As Jurgen Paulson strode toward the dais, an officer came up and gently led him away.
Folly Steinhauser, who was announcing the names for thanks, looked down to behold the sheriff walking toward her. She hoped she could finish her thank-yous.
He waited. She concluded and held her hand over the mic and said, “Sheriff.”
“I need to address the folks, ma’am, and I need you to help keep order.”
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it? That scream.”
“I’m afraid it is, ma’am.”
He stepped up to the mic, his very pleasant voice contained in the tone of command. “Ladies and gentlemen, we ask for your forbearance and cooperation tonight. There has been an unfortunate occurrence. We have, we believe, apprehended the perpetrator. It is my duty to inform you that Mrs. Jurgen Paulson has been murdered—” The crowd gasped. He continued, “If anyone feels they have information relevant to this event, please contact one of my men.” He swept his arm and, as if by magic, the uniformed officers stepped forward. “I know this will spoil this very special occasion, and I’m sorry for it. No one will be allowed to leave until I tell you to do so.”
The moment he released the mic, Folly stepped up to it. “Will the organizing committee please raise your hands? Sheriff, if you need any of us to help expedite matters, we are only too willing to serve.”
He nodded thanks. The place exploded with talk. Kylie Kraft screamed and then fainted. Sophie fanned her. Margaret said to her husband, “One murder too many for Kylie.” He replied, “High-strung.”
Sophie rejoined, “Young,” as Kylie’s eyelids fluttered. Once they sat her up she asked for a cigarette, which made Margaret laugh.
Kylie, smoking from a pack of borrowed Marlboros, lit one with the stub of another.
Thanks to Cooper’s securing of names, the brief questioning at each table proceeded with efficiency. Within an hour, the initial questioning was completed, and the gathering was dismissed.
Crestfallen, Folly slumped in her seat, watching people stream out to their cars.
“Cheer up, Folly, you raised a great deal of money,” Big Mim said as she stopped by on her way out. “And no one will ever, ever forget the event.”
Smiling weakly, Folly replied, “I guess not.”
At Table 11, Cooper took Susan in tow as Ned hurried to the Audi wagon.
“I can’t believe Tazio killed her,” Harry stated flatly.
Cooper, tired by now, replied sharply, “Harry, she was standing over the body with a dripping knife in her hand. People we like, we admire, can do terrible things.”
“Not Taz.” Harry was going to say more, but Fair squeezed her arm and said to Cooper, “You know how Harry is. If it were you, she’d be on your side. Seems you rarely get a break, Coop. Here it was to be a night of dancing and you wind up working.”
Cooper, appreciating Fair’s sensitivity, touched his shoulder. “Thanks.” As Lorenzo touched her elbow she apologized, “I am so sorry. I’ve hardly asked you one thing about yourself. Please forgive me.”
He smiled gently. “No apology needed, and if you will allow me, I’ll give you plenty of time to ask me questions.”
Suddenly, Cooper didn’t think her evening had been spoiled at all.
19
Most of the country people attended the first service at St. Luke’s or whatever church they attended. The town and suburban people usually went to the eleven o’clock service.
Big Mim, Jim, Aunt Tally, Harry, Fair, Little Mim, Blair, Alicia, and BoomBoom gathered in Big Mim’s living room at eleven.
The door opened without a knock. “Sorry,” Susan apologized. “Folly Steinhauser waylaid me about Ned representing Tazio.” Her mouth was running as she came into the light-filled room. “She can talk when she wants to, that woman.”
“Where is Ned?” Big Mim inquired.
“On his way back down to Bedford County.”
Paul slipped in by the back door. He attended the Catholic church.
Jim threw his arms around the wiry young man. “Paul, we’ll get her out of there. Hold on, buddy, hold on.”
“You know she didn’t kill that woman.” The worry made him appear ten years older.
A moment of silence followed this cry from the heart, then Harry concurred. “That’s why we’re here, Paul.”
Aunt Tally, hands on cane as she sat in a satin-striped wing chair, said, “Even if she did, we’ll do all we can to reduce the sentence.” Noting the horror on Paul’s face, she quickly added, “But I don’t think she did.”
