“Oh, he can wait another minute. Once we get down to business, we’ll forget to ask the details.” Mim invited them into the tack room.
“Where’s Addie?” Fair asked.
Mim, who knew, said nothing for Chark was in the dark about his sister’s unholy mess. Another request of Rick Shaw’s.
“She called from Charlottesville,” Chark answered. “Said she was tied up and didn’t know when she’d be back.”
“Oh, okay.” Fair grabbed a cup of coffee. He’d been up since four o’clock that morning because of an emergency at a hunter barn. “As near as I can make out, or as much as Colbert Mason wants to tell me, he contacted my accuser, Linda Forloines. She claimed he entirely misunderstood what she had said. She was furious he’d even think that and she had no intention of bringing charges against me. So that’s that.” He sat in the comfy old leather chair and immediately regretted it because he knew he wouldn’t want to get up.
“Typical,” was Mim’s reply.
“She’s not worth talking about,” Chark added.
They all knew Linda’s modus operandi. She’d act as though she had inside information, she’d hint, intimate, change the inflection of her voice to convey the full weight of her words. This way she could say that people misunderstood her, implying there must be a problem with you if you could even think such a thing.
“Well, let me take a look at Royal Danzig.” Fair forced himself out of the chair.
They walked down the beautiful center aisle and Chark pulled the flashy guy out of his stall. As Fair ran his hands over the horse’s legs, Rodger Dodger, fresh from patrolling the paddocks, sauntered into the barn, his beloved Pusskin by his side.
“Royal, what’s the buzz?” the old ginger cat asked.
“Kinda tender on my left leg. I think I put a foot wrong when I was turned out in the paddock.”
“Hope it’s nothing serious,” Rodger politely replied.
“Me, too, I want to go to Camden.”
“Rodger, how you been?” Mrs. Murphy called out when she heard Rodger’s voice. She and Tucker had been in the tack room. It smelled so good and was toasty warm.
“Murphy. Hi, Tucker,” Rodger said as Pusskin murmured her greetings.
Mrs. Murphy sat down, curling her tail around her. “I’ve got a proposition for you, Rodger.”
“What proposition?” Tucker’s ears pointed up. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“’Cause I’ve been cooking it.” Mrs. Murphy turned back to Rodger. “There’s a chance your barn mice know what’s in Orion’s stall.”
“Why not ask the horses?” Tucker asked.
“I did.” Rodger flicked his tail for a minute. “They didn’t remember anything, not even Orion, and he’s the oldest, being twelve. ’Course, it could be that whatever is in there was buried in summertime years back. The foxhunters are always turned out in the far pastures in summer, so only the mice and I would have been here. I don’t remember anything, but summers I go up and rest in the big house because of the air conditioning.”
“If you made a deal with the mice, maybe they’d talk to us.” Mrs. Murphy kept to her agenda.
“What kind of deal?”
“Not to catch them.”
“I can’t do that. Mim will be furious if I don’t deliver mice to the tack room. She asks Chark every day if Pusskin and I have done our duty.”
“She’s real fussy,” Pusskin added.
“I thought of that.” Mrs. Murphy wanted to bat Pusskin. She tried to make her meow sound pleasant. “What I propose is that you catch field mice and deliver them to the tack room. The humans don’t know the difference.”
Rodger rubbed his whiskers with his forepaw. He wrinkled his brow. A wise old fellow, he wanted to consider the ramifications of such a bargain. “It will work for a time, Murphy, but as the grain goes down and the barn mice population doesn’t decrease, the humans will figure out something’s wrong. I don’t want Pusskin or me to get the boot.”
“Mim would never do that,” Tucker rightly surmised.
“I’d like to think that.” Rodger knew other cats who were out of work or worse because they got lazy. “But even if she let us stay, she might bring in another cat, and I don’t want to be bothered with that. This is my barn.”
“What if we asked the barn mice not to show themselves?” Mrs. Murphy tried to figure out a solution. “At least so the humans wouldn’t see them. You know how they get about mice.”
“Seeing is bad enough. It’s the grain I’m worried about,” Rodger said sensibly.
