The Purrfect Murder Page 8

  “Could be,” Mrs. Murphy said.

  “You know as well as I do, Murph, that Harry will stick her nose in it. She can’t help herself. Curiosity didn’t kill the cat, it killed the human who made up the statement.” Pewter had always hated that axiom about curiosity.

  “Let’s not talk about killing. It’s such a beautiful night, I want to enjoy it,” Tucker pleaded.

  They inhaled the night’s sweet fragrance, enjoying one another’s company for five minutes.

  Flatface returned to the barn with a squirming mouse in her talons, which finally ruined the mood. Mrs. Murphy hoped it wasn’t a portent, but it was.

  11

  Why didn’t you tell me the other day!” Carla, hands on hips, spoke crossly to Mike McElvoy.

  “Because I didn’t check it out. Tazio and I focused on the kitchen.”

  “So now you’re telling me, let me get this right, egress—”

  He interrupted her, further infuriating her. “Forget the terminology; you need a door in the guest bedroom to the outside.”

  “Why? I’ve been in hundreds of houses, and there are no exterior doors from guest bedrooms.”

  “And I’ll guarantee you those houses were built before 2000. The county changed the code.” Mike, sleeves rolled up on his plaid shirt, shrugged.

  “What’s the point? To make more money for the construction crew? You aren’t getting any of it. The county’s not getting any of it.”

  “The point is in case of fire, whoever is in that room can get outside in a heartbeat. It’s not the flames that kill you, it’s smoke inhalation.” He paused dramatically. “What’s extra expense compared to a human life?”

  “Don’t try that on me.” Carla, lips glimmered with iridescent pink lipstick, stared at the wall of the guest bedroom. “Tazio should have known. I’ll skin her alive.”

  “That’s between you and Tazio, but if you want to come out to the truck, I can show you the code book. It’s formidable, and every time there’s a change, architects and construction bosses have to memorize it plus how it affects other things. I know you think I’m thick, Carla; you treat me like a redneck.” His directness surprised her. “But I’m not. I have every item in that book memorized, and furthermore, you’re not the only kid on the block. Every one of these jobs has to be cleared, and every single person, like yourself, is in a God-awful hurry.”

  “How dare you call me by my first name. I never gave you permission.” This said by someone who knew her etiquette even when she chose not to practice.

  “I’ll call you whatever I want.”

  “I’m going to report you to the county commissioners.”

  “Go right ahead. And when you do, remember that I will put your job last on the list. You won’t finish this house until next year.”

  “Are you threatening me?”

  “No, I’m promising you that I’ll drag this out forever.” He stretched the syllables in “forever.”

  “I’ll get you fired, you arrogant ass.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll get yourself an ulcer.”

  “I don’t have to put up with this.” She started to brush by him.

  Mike held out his arm like a barrier, then handed her a sheet of paper. “You might want to read this at your leisure. Just a few little things I’ve noticed that will need changes for you to get your certification.”

  “What would you do if I moved in before that?”

  “Throw the book at you.”

  Carla, entertaining a high opinion of her own intelligence, actually began to use it. “How much?”

  “How much what?”

  “Money. What do you want in order to check these things off the punch list?”

  “Are you trying to bribe a public official?” He pretended mock horror.

  “I’m trying to figure out why you’re being so difficult. If it isn’t money, do you want a suite of teak outdoor furniture?” Carla’s husband, Jurgen, owned a large outdoor-furniture manufacturing plant over in Waynesboro.

  “No, I don’t. Wouldn’t have the time to use it, anyway.”

  “What do you want?”

  “For you to study that list.” He walked past her to the hallway. “And you might reconsider how you treat this public official.”

  In the living room, the painting crew was putting the finishing touches on the woodwork. Not knowing whether they’d heard the conversation back in the guest room, Mike winked as he passed them.

  Orrie Eberhard, on a ladder, smiled. He didn’t like Mike, but he didn’t get in his way, either. Mike could hurt his business through rumor and innuendo. Orrie kept on the good side of him.

  Carla, puce-faced, came into the living room just as Mike pulled out in his county truck. “How long have you known Mike McElvoy?”

