Blair and Archie remained silent for a moment.
“I sense this is unwelcome.”
Blair cleared his throat. “A surprise. My concern is not her response to the purpose of our corporation. Sarah can appreciate profit as well as the next man—woman.” He stroked his chin. “My concern is, what would be her function? Whatever resources she puts into the corporation would, in effect, be your resources.”
“Quite true. She hasn’t a penny that doesn’t come from me.”
“And she’d have a vote. You’d control Teotan.” Archie neatly summed up the situation.
“It does rather appear so, but I would never assume that Sarah would always agree with me. If you two present something sensible she might be swayed. I don’t know. I mean, there’s little potential for disagreement. Our business plan is clear but I understand your concern. It would throw Teotan out of balance.”
Archie rose, put his hands behind his back, and paced. “She’s bright. She’s beautiful. Once Teotan goes public she’d make a hell of a spokesperson. People tend to trust women more than they trust men.”
Blair raised an eyebrow. “Exactly what do you mean by ‘going public’?”
“Not public-issue stock, obviously. No, I meant when Teotan presents its plan to the county commission. Who better to present it than Sarah? She’s perfect.”
“I never thought of that.” Vane-Tempest smiled.
Blair poured him another cup of tea. “Do you want her in the corporation?”
“Quite frankly, at first, I did not. I was offended when she suggested it and put out that she’d read my papers. She had access only to the papers at home, but still. However, once she explained her fears, I considered what I would do in her circumstances: the same thing.”
“Having Sarah in Teotan at this late date . . .” Blair paused. “You would control the corporation after I’ve pumped in seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That’s—”
“I understand.” And Vane-Tempest did. He was a businessman, after all. “You, Tommy, and I put in equal shares and Archie put in sweat equity. We have—I forget the exact term—right of survivorship, in essence, to Tommy’s share. We don’t need another partner. And she’ll be hell to live with.” He wiped his brow. “On the other hand, apart from being a spokesperson, she does have a way about her. Sarah could—how did Ridley put it one day? Could talk a dog off a meat wagon.” He smiled. “You people have such colorful expressions.”
“You could put her in my place,” Archie soberly suggested. “She could cover my tracks.”
“Your tracks are well covered, Archie.” Vane-Tempest spoke forcefully. “An investigator would have to go through two dummy corporations in Bermuda and there are no papers with your name on them. You’re paid in cash.”
“Aileen told me my career was over.”
“Aileen doesn’t have the facts,” Vane-Tempest flatly stated.
“What I’ve done is immoral.” A flush covered Archie’s angular face.
“Balls!” the Englishman exploded. “Spare me Aileen’s refined morality. You’ve made a sound business decision. You supply us with pertinent information, connect us with the proper people in Richmond, and serve your county. Our plan will save Albemarle millions of dollars.” He gestured expansively. “And why shouldn’t we be amply rewarded for our foresight?”
“Buck up, Archie.” Blair agreed with Vane-Tempest, although he recognized Archie’s moral predicament. Still, Archie had known what he was getting into.
Archie mulled this over. Their plan would save the county money. “It is a good plan, isn’t it?”
“We have Tommy to thank for the first glimmer.” Blair missed the fun-loving Tommy. “If he hadn’t pushed me into flying lessons I’d have never studied the watershed from the air.”
“Nor would we have applied ourselves to underground streams and rivers.” Vane-Tempest perked up; the tea was giving him a lift. “If one studies the land mass one can pick out those depressions, those possible water sources. The fact that no one had considered this is evidence of precisely how stupid elected officials are. Present company excluded, of course.” He nodded to Arch.
“Some are dumb, others are on the gravy train.” Archie’s eyes glittered with anger. “No one can tell me that fortunes won’t be made with a reservoir, and those fortunes won’t necessarily be made here. Outsiders will bid on the job and, oh, how interesting that state process can get. I’ve watched this bullshit mumbo jumbo for years. All they do is waste money, siphon off a nice piece into their own pockets, and let the taxpayer pay through the nose.”
“Right. Which is why our plan of wells to service the northwest corner of the county is brilliant.” Blair sat up straight. “The wells we have already dug are moving at eighty-eight gallons of water a minute. That’s extraordinary. With the underground water we’re tapping we can service Free Union, Boonesville, Earlysville, that whole northwestern corner all the way to the county line. The only expense will be for constructing cisterns or water towers, and that’s a hell of a lot cheaper than building a reservoir. The county buys the water from us at an attractive rate. If this works, which I know it will, we can do the same thing for the other sections of the county.”
“But we’ll have more competition. Other people will copy us and start buying up the land.” Archie sat down again. “There’s talk about these wells being dug but so far as I know no one has figured out the purpose. But people will buy up land. Just wait.”
