She decided, too, to toss out the end table with three legs instead of four. She’d find one of those unfinished-furniture stores and paint a new end table. As she carried it out she stubbed her toe on the old cast-iron doorstop. This had been her great-grandmother’s iron, heated on top of the stove.
“Goddammit!”
“If you’d look where you were going, you wouldn’t run into things.” Tucker sounded like a schoolteacher.
Harry rubbed her toe, took off her shoe, and rubbed some more. Then she picked up the offending iron, ready to hurl it outside. “That’s it!” She joyously called to Mrs. Murphy and Tucker. “The murder weapon. Medley Orion was a seamstress!”
53
Holding the iron aloft, Harry demonstrated to Mim Sanburne, Fair, Larry Thompson, Susan, and Deputy Cooper how the blow would have been struck.
“It certainly could account for the triangular indentation.” Larry examined the iron.
Mrs. Murphy and Pewter sat tight against each other on the kitchen table. Although Mrs. Murphy would rather lose fur than admit it—she liked having a feline companion. Pewter did, too, but then, Pewter camped out on the kitchen table, since that’s where the food was placed.
Tucker circled the table. “Smart of Mom to call Big Marilyn.”
“Mim is head of the restoration project.” Mrs. Murphy glanced down at her little friend. “This way, too, Mim can tell Oliver Zeve and Coop can tell Sheriff Shaw. It’s a pretty good theory.”
“I believe you’ve got it.” Larry handed the iron to Mim, who felt its weight.
“One solid blow pushing straight out or slightly upward. People performed so much physical labor back then, she was no doubt strong enough to inflict a fatal blow. We know she was young.” Mim gave the iron to Miranda.
“The shape of this iron would help when pressing lace or all the fripperies and fancies those folks wore.”
“May I borrow the iron to show Rick? If he doesn’t see it with his own eyes, he’ll be skeptical.” Cynthia Cooper held out her hands for the iron.
“Sure.”
“We hear that Samson categorically denies killing Kimball even though that gun was in his car.” Mim hated that Sheriff Shaw didn’t tell her everything. But then, Mim wanted to know everything about everybody, as did Miranda, though for different reasons.
“He’s sticking to his story.”
“Has anyone visited Lulu?” Susan Tucker asked. “I thought about going there this evening.”
“I’ve paid a call.” Mim spoke first, as the first citizen of Crozet, which in essence she was. “She’s terribly shaken. Her sister has flown up from Mobile to attend to her. She wonders how people will treat her now, and I’ve assured her that no blame attaches itself to her. Why don’t you give her a day or two, Susan, and then go over.”
“She loves shortbread,” Mrs. Hogendobber remembered. “I’ll bake some.”
The rest of the group raised their hands and Miranda laughed. “I’ll be in the kitchen till Easter!”
“I’m still not giving up on finding out the real story behind the corpse in Cabin Four.” Harry walked over to the counter to make coffee.
“And I was thinking that I’d read through Dr. Thomas Walker’s papers. He attended Peter Jefferson on his deathbed. Quite a man of many parts, Thomas Walker of Castle Hill. Maybe, just maybe, I can find a reference to treating a broken leg. There was another physician also, but I can’t think of his name off the top of my head,” Larry said.
“We owe it to Kimball.” Harry ground the beans, releasing the intoxicating scent.
“Harry, you never give up.” Fair joined her, setting out cups and saucers. “I hope you all do get to the bottom of the story just so it’s over, but more than anything, I’m glad Kimball’s murderer is behind bars. That had me worried.”
“Does it seem possible that Samson Coles could kill a man in cold blood?” Mim poured half-and-half into her cup.
“Mrs. Sanburne, the most normal-looking persons can commit the most heinous crimes,” stated Deputy Cooper, who ought to know.
“I guess.” Mim sighed.
“Do you think Samson did it?” Pewter asked.
Mrs. Murphy flicked her tail. “No. But someone wants us to think he did.”
“The gun was in his car.” Tucker wanted to believe the mess was over.
The tiger cat’s pink tongue hung out of her mouth for a second. “It’s not over—feline intuition.”
Miranda asked, “Did Kimball ever get to the Randolph papers?”
“Gee, I don’t know.” Harry paused, then walked over to the phone and dialed.
“Hello, Ansley. Excuse me for bothering you. Did Kimball ever get to read your family papers?” She listened. “Well, thanks again. I’m sorry to bother you.” She hung up the phone receiver. “No.”
“We still have a few more stops in duplicating Kimball’s research. Something will turn up.” Mrs. H. tried to sound helpful.
54
“What a wuss,” Mrs. Murphy groaned about Pewter. “It’s too far. It’s too cold. I’ll be so tired tomorrow.”
Tucker’s dog trot ate up the miles. “Be glad she stayed home. She would have sat down and cried before we’d gone two miles. This way we can get our work done.”
Mrs. Murphy, following feline instincts, felt the whole story was not out, not by a long shot. She convinced Tucker to head out to Samson Coles’s estate late at night. The game little dog needed no convincing. Besides, the thrill of finding the books in the fireplace hadn’t worn off. Right now they thought they could do anything.
They cut across fields, jumped creeks, ducked under fences. They passed herds of deer, the does with newborn fawns by their sides. And once, Mrs. Murphy growled when she smelled a fox. Cats and foxes are natural enemies because they compete for the same food.
As Lucinda and Samson’s place was four miles by the path they took, they arrived around eleven o’clock. Lights were on upstairs as well as in the living room.
Massive walnut trees guarded the house. Mrs. Murphy climbed up one and walked out a branch. She saw Lucinda Coles and Warren Randolph through the living room window. She backed down the tree and jumped onto the broad windowsill so she could hear their conversation, since the window was open to allow the cool spring air through the house, a welcome change from the stuffy winter air trapped inside. The cat scarcely breathed as she listened.
Tucker, knowing Mrs. Murphy to be impeccable in these matters, decided to pick up whatever she could by scent.
Lucinda, handkerchief dabbing her eyes, nodded more than she spoke.
“You had no idea?”
“I knew he was fooling around, but I didn’t know it was Ansley. My best friend, God, it’s so typical.” She groaned.
“Look, I know you’ve got enough troubles, and I don’t want you to worry about money. If you’ll allow me, I can organize the estate and do what must be done, along with your regular lawyers, of course. Just don’t act precipitously. Even if Samson is convicted, it doesn’t mean you have to lose everything.”
“Oh, Warren, I don’t know how to thank you.”
He sighed deeply. “I still can’t believe it myself. You think you know someone and then—I guess if the truth be told, I’m more upset about the, uh, affair than the murder.”
“When did you know?”
“Behind the post office. Tuesday. He slipped, made a comment about something only my wife could have known.” He hesitated. “I drove over here one night and cut the lights off. I was going to come in and tell you, and then I chickened out in the middle of it. Well, I saw his car in the driveway. So, like I said, I backed out. I don’t know if it would have made any difference if you’d known a few days ago instead of today.”