Pawing Through the Past (7 page)

“In anger?”

“Probably,” she replied honestly.

“He sexually baited you.”

“He’d been doing that since high school.”

“You snapped.”

“Nope.” Harry folded her arms across her chest.

Cynthia exhaled through her nostrils. “Rick will insist on keeping you an active suspect until better shows up. You know how he is. So don’t leave the state. If an emergency should arise and you need to leave Virginia, call me.”

“I’m not leaving. Now I’m insulted. If you don’t find the killer, I will.”

“What I’d advise you to do, Harry, is watch your mouth. That’s why we’re sitting in my squad car on a hot August day.”

“I suppose BoomBoom couldn’t wait to tell how I lost my temper.”

“Let’s just say she performed her civic duty.”

“That bitch.”

“Yes, well, if that bitch winds up dead you are in trouble.”

“Coop, I didn’t kill Charlie Ashcraft.”

Relenting, dropping her professional demeanor, Cynthia replied, “I know—but shut up. Really.”

Harry smoothed the folded potato chip bags on her thigh. “I will. I don’t know what’s come over me. It’s like I just don’t give a damn anymore.” She stared out the window. “You think it’s this reunion? I’m getting stirred up?”

“I don’t know. Your high-school class seems, well, volatile.” She paused. “One more question.”

“Sure.”

“Do
you
think this murder has anything to do with your high-school reunion?”

“Nah. How could it?”

10

“Have you ever seen anything like it?”
Tucker inquired of Mrs. Murphy and Pewter as the animals watched Harry fall in love with her new truck.

“She’s read the manual twice, she’s crawled under the truck, and now she’s identifying and playing with every single part she can reach in the engine. Humans are extremely peculiar. All this attention to a hunk of metal,”
Pewter said.

A little breeze kicked up a wind devil in front of the barn door where the animals crouched in the shade. Harry worked in the fading sunlight.

“It’s a perfect red.”
Mrs. Murphy felt more people would notice her riding in a red truck than in any other color.
“Look who’s rolling down the road.”

They heard the tire crunch a half mile away, saw the dust and soon Blair Bainbridge’s 911 wide-body black turbo Porsche glided into view, a vastly different machine than the dually but each suited for its purpose.

Harry put down the grease gun she’d been using and wiped her hands on an old towel as Blair stopped. “Hey, had to see the new truck. I didn’t believe it when Little Mim told me, but when Big Mim said you truly had a new truck, one that could haul your trailer, I had to see it.”

“Big Mim is interested in my truck?” Harry smiled.

“The only topic of conversation hotter than your red truck is the end of Charlie Ashcraft. Everyone has a suspect and no one cares. Amazing.” He stretched his long legs, unfolding himself from the cockpit of the Porsche. “It seems like everyone knew Charlie but no one
really
knew him.”

“You could say that about a lot of people.”

“Yes, I guess you could,” he agreed.

She lingered over the big V-8 engine, admiring the cleanliness of it, touching the fuel injection ports, which meant she had to stand on an old wooden Coca-Cola box to lean down into the compact engine. “Blair, men talk. What are they saying?”

“Oh,” he waved his hand, “I’m not in the inner circle.” He took a breath.

“You know I value your judgment. You were born and bred here and, uh . . .” He stopped for a moment. “I find myself in a delicate situation.”

“Too many women, too little time.” Harry laughed.

He laughed, too. Harry relaxed him. “Not exactly, but close. Over the years we’ve become friends and I think I would have committed more blunders without you. I’m afraid I’m heading for a real cock-up, as the Brits say.”

“Little Mim.”

“Yes.” He glanced up at the sky. “See, it’s like this: women accuse men of being superficial over looks. Trust me. Women are equally as superficial.”

“You would know.” She smiled at the unbelievably handsome model.

Blair flew all over the world for photo shoots. The biggest names in men’s fashions wanted him.

“You’re not going to put up a fight? You’re not going to tell me men are worse than women?”

“Nope.” Harry jammed her hands in her back pockets. “Now tell me what’s going on.”

