The Tail of the Tip-Off (24 page)

43

W
hite cartons of Chinese food, tops opened like flower petals, decorated Harry's kitchen table. Cynthia Cooper brought the delicacies, a ritual she and Harry shared on those Saturday nights when neither of them had a date.

Sometimes Miranda would join them but now that her Saturdays were filled, it was the two younger women.

“I can't eat another bite.” Harry flipped a shrimp to Pewter with her chopsticks.

“I can!”
Pewter gleefully caught the shrimp.

Mrs. Murphy chewed some cashew chicken while Tucker worked on pork lo mein.

The two humans folded back the tops, putting the cartons in the refrigerator. They took their coffee to the living room.

Harry sat in the wing chair. Cooper plopped on the sofa, stretching her feet to the coffee table. She could relax with Harry. She pulled an unfiltered Camel from her shirt pocket.

“Serious.”

“It's Rick's fault.” Cooper squinted as she lit up. “For the last three months he's switched brands hoping to cut back on the nicotine content. So instead of smoking one pack a day, he'd smoke three packs of the diet cigs. Then he reverted to the real deal but was still trying other brands. I don't know why. He said maybe if one of them tasted bad to him, he'd slow down. Finally, he went back to Camels. Swears they taste the best. I concur.” She exhaled a blue curlicue. “I tried those different brands with him. Of course, the really expensive stuff, Dunhill, Shephard's Hotel, that's heaven but this is good. You never smoked, did you?”

“Once in a blue moon, I'll smoke my father's pipe. It's kind of soothing and it makes me think of Dad.”

“I'm sorry I never met your father.”

“He was a good guy. He knew a lot about the world. Very realistic but not, uh, cynical.”

Harry smiled as the three animals came into the living room to clean faces, whiskers, one another.

A good grooming after a meal was essential to mental health, especially for Mrs. Murphy who had a vain streak.

“You think H.H.'s murder or Mychelle's has anything to do with drugs?” Harry switched back to the problem at hand.

“No.”

“Me, neither.”

“Then why'd you ask?” Cooper laughed.

“You're closer to the case than I am. You know things I don't.”

“It's not drugs. The more we investigate the more it looks like lover's revenge.”

“Anne?”

“Yes.”

“That is so awful. I hope it's not true.”

“When you get right down to it, I'm surprised that more women don't kill their husbands.”

“Cynic.”

Cooper swung her legs to the floor, leaned over and ground out her cigarette. “Maybe.”

“Well, if it is Anne she was brilliant to kill him in front of everyone. Not so brilliant to kill Mychelle.”

“No fingerprints. Not a scrap of physical evidence and no murder weapons.”

“Ice. An ice bullet,”
Mrs. Murphy meowed loudly.

“Indigestion?” Harry glanced down at her tiger cat who was looking right up at her.

“I love you, Harry, but you can be so obtuse.”
Mrs. Murphy leapt onto Harry's lap.

“Don't waste your breath. If you get upset you
will
get indigestion,”
Pewter advised.

“We'll all be hungry in an hour anyway.”
Tucker delivered her assessment of Chinese food.

Pewter and Tucker scrambled onto the other end of the sofa, quickly settling down.

“Do you mind?”

“You ask?” Cooper laughed as she reached over to pet the two friends.

“I've been thinking.”

“God, no.” Cooper covered her face with her hands.

“The next girls' game is Tuesday. Wake Forest, I think. Well, it doesn't matter who the opponent is. These events, including the attack on Tracy, all happen during or after women's basketball games. Tonight's the men's game and I bet you nothing happens.”

“So far nothing has happened except around the women's games, but we can't find a connection.” She put her feet back up on the coffee table. “What's your idea?”

“I've ruled out gambling.”

Cooper laughed. “Keep going.”

“This Tuesday night why don't you and I and these guys stay in the Clam all night. The animals have much keener senses than we do.”

“No way.”