“Can’t they get by on what the horses throw on the ground? You know, horses are the sloppiest eaters,” Pusskin chimed in. Not a bad idea for a slow kitty, Mrs. Murphy admitted.
“Less food. More safety,” Rodger purred. “It’s a trade-off. Worth a try, I suppose, but Murphy, why do you care what’s in Orion’s stall?”
“Don’t say curiosity,” Tucker warned.
Mrs. Murphy breathed in the crisp air. Her head felt quite as clear as the air around her. “I think the murders aren’t over, and I think whatever’s in Orion’s stall might be part of the answer.”
“If humans kill one another, that’s their business,” Pusskin, not a major fan of the human race, hissed.
“But what if this puts Mim in danger? Think about that.” Mrs. Murphy reached out with a paw to Pusskin as though she were going to cuff her. “Something has happened in her barn. Something that goes back a few years at least. Mickey Townsend pulled a gun on Coty Lamont in the middle of the night. Coty was in Orion’s stall, digging. Mickey makes him cover it back up, then takes him away. Coty’s truck wasn’t here. He’d walked in from somewhere and Mickey snuck up on him. Pretty peculiar. The next day Coty Lamont is dead in the back of the pickup, a knife through the heart and another playing card on it, the Queen of Spades. That’s what Cynthia Cooper told my mom when they had supper night before last.” She took a breath.
Pusskin blurted out, “That means Mickey’s the killer.”
“Maybe yes and maybe no. Addie has a kilo of cocaine in her safe deposit box that she says belonged to Nigel Danforth.”
“Oh, no!” Rodger and Pusskin exclaimed together.
“She told Rick Shaw. Now she’s in deep doo-doo.” Tucker felt the same urgency that her best friend did. “And I don’t think she would have told him, but Mom and Mrs. Hogendobber forced her to do it. I reckon we haven’t heard the end of it because Addie was supposed to deliver the kilo to Linda Forloines, and what’s Linda going to do when it doesn’t show up?”
“So Addie might be in danger?” Rodger liked Addie.
“Anybody might be in danger, especially if I’m right about there being a secret in Orion’s stall. What if, by pure accident, Mim stumbles on the truth? You can’t expose your owner to that kind of danger. I know you aren’t house cats, but Mim is fair and she takes care of you. And”—Mrs. Murphy lowered her voice—“what would have happened if she hadn’t rescued you all from the SPCA? There are too many kittens, and no matter how good a job the SPCA does—well, you know.”
The animals remained silent for some time after that grim reminder.
Finally Rodger spoke, firmly. “It’s a debt of honor. We’ll do our best for Mim. Pusskin?”
“Whatever you say, darling.”
He filled his red chest, licked the side of Pusskin’s pretty face, then said, “Let’s parlay with the mice.”
The mice were partying in the walls of the tack room. Mim had insulated the tack room so there was plenty of space between the two walls, filled with warm insulation, easy for mice to get in and out of because they burrowed from the stall next door. By this time they had created many entrances and exits, driving Rodger Dodger to distraction because even if he and Pusskin divided to cover holes, they’d still miss the mice.
The raucous squeaking stopped when the mice heard and smelled the approaching cats.
“Must be an army of them,” the head mouse, a saucy female, warned.
Rodger put his pink nose at the entrance to one of the holes. “Loulou, it’s Rodger and Pusskin. Mrs. Murphy and Tucker, the corgi from over by Yellow Mountain, are with us.”
“The post office animals,” Loulou replied, her high-pitched voice clear and piercing.
“How do they know that?” Mrs. Murphy wondered.
“We know everything. Besides, we have cousins at Market Shiflett’s store. Pewter’s too fat to run anyone down.”
Murphy giggled. So did Tucker.
“Loulou, I’ve come with an offer you should consider.”
A moment of silence was followed by a wary Loulou. “We’re all ears.”
“Do you know what’s buried in Orion’s stall?”
“As the oldest mouse, I do,” Loulou swiftly replied. “But I’m not telling you.”
Rodger kept his temper in check, but Pusskin complained, “She’s a real smartass.”
