Cat on the Scent

30

Harry and Mrs. Hogendobber drove over to Tommy Van Allen's the evening of the body's discovery. His housekeeper, Helen Dodds, now in her late fifties, thanked them for their offer of help but was afraid to make any decisions until Tommy's estranged wife, Jessica, showed up. She was due in from Aiken, South Carolina, in the morning. Aileen Ingram, Archie's wife, joined them in the living room.

Mrs. Dodds said everyone had come by to help—the Tuckers, Reverend Jones, Sarah Vane-Tempest, Mim and Little Mim, just everyone, no matter what was happening in their lives. She was grateful, she went on, and was only sorry Tommy hadn't known he had so many friends. Then she burst into tears.

Aileen, petite and curly-haired, put her arm around Helen's shoulders. “There, there, Helen. I'm so sorry for all this.” She glanced up at Miranda. “Helen feels this is her fault.”

Helen sobbed anew. “I always tried to keep track of Tommy's schedule but lately I've fallen behind and”—she dropped her voice—“he's been secretive.”

Helen had been a dear friend of Aileen's now-deceased mother, and Aileen had remained close to the older woman. As soon as she heard the news of the body's discovery, she hurried to Helen's side.

“Helen, this isn't your fault. It may not even be Tommy's fault. Terrible things happen.”

Before Miranda could guide Helen toward heavenly support, Helen startled everyone by shouting. “Well, I hope they get him. I hope whoever killed Tommy fries in the electric chair!”

Harry cut off any attempt by Miranda to describe the Lord's justice. “Helen, I'm sure Sheriff Shaw will get to the bottom of this. We all need to keep our eyes and ears open. The smallest thing may have significance.”

Mrs. Murphy climbed out of the truck. Tucker was stuck in the cab, complaining bitterly. Pewter had stayed back at Market Shiflett's store to be picked up on the way home.

Tommy's fiery red Porsche 911 Targa was parked in the garage. Tommy, Vane-Tempest, and Blair Bainbridge had indulged in competitive consumption. Murphy sniffed the driver's-side door, the tires, the front and back of the machine. Not that she expected to find anything—just force of habit.

On her hind paws, she stretched her full height to look in the driver's window. The keys were in the ignition.

“Mrs. Murphy,” Harry called.

The cat scampered back to the truck. Miranda was already in the passenger side, Tucker wedged between her and Harry. The cat soared onto Harry's lap, then snuggled next to Tucker.

Harry backed out, heading toward town. “It was good of Aileen Ingram to come by, considering her troubles.”

“Archie needs to turn to the Lord. How much plainer must his message be?”

“Miranda, these days when people are in trouble they think of turning to a therapist if they think of anything at all.”

“Won't work.”

“I wouldn't know.” They passed BoomBoom and waved. “My point proven.”

“Mmm.” Miranda let pass the opportunity to reprimand Harry for her snideness toward BoomBoom. “I suppose Aileen was on her way to bail out Archie.”

“If she had any sense she'd leave him in there.”

“‘Whoever exalts himself will be humbled, and whoever humbles himself will be exalted.'” Mrs. Hogendobber quoted Matthew 23, Verse 12.

“Did that just pop into your head or is there a point to it?”

“Harry, don't be ugly.”

“I'm sorry. You're right.” She sighed heavily. “I'm upset. Seeing poor Mrs. Dodds break down like that—and what's going to happen to her? Who knows what's in Tommy's will or if he even had one.”

“He had one. You don't run a big construction company without something like that. Probably had a fat insurance policy, too. I suppose Jessica will get all of it, even if they have separated.”

“He could have changed his will.”

“Yes, but they aren't legally divorced yet.”

“What made you think of the Bible verse about pride?”

“Oh.” Mrs. Hogendobber had forgotten to answer Harry's query. “Tommy, H. Vane, Blair, and even Archie. Ridley was part of it for a little while. It's a rich-boys' club. Expensive sports cars, airplanes . . .”

“Archie doesn't have that much money,” Harry interrupted.

“Enough for a Land whatever-you-call-it.”

“Land Rover.” Harry paused. “I never thought about that. I mean, it seemed discreet enough. White.”

Cynthia Cooper's squad car was parked in front of the bank although it was after banking hours. Harry turned into the parking lot, pulling in front of the old brick freestanding bank building.

“Hey.”

“Hey there.” Cooper rolled down her window.

“We just came from Tommy Van Allen's. Poor Mrs. Dodds.”

“And Aileen Ingram was there to help out.” Miranda spoke over the animals' heads.

“She can't spring Archie until tomorrow.”

“What?” both women said.

“The judge won't set bail until then.”

“He can do that?” Harry wondered.

“He can do whatever he wants. He's the judge.” Coop smiled.

“You've had a hard day,” Miranda said sympathetically.

“I've had better ones.” Cooper smiled weakly.

All heads turned as Sarah Vane-Tempest drove by with H. Vane-Tempest in the passenger seat.

“He's made a remarkable recovery,” Miranda noted.

“For how long?” Mrs. Murphy cryptically said.