“Maybe. You underestimate Sheriff Shaw and Coop. They aren’t hick law enforcement people.”
“Maybe not, but it would have taken them so much longer. If nothing else, the tangle of laws would have slowed them down. It would have been a while before they could arrest me. And you have to admit my program is ingenious.” She shook her hand. “Tucker has strong jaws.”
“Next time I’ll bite your hand clean off,” the dog threatened.
“Why did you kill Paula?”
“She was meticulous, observant. She made notes about things that weren’t even her province, like the bodies coming in after car wrecks or whatever for organ harvests. She knew who was operating when. She knew who received an organ transplant. She knew when a liver was shipped out. Her interests exceeded the operating room. She noticed that Cory and sometimes Jennifer attended my autopsies and organ harvests. Cory almost always attended when I worked on a healthy, young person.
“Once we disagreed about an operating time—oh, from months back—and she showed me her notebook. She was right about the time. That’s when I realized she could be dangerous. Another one of those rigidly moral people who lose the forest for the trees.
“My mistake wasn’t so much in killing her. I would have easily gotten away with that except for you. It was miscalculating how much it would take to destroy her files. I overdid it at Pinnacle Records.”
“You set that fire?”
“Of course not. I paid a professional. Once you know where to look and who to call, you can get many services performed. I’d taken her computer, saw what was in there, and knew I had to destroy any backup. The damned Vitebsks, another principled pair, would never have let me into her file cabinet. And the security there was so tight I couldn’t get in. All I wanted was one lousy file cabinet.”
“Liquid nitrogen.” Harry lifted her eyebrows, which hurt, as the right one had been sliced by the thorns.
“We sent the harvested pituitary glands to an equine clinic in Lexington, Kentucky, where Cory had a friend who was a glamour vet, huge practice. Cylinders full of semen and liquid nitrogen come into the clinic every day. The vet knew how to harvest the human growth hormone from that. Vets can work on humans if they have to, and all he had to do was understand endocrinology, which he does. The lab there is fantastic. The HGH was distributed out of Lexington.”
“Where did you get a liquid nitrogen cylinder?” Harry inquired.
“Cory had the Lexington vet ship me one. And I really knew I had to be extremely watchful when one went missing from my car trunk. I rarely lock my trunk, just throw junk in there. I never found it.”
“Heavy Metal?”
Annalise shook her head. “Noddy didn’t know. Her competitive days just overlapped the beginning of human growth hormone in sports. She’s ignorant of anything I’ve done. I helped a few people there, but very quietly.”
“She’ll be devastated. A lot of people will.”
“I’m sorry for the ones I trained with, but I’m not sorry for what I’ve done, and I’d do it again. With HGH, I have helped people recapture their youth, grow muscle if they need it, strengthen their ligaments, and I believe sharpen mental function. HGH is a miracle our bodies produce themselves. When it begins to wane at about age twenty-five, that’s when the injuries pick up, aging truly begins.”
“Thadia figured out HGH, right?”
“Given her background, Thadia could spot any kind of evasion, cover-up. She did ultimately realize we were removing pituitary glands. She’d thought Cory was covering up our affair. That’s what started her snooping.” Harry’s eyes widened, and Annalise continued. “He was fun, but he had to go. Don’t think I would spare him or anybody. My work had to continue. Anyway, Thadia shadowed him. It was a matter of time before she’d run her mouth and create big problems. If he’d slept with her, pretended to be attracted, she would have been mollified. Apart from being unstable, she was silly. No man is worth that much effort.
“Paula was much smarter. She once asked me, ‘Why is Cory always there when you harvest organs and eyes?’ And I said he needs to see healthy bodies. She believed it for a while, but eventually her suspicions were aroused, too.”
“How did you kill her?”
“Injected her with potassium. Creates cardiac arrhythmia, quick death. Not a trace. Appears totally natural. Then all I had to do was, once she was dead, inject her with bee venom.”
“But how could you inject her? Why didn’t she fight you off?”
