forrest brushed by him without a word. In fact, he wasn’t talking to anyone. He didn’t even acknowledge his assistant, Mychelle, out that night with a bunch of girlfriends. He pushed through the crowd making one student bump into the wall fire extinguisher. “In Case of Fire: Break Glass.” The student, irritated, pretended to rap the back of Fred’s head with the small hammer on a chain. Fred, oblivious, kept pushing people out of his way.

  Harry noticed Tazio Chappars with a man she didn’t recognize. The architect didn’t seem especially interested in women’s basketball so Harry wondered why she was here. Perhaps to please the nice-looking fellow with her, or maybe the pressure had become too great and she decided to root for the home team along with everyone else.

  What surprised everyone was the sight of H.H. escorting his wife and daughter as though nothing had happened. When everyone took their seats, Little Mim glanced down at Susan as if to say, “I’ll tell you later.”

  Susan, of course, leaned down immediately to relay this to Harry. BoomBoom rushed in late and Harry remembered that Fair said he’d take them both out after the game.

  “Oh well,” she thought to herself. “Maybe I’ll learn something.”

  The usual array of Virginia baseball caps, pennants, and Styrofoam swords were in evidence along with coolers small enough to fit under the seats. They contained beer and stronger spirits and were certainly not encouraged by the school administration. But most folks didn’t bother with a cooler, they just slipped a flask in their pocket.

  The businessmen, Matthew in particular, handed out drinks. His cooler was jammed with goodies. People, usually buoyant at these contests, often remembered later. Business could be won through such small gestures.

  Fred Forrest, five rows behind Matthew, was out of the mix due to his location. After his behavior, he would have been out anyway.

  Tracy and Josef traveled around the Atlantic Coast Conference to officiate. Both men enjoyed just watching a game but also watching other men officiate. Refereeing was a thankless job, but no sport could really operate without unbiased officiating.

  The game, unlike the Clemson one, was rather tedious. Virginia dominated Maryland. At one point after a brief discussion with Andrew Argenbright, one of Coach Ryan’s assistants, the coach took most of her first-string players off the court and put in underclassmen. Experience gained on the court during battle is worth a great deal to an emerging player.

  At one point, sophomore Latitia Hall, sister of senior center Mandy Hall, and hopefully a future star, lobbed o
ne from the middle of the court in a perfect arc which dropped through the rim, barely shaking the net.

  The crowd stood up and cheered. People blew their noisemakers, waved their Styrofoam swords, their blue and orange pennants. Harry felt a cold breeze whizz near her left ear. She turned around to see who blew a noisemaker close to her, but everyone behind her was hollering or puffing on noisemakers.