Catch As Cat Can

32

The shock of finding five hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars in Donny Clatterbuck's safe was nearly as great as finding Donny himself.

Harry and the animals drove to Miranda's, a place of sanity and common sense. To her surprise, BoomBoom wanted to go, too.

They found Miranda and Tracy playing gin rummy. Tracy was winning.

“Knock, knock.” Harry let herself in, with Mrs. Murphy rushing first through the door. “I'm coming unannounced and BoomBoom's about two minutes behind me.”

Tracy rose, as befit a Virginia gentleman. “You look a little peaked, Harry, my girl. Some fortification?”

She shook the rain off in the little back-door entranceway. “How about a steaming cup of tea with a drop of Maker's Mark in it?” She mentioned the famous sipping whiskey distilled in Loretto, Kentucky.

“Why, Harry.” Miranda stood up herself, heading to the teapot. “I don't remember you ever roping your tea.”

“Well, I'm wet, I'm chilled, and I'm sorely vexed, as my grandmother used to say.”

BoomBoom stepped in tight behind Harry. “Miranda, forgive me. I just had to see you.”

“Are you two having another fight?” Miranda turned on the gas stove while Tracy opened the cabinet serving as a liquor chest. “BoomBoom, what can I get you?”

“A straight shot of gin will revive me considerably.”

“What in the world is the matter with you two girls?” He put his hands on his hips.

Harry hung up her worn Barbour coat. BoomBoom did likewise, only her Barbour coat was new and longer. One couldn't reside in Albemarle without a proper Barbour coat, made in England and the best working raingear in the world. Tucker, anticipating treats, moved over to be near Miranda. Pewter, no fool, headed straight for the table.

“I don't know where to start.” BoomBoom shook her long blond hair, droplets of water falling to the oak floor.

“I'll start.” Harry pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. “Rick Shaw and Cynthia Cooper were called up to Culpeper this afternoon because Donny Clatterbuck had been shot through the head.”

Miranda exclaimed, “Oh, no! We haven't heard—”

“He was in the truck Sean described Wesley Partlow as driving to his salvage yard to sell your hubcaps, and don't feel left out, the only people who know about this are Donny's family. Big Mim probably doesn't know yet unless Rick is calling her now.”

Both Tracy and Miranda sat down at the table to listen to Harry as they waited for the water to boil.

“What in the world is going on?” Miranda rubbed her cheek with the palm of her hand.

“Nobody knows. It's scary.” BoomBoom also sat down as Tracy rose to pull out a chair for her, then reseated himself.

“The truck had stolen plates, old ones with new stickers. Coop told me that. The plates are from a Newport News car dealership. The dealer has no idea how the plates were stolen. No cars were missing. Coop asked if he would send over his employee rolls so she could check for criminal backgrounds. Nothing. The truck, as it happens, is Booty Mawyer's old farm truck. He says it hasn't been off the farm. Been moldering in one of his sheds. That's what he told Rick when Rick gave him the bad news. But, of course, it has. He said sometimes Don would move hay from one shed to another—but, you know, Booty's getting on in years and it would be easy to fool him. Well, he wouldn't know anything unless he saw it with his own eyes.

“And before I get to why we're together—in the back of the truck, on the seat, was the Dallas Cowboys windbreaker exactly as Sean described it.”

Tracy got up to pour the tea. He motioned for Miranda to stay seated. He put the pot on the table, set out four cups, smacked the Maker's Mark bottle directly in front of Harry, then opened the refrigerator and brought out cold cuts. He figured, correctly, that Harry and BoomBoom hadn't eaten. He also put a chilled green bottle of Tanqueray gin in front of BoomBoom.

“Honey, let me do that.” Miranda got up to arrange the food, bringing out the homemade seven-grain bread, fresh butter, and local honey.

Within minutes an impromptu cold supper sat before the two hungry women.

“Thank you.” BoomBoom gratefully buttered a piece of bread cut thick.

Harry chattered as she, too, made herself a sandwich, surreptitiously dropping food bits to her pets. “Coop said the only thing in the windbreaker was a matchbook from Roy and Nadine's, a hot restaurant in Lexington, Kentucky. She called the restaurant, gave them the fake Wesley's description, and the manager said he had no recollection of anyone like that, nor did it seem that would be the kind of customer Roy and Nadine's would attract. He did, however, promise to ask his employees if they remembered anyone looking like that. She's sending on the mug shot.

“But, well, Boom should tell you what happened next.”