“Never. Never would Tazio kill anything. She won’t even kill a spider.”
“Where’s Brinkley?” Harry thought of the yellow lab.
“With me.” Paul took a seat, being guided there by Jim.
Gretchen, the majordomo, brought in a large tray of tidbits. On the Sheraton sideboard, coffee percolated in an enormous silver pot, a handsome teapot beside it. People served themselves.
Once everyone was seated, Big Mim conducted the meeting per usual. She found herself missing Miranda, who had an uncanny sense of people’s inner workings. But Miranda at this very moment would be lifting her golden voice in the Church of the Holy Light’s choir, since the choir performed at both services. Well, she could be counted on when need be.
“I wish I’d noticed who else was there. There were short lines.” Little Mim was mad at herself for not being alert when she had used the bathroom at the ball.
“How could you know? That’s the thing about a dreadful event, one has no idea what may be significant.” Big Mim was soothing, part of it due to her former intransigence over what she deemed her daughter’s political foolishness.
Big Mim could be flexible, could change her mind. Rare it was, but it did happen.
“Cooper collected the names of everyone who had left the tables. I wonder if she looked at them,” Fair said.
“Bet she did.” Harry leaned back, balancing her teacup and saucer as she did so.
“Carla has been—or had been—provoking Tazio for months,” Paul spoke up. “She probably provoked others. It’s one of the others who killed her.”
“She provoked Mike McElvoy on a daily basis.” Harry put in her two cents.
“He deserves it,” Susan simply said.
“We’re about to find out ourselves,” Blair mentioned. “We hoped we’d get Tony Long as our inspector, but, no, we landed Mr.”—he was about to utter a profanity and then substituted—“Jerk.”
Fair smiled slightly at him for being quick-witted.
Big Mim decried profanity. Profanity delighted Aunt Tally, who would pepper her comments with some just to see the sulfur hiss out of her niece’s bejeweled ears.
“Balls.” Aunt Tally lived up to her reputation.
“Aunt Tally.” Big Mim stared crossly at her.
“I mean Mike McElvoy doesn’t have the balls to kill anyone.” She sniffed. “Don’t trust him, though. He’s like a trombone slightly off-key, but I can’t identify what’s weird, what’s off.”
For a moment everyone looked at Aunt Tally, for she had expressed something each had felt.
“On the take?” Fair put his hands on his knees. “It would be so easy to do.”
“You mean find problems and then shake down the owner, maybe even the construction boss?” Harry, even though not an idealist, was always upset when a public servant proved crooked.
“Lord,” Little Mim simply said. “That makes perfect sense.”
“How can we find out?” Big Mim asked. “Is it possible that Carla was being…? It’s not blackmail, I guess, it’s theft, pure and simple. Maybe Tazio found out.” She was puzzled. “And, well, I know this sounds crazy, but Carla was such a drama queen when Will Wylde was killed. It kind of makes one wonder if there’s a connection.”
“I don’t see how,” Susan replied, then returned to the subject of Mike. “If Carla was getting squeezed, she wouldn’t want anyone to know. Pride.”
“Goeth before a f
all.” Aunt Tally tapped her cane once on the floor, then added, “But if Carla had had an abortion, she wouldn’t want anyone to know, either. Yet another fall.”
“She may not be the only one to fall on both counts.” Fair’s mind whirred. “If Mike is dishonest, and I’m not saying he is, but for the purposes of discussion—”
Aunt Tally interrupted, “You don’t have to hedge your bets. We’re family here.”
“Thank you for that singular honor.” He inclined his head toward Aunt Tally, who was thrilled at the male attention.
“Mike crawls through a great many extremely expensive new houses built by new people. Because they don’t understand our ways, they’re vulnerable. Their first impulse is to sue. Right?” Everyone nodded in agreement. “It stands to reason that an outright bribe might not be the wisest policy for Mike.”
“What do you mean?” Big Mim was fascinated.
Harry replied. “However he did it, Mike was putting the squeeze on Carla by finding things wrong in the house.” She paused. “He couldn’t come out directly and ask for a payoff or he’d find himself in court.”