“I had a bottle of cyanocobalamin, B-twelve. When I stopped by to pick up brochures that other cancer benefits had printed. I’d asked to see them, to compare with ours. You all saw them at the meetings. I told Paula I’d give her a B-twelve shot, as she’d complained of being tired. She hated to give herself shots. I gave her a shot in her vein. It took her a second for reality to click in. She started to pull away, because B-twelve is put in the muscle, but I had half of the syringe in and quickly emptied the rest in her vein inside her elbow. Potassium works quickly. I’d made sure to really load her up. She was dead in fifteen seconds. She hadn’t time to struggle. It’s a swift death. The bee venom produced the bodily effects of anaphylactic shock. As she was literally only dead a second, it worked on her body. Then I put the dead hornet next to her.”
“Why did she trust you to give her a shot?”
“Why not? She never thought I’d want to kill her. Even if she thought I was up to something, she wouldn’t have considered herself in danger. Maybe a month or two later she would have.”
“Did you know she had a cylinder under her counter in a cartridge box?”
“No.” Annalise exhaled, hand throbbing now. “I was lucky, very lucky, she hadn’t put two and two together just yet. But people don’t think of pituitary glands.”
“How’d you get the potassium?”
Annalise laughed. “Harry, don’t be naïve. I’m a doctor. I can get anything, and potassium isn’t considered dangerous.”
“Oh, Annalise, how I wish you hadn’t killed those people.”
“You can’t give a damn about Thadia.”
“I didn’t like her, but I would hardly wish her throat slit.”
“Harry, she was a complete fool. One of those subjective people who sees everything through their emotional needs. An idiot. People ruled by their emotions always are.”
“That’s cruel.”
“Life is cruel. Consider how people who impede progress are removed. The natives who lived here got in our way. We killed them. Now, a century and more from that time, the dominant party, you and I, feel guilty about it. If we were alive in 1835, we’d feel differently. You can only go forward if you remove whatever obstacles are in the way of progress, be they obstacles of time and travel, geography, or people. Unfortunately, Paula, Thadia, and Cory became obstacles.”
“I don’t feel that way. How did you trap Thadia?”
“She called and said she’d tell people about my affair with Cory if I didn’t end it. I told her we should talk about it somewhere quiet and safe. Like I said, the woman was an idiot. I put a wrapped box of OxyContin in the car, thought it might send law enforcement in the wrong direction, but it was never mentioned in the papers.” Annalise took a deep breath. “I feel a little guilty about killing Paula. I really wish Paula and Cory hadn’t presented problems.”
“I don’t need to know about Cory. I know how you did it, and now I know why. Annalise, you’ll be here for maybe an hour or more, and I’m not going to move you.”
“My spinal cord is snapped. I’m a doctor, I know my back is broken and I can’t move my legs. End of story.”
“Well, I can’t drag you, so you’ll have to lie there.”
As Harry turned to go, Annalise propped herself up on one elbow. “Harry!”
“Yes.” She turned, as did her animals.
“I didn’t underestimate you. Your mind moves very fast, and like I said, you trust your instincts.”
“An—” Harry didn’t kno
w what to say.
“And you’ll beat the cancer. You will.” She stayed propped up as she watched Harry recede.
• • •
When Coop, Rick, and Harry arrived at the scene, horses still grazing in the next meadow, Annalise was dead. She’d gotten her pocketknife, a three-and-a-half-inch sharp blade, out of her jeans and tore her throat. Given the state of her right hand, it was not a clean slice, and it must have taken her time.
“Jesus.” Coop looked at the blood. “The willpower.”
“The delusion,” Harry sadly noted.
Funny how things work out.” Harry sat under the walnut tree outside the house, the sun setting.
Fair, enjoying the Sunday evening, nodded. “Yes, it is. When Nita and Al won the BMW at the five-K ball, it seemed a kind of recompense.” He turned to her. “You had your last treatment. My wife is her healthy, beautiful self.”
Harry beamed. “You are such a flatterer.” Then she hastily added, “Don’t let me stop you.”
He rose from his chair, bent over, and kissed her. “Beautiful.”
“Fair, I’ve had a lot of time to think. You and I endured a rough patch way back in what I think of as our time of troubles, but we ironed it out. I don’t think I would have gotten through all this as well as I have without you.”
