The Tail of the Tip-Off (27 page)

49

T
he first thing Harry did the next morning, Wednesday, was call Rick, also an early riser. She was just thrilled with herself.

He seemed less thrilled. “Thank you, Harry, that's very interesting.”

“Interesting?”

“Harry, the investigation is moving along. I thank you for your effort. Go to work. Goodbye.”

Harry hung up the phone. “Damn him!”

She bundled her animals into the truck and drove to work. Fair had already left at five-thirty in the morning as he had early farm calls. January meant breeding for the Thoroughbred people who wanted foals born as close to the next January as possible. Too late and the horse would be at a disadvantage racing. All Thoroughbreds have the birthday of 1 January in the year they were born for racing purposes. Of course, if they were born 2 February, that was noted in the foal's records. Since a mare carried for eleven months, people were getting their mares prepared for breeding. It was a lot of work for the owners and vets.

Harry dreamed of a small broodmare operation someday but on this frosty morning she was too angry to bask in her dreams. She pulled in behind the post office, unlocked the back door, clicked on the lights. It was seven in the morning. By the time the teakettle was singing, Miranda, wearing red fuzzy earmuffs, walked in.

“Good morning.” She hung up her quilted coat, stamped her feet, unwound the cashmere scarf and hung it with the coat. She put the poppyseed muffins on the table.

“Miranda, I am so mad I could eat a bug!”

“Oh dear.” Miranda thought she'd had a fight with Fair or Susan.

She told Miranda everything, including the call to Rick. “He didn't pay the least bit of attention to me.”

“Now you know he did. He probably can't say what he's up to—you know, he might be close to an arrest.”

“Sure.” A dejected Harry reached for a moist poppyseed muffin. A few savory bites restored her spirits, somewhat. “I'll call Cooper.”

“That's a good idea,” Miranda appeased her.

Although Cooper received Harry's thoughts with more enthusiasm, she, too, remained noncommittal.

Frustrated, Harry attacked the duffel bags filled with mail when Rob Collier dropped them off.

“She's going to put that case of the mean reds somewhere.”
Pewter laughed as she ate up poppyseed crumbs.

“God only knows what she'll do next,”
said Mrs. Murphy.

“You're such a pessimist.”
Pewter rubbed the side of her paw along her whiskers.

Harry's mood sank again although when Little Mim came in for her mail she asked if she could borrow her noisemaker. Little Mim laughed but agreed, going out to her car, returning to give it to Harry.

Miranda tidied up the package shelves. “Harry, sugar, don't fret. It's a slow day anyway. Oh, Vonda called you from the Barracks Road post office.”

“Did she say what she wanted?”

“Yes. She said she heard it from the postmaster at Seminole Trail. We are getting a new, modern post office.”

Seminole Trail was the location of the county's main post office.

“No way.” Harry grabbed the phone. Within minutes Vonda was giving her the blow-by-blow. When Harry hung up, she said quietly, “I guess we are. We don't really need one, Miranda. This one works just fine. And Vonda's moving back to Charleston, West Virginia. I can't stand it. Barracks Road P.O. won't be the same without her. Bet the gang down there isn't thrilled, either.” Harry considered her compatriots at the Barracks branch an overworked bunch.

“Growth projections.” Miranda quoted what she had heard when she spoke to Vonda. “And I'm sorry she's leaving, too.”

“It's a waste of money. A new P.O. A big waste!”

“You haven't learned that government exists to squander your tax dollars? If we can put in our two cents maybe we can make it functionally, m-m-m, useful.”

“I don't want a new post office.” Harry stubbornly sat down.

“To tell you the truth, I don't, either.” Miranda sat opposite her. She looked out the front window. “It's like a ghost town today.”

“Yeah.”

“You aren't going to do something foolish, are you?” Miranda tilted her head.

“No. Why would you think that?”

“Your jaw has that set to it.”

“Oh.”

Miranda quoted Psalm 141, verse 3: “‘Set a guard over my mouth, O Lord, keep watch over the door of my lips!' ”

Harry said nothing.

50

R
ick and Cooper labored at their desks. The sheriff had taken the precaution of assigning an officer to stay with Anne Donaldson.

“Sheriff, pick up the phone!” Lisa Teican, at the switchboard, hollered as Rick had been ignoring the blinking light on his phone.

“Sheriff Shaw.”

“Joe Mulcahy. You wanted me to call you—” The head of toxicology in Richmond was interrupted.

“Thank you. What was it?”

“Batrachotoxin.”

“Never heard of it.”

“There's no reason you would. I've never seen this stuff before in my life, either. Never once has it shown up.”

“Well, what is it?”

“It's an acutely lethal substance, so lethal, Sheriff, that nanograms cause instantaneous death to an organism. A microgram could wipe out a platoon.”