“How does this relate to Taz?” Paul’s purpose was single-minded, as befitted a man in love.
“I don’t know.” Fair put his hands together. “I wish I did, but I do know she didn’t kill Carla.”
“Could a woman have slashed Carla’s throat?” Little Mim asked.
“Why not?” Harry shrugged. “You can slice the jugular without hitting the neckbones.”
“It’s not as easy as you think,” Fair said. “It takes force. Muscle is thick, especially living muscle. It’s not like cutting into a steak. But a woman could surely do it.”
“According to Ned, who asked the Bedford County sheriff, Carla faced her attacker. The blood covered her bosoms, the front of her dress, her left arm. But he said, and this surprised me, her right arm was untouched.” Susan paused. “She didn’t defend herself. Didn’t throw her arm up.”
“Maybe Carla didn’t have time to defend herself.” Big Mim thought of the seconds of terror Carla must have felt.
“Possible.” Jim seconded his wife’s opinion.
“Or she knew her attacker and discounted him or her,” Harry added. “She may not have liked whomever she was talking with but she didn’t fear him.”
A long silence followed this.
“Question Folly, Penny, and Elise Brennan. They’ve all built huge houses in the last year or added onto what they have,” Aunt Tally suggested.
“Why would they tell the truth?” BoomBoom spoke at last. She’d been drinking in everything, as had Alicia.
“Why not?” Aunt Tally held a hand palm up.
“No one likes looking the fool,” Big Mim countered.
“What if what he asked for wasn’t money, wasn’t material?” Alicia surprised them.
“Influence peddling?” Jim thought in political terms.
“Sex.” Alicia was brisk.
“What?” Fair couldn’t believe it, but then again, women had thrown themselves at him ever since puberty. He couldn’t fathom men who had trouble with women—well, trouble attracting them.
“Happens all the time in Hollywood. At least, it did when I was there. I escaped because I was protected, first by Mary Pat and then by my first husband.”
Mary Pat Reines had been Alicia’s first lover, who taught her manners, diction, foxhunting, and quiet grace.
“But these women are—” Susan stopped herself.
“What?” Harry found herself suddenly irritated, angry, really.
“Why would they? They’re rich, all quite good looking, looks on which they’ve spent a small fortune. Why?” Susan finished her thought, glad that Harry had interrupted her, because Big Mim had certainly made use of plastic surgery’s advances. She hadn’t wanted to insult Big Mim in any way.
“It’s not what they have and how they look, it’s how they feel.” BoomBoom knew women very well. “Doesn’t seem to me that any of them are in very happy marriages, and Elise is divorced. No one would be the wiser if they paid Mike off in the oldest way possible.”
“You know, that’s really, truly disgusting. I’d tear his face off,” Harry blurted out.
“You would.” Fair smiled.
“Most women lack your self-regard, Harry.” BoomBoom looked levelly at her. “I don’t mean conceit, I mean regard. And you are very strong, as am I. Most women purposefully keep their upper bodies weak because they think that’s attractive to men. Obviously you’ve never been to a gym where women working out with a trainer fret that their muscles will get too big. Can you imagine a poor farm woman in Nebraska in 1880 worrying about muscles?”
“Or a poor woman in Virginia or a slave woman working in the fields. All our ideas of female beauty are based on privilege. I should know. I’m very privileged.” Aunt Tally had often thought such things but had not discussed them, so BoomBoom’s remark triggered hers.
“If Mike leaned on them in some fashion, threatened them physically or because he knew, say, Carla was having an affair, he’d get what he wanted,” Alicia said, steering them back on track.
“Money would be easier.” Jim noticed Gretchen out of the corner of his eye and nodded slightly.
She came in, took the tray, soon replaced it with another.
“I wish Herb were here. He hears things.” Little Mim sighed.
“He won’t be free until late afternoon. Not on a Sunday. And even though he hears things, he often can’t tell us.” Big Mim pressed her lips together. “It could be that Mike killed Carla, if this theory holds water.” She turned to her aunt. “I know you don’t think he has the courage, but if he was frightened of exposure, he could kill. Most people could.”
