“Then why in God’s name did he remove Thomas’s body? That was so disrespectful!” Susan’s face reddened.
“He panicked.” Coop dropped two perfectly square sugar cubes in her coffee.
Herb’s secretary, Linda, had brought a large silver service, placing it on the coffee table. Her office was just off Herb’s, and the handy kitchen was next to that.
“Why? Why would he panic?” Harry thought the procedure grisly.
“You. You have a reputation for ferreting out secrets. He knew the morphine would stay in the body for a time, so he thought he’d get rid of the body in case there was an exhumation. He also figured that no one would find the body until springtime and he’d be long gone. He underestimated you in that.”
“Susan, too,” Harry said.
“Actually, we have to give credit to the cats and dogs.” Susan paused. “Coop, give them credit in your report.”
Reaching for a chocolate-dipped shortbread cookie, Herb asked, “Then why did Mark kill Nordy?”
“Greed. Nordy pushed him. Nordy pushed everybody. They argued about the fifty–fifty split. According to Mark, Nordy declared the money would be a trickle if he hadn’t gotten national coverage and then set up the Web site. There’s the ring of truth to it.”
“Was my uncle really praying in front of the statue?”
“According to Mark, he was. Perhaps he knelt down out of habit. Mark followed him. All he had to do was reach around and cover his mouth with chloroform. When he passed out, Mark pumped him full of morphine. Those allergy needles barely leave a mark. Thomas had a flashlight; he was intending to look around. He was suspicious. Mark took the flashlight and put it back in the supply room.”
“How much money did they make?” Herb, always struggling to balance the budget for St. Luke’s, had to ask.
Coop leaned forward. “So far they’d taken in over half a million dollars.”
“What!” Harry nearly spit out her tea.
“Religion is big business. Selling cures and hope is even bigger.” Coop shrugged. “The Bakkers built an empire on it, as have Jerry Falwell and Pat Robertson. These people or their organizations, if you will, make millions every year. Now, I’m not saying that Falwell and Robertson are crooks, only that we can’t even imagine all the lonely and frightened people sitting watching T.V. who pick up the phone, use their credit card, or write a check.”
Herb glanced up at the ceiling. “Don’t suppose there’s a miracle waiting to happen at St. Luke’s Lutheran Church, do you?”
Harry stood up. “I don’t know about a miracle, but I believe there’s a sacrilege in progress.”
“Huh?” Herb’s eyes widened.
Harry tiptoed out, peeked down the hallway. The supply door was open, one box of communion wafers was shredded, and she could just make out Elocution, on her hind legs, pulling down another one, egged on by Pewter.
“What are you doing?” Harry shouted.
“Run for your life!” Elocution shot out of the closet so fast she knocked over Pewter, who quickly scrambled to her feet.
The cats hurried up the stairwell, as the closet was underneath it. The dogs, larger, couldn’t slip through the stair rails, so they skidded around the end of the stairs, hurrying up to the landing.
Herb joined Harry. “Red-handed!”
Susan, Coop, and Linda, sticking her head out of her office, looked down the hallway.
They all walked down the carpet to the closet. Not a crumb of communion wafer remained from the shredded box.
“Well,” Herb shook his head, “we know they aren’t Muslims.”
“Lucy Fur needs to come home from your sister’s. She’ll keep them in line.” Susan mentioned Herb’s other cat, who had been visiting his sister.
Once the animals were collected and scolded, Harry and Susan drove back down Route 250, heading west. They’d called Fair and Ned, giving each man the details. Then they called BoomBoom and Alicia, who just couldn’t believe Nordy was that devious and smart. Big Mim already knew, since Sheriff Shaw kept both herself and her husband, as mayor of the town, in the pipeline.
As Susan flipped on her turn signal, Harry said, “No. Let’s go back up to Afton. I want to see the Blessed Virgin Mary again. I have a prayer.”
“Funny, I do, too.”
Harry turned to the animals in the back of Susan’s station wagon. “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll have a prayer, as well. I am so ashamed of you. Can’t you eat Ritz crackers? Does it have to be communion wafers?”
“The cats made us do it,” Tucker whined.
“Shut up, you weenie.” Mrs. Murphy clocked him one on the snout, which made Owen crouch down lower in the sheepskin bed.
