Cat on the Scent

by Rita Mae Brown

  “Arch, sometimes if you let things alone they work out better. My husband is an old man.”

  “And strong as an ox. He’ll live to be as old as Tally Urquhart. I wish I did have the guts to kill him, but I need him.”

  “For what?”

  “Teotan. In for a penny, in for a pound. I can’t back out now no matter what I’m sacrificing.”

  “Blair’s smart enough to run the corporation. Don’t under-estimate him. And thank you for speaking up for me at the meeting.” She kissed him on each cheek and then the mouth. “I was only kidding about killing H. I could understand if you had shot him. But I’m glad you didn’t.”

  “You certainly ran your mouth about it all over town.”

  “Arch, what better way to cover our tracks?”

  “Your tracks.” He coolly appraised her but couldn’t protect himself from her beauty.

  “My tracks?”

  “Sarah, you could have shot H. You weren’t at the reenactment.”

  “I ran back for H.’s canteen.”

  “Prove it.” He smiled softly.

  “You’re as bad as Rick Shaw.” She laughed it off. “I found witnesses who saw me running back to the tent.”

  “You could easily have ducked behind the hunter barn or into the woods or even into your Range Rover if you ran fast enough and managed to creep out of the woods. You could have fallen in at the back of the marching line.”

  “In that gown and hoop? Are you insane?”

  “No. You’d change, of course.”

  He breathed in sharply. “I did not shoot H. Vane. Tommy was already dead. If he had a motive it died with him. You are the only other person with a motive.”

  “What about Blair? If H. were out of the way, you and he could run Teotan. Two people would control the new water supply.”

  “It’s an interesting theory. But if Blair and I were in cahoots I’d know about it and—” He held up his hands in question.

  Unperturbed, she said, “You could have killed Tommy. And tried to kill H. And intend to kill Blair. All threads would be in your hands.”

  “Thank you for giving me credit for being that intelligent. But I didn’t do it. I wouldn’t do it and the rock-bottom reality is, I’m not smart enough to pull off a crime like that and not get caught. You, on the other hand, are.”

  “I didn’t kill Tommy Van Allen.”

  “Not even to cover your tracks, as you say?”

  “Well, then you’d be next on my list, wouldn’t you?”

  “I think I would. Am I?”

  “No, darling. I adore you. Can’t you tell? Can’t you tell when you hold me?”

  He sighed. “Sarah, I don’t know what I know anymore.”

  “You’re angry at me because I won’t leave H. right now. I can’t, Archie. We’d have a year of passion if we were lucky, but sooner or later the outside world would tear us apart. My way takes longer but the result is more solid. H. is an old man.”

  “Old and healthy. Old and frighteningly intelligent.”

  “But still old.” She put her forefinger to his lips to silence him, then kissed her forefinger and his lips simultaneously.

  “Arch, let me keep saying dreadful things about you. It’s the only hope we’ve got. It’s the only cover we’ve got. You know the truth and you know every chance I get, I’ll come to you.” She ran her finger across his lips, then along the side of his jaw.

  He kissed her hard. “That fool doesn’t know what he has in you.”

  “As long as you know.”

  “It’s funny. I would have thought you’d have the affair with Blair, not me. He’s a lot better-looking than I am.” He still didn’t know whether to believe what Ridley Kent had told him.

  “Chemistry.” She brushed her hair with a few practiced flips of her wrist. “Besides, Little Mim would die. We’ve got to leave her something.”

  “Ridley told me you had a brief fling with Blair.” Archie couldn’t stand it any longer. He had to hear her response.

  Coolly, too coolly, Sarah said, “Ridley’s put out that I refused his advances. Why listen to him? I can’t believe you listen to him.”

  “I don’t know.” His voice wavered.

  “Well, I do.” She kissed him again and then left for home.

  * * *

  47

  The underside of a Porsche is sealed. It’s as though the bottom is covered by a series of interconnecting skid plates. The mechanic, in white overalls, removed one gray underbody rectangle. Rick peered up as the mechanic shone a light.

  “Couldn’t hardly hide a tin of snuff up there,” the mechanic said.

  “Would you like us to remove each panel?” Mike Gage, the owner of Pegasus Motor Cars, politely asked the sheriff.

  “No, bring her down. Body panels make more sense.”

  “Of course.”

  Blair Bainbridge watched. “You aren’t going to cut the upholstery, are you?” He had cooperated with the search, not demanding a warrant, but he wasn’t sure what he’d do if it went that far.

  “I don’t know.” Rick ducked his head in the car once it returned to earth. “There’s no place to hide anything in those backseats. Hardly big enough for a cat.”

  “Somebody could remove the padding in the front seats and replace it with cocaine. I think you’d be able to feel it, though.” Mike pressed down on the seat.