“Hey, what about me!” Pewter, sprawled on another outdoor chair, piped up.
“Magic powers,” Tucker, under the chair, teased her.
“It’s been a wild ride.” Harry held Fair’s hand as he perched on the wide arm of the wooden chair. “And, you know, the biggest shock was Annalise. I still can’t believe she did what she did.”
“Me neither, but since B.C. people have justified killing in the millions by saying it’s for the greater common good. The millions doing the killing believe it, but the dead always remain dead. I swear the spirits return for vengeance. It may take centuries, but more misery is created.”
“Justice,” Harry simply replied.
“Revenge.”
She looked up at her husband. “Revenge. Justice. It’s the same to me, anyway.”
He smiled. “Many would argue differently, but I’m with you. The same. What we call justice is dressed-up revenge, and it’s necessary. You can’t have a society where wrongdoing isn’t punished.” He took a deep breath, beheld the mountains, then leaned over to kiss her again. “I thank God you’re alive.”
“We saved her.” Pewter puffed up.
“Shortro and Tomahawk had a lot to do with it.” Tucker watched the two buddies out in their paddock.
“They sure did,” Mrs. Murphy, in another chair, agreed.
“I think it’s fine that Fair thanks the Almighty”—Pewter paused, then a beatific expression passed over her gray face—“but he should remember that in ancient Egypt, cats were worshipped. Really, I think the practice should be reintroduced, along with daily heapings of catnip.”
Quick on the draw, Mrs. Murphy said, “Means you have to have your ears pierced and wear earrings.”
“No way!” Pewter’s ears swept back.
“She’s right, Pewts. All the statues and mummies wear gold earrings. My, you’d look so-o-o fetching.” Tucker laughed.
Rising, Pewter peered over the seat of the chair. “Name one place where dogs were worshipped.”
“None. We won’t wear earrings.”
Pewter’s pupils enlarged as she puffed up even more.
Mrs. Murphy counseled, “Pewter, will you calm down.”
“Well, we were worshipped. Who will worship this worthless, fat dog?”
“And how shall I address you? Your Eminence? Mother Pewter? I know, the Great Puss Bottom,” Tucker sassed.
Off the chair, Pewter hit the dog with her considerable weight. The two rolled over each other. Wrenching free of Pewter’s claws, Tucker took off like a shot, Pewter in hot pursuit. The corgi dodged, feinted, keeping Pewter running.
Mrs. Murphy joined in. Pewter made a big show of her anger, but by now it was all pure fun.
Shortro and Tomahawk watched the two cats and dog. So they chased each other.
Fair and Harry laughed, then Fair said, “I’ll give you a head start. Bet I can catch you.”
“Ha.” Harry bolted out of the chair.
Everybody was chasing everybody else.
Life is good.
Afterword
Like you, reader, I have lost friends to cancer. We all have, and in the last year it seems, in my life, these numbers are increasing, particularly among young people.
Cancer is also cropping up in horses and hounds, and I have lost some animals to this horrible disease, in all its guises.
Is there more of it, or are we better at identifying it, or both? You can be the judge.
Given that medical terminology is cumbersome, I kept things as clear as possible while being as accurate as possible. The various forms of cancer treatment change rapidly. The treatment Harry undergoes in this book is different from that endured by one of my friends, who suffered breast cancer six years ago.
By the time you read this mystery, some of the information may be outdated or superseded.
As this mystery involves cancer, more than usual we feel the presence of the Angel of Death. There is a one hundred percent chance that I will perish, and so will you. Let me pass on the wisdom of my late mother, Julia Ellen Buckingham Brown:
“You’re going to be dead a long time. Do it now.”
She never identified what “it” is, leaving that up to me, as I leave it up to you.
2 August 2010
Author’s Note
David and Ellen King hosted the Pink Ribbon Polo Classic on their polo field at the vineyards. Both teams were well matched in the 2010 contest; both played well and played clean. Mr. King, aggressive and smart, enlivened the game. I mention this because so often patrons, the sponsors of a team, aren’t too good on the field. Rob Rinehart and Gary Leonard—the umpires, rarely celebrated—did a wonderful job.