Mrs. Murphy whispered for her to shut up.
“Loulou, I don’t expect something for nothing. Pusskin and I agree not to catch any barn mice for a year”—that last part was Rodger’s own flourish—“if you agree not to let the humans see you. Otherwise they’ll think Pusskin and I are lazing about and we’ll get in hot water, and Mim might try to bring in another cat. You can understand our position, can you not?”
“Yes.”
“Well, a year of freedom for the information—and try not to breed too much, will you?”
“It’s an open shot to the feed room. The humans will see us.” Loulou was playing for time as the excited chatter in the background proved.
“There’s plenty of grain under the horses’ feed buckets. Just don’t show your faces in the barn during the day, and if you hear a human coming at night, duck for cover. Otherwise, we’ll all be in a real bad situation.”
“I’ll get back to you,” Loulou replied.
The three cats and the dog patiently waited. Harry walked by on her way to the john. “What are you all doing?”
“High-level negotiations,” Mrs. Murphy informed her.
“Sometimes you’re so cute.” Harry smiled and continued on her way.
“Whew.” Tucker sighed. “She could have screwed up the whole deal.”
“Yeah, the last thing we want any of them to see is this entrance here with all of us sitting around like bumps on a log.” Rodger shifted his weight from one haunch to the other.
They heard a chorus of tinny voices. “Aye.” Then one lone “Nay.”
“Rodger Dodger!” Loulou said, peeking her little head out of the entrance. She was a feisty mouse and a confident one.
“Yes.”
“We are almost unanimous. We agree to your terms, a free year, but I have a personal favor to ask.”
“What?”
“Can you talk to Lucy Fur and Elocution, the Reverend Jones’s two cats? My youngest sister’s family lives behind the tapestry of the Ascension. Lucy Fur and Elocution hassle them constantly. I’m not asking for a moratorium, just a little less hassle, you know?”
“I don’t know those cats,” Rodger honestly replied.
“I do,” Mrs. Murphy quickly said. “I’ll talk to them. You have my word.”
“You must have mice at your barn,” Loulou pushed.
“I do, but you all are browns and they are grays. I doubt any of your family is out my way.”
A pause followed. “You’re probably right, but you will talk to these barn cats?”
After a long pause Murphy agreed, “Yes. Now, will you tell us what is in Orion’s stall, and whether you remember any of the people involved.”
Loulou coughed, clearing her throat. “I was very young. Mother was still alive but I remember it as if it were yesterday. Five years ago last July. Hotter than Tophet. Coty Lamont and a fellow called Sargent dug a deep hole in the corner of the stall. Had to be two in the morning, and about four when they finished. The earth was soft there, so they made good work of it. We could smell how nervous they were. You know, that sharp, ugly odor.” She caught another big breath. “They left, then came back with a heavy canvas tarp and a man holding either end. I couldn’t see what was in it but I could smell blood.”
“Damn,” Mrs. Murphy whispered.
Loulou listened to a squeak then said, “Mom and I and the older mice, no longer living, of course, watched from the hayloft. When they lifted the tarp to lower it in, I guess they were tired because they dropped it, and one end unraveled a little. Lots of brassy hair spilled out. Mother got a good look at the face because she ran along the top of the stall beam.”
All the animals held their breath as Loulou continued. “It was Marylou Valiant.”
28
Livid, Addie Valiant opened her safe deposit box at Crozet National in the presence of five onlookers. Rick Shaw and bank president, Dennis Washington, stared at the brown-paper-wrapped package. By opening the box in the evening they had avoided the regular ebb and flow of banking traffic, diminishing the chances of someone getting wind of Addie’s escapade.
“I don’t know why everyone has to be here.” Addie pouted. Arthur stood next to Dennis. Chark, arms folded across his chest, leaned against a wall of small stainless steel safe deposit boxes.
Cynthia Cooper held the small brass key. She wouldn’t give it back to Addie. “Arthur is your guardian until midnight November fourteenth. And I would think you’d be glad your brother is here.”
“I’m not glad.”