“You agree the site may be important.”

“I don't know. I mean that. I don't know. H.H.'s murder was planned. I think Mychelle's was opportunistic.”

“Yeah, well, what can it hurt to have us there overnight?”

“Tracy escaped with a knot on his head. Maybe he was lucky. I can't risk you or even me without Rick's approval. Besides, Harry, if he thought a surveillance was needed, he would assign someone to stay there at night after the game.”

“Well—ask him.”

“He'll blow his stack at me, not at you. By the time he reaches you he'll have cooled down enough for harsh words only.”

“Chicken.”

“I have to live with the man during work hours. You go talk to him first. You take the blast.”

“Aha, you don't think it's a bad idea.”

“I didn't say it was.” Cooper knew that Irena Fotopappas, posing as a graduate student, was there during the day. No one was there all night. She'd bring it up to Rick but leave out Harry, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker. “But it's a dangerous idea. Most especially since we don't know what we're looking for. If we knew, say, it was a gambling ring and a player shaves points, we might be able to do it, but Harry, we don't know what's going on if it isn't Anne Donaldson. That's risky.”

“I have a .38.”

“You could have a bazooka. If you don't know what or who your target is, he might get you before you get him. If this isn't Anne it might be another lover. We might even know the woman. We'd be disarmed, off guard.”

Harry dropped both arms over the side of the wing chair. “I still say we should stake out the place.”

“I'll bring it up to the boss but don't try it—especially don't try it without me. This one scares me.”

That really surprised Harry and it reflected in her voice. “Why?”

“If this is a crime of passion, then Anne Donaldson has more self-mastery than most of us as well as intelligence. If it isn't Anne, it's still someone who can dissemble with ease and who is frighteningly intelligent.”

“Damn.”

“Double damn.” Cooper sighed.

They lapsed into silence, both staring into the fire, a blue edge surrounding the yellow flames.

“Harry, carry your .38 on Tuesday.”

“Are we going to do it?”

“No, not exactly, but I'm going to call the people who sat behind H.H. to stay after the game. I have an idea. I'll ask three department people to sit in for H.H., Anne, and Cameron.”

“What if she's given the tickets to friends, which I bet she has?”

“Doesn't matter. We'll do this right after the game.”

“Cool.” Harry beamed.

44

B
y Monday morning at eight-thirty, Tazio and Brinkley had already been at work for an hour. Tazio drove carefully to the office, too, because the roads were slick, the plowed snow on the side turning greasy gray.

Her assistant wouldn't be at work until nine on the dot. Greg Ix, always punctual, kept her in a good humor.

She didn't look up when the door opened. “How wasted did you get this weekend?”

The door closed.

Brinkley scrambled to his feet.
“May I help you?”

“Tazio.” Fred Forrest strode up to the opposite side of the drafting table.

“Hello. I thought you were my assistant. I amend that, my young and wild assistant.”

“I haven't been either for a long time.” Fred showed a rare smile.

“What can I do for you? Or what shall I fix?”

“Nothing. I mean, everything is in order. I'm here”—he cleared his throat—“I'm here to find out if Mychelle spoke to you. I heard she approached you at—”

Tazio interrupted, something she rarely did. “We never got to our meeting.”

“I see.” He looked at the drawings on the drafting table but didn't really see them. “Do you have any idea why she wanted to talk to you—in private, I mean?”

“No. I wish I did.”

“Guess you told the sheriff that.”

“Sure.” She reached down to put her hand on Brinkley's head. The handsome young dog was filling out a bit. Once full grown and well nourished, he would be quite gorgeous.

“Mom, he's upset.”

Tazio scratched his ears.

“Did you ever spend time with Mychelle?”

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Uh, well, you're both colored.” Fred used the old polite word because he couldn't keep up with the new ones and Tazio understood that.