“Don’t be ugly, Murphy,” Harry reprimanded her.
“Why eat a Ritz cracker?” Pewter replied. “They’re too salty. Anyway, eating the communion wafers makes a statement.”
“It does?” Owen popped his head up.
“Sure. You know the story about the fishes and the loaves? Well, give me fishes and I won’t eat the wafers.” Pewter thought herself terribly clever.
The animals giggled. Harry crossed her arms over her chest. “Susan, do you ever get the feeling they’re laughing at us?”
“Every day.”
This time Susan pulled up to the parking lot at the monastery, which was close to full. The events did not necessarily discredit the powers of Our Lady of the Blue Ridge to the devout or to those deeply in need of spiritual succor.
Harry and Susan, trailed by the animals, walked up the hill, then stopped at a distance from the praying people.
The cardinal flew and sat on Mary’s hand. “Bunch of nits.”
“Good thing no one knows what he’s saying but us.” Mrs. Murphy fluffed out her fur.
“So much has happened since Thanksgiving, I feel as though I’ve lived a year,” Susan said, her breath escaping like a plume of white smoke.
“Me, too. Herb and I are going to do our best to buy the farm. And this whole thing up here—I couldn’t exactly put my finger on Mark, but at least I was in the game. It made me think, made me think about how a life can be snuffed out in a split second and others ruined because of selfishness, greed.” She shook her head. “Why? I just don’t understand why.”
“I don’t think we ever will and I don’t think it will ever stop, Harry. There will always be humans ready to rape, steal, lie, kill. And they’ll either act on impulse or think they have a good reason. I don’t think the human animal has advanced emotionally as a species since we’ve been walking upright.”
“Bleak.”
Susan’s lower lip jutted out for a moment. “Maybe we can’t do much for the species, but we can change ourselves. We’ve done what justice we could for my great-uncle. I’m satisfied.”
“Good.”
“And,” she stopped and reached for Harry’s hand, “I want to tell you something, something I have carried since I was nineteen years old, since I married Ned. This brush with fate or whatever you want to call it made me realize that it wasn’t Ned who was withdrawing, it was me.”
“Why?”
“Harry, I’ve lied to Ned, to you, to everyone since that wild summer.”
“What are you talking about?”
She faced Harry directly. “I fell in love with Charlie Ashcraft and I got pregnant. Ned was head over heels for me at the same time. Of course, I never told anyone what was what, and you know how Charlie was. He dumped me like a hot rock. So I told Ned I was pregnant by him and we married. Danny was born eight months later in case you didn’t count.”
“Susan, why didn’t you tell me? How you must have suffered.”
“At first,” the tears finally came, “I felt lucky. I mean, because I wasn’t caught. And Ned is such a good man. Eventually I did fall in love with him. Danny looks so much like Charlie, but—and here’s the odd thing—people see what they want to see. Ned has blue eyes, so people would say about Danny, ‘He has his father’s blue eyes.
’ I would reply, ‘Yes, he’s the spitting image of Ned,’ all the while lying through my teeth. But what I didn’t know is that little by little, I was growing distant. You can’t lie to people and not pay for it inside. It’s like a drop of poison put in a deep well each day, until one day you can’t drink the water.”
“Susan, I am sorry. Truly.”
“You’re my best friend and I’ve lied to you. Forgive me.”
“Of course I do.” She thought a few moments. “I can understand why you did what you did. I wish you had trusted me, but I do understand and I love you. You’re my sister. I love you no matter what.”
Susan choked up for a second, then said, “I told Ned last night.”
“You did?”
Susan nodded, sputtering. “It was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life.”
“God, Susan, what did he do?”
She quietly replied, “He said he always knew.”
The two stood there, not moving or speaking.
Harry finally whispered, “That’s a big love.”
“Look,” Tucker barked.
Tears flowed down the Blessed Virgin Mary’s face, blood red in the sunlight.
Harry thought for a moment that there was probably some blood left in the statue, and then she thought that it didn’t matter. Miracles do happen.
That evening when Fair stopped by, Harry told him, “Yes.”
Dear Reader,
Catnip! Tuna! Chipped beef! These are the things that make life wonderful. Of course, I wouldn’t mind a bunny with a limp.
