Catch as Cat Can Read online

  “Are you condoning drugs?” Mim was incredulous.

  “No. But aren't we hypocritical? One drug, alcohol, is legal. Either legalize them all or ban them all. That's how I see it, and it would make my job a great deal easier.”

  “I'll have to think about that. In the meantime I'd better find someone to take Sean home. And I'd better release the guests from the garden. This will put a crimp in my dance tonight.” She said this without rancor but more in the spirit of how life throws curveballs to everyone from time to time.

  “I'll tote Sean home,” Cynthia offered.

  “Thank you.”

  As Big Mim headed for the garden, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker emerged, breaking their silence.

  Pewter crossly complained, “You didn't wake me up in time. Lottie Pearson's shrieking woke me up. You saw the whole thing!” Mrs. Murphy had told her what happened.

  Mrs. Murphy padded over, not focusing on the spilt raw sugar, a small amount, that had fallen into the cracks on the floor. “How was I to know he'd just died? I didn't know until he flopped on the floor. As it was I did come get you two.”

  Tucker blinked. “He just keeled over?”

  “Here today, gone tomorrow.” Pewter giggled.

  “Diana thinks the cocaine did him in. Humans lower their voices but it's so easy for us to hear.” Mrs. Murphy ignored Pewter's merriment. “I never smelled cocaine on Roger, though.”

  “Easy to determine. Bitter. They sweat it out.” Tucker wrinkled her nose.

  “Pope Rat would know.” Pewter mentioned the rat in Roger's shop. “He lived with Roger . . . not that Roger knew.”

  “It really doesn't matter.” Tucker watched Sean being helped to his feet by Fair Haristeen and Reverend Jones. “He's done for and that's the end of it.”

  But it wasn't, of course.

  11

  Bumblebees buzzed around the wisteria, their fat bodies a triumph over physics and logic. Yet there they were, a squadron of them, their black and yellow bodies purposefully darting here and there in the late afternoon sun.

  Harry and Susan sat out on the lawn. Mim's dance for charity would be in two hours. Both women were bemoaning the occasion. Mim had little choice but to go forward since it was a fund-raiser. Then, too, it wasn't a death in her family. No one expected her to cancel.

  “We have to do it,” Susan said.

  “I know. We do. Everyone will be there but it's going to be leaden. And you know how Big Mim gets if a fund-raiser doesn't take off.”

  “She'll be sensible about this party. After all, no one can control these things.” Susan plucked out the mint leaf from her tea and chewed it. “Love mint. You have the best mint patch.”

  “I grew those mint plants on the windowsill. It will be another month before my herb garden does much.” She shielded her eyes to watch her three horses in the meadow. She'd turned them out in the larger pasture.

  “It was kind of awful that Little Mim pulled Roger off the chair.” Susan lowered her eyes, which produced a giggle from Harry. “Harry, you're horrible.”

  “Well—it was funny. Who said death couldn't be funny? Not that I wished him dead,” Harry hastily added. “After all, he showed me how to run the wrecker's ball and he could be fun when he wasn't—you know what I mean. If he could have seen his death he'd have a sense of humor about it. Really.”

  “You're terrible.”

  “No, I'm not. I'm honest. Lottie Pearson screaming her silly head off just added to it, you know. And I'll give BoomBoom credit.” She smiled knowingly at Susan. “She hauled Lottie's silly ass out of the room. If Lottie had screamed any louder, she would have shattered the crystal.”

  Susan considered this as Mrs. Murphy rolled over in the freshly cut grass. “Murphy, what a lovely tummy.”

  “Mine's better.” Pewter rolled over, too.

  “Fatter.”

  “Better.” Mrs. Murphy closed her eyes.

  “Mine's whiter.” Tucker rolled over as well.

  “Would you look at that. Three spoiled children. Oh, to be one of my animals.” Harry smiled. “What a life.”

  “No bills. No taxes. No stress. No unrealistic expectations about the future. They live in the moment.” Susan sighed. “I'd be better off if I could be more like them.”

  “Me, too.” Harry shifted in her seat. “Miranda and Tracy said they'd take food over to Sean and then go on to Big Mim's. Think we should take food?”