  Orrie carefully put his brush crossways on the open paint can. “Most of his life. We went through school together.”

  “Did he cheat?”

  “Ma’am?”

  “Did he cheat on tests and stuff like that?”

  “No, not that I know of.”

  “Do you think he’s honest?”

  Orrie ignored that question, since he didn’t want the reply to come back to him. “The thing you have to understand about Mike is, his father shamed the whole family. I mean, they were lower than earthworms. Mike has some power and he likes that. He’s kind of aggressive about it.”

  “What did his father do?”

  “Drank himself to death. Found him dead as a doornail on the swings at the elementary school.”

  “Therefore I shall assume that Mike doesn’t touch a drop.”

  “No, ma’am, he doesn’t.”

  “Any vices?”

  “Now, Mrs. Paulson, I haven’t made Mike a life’s study. I mean, we get along okay, but he goes his way and I go mine. Plus, I don’t want him criticizing my work, even though it has nothing to do with the building code.”

  “If it has lead paint in it, it does.”

  “Yes, ma’am, that’s true.” Orrie began to appreciate how quick she was.

  “Is his marriage strong?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She lifted an eyebrow, still looking up at him. “Everyone has an Achilles’ heel, Orrie, everyone.”

  “Well, Mrs. Paulson, for what it’s worth, I didn’t much like Mike in school and I don’t much like him now, but I get along to go along. Life’s a whole lot easier that way.”

  Carla gave him a tight smile and left. She had never learned to get along to go along, and she always felt there was something vaguely immoral about it or, if not immoral, weak-willed.

  Mike McElvoy wanted something. She was sure of that. Most people, if you hand them a fat envelope of cash, will take it. The question was how much. If he didn’t want cash, what did he want?

  She couldn’t bear more delays on this house or the expense they would entail. Jurgen would fuss.

  Carla had a sense, like many people, that there was a clear division of labor assigned by gender. Jurgen made the money. She spent it. She had to cajole him into it, but she used her arsenal of tricks to good effect.

  12

  I wish I’d never said I’d do this.” Tazio slumped down in the passenger seat of Susan’s Audi station wagon.

  “You really didn’t have a choice,” Susan consoled her.

  “Mim’s going to think I’m disloyal. And I don’t want to put pressure on Paul,” Tazio moaned.

  Paul de Silva, Tazio’s boyfriend, managed Big Mim’s stables. Tazio found him charming and irresistible. Fortunately, the feeling was mutual.

  Harry was half dozing in the backseat since the ride was so smooth, plus she was surrounded by the warmth of Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, Tucker, Owen—Tucker’s brother—and Brinkley, Tazio’s yellow lab.

  She opened one eye. “It was Big Mim’s idea.”

  “I know.” Tazio nodded. “But the way things are breaking, she might forget and take it out on me.”

  “She’s not like that. She can be
despotic, but she’s fair.” Susan had known Mim all her life.

  “Besides, she’s taking it out on Junior.” Marilyn Sanburne, Jr., was Little Mim’s correct name. “Junior” was a term loathed by Little Mim.

  “Got that right.” Susan checked her speedometer and slowed, for she was doing eighty on Route 29.

  “You don’t know how fast you’re going in this car.” Tazio liked the wagon. “Good thing you slowed. Look up on the curve.”

  There sat a cop car waiting to feast on speeders. It was quota time, although the local police, sheriff’s department, and state police would never, ever, admit they met a monthly quota. The state laws had been changed. Going fifteen miles an hour over the limit netted a Virginian a one-thousand-dollar fine. Out-of-state drivers could go as fast as they wanted but only pay the old lower fees determined by a judge. The results, predictably, were that troopers and cops went after the Virginians. If anything, the new law, in effect July 1, 2007, made the roads more dangerous.

  “Mmm, on the one hand, I’m glad they’re out here. On the other hand, I’m not,” Susan commented. “Given the way cars are built today, the speed limits are outdated and the new laws are beyond absurd. I’m waiting for the citizen revolt.”

