Cat on the Scent

            “There isn’t one. I mean, except for Tommy Van Allen winding up as a frozen TV dinner. He was one of the four partners and, the most extraordinary thing, Sir H. Vane-Tempest said, ”Which one of us killed Tommy Van Allen?“ Archie screamed so loud I thought my eardrums would burst. He said H. was sick to even say such a thing. Blair wasn’t overfond of H.”s crack either. Sir H. Vane said Sarah wanted to come into the deal in place of Tommy. At first Archie was opposed, then he thought it over and said she might be a good spokesperson for when they go public.“

            “Blair?”

            “He’s not sure yet. He’s afraid it will give the Vane-Tempests control over Teotan. He’s right, too.”

            Mrs. Murphy, hearing geese, squinted into the sun. She spied the telltale V formation, flying low. The rustling of the birds’ wings was growing louder and just as quickly growing faint as the formation passed.

            “I wouldn’t want to be in Teotan right now.”

            “Me neither,” Pewter agreed. “One partner hung on a meathook and the other got blasted.”

            “The brilliance of their business plan is the money is steady. Millions will come in over the years. If they sold the land or the water outright to the county they’d lose an enormous chunk of their profit to taxes.” She shook herself, then squeezed through the iron fence around the graveyard. “Blair’s smarter than I gave him credit for.”

            “Smart? He’ll be dead soon enough. Archie will control everything.”

            They walked across the soft earth, crossing over the creek into Harry’s hay field. Tomahawk, Poptart, and Gin Fizz, mouths full of clover and timothy, raised their heads, spotted their feline friends, then returned to grazing.

            Mrs. Murphy finally spoke. “Blair isn’t our human. He isn’t our responsibility, but I like him.”

            “I’m not risking my neck for anyone but Harry.”

            “No one is asking you to, but we need to be alert. I’m inclined to help him up to a point. He’s our next-door neighbor.”

            “That’s what worries me: He’s next door.”

            39

            When Harry returned from work that evening, Mrs. Murphy was asleep on the sofa and Pewter was dozing by her food bowl.

            Tucker burst through the door to share the day’s gossip. The cats, at first grumpy, woke up fully and told the corgi of their adventure.

            As they were filling Tucker in, Deputy Cooper drove up. She emerged from her squad car, carrying Chinese food.

            Harry selected some morsels of chicken for the cats. Cynthia had thoughtfully brought a knuckle bone from Market Shiflett’s grocery for Tucker.

            “Hear about Little Mim’s party?”

            Harry shook her head since her mouth was full of chicken-fried rice, so Cynthia continued.

            “She’s planning an apple-blossom party. Impromptu.”

            SPECIAL_IMAGE-BMP-REPLACE_ME

            “Ha,” Harry replied, knowing that Little Mim’s version of impromptu meant a small army of workers at the last minute instead of a small army planning months in advance. Spontaneity wasn’t a word associated with either Mim senior or Mim junior.

            “She’s renting small tables, setting them out in the apple orchard. She’s hired a band. Her mother is lending her the outdoor dance floor. That takes an entire day to put together. Anyway, she’s in a state.”

            “Where’d you hear this?”

            “From the horse’s mouth. I met her this morning to ask if she took clothing to Mrs. Woo. Turns out she doesn’t since Gretchen, Big Mim’s utility infielder, also does the mending. That’s when she waxed eloquent about the party.”

            “Bet she doesn’t invite me.”

            “She has to invite you.” Cynthia grabbed pork lo mein with her chopsticks.

            “No she doesn’t.”

            “Yes she does, because if she doesn’t everyone will notice. She cares about appearances as much as her mother.”