“I’ll attend to that. There’s no reason we can’t absorb some of these entrepreneurs into an umbrella corporation or create limited partnerships for, say, the southeastern corner of the county. We can worry about that later.” On a roll, Vane-Tempest continued. “Your job, Arch, apart from keeping us informed of what’s cooking at the statehouse, is to introduce the idea of floating a bond to set up those water towers and cisterns.”
“I can’t do that until you present your idea to the public.”
“Which is where Sarah comes in.” Vane-Tempest smiled without warmth.
“Let me think about this. I’m not saying no, I just want to think. Give me a week.”
“Fair enough.” Vane-Tempest opened his palms, a gesture of appeasement. “Now, another matter. Which one of us killed Tommy Van Allen? We all had something to gain.”
Stunned, Archie reacted first. “That’s a sick joke!”
As the men wrangled, Mrs. Murphy emerged from the Range Rover. She’d already investigated the 911, loath to leave it because it smelled so good. Being small, the Porsche took no time at all. The Range Rover, however, sucked up almost forty-five minutes of precise sniffing and opening compartments.
Next on the list was the U-Haul.
The U-Haul had an open back like a stall with a Dutch door. It hadn’t been unpacked. Looked like Archie couldn’t make up his mind what to do.
Once inside, Mrs. Murphy picked her way over the suitcases, one small desk, and a chair. Her eyes were adjusting to the light. She noticed a cardboard box with a picture of handcuffs on the outside, haphazardly tossed into a carton. She pushed the box, and something rattled inside. She tried to open it but it was shut tight.
Claws out, Murphy smashed into the cardboard full-force. With her claws embedded all the way through the cardboard, she easily lifted the lid. A pair of shiny handcuffs, key in the lock, gleamed up at her.
The slapping shut of the porch door alerted her to the approach of a human.
The tiger scrambled over the desk and chair, managing to propel herself out the back. She dropped onto the ground as H. Vane-Tempest reached his car.
Archie cursed on seeing her. “If that damn cat peed on my stuff I’ll kill her!”
Pewter scurried out of the house, racing for the old graveyard. “Vamoose!”
Mrs. Murphy flew down the farm road to catch her, Archie’s curses still ringing in her ears.
* * *
38
The old gravestones, worn thin by time, stood out bleakly on t
he meadow’s horizon. The buried were members of Herb Jones’s family who had once farmed the land now owned by Blair Bainbridge. As is the custom in Virginia, when land passes hands, family members nonetheless continue to care for the graves of their ancestors.
Once a year Herb righted tombstones, planted flowers, and trimmed the magnificent English boxwood hedge bordering the southwest side. Over time Herb’s bad back hurt him more and more. Blair had begun to help tend the graveyard and to learn the history of its inhabitants.
Blair mowed the lawn, pruned trees, and trimmed around the edges of the stones. He performed this service out of respect for Herb, who had a large flock and not much help. The good reverend’s natural generosity meant he had but little time for himself and even less money.
Pewter caught her breath on a flat gravestone set on graceful piers. “You won’t believe what I heard!”
“Well, I found handcuffs.”
“You did?”
“In the U-Haul.”
“So it is Archie Ingram.” Pewter scanned the fresh green shoots in the field.
“How many people carry handcuffs?”
“Cops and cop wanna-bes. Now listen to what those guys were talking about. The map makes sense. The marked-off squares are lands they’ve bought through a corporation called Teotan. They’ve tapped underground rivers and streams. They’re sinking wells on these properties and the flow is so strong they can sell water to the county. The county will need to put up water towers or build cisterns—which are a lot better-looking. This plan will save the county a mess of money and provide a good water supply for all of the newcomers. So far no other humans have put two and two together although the well drillers know a mess of wells are being dug.”
“Hmm, where’s the hole?”
“There isn’t one. I mean, except for Tommy Van Allen winding up as a frozen TV dinner. He was one of the four partners and, the most extraordinary thing, Sir H. Vane-Tempest said, ‘Which one of us killed Tommy Van Allen?’ Archie screamed so loud I thought my eardrums would burst. He said H. was sick to even say such a thing. Blair wasn’t overfond of H.’s crack either. Sir H. Vane said Sarah wanted to come into the deal in place of Tommy. At first Archie was opposed, then he thought it over and said she might be a good spokesperson for when they go public.”
“Blair?”
“He’s not sure yet. He’s afraid it will give the Vane-Tempests control over Teotan. He’s right, too.”
Mrs. Murphy, hearing geese, squinted into the sun. She spied the telltale V formation, flying low. The rustling of the birds’ wings was growing louder and just as quickly growing faint as the formation passed.
“I wouldn’t want to be in Teotan right now.”
“Me neither,” Pewter agreed. “One partner hung on a meathook and the other got blasted.”
