“Could be on one of the rivers,” Tucker said.
As if in response to the dog’s thought, Harry added, “But Anne would go with him most times. Not a hobby. Has got to be a woman he met through work or someone at an office where he does business, building supply, another construction company, architects’ offices.”
“You forget that he goes to the dentist like everyone else. He would have his annual physical at a doctor’s office. That’s a possibility.” Mrs. Murphy considered the picking grounds.
“The other issue we have to consider is whoever this was, he nearly left his wife for her. He did leave his wife for her if only for one day. So the woman would have to be presentable. H.H. wasn’t exactly a snob but he wouldn’t risk everything for a woman he didn’t think most of his friends would eventually accept.”
“You know, she’s smarter than I give her credit for sometimes.” Pewter blinked, the pupils of her eyes changing shape.
* * *
14
Matthew Crickenberger’s rain-forest wall was just wide enough that he could turn around in it. He’d built it four feet deep and to the ceiling.
Outside the office window it was a winter wonderland. Inside his rain forest it was the Colombian jungle.
He could have foisted off cleaning the glassed-in enclosure complete with an expensive air circulation system and humidifier. However, he enjoyed his Sunday-afternoon escapes.
A thorough cleaning, including checking the pond, took three hours. The birds, accustomed to him, opened their wings and their mouths. Matthew always brought treats and not just on Sundays. The neon-colored frogs felt no special affection for the middle-aged man. They hopped for cover. He brought ants and tiny grubs for them, too.
The last chore was washing the inside of the floor-to-ceiling glass. He hummed as he slid the rubber blade to the top of the glass. He could just reach the top. Then he would swiftly bring it straight down. Small droplets fell on his back from the tree canopy overhead. Vines hung like necklaces.
Finished at last, he placed his buckets outside, then stepped out onto a small sisal rug. He shut the door behind him, wiped his feet, and picked up the white towel from the country club draped over a chair. He toweled himself off, making a mental note to tell Hunter at the club that he owed for a towel. Matthew, meticulous about such things, was irritated when people would filch towels, paper, ashtrays. He confronted one of Charlottesville’s flush lawyers once, saying, “Never steal anything small.” The other men in the locker room laughed. The lawyer, a banty rooster of a man, laughed, too.
The phone rang. Matthew picked it up, assuming the caller was his wife.
“A loaf of bread, a jug of wine,” he jovially answered.
“Matthew?”
“Fred.” Matthew was surprised.
“The same.”
“Are you working on a snowy Sunday? I don’t think the county will pay extra.” A hint of sarcasm crept into Matthew’s voice.
Fred ignored him. “Do you know who will take over Donaldson Construction?”
“Uh—no. Why?”
“Well, I wanted to go through the Lindsay house out by Beaverdam Road and I don’t want to disturb Anne.”
“Call Tazio.”
“She doesn’t work for Donaldson Construction.”
“No, but she’s the architect. You’d have a competent person with you.”
“I don’t know. I’d like a company representative. It’s always better.”
“Well, Fred, I don’t think this is the time to bother anyone at the company. They’re all reeling. Even the site foreman has got to be upset. Make an exception and call Tazio.”
“Yeah.” Fred’s voice faded, he cleared his throat. “I wish I hadn’t had that fight with him.”
“Guilt is a useless emotion.”
“I didn’t say I felt guilty.” Fred bristled.
“You didn’t have to. Now just listen to me. You were not on your best behavior. You really wanted to hit Josef P. but nailed H.H. instead.”
“Well—yeah, but if I told you the times I wanted to slug H.H. Arrogant bastard.” He inhaled sharply. “Dead. Gone. No more trouble.”
“He was either belligerent or a whiner. Let him lose out on a bid and whoever won it was corrupt, paying off. I mean, it couldn’t be because someone else could do a better job.”
“That someone was usually you,” Fred dryly commented.
“In the last few years it was.”
A silence followed. “I’ll call Tazio.”
“Uh, Fred.” A light note lifted Matthew’s voice. “I assume my helpfulness will only influence you to find fault with my projects.”
A rasping laugh followed. “You got that right, Matthew.”
* * *
15
This time of year gets to me.” Susan folded an empty mailbag. “Spring seems a million years away and the Christmas bills are arriving. Ugh.”
Miranda and Harry, having finished the sorting of the mail, had been discussing the merits of painting the small table and chairs in the back.
Harry was happy that no one had called to threaten Susan, because Susan would certainly have told her. So whoever it was had focused on her. Instead of making her fearful, it exhilarated her. Danger got her blood up.
The animals thought she was foolish. She should report the call to the sheriff or Deputy Cooper.
“Red,” Miranda declared.
“Yellow,” Harry countered.