The more I write these mysteries, the more I enjoy myself. I don’t really need Mother at all except to type, open the canned food, and give me furry toys.
Pewter contributes about as much as the human in the house.
As for the dogs, poor things, they try so hard to read.
I hope you are all well, lots of mice in the cornfields, moles in the ground, and little voles, too.
The old truck finally pooped out at 200,000± miles. I want a big new one with my name emblazoned on the side. Too flash? How about a small S.P.B. on the driver’s door? I know Mother is frothing at the mouth to buy one but she has to drag it out, research it to the max. Right now she can’t make up her mind between an F-250 4×4 or an F-150 4×4. Personally I deserve an SL 55 AMG, but we are farmers so I have to be practical. The S.P.B. is a must, though.
You should insist that your human put your initials on the door. After all, they can’t put one foot forward without us.
Ta ta,
Sneaky Pie
Dear Reader,
Having just picked up the manuscript, discovering Sneaky Pie’s letter, I feel I should set the record straight.
My God, how she flatters herself.
I work just as much on these mysteries as she does. Furthermore, I don’t waste time bringing baby copperheads into the house. Nor do I dash after the chickens only to have them turn on me. She’s not as smart as she would have you believe.
As for the old truck, I sure got my money’s worth. What’s wrong with researching thoroughly? A truck or car is a big purchase. I can’t just throw the money away so she can ride in comfort. Yes, the star likes to be ferried about in style. Get her? An SL 55 tweaked by AMG. Catitude!
Catitude to the tune of about $119,750 retail base price. I mean, she can’t even think about the regular SL 500 at $88,500 retail base price. No, she wants the SL 55 AMG. That’s one pussycat that needs to be Number One on the New York Times best-seller list, because I’m not buying her a sports car. Wait, a sports car with her initials on the door.
I suppose I’ll have to put her initials on the truck or she’ll shred my shoes. Sneaky Pie practices revenge.
Wish me luck.
Rita Mae
About the Authors
RITA MAE BROWN, bestselling author of over thirty books, loves her work. An Emmy-nominated screenwriter and a poet, she lives in Afton, Virginia. She is The Master of Foxhounds of The Oak Ridge Foxhunt Club.
SNEAKY PIE BROWN, a tiger cat born somewhere in Albemarle County, Virginia, was discovered by Rita Mae at her local SPCA. They have collaborated on twelve previous 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; and Whisker of Evil, in addition to Sneaky Pie’s Cookbook for Mystery Lovers. She wants everyone to know that the wonderful foxhounds of Oak Ridge are the only hounds in the world supported by a cat.
Books by Rita Mae Brown
with 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
Books by Rita Mae Brown
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
STARTING FROM SCRATCH: A DIFFERENT KIND OF WRITERS’ MANUAL
BINGO
VENUS ENVY
DOLLEY: A NOVEL OF DOLLEY MADISON IN LOVE AND WAR
RIDING SHOTGUN
RITA WILL: A MEMOIR OF A LITERARY RABBLE-ROUSER
LOOSE LIPS
OUTFOXED
HOTSPUR
FULL CRY
CAT’S EYEWITNESS
A Bantam Book / February 2005
Published by
Bantam Dell
A Division of Random House, Inc.
New York, New York
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Quote from the Book of Common Prayer (contains Bible passages) of the Episcopal Church of USA, 1928, amended 1952.
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 2005 by American Artists, Inc.
Illustrations copyright © 2005 Michael Gellatly
Bantam Books is a registered trademark of Random House, Inc., and the colophon is a trademark of Random House, Inc.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Brown, Rita Mae.
Cat’s eyewitness / Rita Mae Brown & Sneaky Pie Brown.
p. cm.
1. Haristeen, Harry (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 2. Murphy, Mrs. (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 3. Women postal service employees—Fiction. 4. Women detectives—Virginia—Fiction. 5. Women cat owners—Fiction. 6. Monasteries—Fiction. 7. Cats—Fiction. 8. Virginia—Fiction. 9. Mystery fiction.
PS3552.R698 C+ 2005
813'.54 22 2004046207
Published simultaneously in Canada
www.bantamdell.com
eISBN: 978-0-553-90120-7
v3.0
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