“Little Mim has a crush on me. Okay, I’ve dealt with crushes before and I like her. Don’t get me wrong. But over the weekend I was at a fund-raiser and, of course, the Sanburnes were there. Big Mim pulled me away from the crowd, took me down to the rathskeller, and closed the door.”

“This is getting serious,” Harry remarked. The rathskeller was a small stone room in the basement of the Farmington Country Club.

“She offered me cash if I would stay away from Marilyn. She said modeling was not a suitable profession for her son-in-law.”

“No!” Harry blurted out.

“I make a lot of money, but let’s just say my business is timesensitive. I’d be a liar if I said I’m immune to a big bribe. And I’ve had enough scrapes and breaks to my body to wake me up to that fact. My Teotan Partnership Investment is doing very well, though. But really, I was shocked that the old girl would try to buy me off.”

Through various twists and turns Blair wound up sole director of a corporation originally set up to sell water to Albemarle County. However, he’d begun bottling it and selling the mountain water—purified, of course—in specialty stores. This proved lucrative.

“You don’t need her money.” Harry thought to herself that it must be nice.

“No. But the Sanburnes control Crozet. If I spurn Little Mim, I’m cooked. If I ignore Big Mim’s wishes, I’m cooked.”

“M-m-m.” Harry removed her hands from her pockets and rubbed them together absentmindedly. “Do you like Marilyn?” She called Little Mim by her Christian name.

“Yes.”

“Love?”

“No. Not yet, if ever. That takes time for me.” He pursed his lips.

“Well, squire Little Mim around to local functions, spend some time with her and her family. Sometimes when you really get to know someone things look different. You look different, too.”

He paused and rephrased his thoughts. “If I’m up-front about getting to know her daughter, the family, Mim will take it better if I choose to spend my life with her daughter?” he questioned, then quietly added, “If the relationship should progress, I mean.”

“He is a Yankee.”
Mrs. Murphy laughed because Blair missed the subtlety of Harry’s suggestion.

“Because he’s only thinking of his feelings about Little Mim.”
Pewter had gotten a spot of grease on her paw, licked it, and spit.

“Go drink water,”
Tucker told her.

The gray cat scampered into the barn, standing on her hind legs to drink out of the water bucket in the wash stall.

“He’s missing the point, that this gives Little Mim and Big Mim plenty of time to assess him.”
Tucker stood up and shook.
“Mom’s betting on Little Mim getting the stars out of her eyes.”

“No. I think Mom is giving everyone a chance to draw closer or gracefully decline. If he walks away from Mim’s offer she’ll be furious. And if he took it he’d be held in contempt by her forever.”

“He’s in a fix. You don’t think Little Marilyn knows?”

“Tucker, it would kill her.”

“Yeah.”

Pewter mumbled back,
“Let’s drag that grease gun into the woods.”

“You’ll have even more grease on you.”

Pewter eyed the dog.
“I hate it when you’re smarter than I am.”

All three animals laughed.

“. . . no hurry,” Harry continued. “If you go slow and be honest, things will turn out for the best.”

“I knew you’d know the right thing to do.”

“And pay court to Big Mim even if she’s cold to you. She loves the attention.”

“Right.” He folded himself back into his car. “Glad you fi-nally got a new truck.”

“Me, too.”

He drove back down the driveway without fully realizing that now he really wanted Little Mim precisely because her mother refused him. Suddenly Little Mim was a challenge. She was desirable. People are funny that way.

As soon as he was out of sight, Harry raced for the phone in the tackroom.

“Susan.”

“What?”

“I was just thinking about how people say one thing and do another—sometimes on purpose and sometimes because they don’t know what they’re doing.”

“Yes . . .” Susan drew out the yes.

“Well, I was just talking to Blair about another matter but it made me think about people concealing their true intentions. Like Charlie’s behavior toward Marcy Wiggins at the shoot.”

“He didn’t pay much attention to her at the shoot.” Susan thought back.