“Blue.” Susan laughed. “Or better yet, paint them yellow with blue and red pinstripes or red with blue and yellow pinstripes or—”
The front door opened, Big Mim burst through. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
The three women stared back at her. Mrs. Murphy and Pewter jumped on the dividing counter as Tucker, half-asleep, lifted her head.
“Tell you what?” Harry wondered if Mim had learned that H.H.’s death was suspect. If so, who would have told her but Sheriff Shaw?
“Susan”—Big Mim charged up to the counter—“your husband is going to put together an exploratory committee to consider a campaign for the house seat and you never said a word.”
The man who was the state representative in Richmond was retiring that year without endorsing any candidate for the Democratic Party. This was not pique on his part. There were a few good people who might run but no one had declared themselves. Better to wait and see.
Susan blanched. “Mim, it’s not my place to make those announcements.”
“You knew!” Mim had to know everything.
“Of course I knew. And didn’t Ned come and talk to you and Jim?”
“Yes, but you should have called me first.” She spun on her heel, opened her mailbox, then slammed it, the metallic thud ringing through the room.
She marched out as resolutely as she had marched in. Outside the day was gray. Inside the clock read eight A.M.
“Monday morning.” Tucker dropped her head back on her paws.
“I thought we didn’t have any secrets between us,” Harry said half in jest, for she hadn’t known of Ned’s decision, either.
“It’s not my secret.” Susan held to her position.
“It’s wonderful.” Miranda took the folded mailbag from Susan’s hands, placing it on the shelf with the packages.
Susan walked over to the coffeepot, poured herself a cup, and spoke with deliberation. “Ned has this dream that he can change things for the better. He’s been quiet about it but this is his chance. I think he’d make a good state representative. He’s honest, fair-minded, and not afraid of tough problems.”
“All of that is true, but what do you think for yourself?” Harry pressed.
“Oh Harry.” Then Susan glanced at Miranda. “I don’t want to be a political wife—watching every word, dressing up, attending all those boring events.”
“You don’t have to do that.” Harry waved as Market Shiflett, in big snow boots, passed by the front window. He owned the convenience store next door.
“She can pick and choose her events. I’m not suggesting she . . .” Harry paused. “Susan, I don’t know what I’m suggesting. I really don’t know what it takes to get elected to office. Money. After that it kind of looks like a beauty contest to me.” She smiled. It faded as Fred Forrest, Mychelle Burns, and Tazio Chappars walked toward the front door. A clean Brinkley followed Tazio.
Neither Fred nor Mychelle lived in Crozet. They were arguing, Fred wasn’t paying attention to where he was going, and as Tazio, shaking snow from her boots, stepped into the post office, Fred looked up, his mouth hanging open. He shut it like a bird clamping down on a beetle.
“Hello,” Harry, Miranda, and Susan called out.
“Hello,” Tazio replied.
Mychelle and Fred merely nodded.
“How are you feeling today?” Mrs. Murphy asked Brinkley.
Tucker came around from behind the divider. Harry had installed a doggie door for her because she grew weary of opening and closing the half-door under the flip-up part of the divider. A lot of times she just left that half-door open but every time she closed it, Tucker would claw at it.
“Much better. Tazio fed me a delicious meal, beef bits over kibble which she stirred all together. I think she stuck a vitamin pill in there but I don’t care. I’ll take vitamins if it makes her happy.”
“She must have given you a bath, too. Your coat looks clean. You know, you’ll get some luster once you gain weight.” Tucker liked the Lab.
“I feel like a new dog.” Brinkley smiled.
“What’s going on with Fred and Mychelle?” Pewter inquired.
“Tazio walked out of the bank and Fred was in the parking lot. He said he’d been calling her about the Lindsay house. He’s rude. Said he’d read the blueprints for her sports complex design. Design is not his bailiwick but she’d made errors and the construction company would have a hard time building her monstrosity. He used that word. Mychelle nods whenever he speaks. She must be in love with him or something. She agrees with everything he says.”
“In love with Fred? Ugly.” Pewter wrinkled her nose.
As the three humans began to leave, Tazio winked at Harry.
Mrs. Murphy called out, “Get Taz to bring you to our farm. We’ll give you the tour.”
“I’ll try.” A happy Brinkley wagged his tail and followed Tazio out the door.
“If a fart has human form it’s Fred.” Harry burst out laughing.
“Harry, that is so crude. Your mother would be horrified if she could hear you speak like that.” Miranda shook her head although she did agree with the assessment.
“You’d be cleaning the kitchen floor with boiling water as penance.” Susan laughed, remembering Harry’s mother. “But he is just awful. Awful!”