She smiled. “It's funny that you bring that up, Fred. Our jobs put us on opposite sides of the fence, don't you think?” He nodded and she continued. “And don't get me wrong, I'm not touchy, but just because people are the same color doesn't mean they're going to get along. People in the same family don't get along.”

He blushed. “You're right. I, uh, well, Tazio, I used to know how to act in the old days. I knew my place and so did everyone else, but now I get confused. Lorraine”—he mentioned his wife—“says people are people and don't fret over these political fashions. She calls them ‘fashions' but Lorraine doesn't work for the county government. She works at Keller and George”—he named the town's premier jewelry store—“and what she says isn't going to get blown out of proportion or wind up in the newspapers. You can't even say ‘Boo' at Halloween without someone calling you a pagan.”

“Mom, what's a pagan?”

“Sweetie, you're vocal this morning.” Tazio smiled at her boy and wondered how she ever lived without a dog's perfect love. “You know, Fred, I never really thought about how it is in a government job. I guess there are people out there just trying to set you up.”

“You wouldn't believe it.” He put his index finger on the smooth maplewood tabletop. “I apologize for my extended bad mood. Lorraine says it's extended. Guess it is. You haven't seen my good side. I have one, actually.”

“I'm sure you do.” Tazio knew something was eating him. “Mychelle's awful death has been a great blow to you. She was your student. I'm sure she was grateful for all you taught her.”

“I still can't quite believe she's gone. And that's why I wondered if she had said anything. I'm grasping at straws but I want to catch her killer as much as Rick and Cooper do, only if I catch him, I'll kill him. I swear I will. Taking the life of a young woman. Leaving her to bleed to death. My God, Tazio, they're more humane at the SPCA.”

“Yes,” she quietly replied. A silence followed, then she spoke. “Have you had breakfast? Let me take you up to the corner. Scrambled eggs?”

He held up his hand, palm outward, “No, no, thank you. Hot oatmeal with honey this morning. That will carry me to lunch. I'm sorry to come in here and bother you.”

“You haven't bothered me. I wish I could be helpful. I've told Cooper all I know—which is very little.”

“When Mychelle came up to you in line that day, was she frightened?”

“Agitated. I thought she was mad at me but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “Wasn't mad at you. No. Afraid. A bluff. Instead of showing it, she got angry. I knew her pretty good.”

“Do you have any idea what she was afraid of?”

“No.”

“Fred, sooner or later, the person who killed Mychelle will be caught. I really believe that and I know that Sheriff Shaw and Deputy Cooper won't rest until they catch him.”

He sighed. “I hope so.” Then he turned for the door. “You be careful. Make sure no one thinks you know anything.”

“Well—I don't.” A small ripple of fear ran through her.

“Thanks for your time. 'Bye.” He left.

“I don't know anything. Why would anyone think I knew something just because they saw us in line or out in the parking lot or on-site? Or because we're African-American. Half. My other half is Italian. So what do I do, Brinkley, serve spaghetti one night and cornbread the next? I'm just me. Why is it so hard for people to let you be yourself?”

“I don't know but I love you and I'll protect you and I'll eat anything you give me.”
He thumped his tail on the floor.

Greg opened the door, skidding inside. “Yehaw!”

“Must have been a great weekend.” Tazio smiled, her spirits somewhat restored by his rosy-cheeked face and lopsided grin.

45

P
ewter, reposing on the arm of the sofa, opened one jaundiced eye.
“She's got that bounce to her step.”

“Scary, isn't it?”
replied Mrs. Murphy, nestled just below Pewter on the afghan thrown on the sofa cushions.

“Think she'll take us?”
Tucker hated being left home.

“Even if she does we'll be stuck in the parking lot. Doesn't do us any good if we can't get in the building to see what's going on.”
Murphy could think of better things to do than sit in the truck.

“Now, you babies be good. No tearing up things. I am speaking to you, Miss Puss.” Harry walked into the living room to directly address Mrs. Murphy.

“How do you know it's me?”