“The brilliance of their business plan is the money is steady. Millions will come in over the years. If they sold the land or the water outright to the county they’d lose an enormous chunk of their profit to taxes.” She shook herself, then squeezed through the iron fence around the graveyard. “Blair’s smarter than I gave him credit for.”
“Smart? He’ll be dead soon enough. Archie will control everything.”
They walked across the soft earth, crossing over the creek into Harry’s hay field. Tomahawk, Poptart, and Gin Fizz, mouths full of clover and timothy, raised their heads, spotted their feline friends, then returned to grazing.
Mrs. Murphy finally spoke. “Blair isn’t our human. He isn’t our responsibility, but I like him.”
“I’m not risking my neck for anyone but Harry.”
“No one is asking you to, but we need to be alert. I’m inclined to help him up to a point. He’s our next-door neighbor.”
“That’s what worries me: He’s next door.”
* * *
39
When Harry returned from work that evening, Mrs. Murphy was asleep on the sofa and Pewter was dozing by her food bowl.
Tucker burst through the door to share the day’s gossip. The cats, at first grumpy, woke up fully and told the corgi of their adventure.
As they were filling Tucker in, Deputy Cooper drove up. She emerged from her squad car, carrying Chinese food.
Harry selected some morsels of chicken for the cats. Cynthia had thoughtfully brought a knuckle bone from Market Shiflett’s grocery for Tucker.
“Hear about Little Mim’s party?”
Harry shook her head since her mouth was full of chicken-fried rice, so Cynthia continued.
“She’s planning an apple-blossom party. Impromptu.”
* * *
* * *
“Ha,” Harry replied, knowing that Little Mim’s version of impromptu meant a small army of workers at the last minute instead of a small army planning months in advance. Spontaneity wasn’t a word associated with either Mim senior or Mim junior.
“She’s renting small tables, setting them out in the apple orchard. She’s hired a band. Her mother is lending her the outdoor dance floor. That takes an entire day to put together. Anyway, she’s in a state.”
“Where’d you hear this?”
“From the horse’s mouth. I met her this morning to ask if she took clothing to Mrs. Woo. Turns out she doesn’t since Gretchen, Big Mim’s utility infielder, also does the mending. That’s when she waxed eloquent about the party.”
“Bet she doesn’t invite me.”
“She has to invite you.” Cynthia grabbed pork lo mein with her chopsticks.
“No she doesn’t.”
“Yes she does, because if she doesn’t everyone will notice. She cares about appearances as much as her mother.”
“Maybe I’ll go and maybe I won’t.”
“You’ll go. Since when have you missed a party?”
“When I first separated from Fair.”
“Forget about that. Hey, where’s he been?”
“Foaling season. From January through May he’s delivering the Thoroughbred foals. When we were married I’d sometimes go days without seeing him.”
“There are other vets. He could have passed on some of the work.”
“No, he really couldn’t. People have a lot of money tied up in a mare. First there’s the purchase price of the mare herself. If she’s a Thoroughbred with good bloodlines and of a good age that could be, in these parts, anywhere from five thousand to thirty thousand dollars. Then there’s the stud fee. Again, the price varies widely. So when that baby hits the ground some of the breeders already have fifty thousand dollars invested in it. For the hunter people it’s a little different. But still, it’s not just money, it’s emotion, too. Fair’s the best, so everyone wants him.”
“There’s a lot I don’t know about the horse business.”
“Incredible business, because it’s not just money and it’s not just the study of bloodlines, there’s a certain something, a sixth sense. That’s the hook. Otherwise, everyone could do it. Harder and harder to make money at it, though.”
“Everything’s that way. Do you think we’ll live to see a revolution?” Cynthia offered the rest of the lo mein to Harry, who refused, so she dumped it all on her plate.
“Yeah, but I don’t know what kind of revolution. I do know you can’t punish people for productivity and expect a society to last long. Right now an American’s answer is to work harder but the harder he or she works the more the government takes. Think of all the money we’ve already put into Social Security from our wages. By the time the whole system collapses will we be too old to fight?”
“Look at you and me. Single women in our thirties.”
“Never too old to fight.” Cynthia smiled. “Think you’ll stay single?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t. You’ll get married in the next few years.”
“Nope.” Harry shook her head for emphasis. “I have nothing to gain from another husband. I’m not saying I won’t have an affair but, really, what can I get from marriage except double the laundry?”
“Cynic.”
“Yep.”
“If Little Mim doesn’t snag Blair Bainbridge, I think she’ll have a nervous breakdown.” Cynthia opened a brown paper bag filled with brownies. “Dessert.”
Harry inhaled over the bag. “Miranda! She didn’t tell me she was making brownies.”
“I stopped by after work. She happened to be making some for tomorrow. Hot out of the pan.”
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