“Exactly,” Harry said.

“H-m-m.” Susan thought it over.

“Let’s raise the flag and see who salutes.” Harry’s voice filled with excitement.

“What do you mean?” Susan wondered.

“Leave it to me.” Harry almost smacked her lips.

“She’s incorrigible.”
The tiger cat sighed.

11

By eight-thirty the next morning, they had all the mail sorted and popped in the mailboxes.

Harry and Mrs. Hogendobber felt wonderful. Their job was easier in the summer. The catalogue glut diminished—only to return like a bad penny in the fall. A rise in summer postcards couldn’t compete with the tidal wave of mail from Thanksgiving to Christmas.

Harry enjoyed reading postcards before sliding them in the boxes. Maine, an excellent place to be in mid-August, claimed four Crozetians. Nova Scotia, that exquisite appendage of Canada, had one. The rest of the postcards were from beach places, with the occasional glossy photo of a Notre Dame gargoyle from a student on vacation dutifully writing home to Mom and Dad.

Miranda had baked her specialty, orange-glazed cinnamon buns. The two women nibbled as they worked. Miranda swept the floor while Harry dusted down the backs of the metal mailboxes.

“Why do humans have flat faces?”
Pewter lazily inquired, made tired by this ceaseless productivity.

“Ran into a cosmic door.”
Mrs. Murphy cackled.

“If they had long faces it would throw them out of balance,”
Tucker said.

“What do you mean?”
Mrs. Murphy didn’t follow the canine line of reasoning.

“They’d be falling forward to keep up with their faces. Flat faces help them since they walk on two legs. Can’t have too much weight in front.”

“You know, Tucker, you amaze me,”
Mrs. Murphy admiringly purred as she strolled over from the back door.

Harry had put an animal door in the back door so the kids could come and go. Each time an animal entered or left, a little flap was heard. Mrs. Murphy was considering a stroll in Miranda’s garden. Insect patrol. She changed her mind to sit next to Tucker.

The front door opened. Susan came in carrying a tin of English tea. “Hey, girls, let’s try this.”

“Darjeeling?” Harry examined the lavender tin.

“Miranda, tea or coffee?”

“This is a tea day. I can’t drink but so much coffee when it’s hot unless it’s iced. Don’t know why.” She bent over to attack the dust pile with a black dustpan.

“Let me hold that, it’s easier.” Susan bent down with the pan as Miranda swept up.

“Have you made your morning calls?” Harry asked. Susan liked to get all her calls and chores done early.

“No, but Boom called bright and early, a switch for her. She wants to shoot the Best All-Round photo after Wittiest and I told her no. I need a month to lose seven pounds.”

“Susan, you look fine.”

“Easy for you to say.” Susan felt that Harry would never know the battle of the bulge, as both her parents were lean and food just wasn’t very important to her.

“She have a fit?”

“No, she asked again if I would help with Wittiest.”

“Will you help?”

“Yes.” Susan sighed. “What about you?”

“No!” Harry said this so loudly the animals flinched.

“One hour of your time,” Susan cajoled.

“BoomBoom wanted to be the chair of our reunion, let her do it. I’m doing my part.”

“Okay . . .” Susan’s voice trailed off, which meant she was merely tabling her agenda until a better time.

The front door opened, and a well-built man of average height stood there, the light behind him. He had thick, steel-gray hair, a square chin, broad shoulders. He opened wide his arms as he walked toward the counter.

“Cuddles!”

Miranda squinted, looking hard at the man, thrust aside the broom, and raced to flip up the divider. She embraced him. “Tracy Raz!”

“Gee, it’s good to see you.” He hugged her, then held her away for a moment, then hugged her again. “You look like the girl I left in high school.”

“What a fibber.” She beamed.

Mrs. Murphy looked at Pewter and Tucker as the tiger cat whispered,
“Cuddles?”

12

“How many of us are left?” Tracy reached over for another orange-glazed bun.