  “Harvey, bring up the new Targa. Let him feel those seats so he has a point of comparison.”

  Within minutes a lush polar-silver Targa gutturally announced its arrival. Rick opened the door. The smell of a new car made him giddy with possibilities. Dutifully, he pressed on the seats, then pressed again on the seats of Blair’s Turbo.

  Blair, clasping and unclasping his hands, murmured, “Look, I don’t know why you’re doing this. You know I’m not involved in drugs.”

  “Your buddy Tommy Van Allen sure was. Cocaine packed behind his hubcaps—come on, it must have given you a charge to fake out everybody.”

  “No,” Blair flatly replied.

  “Fast money. Fast cars.”

  “I don’t sell drugs.”

  Mike Gage interrupted the increasingly tense exchange. “Let me show you something, Rick. See these air inlets on the front end?”

  “Yes.” Rick pressed at the small sloops in the metal.

  “Could stash small amounts of coke in them but it would lead to undesirable consequences later.” Mike had briefed Rick earlier on the basics of an air-cooled engine.

  Blair spoke up. “If I was going to deal drugs I’d find a better place than that.”

  Rick ignored him as Mike continued to point out small areas where drugs could be secreted.

  Blair shifted his weight from foot to foot. “You know I’m innocent.”

  “You knew about Tommy.” Rick pushed him.

  “Tommy didn’t run drugs. It’s crazy. A Porsche attracts attention. It’d be crazy to carry drugs in a Porsche.”

  “If you don’t calm down I’ll haul you out of here,” Rick threatened.

  “Listen, I’m allowing you to search my car out of courtesy. You don’t have a warrant. I have nothing to hide, so give me some credit.”

  Mike looked away as Rick scowled.

  Rick hesitated a moment, then spoke to Mike. “Don’t rip up the leather. Keep searching, though. Mr. Bainbridge and I will be right over there in the squad car if you need me.”

  “Okay.” Mike nodded.

  Blair slid into the squad car passenger seat, slamming the door.

  Rick wedged himself behind the wheel. “Would you like to tell me the purpose of Teotan? I have Tommy’s maps. I know you’ve sunk wells. Let’s have it.”

  Blair waited a moment, then cleared his throat. “Teotan’s purpose is to supply potable water to the northwest quadrant of the county while saving the taxpayers considerable expense. We were intending to present our plan at the next water commission meeting—next week, in fact.”

  “No new reservoir?”
<
br />   Blair shrugged. “My hope would be no. Teotan could save this county a fortune in construction costs. There’s enough water running underground to fill the need. Millions of gallons.”

  Rick dropped his head a moment, then raised it. “Sir H. Vane-Tempest said the same thing.”

  “It is a good plan.”

  “Have you approached Archie Ingram? He opposes any idea of Vane-Tempest’s.” Rick didn’t know of Archie’s involvement, for Vane-Tempest, true to his word, had said nothing.

  “Archie’s a weathervane.” Blair sounded noncommittal. “He’s not the same man since his wife kicked him out.”

  “Wasn’t impressed with the original.” Rick sighed a long sigh. “I’m a paid public servant. I’m not supposed to harbor political opinions.”

  Blair shrugged. “Won’t go past me.”

  “Changing the subject, what are you going to do if the county rejects your concept? I suppose you have supporting figures?” Rick asked.

  “We do. Much of the seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars apiece we each put up to create Teotan went for a feasibility study. We used a firm out of Atlanta. Washington, New York, and Richmond were too close in the respect that too many people from Albemarle work in those cities or have strong ties there. What we are about to offer this county is economical and sound.”

  “What if they reject it?”

  “If we can get it on the ballot as a referendum, I think we’ll prevail despite the vested interests in a reservoir and dam. But, should we fail, we’ll sell the water as bottled water.”

  “You’ll have to tap-dance again on that one. Environmental studies and water purity.” He shook his head. “We’re so over-regulated. It’s lunacy. Generations of Virginians drank water right out of the ground. They had more common sense. They didn’t build on drained marshland or put their homes where runoff would leak into the well. People sit in front of computers and know nothing of the real world.”

  “We’re prepared for the bottled-water battle. We’ve retained Fernley, Stubbs, and Marshall in Richmond.”

  “Then you are prepared.” He tapped on the steering wheel. “One member of your company is dead. No suspects. One member was shot. Many suspects, including Mr. Ingram. Is there something about Teotan I ought to know?”

  “No.”

  Rick warned Blair, “If I were you, I’d look over my shoulder. I don’t think it’s coincidence but I still couldn’t say why, exactly.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t know why either. If our plan works it means a steady flow of profits for as long as we live. If one partner dies, his share is equally divided among the survivors. On the surface of it that would be motivation for murder.”

  “Blair, have you seen this ticket before?” Rick reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a white locker ticket, Number 349.