“Donny has that huge safe in his shop, the kind that's taller than I am. Harry suggested I call Rick and offer to open the lock using my welding torch. She was right because Rick couldn't get a service representative for twenty-four hours plus there was the expense of getting him here. So over I went, cut out the lock, and what do you know . . . there's a ton of money inside the safe! Five hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars. Five hundred and twenty-five thousand!” BoomBoom repeated.

“Stacked neatly. So new you could smell it. Rick says it isn't counterfeit either.” Harry sipped her tea.

“Where in the world would Donny Clatterbuck get money like that?” Miranda brought both hands to her face in surprise.

“New? Directly from a bank or someone who had access to new bills, who dealt in large sums often.” Tracy's mind whirred along. “Someone who either needed Donny to stash the money, giving him a cut, or someone who needed Donny.”

“For what?” BoomBoom poured honey over a piece of buttered bread.

“He was good with his hands.” Harry tried to feed Tucker another small piece of meat under the table. Pewter snatched it before the dog could get it so Harry tore another small piece for the corgi. The mild altercation revealed Harry's feeding the “kids” from the table—not that anyone really cared that much.

“I'm here, too,” Murphy reminded the humans.

Miranda gave her a tidbit. “This is so—so hard to believe. Donny never threw money around.”

“No, he didn't,” Harry confirmed.

“He could have put the money in the bank but he didn't. This points to his doing something illegal.” Tracy, hand poised in midair with a butter knife, said, “And it seems obvious that he knew in some fashion the young man found hanged. The question is, how and why? That kid looked as though he didn't have a dime.”

“Coop can't find a trace of him anywhere. Wesley's not his real name,” Harry said.

“I wonder if Marge knows about the money.” Miranda thought about Donny's mother, worrying for her welfare.

“Highly doubtful, my love,” Tracy replied.

BoomBoom finished her sandwich, which made her feel more conversational. “Wait until Lottie Pearson hears this.”

“What's Lottie Pearson got to do with this?” Miranda asked.

“She blew him off just like she spurned Roger. She wants money and prestige or what passes for it. When she hears that Donny Clatterbuck had a small fortune in his safe, she'll pass out.”

“Five hundred and twenty-five thousand dollars.” Miranda couldn't imagine that much money.

“We helped count it. Had to wear plastic gloves that Rick and Coop keep in the squad car. They have to avoid blood because of AIDS so they carry these hospital gloves around.” Harry thought a moment, then excitedly said, “When I took my woodpecker to Don, I noticed the safe. I asked him if that's where he kept his millions and he said, ‘Only half a million.' I thought he was kidding.”

“‘He who loves money never has money enough, he who loves wealth never has enough profit; this, too, is vanity.' Ecclesiastes, Chapter Five, Verse Ten,” Miranda quoted.

“What a memory,” Tracy marveled.

“Miranda is a marvel.” BoomBoom smiled.

“Mim really must not know what's happened.” Harry's mind stayed on the murder. “Or she would have called you. Rick usually gets to her.”

Miranda said, “She's in New York this weekend visiting Stafford and his wife.”

Stafford was Mim's son, who rarely returned home as he loved his family more the farther away they were.

Mrs. Murphy washed her face with her paw. “We've got work to do.”

“I'm not going out in the rain,” Pewter stoutly stated.

“I didn't say we were.”

Tucker nuzzled her pal. “What do you have in mind?”

“We need to get to Aunt Tally's and snoop around. I should have thought of it during the tea party but I got caught up in the commotion.”

“Aunt Tally's is a long, long hike, Murphy. Talk Harry into driving us over there.”

“Sure, Pewter. She listens about as well as any human.”

Tucker thought about it. “She's right, Murphy. The creeks are over their banks. We won't get across. We've got to convince Harry to drive us there somehow.”

The pretty tiger pondered this, then curled her tail around her. “You're right.”

“Finally, someone's giving me credit around here,” Pewter crowed, then for good measure reached up and hooked a piece of bread off the table before a human could stop her. Once the bread was on the floor she knew the humans wouldn't touch it even if they scolded her, which they didn't, as they were too busy deciding if Lottie Pearson really was a gold digger. BoomBoom said yes. Harry said maybe. Miranda wanted to think the best of her and Tracy opted not to have an opinion.

“Don't let it go to your head. Listen, we'd better get over there tomorrow. If this rain would only stop.”

“What's on your mind?” Tucker respected the tiger's brain power, the quickness of her mind.

“We need to examine the floor of the dining room, open the cupboards in the pantry, investigate the places where Tally keeps food. We might have to check the outbuildings. I don't know exactly but I can tell you this, if we find what I think we're going to find, either Sean O'Bannon is in on this or he's the next victim.”