Harry, upon learning that Tracy Raz was a “lost” member of Mrs. Hogendobber’s high-school class, forced her to take the day off. Miranda huffed and puffed but finally succumbed. She took Tracy home, setting out a sumptuous breakfast—homemade buns and doughnuts, cereal with thick cream, and the best coffee in the state of Virginia.

“Forty-two out of fifty-six.” Miranda munched on a doughnut. “Korea accounted for two of us, Vietnam one—”

“Who was in Vietnam?”

“Xavier France. Career officer. Made full colonel, too. His helicopter was shot down near the Cambodia border.”

“Xavier France, he was the last kid I would have picked for a service career. What about the others?”

“The usual: car accidents, cancer—far too much of that, I’m afraid—heart attacks. Poor Asther Dandridge died young of diabetes. Still, Tracy, if you think about it, our class is in good shape.”

“You certainly are.”

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

“Gray hair and twenty more pounds.”

“Muscle.” And it was. “How did you hear about the reunion? We’d given up on ever finding you.”

“It was a funny thing.” His movements carried an athlete’s grace as he put the cup back on the saucer. “Naturally, I knew this was our fiftieth year. I hadn’t much interest in attending the other reunions and I’ll come to that later. I remembered that Kevin McKenna worked for Twentieth Century-Fox. I’d see his name in the papers. He’s director of marketing. Got to be worth a bundle. I called and got the usual runaround but I left a message with my phone number and damned if he didn’t call me back. He sent me a copy of the invitation. I was footloose and fancy-free so I came early. Thought you might need an old fullback to help you.”

“Where do you live?”

“Hawaii. The island of Kauai. After high school I enlisted, which you knew. Well, in our day, Miranda, you enlisted or you were drafted. I figured if I enlisted I’d get a better deal than if I let myself get drafted. Army. Got good training. I wound up in intelligence, of all the strange things, and once my tour was up I re-enlisted but I made them promise to put me through Ranger school. Now it’s Green Berets but then it was Rangers. They did. I stayed in for ten years. Left after being recruited by the CIA—”

“A spy?” Her kind eyes widened.

He waved his hand to dismiss the notion. “That’s TV stuff. I had a wonderful job. I was sent all over the world to see events firsthand. For instance, during the oil crisis in the seventies I was in Riyadh. Worst posting I ever had was Nigeria. But basically I was a troubleshooter. I’d be the first one in, scope the situation and report back. They could make of my data what they wished—everyone in Washington has his own agenda. My God, Miranda, bureaucracy will ruin this country. That’s my story. Retired and here I am.”

“Did you ever marry?”

He nodded. “A beautiful Japanese girl I met in Kobe in 1958. That’s when I bought a little land in Kauai. Li could get back to her family and I could get to the States.”

“I hope you’ll bring her to the reunion.”

He folded his hands. “She died two years ago. Lymphatic cancer. She fought hard.” He stopped to swallow. “Now I rattle around in our house like a dried pea in a big shell. The kids are grown. My daughter, Mandy, works for Rubicon Advertising in New York, John runs the Kubota dealership in Kauai, and Carl is a lawyer in Honolulu. They speak fluent Japanese. I can carry on a conversation but the kids are fluent, which makes them valuable these days. They’re all married with kids of their own.” He smiled. “I’m kind of lost really.” He slapped his thigh. “Here I am talking about myself. Tell me what happened to you.”

“I married George Hogendobber, he became the postmaster here, and we lived a quiet but joyful life. He died of a heart attack, nearly ten years ago. Sometimes it seems like yesterday.”

“I don’t remember George.”

“He moved here from Winchester.”

“Kids?”

“No. That blessing passed me by, although I feel as though Mary Minor Haristeen is a daughter. She’s the young woman you just met.”

“Miranda, you were the spark plug of our class. I’ve thought of you more than you’ll ever know, but I never sat down to write a letter. I’m a terrible letter writer. You’ll always be my high-school sweetheart. Those were good times.”

“Yes, they were,” she said simply.

“I wanted to see the world and I did. But here I am. Back home.”