“Jesus! Is this something some nut can cook up in a lab?” Rick, like other sheriffs throughout the United States, had undergone training to combat bioterrorism.

“That's highly unlikely. I mean, it can't be cooked up in a lab and it's unlikely some nutcase could acquire enough of the batrachotoxin to pose a large-scale problem.”

“So, how did the killer get it?”

“From the skin of poisonous frogs, little tiny, actually, like two to five centimeters, tiny frogs. Bright colors with stripes and spots. Beautiful little things, really.” Joe opened a book then continued. “Once we isolated the toxin I became fascinated. These little buggers live in the rain forests of South America and the natives would catch them and stress them out. Now they wouldn't necessarily kill them but they'd worry them and the frogs would secrete liquid from the bumps on their back. The natives would collect that, carefully, obviously, and let it dry. Then they'd smear it on darts, arrows, whatever.”

“And you said it works quickly?”

“Amazingly fast. It blocks the transmission of nerve impulses and the heart just stops. Dead.”

“Jesus.”

“He can't help the victim.” Joe couldn't resist a joke.

“Guess not. In your research did you find out just where someone could procure these frogs?”

“Well, that's not my department but there's an underground for exotic creatures. Smuggling in contraband animals is a big business and Dulles Airport is a big, big airport. Be pretty easy, I'd think. And hey, all you need is two, a male and a female. You're in business.”

“But you'd need to create a specialized environment.”

“Sheriff, they're tiny. A small aquarium with the correct humidity and lots of bugs would keep Mr. and Mrs. Frog very happy. And water. Lots of water. Pretty fascinating.”

“Mr. Mulcahy, thank you.”

“I'll send the full report out FedEx Ground.”

“I'll read every word but this phone call is what I've been waiting for.”

“Glad I could be helpful.” Joe hung up.

Rick motioned for Cooper to come to his desk. She did and he told her what he'd just heard.

“Damn, how can we trap him?” Cooper, like most everyone in town, knew about Matthew's rain forest. It wasn't a stretch to figure out he could provide a wonderful place for poisonous frogs. Who would know?

“Could be someone in the biology department at UVA. Don't forget, Anne is a botanist.”

“It could be her but it isn't. It's Matthew.”

Rick held up his hands, palms outward, a gesture of supplication and in this case a bit of frustration. “Yes, I think he's our man. It's not Anne. I just don't yet know how to prove it.”

“Gut feeling—Mychelle?”

Rick knew what she meant. He nodded. “Yes, I think he killed her, too. Different MO but somehow she got in the way.”

“Maybe he was having an affair with her or had in the past?”

“Possible.” He tapped the side of his cheek with a pencil. “Something cold about these murders. If it were sex or love, it'd be different. I just think it would be different.”

“He's close to Anne.”

“That worries me. In fact, it all worries me. We've got our killer. All my instincts tell me that and the donkey work is leading us right to him, as well. But why? Why?” He threw up his hands.

51

F
riday night the girls played North Carolina State. Harry, Little Mim's noisemaker tucked into her blazer pocket, sat next to Fair.

In front of her, Cooper sat between Greg Ix and Peter Gianakos in H.H.'s seat. Irena Fotopappas, back in uniform, was home with Anne and Cameron. Rick had given the young officer strict orders not to allow Matthew or his wife, just in case, into the house.

Harry had a handful of dried peas in her pocket along with the noisemaker which she had altered by running a small peashooter inside the paper.

Everyone else sat in their usual spots with Bill Langston taking Dr. Hayden McIntyre's seat. Little Mim had once again invited Tazio. Bill leaned back quite a bit to talk with Tazio. BoomBoom on Little Mim's right side noticed. Blair sat on Little Mim's left next to Tazio. Usually he sat where BoomBoom now sat and she was one seat away from Little Mim but both women had cooked up the idea that Blair should be next to Tazio. It would make the new man in town pay more attention to her, even if he'd heard that Blair and Little Mim were an item. BoomBoom and Little Mim, great believers in testosterone, figured Bill would have to be more attentive, more clever, simply because there was another very handsome man there.

Aunt Tally from time to time would look backward and observe. She kept a keen interest in anything that might involve sex.

Big Mim, on the other hand, focused on romance.

Tally told her she should know better.

Harry kept her noisemaker in her pocket. Matthew, jovial as ever, handed out drinks, blew his noisemaker. The boys struck the cowbell.

Susan Tucker sat next to Matthew. Harry told her what she thought about Matthew, and Susan believed her. As for sitting next to the man her best friend decided was a killer, Susan shrugged. Why would he kill her? She didn't think she had anything he would want if in fact Harry was right.

Fred Forrest scowled behind them all.

The game, tight, turned into a nail-biter.

At one point, Harry looked up at the scoreboard and wondered if she shouldn't have used it. Maybe put a message on it to scare Matthew, but then she'd probably scare everyone else, too.

