"How much more shopping?" Cynthia pointed to Harry's long list.
"Forty-five minutes. Why?"
"If you buy pasta I'll make it."
"No kidding?" Harry eagerly said. Not being much of a cook, she loved being asked to dinner or having someone cook for her.
"That way we can catch up." Cynthia put her finger to her lips, the hush sign.
Harry understood right away. "Be back at the house in an hour.
As she rounded the next aisle in a hurry, she beheld Boom Boom, ear pressed to cans of baked beans.
"I'm in this aisle now." Harry had to twit her. "I mean, unless the beans are talking to you."
"You need to do something about your hostility level. I really and truly want to take you to Lifeline with me."
"I am doing something about my hostility level." Harry mimicked Boom Boom's mature and understanding voice, the one reserved for moments of social superiority. With that she pushed her cart away.
"What do you mean?" Boom Boom put her hands on her hips. "Harry, come back here."
Harry twirled around the next aisle without looking back. Boom Boom, miffed, hurried after her. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing," Harry called over her shoulder, throwing items into her cart at a fast clip.
Boom Boom, never one to miss an emotional morsel, cut the corner too close and rammed into a toilet paper display that tumbled over the floor, into her cart, and onto her head.
Harry stopped and laughed. She couldn't help it. Then she turned her cart, threw a couple rolls into it and said to the fuming Boom Boom, "Wiped out, Boom."
"Oh, shut up, Harry!"
"Ha!"
Cynthia hooted as Harry recounted the supermarket incident. She dipped a wooden fork into the boiling water to pluck out a few noodles. "Not quite ready."
Harry set the table. Mrs. Murphy reposed as the centerpiece. Tucker mournfully gazed at the checkered tablecloth.
"Here." Harry tossed the corgi a green milkbone.
"How can you eat that stuff?" Murphy curled her front paws under her chest.
"I'll eat anything that doesn't eat me first."
"Very funny. My grandmother told me that joke." The cat flicked her right ear.
"Here we go." Cynthia put the pasta on the table. "Is she going to eat with us?"
"Well—if she bothers you I'll put her on the floor, but she loves pasta with butter, so once this cools I'll fix her a plate."
"Harry, you'll spoil that cat."
"Not enough," came the swift reply as Harry diced pasta for the cat and then made a small bowl for Tucker too. She put butter on her own noodles while Cynthia drenched hers in a creamy clam sauce.
"Can't I interest you in this sauce?"
"You can interest me, but I've got to lose five pounds before winter really sets in or I won't get rid of it until April. Susan and I made a vow last week not to put on winter weight."
"You aren't one pound overweight."
"You don't squeeze into my jeans."
"Harry, you're reading too many fashion magazines. The models are anorexic."
"I don't subscribe to one fashion magazine," Harry proudly proclaimed.
"Of course not. You read whatever comes into the post office."
Harry sheepishly curled her noodles onto the fork. "Well, I suppose I do."
"You're the best-read person in Crozet."
"That's not saying much." Harry laughed.
"The Reverend Jones reads a lot."
"Yes, that's true. How'd you know that?"
"Called on him yesterday in the course of my duties."
"Oh."
"I wondered how well he knew Coty Lamont, Mickey Townsend, and the rest of the steeplechase crowd, and if he knows any knife collectors."
"He knows more people than anyone except Mim and Miranda, I swear. Did he know anything about those—"
"More!" Tucker barked.
"No." Harry sternly reprimanded the greedy dog.
"Said he knew Coty Lamont from years back when he was a groom. I also asked him about Rick's bait and switch idea. Put a fake tattoo on a horse's upper lip and sell it for a lot of money. Herb said it just wouldn't work today. Rick's having a hard time giving up his pet theory since we're running into dead ends. The boss can be very stubborn."
"That's a nice way to put it." Harry scooped more pasta on her plate and used just a little of the clam sauce, which was delicious. "Did he have any ideas about what's going on?"
"No. You know Herb, he likes to rummage around in the past. He took off on a tangent, telling me about when Arthur Tetrick and Mickey Townsend were both in love with Marylou Valiant. Coty Lamont used to spy on Mickey for Arthur."
"Spy?"
"Wrong word. He'd pump the grooms at Mickey's for news about when and if he'd dated Marylou that week. She dated both of them for about six months and then finally broke it off with Arthur." She giggled. "It's hard to imagine Arthur Tetrick being romantic."
"Guess it was hard for Marylou too."
They both laughed.
Cynthia recounted what the minister had told her. "After Marylou disappeared, Herb said Arthur suffered a nervous breakdown."
"He did. They had to hospitalize him for a week or two, which made him feel even worse because he wasn't there for the Valiants. Larry Johnson admitted him."
"Mim took care of the Valiants. That's what Herb said."
' 'Yeah. It was pretty awful. She offered a ten-thousand-dollar reward for any information leading to Marylou's whereabouts. As soon as Arthur was released, he wanted the Valiants with him. Mim told him a woman was better able to look after their needs than a man. Arthur didn't want Mickey to see them at all and Mim disagreed with that, too. Addie was hurt enough. She needed Mickey. This provoked another huge fight between Arthur and Mickey. So Adelia was sent away to school, Charles graduated from Cornell and worked in Maryland for a while. Addie always came home to visit Mickey during her vacations. Arthur and Mickey really hate one another. Mickey didn't get a cent from Marylou. He wasn't mentioned in her will. They hadn't been together long enough, I guess. Mim did her best for the Valiants—well, for Marylou, I would say. She was a true friend."
Coop asked, "Did Mim inherit anything from Marylou?"
"A bracelet as a memento. I don't think Mim ever accepted money from Arthur for the kids' bills, except maybe tuition. Addie didn't stay at school long, of course. Hated it."
"I was brand-new to the force when all that was going on . . . the disappearance. Had nothing to do with the case. Mostly I answered the telephone and punched information into the computer until I had it out with Rick."
"I didn't know that."
"Oh, yeah. I told him he was giving me secretarial work and I was a police officer. He surprised me because he thought about it and then said, 'You're right.' We've gotten along ever since. More than that. I adore the guy. Like a brother," she hastened to add.
They ate in silence for a few moments. Mrs. Murphy reached onto Harry's plate, pulling off a long noodle. Harry pretended not to notice. Cynthia knew better than to say anything.
"Coop, what is going on?"
' 'Damned if I know. The autopsy report came back on Coty Lamont. Full of toot. So was Nigel. No fingerprints on the body. No sign of struggle. It's really frustrating."
Harry shook her head. "I bet a lot of those guys are on cocaine. Maybe they owed their dealer."
' 'Drugs are responsible for most of the crime in this country. One other little tidbit you have to promise not to tell."
"Not even Miranda?"
"No."
Harry sighed deeply. It pained her to keep a secret from Miranda or Susan. "Okay."
"There is no Nigel Danforth."
"Huh?"
"Fake name. We can't find out who he is or was. We're hoping that sooner or later someone who doesn't know he's dead will look for him, file a missing persons report." She rested her fork across the white plate. "That's a long shot though."
"Mickey Townsend doesn't know who he is?"
"No, and Rick put it to him. None too kindly either."
"Whoeee, bet Mickey doubled for Mount Vesuvius."
"He kept it in check."