“I feel as though I saw the world, too, Tracy. I suppose my world was within. I’ve drawn great strength from the Bible since George died. Harry calls me a religious nut.”

“Harry?”

“The girl in the post office.”

“Yes, of course. Minor. The people out on Yellow Mountain Road. He married a Hepworth.”

“Good memory. She’s their daughter. They’re gone now.”

“Whatever happened to Mim Conrad? Did she marry Larry Johnson?”

“No.” Miranda’s voice dropped as though Mim were in the next room. “Larry was four years older than we were. Remember, he was finishing college as she was finishing high school? Well, he did go to medical school. They dated and then the next thing I knew they weren’t dating anymore. He married someone else and she married Jim Sanburne.”

“That oaf?”

“The same.”

“Mim marrying Jim Sanburne. I can’t believe it.”

“He was big and handsome. He runs to fat now. But he’s a genial man once you get to know him.”

“I never tried. Larry still alive?”

“Yes, he practiced medicine here for decades. Still does, although he sold his practice to a young man, Hayden McIntire, with the provision that Larry’d work just one more year, get Hayden settled with the patients. That was several years ago. Still working, though. Hayden doesn’t seem to mind. Larry’s wife died years ago. He and Mim are friendly.”

“They were such a hot item.”

“You never know how the cookie will crumble.” She giggled a little.

“Guess not. Here I am. Miranda, it’s as though I never left. Oh, a few things are different, like that old-age home by the railroad underpass.”

“Careful. No one calls it that anymore, not since we’re getting so close ourselves. It’s assisted-care living.”

“Bull.”

“Well—yes.” She smiled. “The town is much the same. There are subdivisions. One on Route 240 called Deep Valley and one on the way to Miller School. There’s a brand-new grade school which cost the county a pretty penny. But pretty much Crozet is Crozet. Not beautiful. Not quaint. Just home.”

“Do you need help with the reunion?”

“What a delightful question.” She folded her hands together gleefully.

“That’s a yes, I take it.” He smiled. “Say, how does Mim look?”

“Fabulous. You know it’s her fiftieth reunion this year, too, at Madeira. She endured her second face-lift. She goes to the best and truthfully she does look fabulous. Slender as ever.”

“H-m-m.” He dusted his fingertips to rub off the sticky icing. “Jim Sanburne . . . I still can’t believe that. Is he good to her?”

“Now. For a long time he wasn’t and the further apart they drifted the haughtier she got. She was an embittered woman and then a miracle happened. I don’t know if you believe in miracles but I do. She was diagnosed with breast cancer. Larry broke the news. She had a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. Jim stopped running after women.”

“Stop drinking, too?”

“He did.”

“He’d put it away in high school, I remember that. Class of ’49. Good football player. I was glad I had a year after he graduated. Selfish. I wanted the attention.”

“You were All-State.”

“We had a good team for as small a school as we were.” He paused. “I closed up the house in Kauai. I’m looking to rent a house here, or rooms. Would you know of anything?”

“I don’t wish to pry but what would you be willing to pay?”

“A thousand a month for the right place.”

She thought long and hard. “For how long?”

“Well, until December first at least. Our reunion is Homecoming so I might as well stay a month after that.”

She smiled broadly. “I have an idea. Let me check it out first. Where are you staying now?”

“Farmington Country Club—pretty funny, isn’t it? The way I used to rail about that place being full of stupid snobs. Now I’m one of them—on a temporary basis, of course. And I heard a young fellow was murdered there—what? Two days ago?”

“Unlamented, I’m afraid. People are lining up to lay claim to the deed.” She stopped. “Not very charitable of me, but the truth is no one is very upset about the demise of Charlie Ashcraft. How about if I call you tonight, or tomorrow at the latest? I may have just the place.”

“Whose animals were those in the post office?”

“Oh, those are Harry’s. If they aren’t the smartest and cutest helpers.”

“I don’t remember you being that fond of animals.”

She blushed. “They converted me.”

He laughed. “Then they do have special powers.”