“Some are dumb, others are on the gravy train.” Archie's eyes glittered with anger. “No one can tell me that fortunes won't be made with a reservoir, and those fortunes won't necessarily be made here. Outsiders will bid on the job and, oh, how interesting that state process can get. I've watched this bullshit mumbo jumbo for years. All they do is waste money, siphon off a nice piece into their own pockets, and let the taxpayer pay through the nose.”
“Right. Which is why our plan of wells to service the northwest corner of the county is brilliant.” Blair sat up straight. “The wells we have already dug are moving at eighty-eight gallons of water a minute. That's extraordinary. With the underground water we're tapping we can service Free Union, Boonesville, Earlysville, that whole northwestern corner all the way to the county line. The only expense will be for constructing cisterns or water towers, and that's a hell of a lot cheaper than building a reservoir. The county buys the water from us at an attractive rate. If this works, which I know it will, we can do the same thing for the other sections of the county.”
“But we'll have more competition. Other people will copy us and start buying up the land.” Archie sat down again. “There's talk about these wells being dug but so far as I know no one has figured out the purpose. But people will buy up land. Just wait.”
“I'll attend to that. There's no reason we can't absorb some of these entrepreneurs into an umbrella corporation or create limited partnerships for, say, the southeastern corner of the county. We can worry about that later.” On a roll, Vane-Tempest continued. “Your job, Arch, apart from keeping us informed of what's cooking at the statehouse, is to introduce the idea of floating a bond to set up those water towers and cisterns.”
“I can't do that until you present your idea to the public.”
“Which is where Sarah comes in.” Vane-Tempest smiled without warmth.
“Let me think about this. I'm not saying no, I just want to think. Give me a week.”
“Fair enough.” Vane-Tempest opened his palms, a gesture of appeasement. “Now, another matter. Which one of us killed Tommy Van Allen? We all had something to gain.”
Stunned, Archie reacted first. “That's a sick joke!”
As the men wrangled, Mrs. Murphy emerged from the Range Rover. She'd already investigated the 911, loath to leave it because it smelled so good. Being small, the Porsche took no time at all. The Range Rover, however, sucked up almost forty-five minutes of precise sniffing and opening compartments.
Next on the list was the U-Haul.
The U-Haul had an open back like a stall with a Dutch door. It hadn't been unpacked. Looked like Archie couldn't make up his mind what to do.
Once inside, Mrs. Murphy picked her way over the suitcases, one small desk, and a chair. Her eyes were adjusting to the light. She noticed a cardboard box with a picture of handcuffs on the outside, haphazardly tossed into a carton. She pushed the box, and something rattled inside. She tried to open it but it was shut tight.
Claws out, Murphy smashed into the cardboard full-force. With her claws embedded all the way through the cardboard, she easily lifted the lid. A pair of shiny handcuffs, key in the lock, gleamed up at her.
The slapping shut of the porch door alerted her to the approach of a human.
The tiger scrambled over the desk and chair, managing to propel herself out the back. She dropped onto the ground as H. Vane-Tempest reached his car.
Archie cursed on seeing her. “If that damn cat peed on my stuff I'll kill her!”
Pewter scurried out of the house, racing for the old graveyard. “Vamoose!”
Mrs. Murphy flew down the farm road to catch her, Archie's curses still ringing in her ears.
38
The old gravestones, worn thin by time, stood out bleakly on the meadow's horizon. The buried were members of Herb Jones's family who had once farmed the land now owned by Blair Bainbridge. As is the custom in Virginia, when land passes hands, family members nonetheless continue to care for the graves of their ancestors.
Once a year Herb righted tombstones, planted flowers, and trimmed the magnificent English boxwood hedge bordering the southwest side. Over time Herb's bad back hurt him more and more. Blair had begun to help tend the graveyard and to learn the history of its inhabitants.
Blair mowed the lawn, pruned trees, and trimmed around the edges of the stones. He performed this service out of respect for Herb, who had a large flock and not much help. The good reverend's natural generosity meant he had but little time for himself and even less money.
Pewter caught her breath on a flat gravestone set on graceful piers. “You won't believe what I heard!”
“Well, I found handcuffs.”
“You did?”
“In the U-Haul.”
“So it is Archie Ingram.” Pewter scanned the fresh green shoots in the field.
“How many people carry handcuffs?”
“Cops and cop wanna-bes. Now listen to what those guys were talking about. The map makes sense. The marked-off squares are lands they've bought through a corporation called Teotan. They've tapped underground rivers and streams. They're sinking wells on these properties and the flow is so strong they can sell water to the county. The county will need to put up water towers or build cisterns—which are a lot better-looking. This plan will save the county a mess of money and provide a good water supply for all of the newcomers. So far no other humans have put two and two together although the well drillers know a mess of wells are being dug.”
“Hmm, where's the hole?”
“There isn't one. I mean, except for Tommy Van Allen winding up as a frozen TV dinner. He was one of the four partners and, the most extraordinary thing, Sir H. Vane-Tempest said, ‘Which one of us killed Tommy Van Allen?' Archie screamed so loud I thought my eardrums would burst. He said H. was sick to even say such a thing. Blair wasn't overfond of H.'s crack either. Sir H. Vane said Sarah wanted to come into the deal in place of Tommy. At first Archie was opposed, then he thought it over and said she might be a good spokesperson for when they go public.”
“Blair?”
“He's not sure yet. He's afraid it will give the Vane-Tempests control over Teotan. He's right, too.”
Mrs. Murphy, hearing geese, squinted into the sun. She spied the telltale V formation, flying low. The rustling of the birds' wings was growing louder and just as quickly growing faint as the formation passed.
“I wouldn't want to be in Teotan right now.”
“Me neither,” Pewter agreed. “One partner hung on a meathook and the other got blasted.”
“The brilliance of their business plan is the money is steady. Millions will come in over the years. If they sold the land or the water outright to the county they'd lose an enormous chunk of their profit to taxes.” She shook herself, then squeezed through the iron fence around the graveyard. “Blair's smarter than I gave him credit for.”
“Smart? He'll be dead soon enough. Archie will control everything.”
They walked across the soft earth, crossing over the creek into Harry's hay field. Tomahawk, Poptart, and Gin Fizz, mouths full of clover and timothy, raised their heads, spotted their feline friends, then returned to grazing.
Mrs. Murphy finally spoke. “Blair isn't our human. He isn't our responsibility, but I like him.”
“I'm not risking my neck for anyone but Harry.”
“No one is asking you to, but we need to be alert. I'm inclined to help him up to a point. He's our next-door neighbor.”