Cat on the Scent

            “Typical.” Archie tapped his pencil on the tabletop. “The only reason he ever wanted this thankless job was to find out when and where we’d be making road improvements and granting commercial zoning permits. Gives him more time to put together a good bid.”

            “Come on, Arch, you don’t believe that.”

            “The hell I don’t.” Archie snapped his mouth shut like a turtle.

            Harry, Mrs. Murphy, Tucker, and Pewter sat in the middle next to Harry’s colleague in the post office, Miranda Hogendobber. Also there were Susan and Ned Tucker; Harry’s ex-husband, Fair Haristeen; and BoomBoom Craycroft. The widow Craycroft was not Harry’s favorite person.

            Blair accompanied Mim’s daughter, Marilyn.

            Little Mim, as she was known, stood up in front with her mother, who was already poring over the large map of the county.

            Sir Henry Vane-Tempest—called H. or H. Vane by everyone—sat off to the side, his horn-rimmed spectacles sliding down his long nose. He had taken the precaution of bugging each county commissioner’s office. Once a week the transcript was discreetly brought to him at his farm by Tareq Said, head of Said and Trumbo Investigations. Vane-Tempest made certain that his wife knew nothing of this. No one knew and H. would keep it that way. Next to him was Ridley Kent, a rich ne’er-do-well whose primary occupation was staring at women’s bodices. He happened to be sitting beside a good one. Sarah Vane-Tempest was H. Vane’s trophy wife, an elegant blonde whose cool beauty owed little to the expensive clothes she wore.

            “The gang’s all here,” Susan said to Harry.

            “Frightening, isn’t it?” Harry sarcastically replied.

            “Holding negative feelings will eat you up and destroy your good health,” BoomBoom crooned.

            “Shut up, Boom.”

            “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” BoomBoom cast her violet eyes at Harry.

            Archie noticed Mrs. Murphy sauntering up to the map. “Get that cat out of here.”

            “I beg your pardon.” Mrs. Murphy stared at him.

            “Mary Minor Haristeen, those animals have no place here.” Archie pointed to Pewter, on her lap, and Tucker, seated at Fair’s cowboy-booted feet.

            “Hey, Murphy, jump on the table and blow a tuna fart right in his face,” Pewter called out.

            “How rude.” Mrs. Murphy giggled but she did jump on the desk to stare Archie directly in the eye.

            “Murphy—” Harry called to her.

            “You are a sorry excuse for a mammal.” Mrs. Murphy insulted Archie, who blinked as she spoke.

            “She’s saying that she’s a resident of AlbemarleCounty, too, and the water supply affects her.” Mim’s upper-class voice hushed the room.

            “That’s right, honeybun,” Jim, not upper-class, said.

            Everyone laughed.

            “Then at least keep this feline with you,” Archie told Harry.

            Mrs. Murphy, the full attention of the room on her, flopped on her side, cocking her head at the audience.

            “Isn’t she adorable. She knows we’re talking about her,” one of the older ladies said.

            “Gag me,” Pewter sniped.

            “Mrs. Murphy, come back here,” Harry said firmly. She was put out at Mrs. Murphy’s showing off, but secretly she was also enjoying Archie Ingram’s discomfiture. He could be so pompous.

            Naturally, Mrs. Murphy flopped on the other side, again gazing at her fans. She emitted a honey-coated meow.

            “Precious,” another voice cooed.

            Even Tucker looked queasy.

            Harry handed Pewter to Fair, stood up, and stepped along a row of desks to the center aisle. “Madam, you get off that desk.”

            “One for the money, two for the show, three to get ready and four to go,” the tiger cat sang out, sat up, grabbed Archie’s pencil in her teeth, and leapt off the front table.

            “Hey!” Archie boomed as everyone in the classroom laughed at him. “Hey, I want that back.”

            Mrs. Murphy pranced over to Sarah Vane-Tempest, dropping the pencil at her expensively shod feet.

            “I can’t believe you did that,” Pewter hollered at her.

            “Watch me.” She skidded out to the hallway, dodging legs, and finally sat down under the water fountain. By the time Harry caught up with her, she was intently grooming the tip of her tail.

            “Monster.”

            “Broccoli eater.”

            “If you even move your eyebrows I’m taking you out to the truck.”

            “Take me to Blair’s Porsche. I don’t want to sit in the truck.”

            “Don’t you mouth off at me,” Harry warned her.

            “Who else am I going to mouth off to?”

            Harry paused, wondering whether to take her back into the meeting or go directly to the truck. Well aware of Murphy’s lethal temper, she thought the cat would be safer in sight than out of sight. She scooped up the silky-coated creature, holding her bottom while Murphy leaned on her shoulder, winking at passersby.