In the last two minutes of the game, Mandy Hall, Virginia's center, blocked a shot under the basket and Isabelle Otey stole the ball right out of the North Carolina State forward's hands. Isabelle streaked down the center of the court to soar up for an easy layup. That was the game.

Harry turned around just as Isabelle scored and she hit Matthew with a pea. His hand slapped his cheek but he didn't see that Harry was the perpetrator so she fired off another. He saw her this time. She smiled.

He smiled back.

After the game the fans piled out. Fred Forrest hurried down the steps to the court where he upbraided Tracy for a call he felt was wrong.

Harry, full of herself, blasted Fred with a pea. He turned around and she shot another one which bounced off his head.

“You stop that, Harry.”

“Fred, you're a crab.” She pocketed her noisemaker.

While Fred's attention was on Harry, Tracy adroitly slipped away and was halfway to the locker room before Fred had turned back to lambaste him.

Harry walked out to the parking lot, waving to everyone. She retrieved her pets and returned to the Clam, making certain Matthew saw her.

She returned to the basketball arena as the last stragglers filed out. She sat in her seat firing peas at H.H.'s seat.

Pewter couldn't resist leaping up to bat away the peas.

Mrs. Murphy, vigilant, watched the doors as did Tucker, who kept sniffing, overwhelmed by fresh odors. There were still too many people around and too much noise.

Sure enough, as the tail end of the fans walked out BoomBoom walked back in.

“BoomBoom, what are you doing here?”

“Lost my gloves.” BoomBoom bounded up to her seat and found her trampled black gloves. She joined Harry.

Harry explained her theory.

Tucker barked,
“Someone's here.”

Fred Forrest, lurking in the top shadows, came down from the upper levels. “Explain that to me, Harry.”

Both BoomBoom and Harry regarded Fred with suspicion, but Harry willingly explained her theory and demonstrated.

“And who have you told this theory to, Harry?” His voice was shaky.

“Anyone who would listen.”

“I'm behind him,”
Tucker told the girls.

“We'll stay in front. Do you think he has a gun?”
Mrs. Murphy asked her canine friend.

“I don't know.”

“You really think Matthew killed H.H.?” Fred's eyebrows darted upward.

“Do you?” BoomBoom flippantly asked.

“If I did, I wouldn't tell you or anybody. How do I know he wouldn't kill me?”

The doors swung open on the court level and Matthew sauntered back in.

“Ask him.” Harry reached in her blazer pocket, filling her hand with peas. She did not withdraw her hand.

“What are you all doing here?” Matthew, wreathed in smiles, walked over.

“Damn,”
Mrs. Murphy hissed.
“Mother did this without telling Rick or Cooper.”

“I'll watch Matthew.”
Pewter moved toward the large man.

“We were talking about you,” Harry brazenly said. “Fred won't tell us why you killed H.H.”

“Fred, what's the matter with you?” Matthew didn't change his expression.

“I don't give a damn about H.H.,” Fred snarled. “Whatever happened to him, he deserved, but Mychelle—that's another matter. I'd like to hear your answer, Matthew.”

“What's good for the goose is good for the gander.” Matthew moved closer but not within striking range.

Harry wondered if she could knock him over. His heavy coat might slow him down. If he was armed it wouldn't matter.

BoomBoom played dumb. “Where's Sandy and the kids?”

“On their way to Duner's for a late supper.”

“Are you on foot?” Harry noted the exit doors.

“We're a two-car family.” He smiled, then turned his focus back on Fred. “What kind of bullshit are you peddling today?”

“Nothing. Harry has a very interesting theory about how you killed H.H. I wondered myself how he could be murdered in front of everyone but her idea makes a lot of sense.”

“No murder weapon.” Matthew clapped his hands together as though rounding up his children.

“Ice.”
Mrs. Murphy spoke.

“An ice dart,” Harry said as though mimicking the cat.

“What are you doing here?” BoomBoom asked.

“I could ask you the same thing.” Matthew became less upbeat. “I'm here to inspect that hairline crack up there. I'll send a man over Monday morning.”

“They're on to you, Matthew.” Fred smiled maliciously.

“Ah, but are they on to you?” Matthew shrugged as though this were of no crucial concern to him.

“Shut your mouth.” Fred took a step down the stairs.

Harry elbowed BoomBoom and threw the peas hard in Matthew's face. The two women hopped over the seats, streaked across the basketball court, and slammed open the doors onto the circular hall.

The cats and dog followed, scooting out behind the humans.

“You take BoomBoom, I'll take Harry,” Matthew ordered Fred as the men ran after them, slipping on the dried peas.

“Stairwell!”
Tucker barked.

Harry turned when Tucker barked,
“BoomBoom, here!”