Joan Hamilton endured endless questions about liquid nitrogen and shipping equine semen after which we would veer off, as usual, into a conversation about bloodlines. I couldn’t live without Joan. For one thing, she’s so much smarter than I am she can steer me back on course if needs be.
A. P. Indy, a stallion at Lane’s End Farm, in 2011 has a stud fee of $150,000. Before the depression his fee was $300,000, maybe a bit more. The human variety of this magical substance is far less expensive, proving, perhaps, that horses are more valuable than humans.
Setting the Record Straight
All these years, my human and that Goody Two-shoes, Sneaky Pie, have been using me as the butt of their jokes. Finally, I’ve been able to sneak in the truth at the very last minute with the corrected galley proofs. They’ll never know.
I am not fat. I am not old but am sort of middle-aged. I have lustrous green eyes and gray fur. I am supremely intelligent. There wouldn’t be plots worth squat without me in them.
As to my real life, I will kill that blue jay. I am tired of my prior attempts at murder being put in the books as though I haven’t a prayer.
I do have a prayer. “God helps those who help themselves.” I will help myself to that cussed blue jay.
There. The truth at last.
Pewter
Dedicated with admiration
to
Lima
the Texas cat who saved her human from a pit bull attack
Books by Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky Pie Brown
WISH YOU WERE HERE•REST IN PIECES
MURDER AT MONTICELLO•PAY DIRT•MURDER, SHE MEOWED
MURDER ON THE PROWL•CAT ON THE SCENT
SNEAKY PIE’S COOKBOOK FOR MYSTERY LOVERS
PAWING THROUGH THE PAST•CLAWS AND EFFECT
CATCH AS CAT CAN•THE TAIL OF THE TIP-OFF
WHISKER OF EVIL•CAT’S EYEWITNESS•SOUR PUSS
PUSS ’N CAHOOTS•THE PURRFECT MURDER•SANTA CLAWED
CAT OF THE CENTURY•HISS OF DEATH
Books by Rita Mae Brown with “Sister” Jane Arnold in the Outfoxed Series
OUTFOXED•HOTSPUR•FULL CRY•THE HUNT BALL
THE HOUNDS AND THE FURY•THE TELL-TALE HORSE
HOUNDED TO DEATH
Books by Rita Mae Brown
A NOSE FOR JUSTICE•ANIMAL MAGNETISM:
MY LIFE WITH CREATURES GREAT AND SMALL
THE HAND THAT CRADLES THE ROCK
SONGS TO A HANDSOME WOMAN•THE PLAIN BROWN RAPPER
RUBYFRUIT JUNGLE•IN HER DAY•SIX OF ONE
SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT•SUDDEN DEATH•HIGH HEARTS
STARTED FROM SCRATCH: A DIFFERENT KIND OF WRITER’S MANUAL
BINGO•VENUS ENVY
DOLLEY: A NOVEL OF DOLLEY MADISON IN LOVE AND WAR
RIDING SHOTGUN•RITA WILL: MEMOIR OF A LITERARY RABBLE-ROUSER
LOOSE LIPS•ALMA MATER•SAND CASTLE
About the Authors
RITA MAE BROWN is the bestselling author of several books. An Emmy-nominated screenwriter and poet, she lives in Afton, Virginia. Her website is www.ritamaebrown.com. She does not own a computer. God willing, she never will. Sometimes the website manager sends your queries. The safest way to reach her is in care of Bantam Books.
SNEAKY PIE BROWN, a tiger cat born somewhere in Albemarle County, Virginia, was discovered by Rita Mae Brown at her local SPCA. They have collaborated on nineteen Mrs. Murphy mysteries: Wish You Were Here; Rest in Pieces; Murder at Monticello; Pay Dirt; Murder, She Meowed; Murder on the Prowl; Cat on the Scent; Pawing Through the Past; Claws and Effect; Catch as Cat Can; The Tail of the Tip-Off; Whisker of Evil; Cat’s Eyewitness; Sour Puss; Puss ’n Cahoots; The Purrfect Murder; Santa Clawed; Cat of the Century; and Hiss of Death, in addition to Sneaky Pie’s Cookbook for Mystery Lovers.
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