“You're a bad kitty and too smart for your own good.”

“Right.”
Pewter opened the other eye.

“Pewter, you go right along with her. I am still furious over those silk lampshades in the bedroom you sliced and diced.”

“That was fun.”
Mrs. Murphy recalled her evening of destruction much as old college chums recalled getting blasted at a fraternity party in their youth.

Youth is more fun in retrospect.

“I'll go. Leave the cats at home.”
Tucker wiggled in anticipation.

“Brownnoser.”
Pewter turned her nose up.

“Sacrilegious cat,”
Tucker called back.

“You ate those communion wafers as much as I did.”
Pewter was quick to defend herself.

“You started it.”

“Tucker, I'd be ashamed to lie like that.”
Mrs. Murphy sat up.
“Elocution started it.”

“Sure was funny seeing the Rev stuck. It's the unplanned, stupid things that get you. Like glue on the floor.”
Pewter giggled.

“People think life is going to be as they imagine it, not as it really is. That's why murderers are caught sooner or later. They get stuck just like Herb. Somewhere out there, there's glue.”
Mrs. Murphy smiled.

“That's why we should be there tonight,”
Tucker seriously stated.

“She isn't going to spend the night. Cooper will be there. So will other people. She isn't going to be able to hang back or sneak in. Don't worry, Coop will take care of her. It's another night we have to worry about. The Sheriff's Department will drop its guard or get called off and Mom will fly down there to the Clam. If she thinks she can get away with it,”
Mrs. Murphy logically deduced.

“Yeah.”
Pewter backed her up.

“All right, see you later.” Harry sailed out of the house, the .38 in a holster on her belt in the hollow of her back.

“'Bye,”
the animals called back in unison.

They listened as the Ford truck coughed to life.

“We have the whole house to ourselves. What can we do?”
Murphy gleefully asked.

“Sleep.”
Pewter was tired. Traffic had been heavy in the post office this Tuesday.

“U-m-m, we could open the cupboard doors and pull stuff onto the counter.”

“If we do that we might break china,”
Pewter replied.

“We could pull out canned goods. We don't have to open the china doors. Or we could sit on the floor and pull open the lower cabinet. A little Comet strewn over the kitchen floor will look worse than it really is.”
Mrs. Murphy wanted to play.

“No,”
the other two replied.

“Party poopers.”
The tiger jumped down from the sofa and walked back to the bedroom. She pressed the On button on the television remote control. This would make Harry think she was losing her mind because she'd swear she turned off the Weather Channel before she left home.

Mrs. Murphy watched the curve of a low pressure system now in the Ohio River Valley. It was pointing Virginia's way. More bad weather was due to arrive, tomorrow night most likely.

She pressed the channel changer to the Discovery Channel. The program highlighted elephants. She settled on the bed to watch it. At least the program was about animals. The cat couldn't abide sitcoms. Not enough animals. Many didn't even have one. Heresy to her.

As Mrs. Murphy watched elephants wallowing in the mud, Harry met Cooper at the main doors to the Clam and they walked inside together.

“Anne didn't give the tickets to anyone, so Rick, myself, and Peter Gianakos will be in front.” Cooper had met Peter at the New Gate shopping center when she questioned him about H.H.'s work on that project.

“Peter, he's pretty cute.”

“Yeah, he is.”

They entered the basketball arena, the crowd filling the seats, and the band already playing behind the goal. For all but the big games the band was a smaller version of the marching band, and they wore T-shirts of the same color. Being more relaxed made them play better, or so people thought because the band really got into it. They added a sense of heightened fun to the happenings.

Everyone was in their usual seats. Harry, Fair, Jim, Big Mim, Aunt Tally on one row. Behind Harry sat Matt and to his right were Sandy, Ted, Matt, Jr. To his left sat Susan, Ned, Brooks, and to everyone's surprise, Dr. McIntyre's new partner, Bill Langston, a very, very attractive man. Behind that row were BoomBoom, Blair, Little Mim, and Tazio, whom Little Mim had invited since the seatholder was out of town for two weeks. Four rows behind this happy crew already swapping drinks and nibbles sat a glowering Fred Forrest.