  “Tomorrow. This is going to be hard on Ida O'Bannon. She hasn't fully recovered from her husband's death. I don't know if Sean can handle all this. Men usually aren't too good at these things.”

  “No.” Harry squinted as a bumblebee flew up to her, decided she wasn't a flower, then zoomed off. “Lottie Pearson's mad at BoomBoom.” She didn't need to explain since Susan knew why. “But she let Boom lead her off. She wants something but I can't figure out what it is.”

  “Your mind is a grasshopper.”

  “I know. Always was. I didn't mean to change the subject, and I am sorry for Ida and Sean.”

  “Do you think Thomas Steinmetz is married?”

  “Now who's changing the subject?” Harry touched Susan's leg with her foot.

  Susan laughed. “Well, anyway, do you think he's married?”

  Harry shrugged. “I don't know. If he is, he's bold as brass coming down here and staying with Boom. Washington's not that far away. He strikes me as the bold type anyway.”

  “Honey, with the telephone, e-mail, and television, nothing is that far away. It's both wonderful and dreadful.”

  They sat in silence for a few moments as the killdeers called on the meadows, their high-pitched voices distinctive.

  “Did Roger have any enemies?”

  “Harry.” Susan's voice rose, filled with humor and a touch of censure. “You watch too much Mystery Theater.”

  Sheepishly, the slim woman replied, “It's good.”

  “Who would want to kill Roger O'Bannon? If he had any enemies it would be himself. He sat back there in his garage like a doodlebug in its hole. His socializing was at the stock-car races. I mean he was pleasant enough but you can't be covered in grease and expect someone like Lottie Pearson to fall for you.”

  “Lottie's a snob.”

  “So is half of Albemarle County.”

  “I guess.” Harry exhaled. “Anyway, it crossed my mind, that's all. Oh, did you notice the flying blue heron sculpture in Aunt Tally's garden?”

  “Yes.”

  “BoomBoom made it out of scraps. Kind of amazing.”

  “H-m-m.” Susan enjoyed another long sip. “Diego Aybar.” Given the length of her relationship with Harry, Susan didn't need a transition. She could hop around subjects as rapidly as Harry, although her concept of herself was as a logical, linear person.

  “Yes?”

  “You're smitten with him.”

  “You're soft as a grape.”

  “I suppose I'd have to be to be your best friend. Share a little, Harry, it's part of friendship, you know.”

  “Oh—he's handsome—”

  “Gorgeous.”

  “Okay, Susan, he's gorgeous.”

  “And charming.”

  “Yes, but you know he has a quality, a sweetness, really, I can't think of another word but sweetness. I wish American men would get over trying to be so, uh, manly and just be themselves, you know.”

  “Well, that was a little outburst,” Susan laughed, “for you, anyway.”

  “But Diego has”—she thought hard but couldn't find a substitute word—“sweetness.” She inhaled. “But I hardly know him.”

  “True.”

  “Do I detect something acidic in your voice?”

  “No, you don't actually. I'm only hoping that someday you'll fly. You'll let yourself go. Anyway, I don't believe in mistakes anymore.” Susan set her glass down hard enough to make the ice cubes collide.

  “Huh?”

  “Mistakes. There are no mistakes. No matter what you do, no matter how awful
it seems at the time, it's not a mistake because you needed to learn that lesson so—let go.”

  “I don't believe that.”

  “Harry, I knew you'd say that.”

  “Well, I don't. Murder is a mistake. You can't murder someone and then say you needed to learn that lesson. The lesson being, I suppose, that human life is valuable and no one has the right to take it except in self-defense, naturally.”

  “We aren't talking about murder.”

  “I'm carrying forward your theory about mistakes to its extreme conclusion.”

  “Thereby proving my point.” Susan threw her head back, peals of laughter filling the fragrant air. “You need to let go.”

  Harry sat quietly for a moment, considered Susan's thought, then smiled slowly. No need to reply.

  12

  Flaming torches lined the long, curving driveway to Dalmally, Mim Sanburne's estate. The pinpoints of red-orange against the twilight created the eerie sensation of going back in time. Cool night air arrived with the sunset. The temperature plunged to fifty-two degrees Fahrenheit and would probably wind up close to freezing.