  “Wait until you drive the autobahn.” Tazio had piloted a BMW M5 two years ago when visiting Germany.

  “That will be the day.” Harry sat up straight now. “Back to this Poplar Forest do. Big Mim suggested you to head the decorating committee—”

  Tazio interrupted. “Sure, so I could build the scaffolding. You know this fund-raiser is about as elaborate as a Louis the Fourteenth fete. Little did I know.”

  “At least the committee has gotten the materials donated. Can you imagine the cost otherwise?” Susan checked her rearview mirror.

  “Thirty-five thousand dollars.” Tazio’s voice was clipped.

  “What!” Harry grabbed the back of Tazio’s seat.

  “Thirty-five thousand dollars.”

  “Oh, my God.” Harry flopped back. “The fund-raiser won’t make that. Good thing the stuff is donated.”

  “Are you kidding? With Folly Steinhauser heading the committee, they’ve already received fifty thousand dollars in tables. She’s nabbed corporate sponsors for those. By the time individual contributions roll in—the silent auction plus the two live-auction items—this thing could very well clear two hundred thousand dollars.”

  “That’s big money for central Virginia fund-raising.” Susan was astounded. “You know we aren’t unfeeling, but Southerners are taught to take care of our own. What’s left over goes to people you don’t know. That’s why charities can’t raise as much here as they do in the Northeast.”

  “No one told Folly. I’d like to know how she vacuumed this cash out of pockets.” Tazio smiled. “Big Mim had no idea what she’d unleashed when she handed over this charity to Folly.”

  “She is overcommitted,” Harry replied.

  “Big Mim could run the country.” Susan laughed. “She thought she was adding new troops by allowing Folly the glory of spearheading the Poplar Forest fund-raiser and ball. Little did she know she gave her rival a plum.”

  “But she didn’t know Folly’s ambitions at the time.” Harry appreciated how intelligent Big Mim was, how subtle and political, too.

  “And there we have to give the nod to Folly. She shrewdly kept her ambitions under wraps. Even now she’s not saying anything. Her deeds speak for her. She’s become a power, one that isn’t going to bow before Her Highness,” Susan said.

  “Majesty,” Harry corrected.

  “For Great Britain,” Tazio replied. “Later wasn’t it ‘Your Imperial Majesty’?” She paused. “Let’s not get off on that. Here’s my problem. Every person that Folly placed on the steering committee is a new person and someone for whom I have designed a house.”

  “That’s why you had to take the decorating committee. Everyone knows that, Taz, especially Big Mim.” Harry petted Tucker, sound asleep, as was Pewter.

  “But Folly has invited Little Mim and Blair to join her at her table,” Tazio told them.

  “What!” Harry sat bolt upright again, which disturbed the two sleepers.

  “Bother.” Pewter dropped her head back on Tucker’s flank.

  “I wanted to see if I could hold my tongue until we were halfway to Poplar Forest.” Tazio smiled.

  “You succeeded,” Harry dryly commented.

  “Little Mim and Blair at Folly’s table”—Susan counted couples—“along with the Paulsons, the Steinhausers, obviously, the Lattimores, and who else?”

  “Elise Brennan,” Tazio added.

  “Who’s her date?”

  “Major Chris Huzcko.” Tazio cited a very attractive blond marine, who would dazzle in his “ball” uniform.

  “Are they an item?” Susan was curious.

  “I don’t know. At any rate, they’ll need a marine at the table if Big Mim launches artillery fire.” Tazio smiled.

  “Chris can handle it,” Harry said confidently. “And you know that Tracy Raz can handle it, too.”

  Tracy Raz, in his seventies, had seen combat in Korea. After his army career, he served in the CIA, and when he finally retired, he came home to Crozet and wooed his high-school sweetheart, Miranda Hogendobber. Both had married others and had lost their spouses. When Tracy returned from living in Hawaii, the embers reignited. For a man in his seventies, he was in better shape than many a forty-year-old, plus he was bull-strong.

  “I assume Miranda and Tracy will be near Big Mim and Jim’s table?” Harry said.

