Catch as Cat Can

11

Bumblebees buzzed around the wisteria, their fat bodies a triumph over physics and logic. Yet there they were, a squadron of them, their black and yellow bodies purposefully darting here and there in the late afternoon sun.

Harry and Susan sat out on the lawn. Mim's dance for charity would be in two hours. Both women were bemoaning the occasion. Mim had little choice but to go forward since it was a fund-raiser. Then, too, it wasn't a death in her family. No one expected her to cancel.

“We have to do it,” Susan said.

“I know. We do. Everyone will be there but it's going to be leaden. And you know how Big Mim gets if a fund-raiser doesn't take off.”

“She'll be sensible about this party. After all, no one can control these things.” Susan plucked out the mint leaf from her tea and chewed it. “Love mint. You have the best mint patch.”

“I grew those mint plants on the windowsill. It will be another month before my herb garden does much.” She shielded her eyes to watch her three horses in the meadow. She'd turned them out in the larger pasture.

“It was kind of awful that Little Mim pulled Roger off the chair.” Susan lowered her eyes, which produced a giggle from Harry. “Harry, you're horrible.”

“Well—it was funny. Who said death couldn't be funny? Not that I wished him dead,” Harry hastily added. “After all, he showed me how to run the wrecker's ball and he could be fun when he wasn't—you know what I mean. If he could have seen his death he'd have a sense of humor about it. Really.”

“You're terrible.”

“No, I'm not. I'm honest. Lottie Pearson screaming her silly head off just added to it, you know. And I'll give BoomBoom credit.” She smiled knowingly at Susan. “She hauled Lottie's silly ass out of the room. If Lottie had screamed any louder, she would have shattered the crystal.”

Susan considered this as Mrs. Murphy rolled over in the freshly cut grass. “Murphy, what a lovely tummy.”

“Mine's better.” Pewter rolled over, too.

“Fatter.”

“Better.” Mrs. Murphy closed her eyes.

“Mine's whiter.” Tucker rolled over as well.

“Would you look at that. Three spoiled children. Oh, to be one of my animals.” Harry smiled. “What a life.”

“No bills. No taxes. No stress. No unrealistic expectations about the future. They live in the moment.” Susan sighed. “I'd be better off if I could be more like them.”

“Me, too.” Harry shifted in her seat. “Miranda and Tracy said they'd take food over to Sean and then go on to Big Mim's. Think we should take food?”

“Tomorrow. This is going to be hard on Ida O'Bannon. She hasn't fully recovered from her husband's death. I don't know if Sean can handle all this. Men usually aren't too good at these things.”

“No.” Harry squinted as a bumblebee flew up to her, decided she wasn't a flower, then zoomed off. “Lottie Pearson's mad at BoomBoom.” She didn't need to explain since Susan knew why. “But she let Boom lead her off. She wants something but I can't figure out what it is.”

“Your mind is a grasshopper.”

“I know. Always was. I didn't mean to change the subject, and I am sorry for Ida and Sean.”

“Do you think Thomas Steinmetz is married?”

“Now who's changing the subject?” Harry touched Susan's leg with her foot.

Susan laughed. “Well, anyway, do you think he's married?”

Harry shrugged. “I don't know. If he is, he's bold as brass coming down here and staying with Boom. Washington's not that far away. He strikes me as the bold type anyway.”

“Honey, with the telephone, e-mail, and television, nothing is that far away. It's both wonderful and dreadful.”

They sat in silence for a few moments as the killdeers called on the meadows, their high-pitched voices distinctive.

“Did Roger have any enemies?”

“Harry.” Susan's voice rose, filled with humor and a touch of censure. “You watch too much Mystery Theater.”

Sheepishly, the slim woman replied, “It's good.”

“Who would want to kill Roger O'Bannon? If he had any enemies it would be himself. He sat back there in his garage like a doodlebug in its hole. His socializing was at the stock-car races. I mean he was pleasant enough but you can't be covered in grease and expect someone like Lottie Pearson to fall for you.”

“Lottie's a snob.”

“So is half of Albemarle County.”

“I guess.” Harry exhaled. “Anyway, it crossed my mind, that's all. Oh, did you notice the flying blue heron sculpture in Aunt Tally's garden?”

“Yes.”

“BoomBoom made it out of scraps. Kind of amazing.”

“H-m-m.” Susan enjoyed another long sip. “Diego Aybar.” Given the length of her relationship with Harry, Susan didn't need a transition. She could hop around subjects as rapidly as Harry, although her concept of herself was as a logical, linear person.

“Yes?”

“You're smitten with him.”

“You're soft as a grape.”

“I suppose I'd have to be to be your best friend. Share a little, Harry, it's part of friendship, you know.”

“Oh—he's handsome—”

“Gorgeous.”

“Okay, Susan, he's gorgeous.”

“And charming.”

“Yes, but you know he has a quality, a sweetness, really, I can't think of another word but sweetness. I wish American men would get over trying to be so, uh, manly and just be themselves, you know.”

“Well, that was a little outburst,” Susan laughed, “for you, anyway.”

“But Diego has”—she thought hard but couldn't find a substitute word—“sweetness.” She inhaled. “But I hardly know him.”

“True.”

“Do I detect something acidic in your voice?”

“No, you don't actually. I'm only hoping that someday you'll fly. You'll let yourself go. Anyway, I don't believe in mistakes anymore.” Susan set her glass down hard enough to make the ice cubes collide.

“Huh?”

“Mistakes. There are no mistakes. No matter what you do, no matter how awful it seems at the time, it's not a mistake because you needed to learn that lesson so—let go.”

“I don't believe that.”

“Harry, I knew you'd say that.”

“Well, I don't. Murder is a mistake. You can't murder someone and then say you needed to learn that lesson. The lesson being, I suppose, that human life is valuable and no one has the right to take it except in self-defense, naturally.”

“We aren't talking about murder.”

“I'm carrying forward your theory about mistakes to its extreme conclusion.”

“Thereby proving my point.” Susan threw her head back, peals of laughter filling the fragrant air. “You need to let go.”

Harry sat quietly for a moment, considered Susan's thought, then smiled slowly. No need to reply.