The women and animals hurried down the stairwell just as Matthew and Fred entered the circular hall.

Matthew hesitated for a moment, then ran to the stairwell door, opening it just as the door on the lower level closed with a click and thud. “Here.”

He and Fred clumped down the stairwell.

Both men knew the Clam inside and out. They knew that Harry and BoomBoom, while not as familiar with the structure, knew it well enough to know where the doors to the outside were located. They had to cut off those doors.

Once on the bottom level, Matthew motioned for Fred to move left. He would move right.

“Try every door,” Fred barked.

Harry and BoomBoom ran for the outside door but heard Fred's running footsteps.

“Shit! He's closer than we are,” Harry said.

“Hide. We'll attack them.”
Mrs. Murphy nosed at office doors.

Now they plainly heard running footsteps from both directions.

BoomBoom tried the handle on the equipment room door. Luckily, it was open. They slipped in. The lights were off.

Harry flattened against the wall to one side of the door.

BoomBoom did the same against the other side so that when the door opened into the dark room, they'd have a chance to be undetected. If Matthew or Fred stepped inside, the women could slip by him or knock him down.

The cats could see much better.

“On the shelf!”
Mrs. Murphy lost no time in leaping up, then climbing to where the light switch was located. She crouched just behind the switch.

“Tucker, do your duty,”
Pewter, now next to Murphy although her climb was less graceful, exclaimed.

All five creatures held their collective breath. The footsteps drew closer.

Murphy whispered to Pewter,
“We're not alone in here.”
She stretched out her paw toward the back of the cavernous room.

“You're right,”
the gray cat whispered back. A human figure could be seen, barely, in the back but stealthily moving closer.

“We can't warn Tucker. We'll make too much noise,”
Murphy whispered.

But the corgi's keen hearing and even keener nose picked up the sound and the scent. She prayed she could handle whatever happened next, and she prayed that Harry's quick wits and courage would spring them from this fix. The dog had confidence in her human and knew Harry had confidence in her.

The footsteps outside stopped next door. The lacrosse room door opened then closed as did the door on the other side of the equipment room. Matthew and Fred had met in front of the equipment room.

Matthew made no attempt to be quiet. No reason, he wasn't the hunted. “They're in here.”

“Guess we'll find them with the soccer balls,” Fred replied.

The door opened, a shaft of light falling across the floor.

Matthew reached for the light switch which was located where the shelves were but the space was left clear, naturally.

Mrs. Murphy bit down hard.

“Jesus Christ!” Matthew yelled as those sharp fangs sank all the way into the fleshy part of his palm.

Fred instinctively took a step back and whoever was in the room hurtled past the two shocked women, blocking Matthew so hard the heavy man was picked up off his feet. He hit the floor hard.

Tucker followed after and savaged Fred's ankle.

The unidentified blocker swept past Fred, knocking him flat, then raced down the hall toward the stairwell door. Tucker glimpsed him from the rear, a man, but Tucker had bigger fish to fry. She jumped on Fred's chest and while Tucker was not a big dog Fred was unprepared for this new assault. The corgi bared her fangs, lunging straight for his throat.

He threw his forearm up, instinctively, to protect his jugular.

“Die!”
Tucker savagely growled.

Harry, the shaft of light sliding by her face from the opened door, yelled to BoomBoom, “It's now or never!”

Without replying, BoomBoom sprinted beside Harry out of the equipment room and into the hall. The cats bit into Matthew extra hard for good measure, then tore after the two women.

“We should have taken out his eyes!”
Mrs. Murphy fretted as they ran for the stairwell door which seemed so very far away.

“Not enough time,”
Pewter replied.

Matthew, blood dripping from his right hand, reached into his jacket, pulling out a handgun. He stepped over Fred who had rolled on his side struggling to get up.

Tucker, hurrying after her friends, glanced over her shoulder.
“Gun!”

“Run!”
Murphy flew down the corridor with its curving smooth walls, no right angles giving them a place to hide. Their only hope was to run for their lives and pray Matthew was a bad shot, pray Murphy's bite had hurt his gun hand.

He took a few steps, aimed at BoomBoom, the taller of the two women, and fired. The bullet whizzed past her right shoulder.

“Drop and roll if you have to!” Harry called over to her as BoomBoom matched Harry stride for stride.

Instead of dropping, BoomBoom swerved toward the wall where there was a fire alarm box. She paused, smashing the glass on the fire alarm. When Matthew fired at her, she dropped. The bullet smashed into the wall above the alarm, then she stood up and grabbed the tiny hammer again, blasting the alarm to life for all she was worth. Then she dropped and rolled as another bullet smashed near her, concrete powder spraying over her and the floor.

Harry reached the stairwell door. The clanging as she pushed on the long bar echoed down the hall. She held it open for BoomBoom and her animals.