“Isn’t it something, though, that Tazio got the job, her design was selected and here she is, her office is in Crozet. We all ought to be proud,” Miranda said.
“It’s a beautiful design, sweeping glass with beautiful curves. Hey, you know what I’ve always wanted to do?”
The other two women looked at Harry. “What?”
“Put a deep-sea diver on top of the Clam.”
“That would be funny,” Susan said. “You’d need a crane to get it up there.”
“No. They clean that roof. There has to be a way to get on top from the inside.” Harry’s mind raced forward.
“Sure and you’d slide all the way off.” Susan knew that in Harry’s mind she was carrying the deep-sea outfit on her back, going through a trapdoor onto the roof.
“Would not.”
“Would, too,” Susan sassed in good humor.
“You two.”
A frazzled Deputy Cynthia Cooper opened the back door, closing it behind her. “What is wrong with everyone this Monday?”
“We’re fine,” Harry responded.
“That’s why I’m here. To escape for fifteen minutes. Oh, orange-glazed cinnamon buns, where are they?” Disappointment shone on her face.
Miranda baked the most delicious cinnamon buns, drenching them with a thick orange glaze icing.
“Now that you mention it,” Miranda checked her watch, tossed on her coat, “they’re just about ready.”
“Yahoo!” Susan clapped her hands together like a child.
“Need help?” Tucker volunteered.
“I’ll be right back.” Miranda slipped out the door.
“What’s going on?” Harry asked the officer.
“Aunt Tally’s missing a cow. She was convinced someone stole it. In a snowstorm? Okay, dealt with that. The cow broke through the fence line and was at the next farm. Then a waterpipe burst on Hydraulic Road in front of the Kmart. Naturally the water froze all over the road, which had been slush. We had to redirect traffic at rush hour. That was a lot of fun. It’s raw out there today. What a mess. And then some kid sideswipes BoomBoom at the stop sign at Routes 240 and 250. She came to a stop, a full stop, which you have to do even though it’s a pain. And this kid gets impatient and pulls alongside her on the right, loses control since the road is slick, and slides all along the right side of her car.”
“That’s such a pretty car,” Susan commiserated.
Miranda reappeared. “Voilà!”
“Miranda, you’re a lifesaver.” Cooper plucked one off the tray the second Miranda set it on the table.
An Explorer pulled up outside the post office. Two young blonde women disembarked. The driver opened the back door and out popped a medium-sized, reddish, mixed-breed dog, her tail twirling like a windmill. Right behind her, trying to be more dignified, was another dog, wheat-colored, larger.
“Minnesota plates.” Miranda noticed. “Why, those girls will feel right at home.”
Harry and Cooper laughed as the door opened and the humans and dogs stepped into the cozy post office.
“Strange dogs,” Pewter announced as Tucker’s ears perked right up and she scratched open the divider door between the working area and the post box area.
“All dogs are strange,” Mrs. Murphy teased as she looked down from the counter as the dogs all touched noses.
“Ignore her. She’s grand and airy,” Tucker advised the two friendly visitors.
“Excuse me?” Gina Marie, the red-colored Lab/terrier mix cocked her head, questioning.
Casey Jo, the younger of the two visiting dogs, wagged her tail, her body and then lifted her paw for emphasis but she didn’t say anything.
“Yankee dogs.” Mrs. Murphy glared down at them in mock anger.
“Is that like a cookie? Yankee?” Casey Jo vaguely remembered little cellophane-wrapped doodles called, obviously enough, Yankee Doodles.
Tucker, ignoring Madame Supremacy on the counter, said, “Well, no, it’s not a cookie but never you mind. Grand and airy means stuck up. It’s a Southern expression and I can tell by your accents that you aren’t Southern.”
“No. But I thought the South was hot,” Gina Marie said.
“Not in the winter. And we’re right at the foot of the Blue Ridge Mountains so it gets right cold here.”
“Bet you don’t have cats that work in your post office?” Mrs. Murphy, Pewter now beside her, looked down.
“No.” Casey Jo, a happy soul, thought the cats amusing.
“Any dogs working there?” Tucker inquired.
“No. St. Paul, where we live is, well, dogs and cats wouldn’t be allowed to work in an office or place like this. People pay a lot of attention to rules there and I’m sure it’s against the rules or our humans would take us to work.” Gina Marie thought the rules were dreadful.
“See, that’s what’s so great about Virginia.” Tucker smiled broadly, revealing her white teeth. “Everyone pretends to obey the rules and then they do what they want. It’s all very civilized, of course.”
“Well, how can it be civilized if people are breaking the rules?” Casey Jo innocently asked.
“Oh dear, they really are Yankees,” Pewter whispered to Mrs. Murphy, nodding in agreement.
The Tail of the Tip-Off Page 10