  BoomBoom arrived shimmering in a raspberry chiffon evening gown, with a silver fox stole wrapped around her shoulders. Thomas would have cut the motor and leapt out of his Mercedes sports car to open the door for her, but Mim, leaving nothing to chance, had hired a valet parking service from Charlottesville. She demanded that no car jockey take the expensive cars for a joyride. The valet company signed a contract to that effect. Mim always made a point of marshaling staff before a party and reading them the law, the law of Virginia and Mim's law. Her Aunt Tally and her mother had taught her this.

  Not all the guests wallowed in riches. Tracy Raz drove Miranda in her Ford Falcon. People laughed, saying that Miranda would be buried in that car, which itself was over forty years old. Slimmed down, a smiling Miranda emerged from the car. She wore a red gown, almost medieval in style, which looked fabulous on her. She wasn't afraid to show off a bit, now that she had lost so much weight. As she passed along the receiving line, Big Mim, Little Mim, Jim, and Aunt Tally murmured to one another how youthful Miranda looked. Tracy, too, had lost some weight, scaling down to one hundred and seventy, what he had weighed when he made All-State from Crozet High.

  As Miranda and Susan had helped Harry make up and dress up, the young postmistress dazzled as she glided along the receiving line. A simple royal-blue sheath, with a plunging neckline made all the more daring by long sleeves, was perfect on her. Diego, in white tie at her shoulder, couldn't take his eyes off her.

  Nor could Fair Haristeen. Vowing to himself that he would win his ex-wife back before midsummer, he smiled, walked over, and made a point of engaging Diego in conversation.

  As they chatted, Lottie Pearson arrived with a subdued Donald Clatterbuck in tow. Uncomfortable in white tie, obviously rented at the last minute, Don smiled sheepishly as people recognized him, which took a moment. Don hadn't even dressed up for his high-school graduation. As Roger O'Bannon had been a buddy, Don was dumbfounded by the news of his death. He wasn't at all sure he should be at Big Mim's. Lottie threw a fit when he tried to back out so he reluctantly accompanied the forceful woman.

  Thomas bent over and breathed into BoomBoom's ear, “Americans must learn never to rent evening wear. Good clothes last your whole life.”

  “Provided you stay in shape, which you have,” she breathed right back into his ear, the color rising in his cheeks.

  “Ah, Diego.” Thomas waved him over. “I didn't see you come in.” He bowed low to Harry. “The beauty of Virginia's countryside is exceeded only by the beauty of her women.”

  Even BoomBoom, mouth slightly agape, blinked and said, “Mary Minor, if only your mother could see you now.”

  Harry laughed. “I'm not sure she'd believe it.” Noting Thomas's and Diego's puzzled expressions she hastily added, “Mother despaired of transforming me into a proper lady. She would have been happier with a daughter like BoomBoom.”

  “Harry, don't say that. Your mother loved you.”

  “Boom, she loved me but she would have rather gone shopping with you.”

  They laughed as Lottie Pearson, dragging Don, flounced by. Not able to resist Diego's handsome face, she stopped and made a point of introducing Don. The two Uruguayans made Don feel immediately at ease. They even pretended interest when Don held forth on the wonders of taxidermy. Lottie ignored him. He was occupied anyway. She wanted to corral Diego but had to settle for talking to him with Harry. She'd never thought much about Harry one way or the other but at that precise moment, Lottie loathed Harry Haristeen. Even the sidelong, knowing glances to Fair fell short of their intention. Fair did not pull Harry away from the dark handsome man nor did he make an effort to assist Lottie in her flirtations.

  “I know you all are wondering how I could come here tonight after Aunt Tally's but, well, I called Reverend Jones and he said I should follow my heart. After all, the O'Bannons aren't close friends and Roger, poor fellow, could be a pest. It's not like he was family and, well, people do die. What about all those football players who drop before they're forty?” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “And you know how Big Mim gets if you miss one of her parties.”

  “We know,” Harry and Fair said in unison, then blushed. The years together often meant their thoughts were similar.

  “Is Big Mim such a dragon?” Thomas's pleasant voice coated each word like honey. “She's so gracious.”