On the opposite side of the court were Tracy and Miranda. Josef P. was reffing with a very tall former college star, Moses Welford, called Mo. Tracy, off duty, wanted to enjoy the game.

From the first whistle the game took off and never slackened. The Wake Forest team played defense like ticks, they stuck close and sucked blood.

Tammy Girond and Frizz Barber, probably the two quickest players on the UVA team, rather than being rattled by the superior defense, rose to meet the foe.

All the Virginia women played well, kept their cool. Isabelle Otey put eight points on the board in the first half. Mandy Hall added four and Jenny Ingersoll, despite being double-teamed sometimes, managed six. At halftime the score was Virginia 26, Wake Forest 24.

The second half was even better. The fans screamed, pounded the seats, stomped the floor, waved pennants and pom-poms because the game was so close, so clean, and everyone in the arena knew they were watching one of the best games of the season.

Coach Ryan would bound out of her seat from time to time. She had a commanding court demeanor without losing her cool. Andrew Argenbright paced on the sidelines. Every time the fast six-foot-three-inch Wake Forest forward rose up to block a shot, his hand would smack his forehead. She was beyond impressive. She was awesome. This year Virginia didn't have one outstanding player. What they had was a team, all talented and well matched. Wake depended too much on that forward. The Virginia team could depend on everyone.

The game went into three overtimes and finally Virginia pulled it out with a three-pointer off the hot hand of Jenny Ingersoll.

Bedlam.

Who was more exhausted, the teams or the fans?

Finally, fans filtered out.

The people Cooper had called stayed behind, and she asked Tazio Chappars and Bill Langston if they would mind filling in for the people usually sitting in their seats.

Fred Forrest, although four rows behind, didn't budge and Cooper didn't ask him to leave. If he wanted to sit through it, fine with her. Maybe she'd learn something. She was suspicious of Fred.

Tracy and Miranda remained on the other side of the court, as Cooper had asked them to stay as well. Tracy, who reffed the game the night of H.H.'s murder, took off his shoes and came out onto the court in his stocking feet.

Rick sat in H.H.'s seat. Peter sat to his left, which was the side of H.H.'s neck that had been pierced. Cooper sat on Rick's right but she stood up and turned around.

“Think back. Does anyone remember seeing anything thrown at H.H.?”

People shook their heads.

Rick slapped the back of his neck.

“Does anyone remember H.H. grabbing or rubbing his neck?”

Again, negative.

Cooper stepped back a row, standing next to Harry on her right. “Harry, you're behind H.H., a little to his left, and Fair, you're right next to Harry. Surely if he had been stabbed or hit with anything, you would have seen it.”

“Nothing.” Harry shrugged.

“What about Anne putting her arm around him?” Cooper pressed on.

“No,” Harry said.

“Our eyes were on the basketball court,” Fair concurred.

“Well, yes, but sometimes we see things out of the corner of our eye. A flashing light, the buzzer, and it triggers that memory.” She rolled her fingers over a bit, a gesture of thoughtfulness. “Bear it in mind. And let the pictures roll in your head.” She then walked in front of Harry and Fair to stand before Jim, Big Mim, and Aunt Tally. “Anything?”

The nonagenarian pointed at Cooper, the silver hound's head of her cane gleaming in her right hand. “You think the deed was committed here, don't you?”

“Still a hunch, Aunt Tally, still a hunch.”

“But I don't understand why H.H. wouldn't yell or slap his neck if he was stabbed.” Jim puzzled over the obvious stumbling block.

“He didn't feel it,” Big Mim replied.

“Because the game distracted him?” Jim asked.