  “Yes, so we’ll have one tough army guy at one table and one rugged marine at another. Maybe the two men can keep the peace.” Tazio sighed. “Meanwhile, I’ve got Folly on one hand and Big Mim on the other. Of course, my loyalty is to Big Mim. After all, she gave me the commission to design her steeplechasers’ stable, and that was my ticket in, truly. I feel I owe her a great deal.”

  “In our own way, we all do. For all her ordering us about, she does a lot of good.” Susan slowed again as she noticed everyone else doing the same. “And if you’re really worried, go talk to her, Taz. She really will understand. She knows these people have been clients, are clients. She knows you have to make a living. Go talk to her before the ball. Don’t wait until something ugly happens, and remember that she didn’t know this challenge was coming.” Susan made a sensible suggestion.

  “I will.”

  “What about Little Mim’s statement this morning?” Harry had heard on the six o’clock morning news that the vice mayor of Crozet stated she would do everything she could to help the authorities find and prosecute Dr. Will Wylde’s killer. She said nothing about abortion, which meant her mother would not be satisfied.

  “Slight progress.” Susan noticed another cop car ahead.

  She didn’t mind cars slowing to the speed limit, but it irritated her when they crawled below the limit as though that made them a better driver in the cop’s eyes.

  “Wonder if they have made any progress.” Harry worried, as did they all. “Coop has worked day and night. She can’t tell me much, but I do know Rick had the presence of mind to demand patient records from Margaret Westlake. Margaret was worried, but Rick assured her the names of those who had abortions would be confidential. Kylie Kraft pitched a fit and fell in it.”

  Susan lifted her hand dismissively. “Kylie Kraft is an airhead. She goes through boyfriends like potato chips. She must be good as a nurse, though, or Will wouldn’t have hired her.”

  “She’s young and sympathetic. Most women having abortions are young. I can see why she’d be a valuable member of the team. Sophie Denham is a good nurse, but she’s in her fifties now.”

  They rode along in a brief silence.

  Tazio said, “I appreciate you two coming down here with me.”

  “A break in the routine, plus I’m dying to know what you’ve planned,” Susan said.

  “You’ll see.” Tazio smiled.

  “Are you all
building the platform and scaffolding at home, then transporting it?”

  “No,” Tazio replied to Harry. “There’s a local construction company that is donating their labor. Good thing, because it makes it easier on everyone. They’ll get business out of this.”

  “Good.” Harry thought if someone pitched in for a charity, those attending the function should employ their services if they liked what they saw.

  Once off 29, the long road from Lynchburg down to Poplar Forest was crammed with subdivisions.

  “I can’t believe this,” Susan cried.

  “When was the last time you drove down here?” Tazio inquired.

  “Must be two years ago,” Susan answered.

  “At least the developers have taken some pains with landscaping.” Harry peered out the window. “For some of them, anyway.”

  When they at last pulled into Poplar Forest, they let the animals out to go to the bathroom. Harry carried water and treats.

  “You all go ahead. I’ll attend to these guys and then I’ll join you.”

  “We’ll be outside in the back,” Tazio told her.

  “I want to go in the house.” Mrs. Murphy liked prowling in old houses.

  “We have to stay outside,” Tucker, usually obedient, replied.

  “Mom might need help with her plans,” Brinkley, even more obedient than Tucker, said.

  Pewter, drinking, couldn’t care less one way or the other. What she wanted were the dried fish and chicken treats she knew reposed in a Ziploc bag in Harry’s food tote.

  “Harry, Harry!” Susan ran toward them, a big smile on her face. “They got him!”

  “Who?”

  Susan, chest rising and falling, reached her friend. “The man who shot Will Wylde. Robert Taney just told us. Was on the radio.” She caught her breath. “He confessed and made a big statement. Walked right in to the station and turned himself in.”

  Robert Taney was the director of Poplar Forest.

  “I can’t stand that we let people run their mouths when they’ve killed someone. We make celebrities out of them.” Harry’s eyes narrowed.

  “That’s so, but we can all rest easy now.” Susan put her hand on her chest.

  “I wouldn’t.” Mrs. Murphy flicked water droplets from her whiskers.