  “As long as you do things her way.” Lottie's lips formed a pout.

  Don, running his finger under his neckband, said with sense, “Ought not to criticize the hostess when you're enjoying her hospitality.”

  Thomas bowed his head slightly to Don. “A Virginia gentleman.”

  “Don?” Lottie said with surprise.

  Harry deflected the conversation, speaking directly to Don Clatterbuck. “How's my woodpecker?”

  “Frozen stiff.” He laughed.

  “Woodpecker?” Thomas inquired.

  “When I woke up a few days ago, I found, well, actually, my gray cat, Pewter, found a pileated woodpecker. One of those huge woodpeckers. Dead. She pretended it was her kill, which if you know Pewter is absurd, but I finally convinced her to give it to me. Made a beeline for Don. He's the best. You should see his work.” She paused and said, “Museum quality.”

  Don blushed as Lottie's eyes darted about. How would she ever extricate Diego from Harry? She wanted to ask him to accompany her to a huge alumni fund-raising dinner and dance, but he was glued to Harry. She believed Harry would look much less attractive if he could see her covered in grease as she repaired her ancient tractor. Harry was just too butch.

  “What's a peel—?” Diego smiled, groping for the next syllable.

  “Pileated woodpecker.” Fair Haristeen's deep voice finished the word. “The largest woodpecker in America, close to twenty inches. You've seen the Woody Woodpecker cartoons?”

  “Yes.” Diego laughed.

  “They're based on the pileated woodpecker, which has a brilliant red crest and red mustache as well as a distinctive loud call. Woody Woodpecker borrowed a bit of that, too.”

  “Can one see such a bird?” Thomas asked.

  “Actually, you can. They don't hide. And they fly in an odd manner.” Fair, as a vet, held the floor, which he liked. “They flap a few times, gaining speed rapidly, then fold their wings flat to their sides and zoom like a rocket. You'll hear them before you see them. They're noisy.”

  “Rapping into dead trees echoes in the woods. Fair's right. It's loud.” BoomBoom was glad they'd steered away from Roger O'Bannon's demise. She'd felt a bit detached about it as he moved in a different circle. But when Lottie brought up the subject of Roger, BoomBoom decided she was both stupid and vain.

  “They eat ants in the trees.” Harry smiled at the two visitors. “You fellows don't really want to know about woodpeckers, do you?”

  “I do. I'm an amateur naturalist. North America has many unusual
animals.”

  Jim Sanburne strode by, clapping Fair on the back. “Going coon hunting tomorrow? Jack Ragland's bringing out Red Cloud.”

  “Red Cloud?” Diego was thoroughly enjoying himself, as this really was different from Embassy Row.

  “Fabulous hound, brother, fabulous hound. Won about everything there is to win in this country in hunt trials.” Jim's voice carried over the room.

  “Like foxhunting?” Diego asked curiously.

  “Oh, you don't want to go coon hunting. It's so country.” Lottie rolled her eyes.

  Jim Sanburne cleared his throat. “Music.” The one word explained coon hunting to the locals. Jim loved the sound of the hounds, those deep, high, and middling voices. It was music.

  Lottie grimaced. “You can break your ankle running around in the dark.”

  “That's what flashlights are for.” Harry found Lottie as welcome as prickly heat.

  “Women coon hunt?” Thomas wondered.

  “Yes. Anyone can go so long as the hound owners invite them. It's not like foxhunting where an engraved card is sent out. You know?” Thomas nodded that he was familiar with foxhunting so Harry continued. “People can hunt one hound or two, called a brace. They can even hunt coon with a pack, it's up to the hunter or hunters. They'll often run their hounds together so the sound is better and oh, how the sound carries at night. It will make the hair stand up on the back of your neck.”

  “What happens when you find the raccoon?” Diego thought he'd like to see this unique Southern practice.

  “Coon climbs up a tree, sits there, and looks at you. You can shoot him down or leave him be. I leave the coon alone so I have the pleasure of his or her acquaintance another time.” Jim folded his arms across his chest, then added, “Never sporting to kill a female, especially in spring. She might have babies back home.”

  “Ah, yes.” Diego smiled.

  “Does one have to pay to participate?” Thomas wanted to go.