Bill Langston, the new doctor, surprised the others when he spoke. He sat directly behind Aunt Tally. “It's possible for a victim to not feel what pierced his skin—not at first anyway. A painkiller on the tip of a dart would deaden sensation. He would feel it later, whether ten minutes later or a half hour, that would depend on the type of painkiller and the amount injected, naturally. And curiously enough, some wounds aren't as painful as others despite the damage. Cold can also blunt initial pain for seconds or even minutes. If he was attacked outside, the cold might have helped numb the puncture.”

“Thank you—”

“Bill Langston.” He smiled. “Hayden will get around to formally introducing me.”

“We're glad you're here,” Cooper smoothly said.

Now the assembled knew what she and Rick had known, there was a painkiller. She hoped this would prove useful and she knew that as she moved from row to row, person to person, Rick was observing everything. He had a tremendous feel for people.

The tall blonde deputy stepped up to the next row. She smiled at Matthew and Sandy's two sons.

“It'd be so cool if we could solve this crime,” Matt, Jr., the elder, said.

“Yeah,” Ted, a fifth-grader, affirmed.

“That's why we're all here.” Cooper turned to Sandy and Matt. “Two rows back but close. Can you remember what you were doing those last, oh say, five minutes of the game?”

Sandy laughed. “Matthew was handing out beers when he wasn't cheering.”

“That's why I had the beers. Our throats were raw.” He genially put his arm around his wife's shoulder.

“Susan?”

“Oh, I remember being on my feet most of the time. I'd no sooner sit down than I'd jump up again. And noisemakers. We all had noisemakers.”

“Kazoos?”

Ned answered Cooper. “Kazoos. Little tin horns. A big cowbell and, uh, you know, those things you blow at New Year's parties.”

“They furl and unfurl,” Brooks added.

“We make a lot of noise in this row.” Matthew pulled a kazoo out of his pocket.

“Who had the cowbell?”

Matt, Jr., called out, “I did.”

“Where is it tonight?”

“I forgot it,” he sheepishly answered Cooper.

“Yeah,” Ted said, “because we were late and Mom was on our tails.”

“How big is the cowbell?”

Matt, Jr., held his two hands about ten inches apart. “Big Bessie.”

“I guess.” Cooper laughed, then she stepped up to the third row behind H.H.'s seat. “BoomBoom, what do you remember?”

“What a great game it was. The noise was deafening.”

“Nothing unusual?”

“No.”

“Blair?”

The handsome model, his eyes a warm chocolate, thought, then shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Did you have a noisemaker?”

“No.”

“What about a pennant or one of those foam rubber fingers that says Number One?”

“No. The less I have to carry, the better.”

“Little Mim?”

“Well, I confess, I do have a noisemaker.” She reached into her purse, pulling out one of the New Year's type. She handed it to Cooper.

“This seems a bit sturdier than the party variety.”

“I bought it down at Mincer's.” She mentioned a university institution on the corner across from the University of Virginia. “As you can see, blue and orange. Lasts about a season before it finally dies.”

Cooper handed it back, glancing at Tazio.

“Like Dr. Langston, I'm just sitting in.”

“Unlike Dr. Langston, you knew H.H. Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to kill him?”

“Anyone in the world or anyone in this group?” This response from Tazio made everyone sit up straight.

“Keep it small. This group.”

“No.”

Cooper called up to Fred. “Any ideas?”

“No,” he called back.

“You can come closer, Fred.”

“No, I want to sit where I sat. Where I was the night of the murder.”

“All right then.” Cooper stepped down the tiers back to Rick. “You all knew H.H. Would it be possible for him to be involved in a theft ring here at U-Hall, at the Clam?”

This also got their attention.

“What do you mean?” Matthew kept putting his index finger over the mouth of the kazoo.

“We are investigating a theft ring.” She held up her hand as though quieting them even though they were quiet. “It hasn't been made public. Is it possible that H.H. was part of this?”