“It’s possible,” Aunt Tally agreed, although not convinced.
“And Tazio had the bad luck to find Carla right afterward,” Paul half-moaned.
“There’s something so wrong, so bizarre, and I can’t even imagine what it is.” Harry was dumbfounded.
“We’ve got to get Tazio out of jail,” Paul pleaded.
With some tenderness, Big Mim counseled, “Paul, we all understand your distress. For someone of Tazio’s breeding and sensibility to be in such an environment is outrageous, but,” she waited for a dramatic moment, “she may be safer in there for now. If Mike really did kill Carla, Tazio could get in his way. You know she’s sitting in that cell trying to put the puzzle together, and she may not come up with all the jigsaw pieces we have, but she’ll come up with a few. We have to root this out first. We don’t need two murders.”
“We already have two.” Aunt Tally gleefully took the martini that Blair had made for her.
His mother-in-law’s eyes had watched him as he rose and walked to the bar, but Blair had learned by living close to Aunt Tally that it was better to keep her happy.
“How can we find out if Mike took bribes or forced women into sex?” Susan was ready to go to work.
“I think Rick can look into his bank account without arousing opposition. Mike doesn’t have to know. It’s not kosher, but, well…” Jim’s voice trailed off.
“What about a safety-deposit box?” Alicia asked.
“That might be more difficult. His accounts can be called up on a computer,” Blair told them. “And there is the problem of the second key for a safety-deposit box.”
“They have skeleton keys,” Aunt Tally posited.
“No doubt, but one step at a time. He’s not accused of a crime, and if he’s tipped off, we’ll never get to the bottom of it, at least where he’s concerned.” Fair comprehended the delicacy of the situation.
“You think after what happened, if it is Mike, that Folly, Penny, and Elise aren’t nervous? They might be ready to talk.” Harry was hopeful.
“If so, I’d hope they’d go to Rick,” Big Mim said.
“That’s just it. If they go to Rick, they let their cat out of the bag, don’t they?” Harry began to feel that odd tingle when she’d get hooked on a probl
em. “Susan, let’s go back to Poplar Forest tomorrow and look in the daylight.”
“We’ll go with you,” BoomBoom volunteered.
Monday was one of Fair’s operating days, so he wouldn’t be making the trip.
“Ears open. Come back to me with what you learn,” Big Mim requested. “Susan, have they set bail yet?”
“Tomorrow.”
Big Mim turned to Paul. “The bail will be very stiff. A couple of hundred thousand, I think. I agree that we need to get her out of there but, as I said before, not right away. It will take time to raise the bail, and then we have to secure her safety. This could get a lot worse before it gets better.” She then addressed her aunt, who was visibly improving from the effects of her martini, the little olive resting comfortably at the bottom of the glass. “You’re right, there have been two murders, but Will’s killer is in jail and he’ll never see daylight as a free man again.”
“Still, it’s very strange, two murders so close together.” The old woman considered it.
“Happens all the time in big cities. It’s a jolt for us. But at least one murder is solved. Now we’ve got to solve this one.” Jim, who’d bulked up over the years, loomed over the room, a large presence but a genial one.
“I don’t like it.” Aunt Tally closed the matter.
As they broke up to chat before leaving, Harry asked Aunt Tally, “Where’s your date?”
“Home in bed. I wore him out.” She plucked the olive out of her martini, popping it into her mouth.
20
Poplar Forest reflected Jefferson’s love of the octagon. The main entrance welcomed the visitor with seven wide steps. Four Tuscan columns, severe in their simplicity, supported a simple pediment with a fanlight in the center and, above that, a balustrade. A simple door with two twelve-paned windows on either side completed the entrance.
Poplar Forest had not been built to inspire awe. This was no Sans Souci nor even a Trianon. The structure reflected the cleansing Palladian ideal. For Jefferson, this strict elegance was to be the externalization of the American political philosophy: a people’s nation, not one in thrall to the hereditary principle.
The Purrfect Murder Page 13