"The slush fund?" Harry asked.
"Right. Forty-one thousand dollars withdrawn by Maury, as it turns out. Forty-one thousand dollars for her BMW ... it all added up. Imagine how Kendrick must have felt when he saw that figure in Roscoe's secret ledger. The deposits were from other films. Maury and Roscoe shot porno movies in New York, too. There they used professionals. Roscoe's fund-raising trips were successful on both counts," Cynthia said.
"How'd she kill Maury?" Brooks was curious.
"She slipped into the girls' locker room, put on the Musketeer outfit, and rejoined the party. She saw Maury start to leave and stabbed him, with plenty of time to get back to the locker and change into her skeleton costume. She may even have lured Maury out of the dance, but she says she didn't," Cynthia answered.
"Does she feel any remorse?" Miranda hoped she did.
"For killing three people? No, not a bit. But she feels terrible that she lied to Sean about being the father. About goading him into calling in the false obituary and about following Roger on his paper route and stuffing in the Maury obit. That's the extent of her remorse!"
"Do you believe she's crazy?" Fair said.
"No. And I am sick of that defense. She knows right from wrong. Revenge and power. She should be tried as an adult. The truth is: she enjoyed the killing." Cynthia stabbed her broccoli.
"Why would a human pay to watch another human have sex?" Pewter laughed.
"Boredom." Tucker ate table scraps slipped her by Fair.
"I wouldn't pay to watch another cat, would you?" Pewter addressed Murphy.
"Of course not, but we're cats. We're superior to humans." She glanced at Tucker.
"I wouldn't do it, I'm superior, too," Tucker swiftly said, around a mouthful.
"Yes—but not quite as superior as we are." Mrs. Murphy laughed.
Dear Highly Intelligent Feline:
Tired of the same old ball of string? Well, I've developed my own line of catnip toys, all tested by Pewter and me. Not that I love for Pewter to play with my little sockies, but if I don't let her, she shreds my manuscripts. You see how that is!
Just so the humans won't feel left out, I've designed a T-shirt for them.
If you'd like to see how creative I am, write to me and I'll send you a brochure.
Sneaky Pie's Flea Market c/o American Artists, Inc. P.O. Box 4671 Charlottesville, VA 22905
In felinity,
SNEAKY PIE BROWN
P.S. Dogs, get a cat to write for you