  Blair examined the Greyhound locker ticket. “No.”

  “We found this in Tommy’s car.”

  “I assume you went to the locker?”

  “Yes. We found accounting books for cocaine deals.”

  “That’s too easy. I know Tommy Van Allen wouldn’t sell drugs. No way!”

  Rick paused. “Actually, Blair, I think you’re right but I have nothing else to go on.”

  “I don’t sell drugs. Tommy didn’t sell drugs. I don’t know what this is all about or why, but it’s not true.”

  “Is there something about Teotan I don’t know? That might have a bearing on this case? Blair, for God’s sake, a man has been killed and another wounded. Tell me.”

  Blair inhaled sharply. “Archie is a hidden partner.”

  “Arch doesn’t have that kind of money. You other boys put up big bucks.”

  “He put in work.” Blair left it at that.

  Rick whistled. “He’s using public office for private gain. And H. Vane-Tempest risks nothing. Archie risks everything.”

  “H. Vane risks the start-up money.”

  “That’s nothing to him and you know it.” Rick turned to face Blair. “This changes everything.”

  “I don’t know. I mean, yes, it compromises Archie politically but people’s attention span is two minutes. Look at all the crap politicians get away with, Rick.”

  “I’d say Archie Ingram has more motivation to kill than any of you. He’d be sitting atop a fountain of profits.”

  “It doesn’t seem possible.”

  “A lot of things don’t seem possible but they happen anyway. Blair, I’d be careful if I were you.”

  * * *

  48

  Mrs. Murphy slept on the divider counter, her tail hanging down. Pewter, on her back on the small table, meowed in her sleep. Tucker snored under the big canvas mail cart.

  Harry felt like sleeping herself. A low-pressure system was moving in.

  The front door swung open as her head nodded. She blinked. Dr. Larry Johnson waved.

  “I’m ready for a nap, too, Harry. Where’s Miranda?”

  “Next door. She’s planning a menu for Market. He wants to sell complete meals. It’s a good idea.”

  “And Miranda will cook them?”

  “Part of them. She works hard enough as it is, and the garden comes first.”

  Larry eyed Murphy’s tail. “Tempting.”

  Harry stood on her tiptoes, leaning over the counter. “She’s proud of that tail.”

  Mrs. Hogendobber entered through the back door. “Hello,” she sang out.

  Mrs. Murphy opened one eye. “Keep your voices down.”

  Sarah and Sir H. Vane-Tempest came in with Herb right behind them.

  “Glad I ran into you,” Larry said. He walked back outside and returned, handing Vane-Tempest his Confederate tunic top. “Is this genuine homespun?”

  Vane-Tempest examined the material in his hands.

  Miranda flipped up the countertop and walked out to the front. “I can tell you.”

  “I wish everyone would shut up.” Mrs. Murphy opened both eyes.

  Tucker lifted her head. “They complain when I bark.”

  Miranda held the material in her hands, rubbing it between forefinger and thumb. “Machine.”

  “How can you tell?” Vane-Tempest held the other sleeve.

  “If this were spun on a home loom there’d be more slubs and the color dye wouldn’t be as even. Also, the boys in gray were often called butternut. Dyes weren’t colorfast, you see, and dyeing could be an expensive process. A foot soldier would wear homespun for so long that the color would go from a sort of light brown to a gray-white over time.”

  Harry joined them. “Bet that stuff itches to high heaven.”

  “Your shirt would be spun from cotton. Probably better cotton than what you buy today,” Miranda noted. “So you wouldn’t feel your tunic so much.”

  Harry took the jacket from Vane-Tempest, slipping it on.

  Herb laughed. “You’ll drown in that.”

  Mrs. Murphy sat bolt upright. She soared from the counter into the mail bin. “Wake up.”

  “Dammit!” Pewter, surprised and therefore scared, spit at Murphy.

  Tally and Big Mim dropped by to pick up their mail.

  “You know what I don’t understand?” Tally put one hand on her hip. “If a man dresses as a woman, everybody laughs. They’ll pay money to see him. If a woman dresses as a man, stone silence.”

  By now Pewter had hopped onto the divider counter and Murphy roused Tucker, who padded out front to the people.

  “Want to try?” Harry handed the tunic to Big Mim.

  “I’ll leave that to the boys.”

  “That’s it!” Murphy crowed.

  Pewter blinked, thought, then she got it. So did Tucker.

  That same afternoon, as Sarah fed the domestic ducks on her pond, private investigator Tareq Said discreetly delivered county-commission tapes to her husband, as he did once a week. He’d bugged Archie’s office along with the others. Vane-Tempest did not fully trust Arch and wanted to make certain he was getting his money’s worth. Also, this way h
e could keep tabs on the other commissioners. Surprisingly, Arch had not disappointed him. He really was working for Teotan’s acceptance. He was all business.