Rick had waited until the last minute to pull in Charles and Arthur, fearing that the earlier he informed them, the likelier they were to leak the news. That could be dangerous.
Addie’s young face wrinkled in rage. “I’ll hear about my poor judgment for the rest of my life.” She wheeled on Arthur. “And I bet you find a way to extend your trusteeship with help again from my loving brother!”
“You’re under duress,” Arthur said in a measured voice. “This was an extremely foolish thing to do. As to your money, the wishes of your mother will be followed to the letter.”
“I don’t believe that. You think I’m stupid about money.”
Arthur opened his mouth, then shut it. Addie, fiery like her mother, wouldn’t hear anything he said.
“Sis, I ought to wring your neck for this stunt,” Chark said through clenched teeth as Cynthia Cooper reached into the deep safe deposit box and lifted out the wrapped kilo.
“It wasn’t what you think. Nigel bought this to pay off his debt to Mickey.”
“This goes far beyond a debt to Mickey Townsend,” Rick replied. “This represents a lot of money on the street.”
“He used you!” Chark yelled.
“He didn’t use me.”
“Let the dead sleep in peace.” Arthur held up his hands to stop the argument. “Whatever his intentions were we’ll never know.”
Rick motioned for Cynthia to lock up the box.
“I have something to tell you all.” Rick’s eyes narrowed. “And Addie, if you’re holding anything back, out with it.” She glared at him as he continued. “There is no Nigel Danforth.”
“What do you mean?” Alarm flashed on her face while confusion registered on Chark’s and Arthur’s visages.
“I mean, there is no record of such a person in England. And there is no green card registered to anyone by that name in this country. Our only hope is his dental records, which we have sent out by computer to every police station we can reach, here and in England. A real long shot. His fingerprints are not on file in either the U.S. or England.”
Addie sank like a stone. “I don’t understand.”
Chark caught his sister and gently lowered her into a chair. “He lied even more than I thought,” he said.
She put her head in her hands and sobbed. “But I loved him. Why would he lie to me?”
Arthur placed his hand on her shoulder. “Sheriff, might he perhaps be from some British colony—or French colony?”
“Coop thought of that. Can’t find a thing. We don’t know who this
man was, where he came from, or his exact age. All we know is that he gave a kilo of cocaine to Addie to keep for him. Saying he bought it from Linda Forloines—”
“Well, get them!” Addie wailed.
“We tried to arrest them yesterday. They’re gone.” Rick, embarrassed, saw the dismay on their faces.
“Is my sister”—Chark could hardly get the words out—“under arrest?”
“No. Not yet anyway,” Rick said.
“Now see here, Shaw.” Arthur stood up straight. “She’s been a foolish girl, but many a woman’s been led astray by a man. She is no drug dealer. She isn’t even a user anymore.”
Shaking, tears down her cheeks, Addie choked, “Well—uh, sometimes.”
“Then your brother and I will put you in a clinic.” Arthur’s tone brooked no contradiction.
“What about Camden? Anyway, I only use a little to celebrate. Really. I’m not an addict or anything. Test my blood.”
“We’ll settle this between us.” Arthur took control. “Sheriff, does Adelia have permission to ride in Camden?”
“Yes, but”—he focused on Addie—“don’t try anything stupid—like running away.”
“Do you think Will and Linda will show up there?” Chark asked.
“I don’t know,” Rick replied.
“They’re out of the country by now.” Addie wiped her red eyes. “Linda always said she was going for one last big hit.”
“Why didn’t she do that a long time ago?” Arthur’s voice was hard.
“Because she was using, too. She said she’d cleaned up, though. Now it’s strictly business. She wanted a haul. And out of here.” Addie dropped her head in her hands again.
“There’s lots of this around the steeplechase world, isn’t there?” Cynthia jotted notes in her book.
Addie shrugged. “Goes in cycles. I don’t think there’s any more drug abuse on the backstretch than there is in big corporations.”
“In that case, America’s in trouble,” Chark said.
“We’ll deal with America tomorrow.” Arthur smiled tightly. “Right now my first priority is getting this young lady straightened out. Sheriff, is there any more that you need from us tonight?”
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