"Cat got your tongue?"
"Murphy," Tucker said between pants, "I'll get you for that."
"Ha ha." Murphy jumped onto the dome of the cab.
The truck, parked in front of the barn entrance, gleamed in the rich late-afternoon light.
Harry laid her paintbrush on the side of the can. "Don't you dare put paw prints on my new truck." She advanced on the tiger, who glared insolently at her, then chased her tail on the cab hood to leave as many paw prints as possible.
Just as Harry reached the door to open it so she could step inside and gain some height to grab the little stinker, Murphy gathered herself together, hunched down, and then jumped way, way up. She just made it into the open hayloft, digging up the side with her back claws as she hung on with her front paws. Her jet stream rocked the light fixture, which looked like a big Chinaman's hat poised over the hayloft opening.
She looked down at her audience. "I am the Number One Animal. Don't you forget it." Then she sauntered into the hayloft.
Tracy laughed so hard he doubled over. "That's quite a cat you've got there, Harry."
"Heatstroke," Tucker grumbled furiously.
"More like the big head," Pewter replied.
"I still say she won't catch one lousy mouse."
"Tucker, if I were you, I wouldn't say it any too loudly. Who knows what she'll do next?" Pewter advised.
25
"-everybody."
"That's very edifying." Rick leaned toward BoomBoom sitting opposite him in her living room. "But I'd like to hear the names from your lips."
"Well, Leo Burkey of course, Bonnie Baltier, Denny Rablan, Chris Sharpton, Bitsy Valenzuela, Harry, Marcy Wiggins, who mostly stood around, and Susan."
"Then what?"
She shifted in her seat, irritated at his pickiness. "Have you interviewed everyone else?"
He counted names on his notepad. "No."
"Are you going to tell me who's left?"
"No. Now, BoomBoom, get on with it. What did you do, and so forth."
"We were reshooting the senior superlative which was Wittiest with Bonnie Baltier and Leo Burkey for the reunion. After we finished, everyone went to the Outback to eat. Marcy called her husband, Bill, who met her after work. They're making a point of spending time together. And Bitsy called her husband, E.R., to invite him. He took a pass, said he was tired. Funny, he was such a quiet guy in high school. To think he'd go out and start a cellular phone company. He has no class spirit, unfortunately. Neither does Bill."
"No tension at dinner?"
"No, because Harry went home. She doesn't like me," BoomBoom flatly stated. "And I have tried very hard to make amends. It's silly to carry around emotions, negative emotions."
"I wouldn't know." He reached in his pocket for the red Dunhill pack and offered her a cigarette. "Mind?"
"No. Those are expensive."
"And good. I tried to wean myself off smoking by buying generic brands. Awful stuff."
"I have some herbal remedies if you decide to stop again."
"I'll let you know."
"Anyway, nothing much happened. We all ate, told tales, bored Marcy and Chris and Bitsy, but they were gracious about it. Denny flirted with Chris. She didn't seem to mind. Then we went home."
"Did Leo linger with anyone in the parking lot? Talk to a waitress?"
She put her finger to her chin. "He cornered Bitsy for a minute as we left, but well, you'd have to ask her. I think they were discussing mutual friends and whether E.R. could give Leo a deal on a cell phone."
"Uh-huh."
"Do you have any leads? I mean surely you've noticed the two victims were killed right after their senior superlative reshoot. That's what bothers me. That and those offensive, cheap mailings!"
"Yes, we have leads." He exhaled, then continued his questioning. "Did anyone wear L.L. Bean duck boots that night?"
"What?"
"You know, the boots that made L.L. Bean famous. We call them duck boots but I guess today that means the short rubber shoe. Short, tall, did anyone wear them?"
"No. That's an odd question."
"Did anyone wear heels? Not spike heels, but say about two inches."
"Do you think I spend my time cruising people's feet?" She laughed.
"I know you are a woman of fashion. I expect you take in everything, BoomBoom."
"Let's see." She studied a spot at the left-hand corner of the ceiling. "Baltier wore white espadrilles. Susan wore navy blue flats, Pappagallo. Susan loves Pappagallo. Bitsy wore a low heel, Marcy wore sandals, Chris wore a slingback with a bit of heel. Harry wore sneakers, as you would suspect, since it's summer."
"Why?"
"Harry wears sneakers in the summer, Bean boots in the rain, or riding boots. Oh yes, and her favorite pair of cowboy boots. That's the repertoire."
"Did she wear her Bean boots?"
"No, I just said, she wore sneakers."
He dropped his eyes to his notes. "So you did."
"How big are the footprints?" BoomBoom asked.
He crossed his arms over his chest, uncrossed them, picked up his cigarette out of the ashtray, taking another drag. "BoomBoom, you don't ask me questions. I ask you."
"I hate to think of Leo like that." Her eyes brimmed sud-denly with tears, but then it was well known BoomBoom could cry at a telephone commercial. "He was such fun. He-" She shrugged, unable to continue.
Rick waited a moment. "He was an old friend."
"Yes," came the quiet reply.
"Did you know he was divorcing his wife?"
"Yes." She opened her hands, palms upward. "He told us at the Outback. I think he was upset, although Leo always made a joke about everything."
"Will you go to the funeral?"
"Of course I'll go."
"It's in Richmond, isn't it?"
"Yes. St. Thomas. The most fashionable church in Richmond."
"Leo from a good family?" He dropped the verb.
"Yes, but he married higher on the social ladder. His wife is a Smith. The Smiths."
"And I don't suppose they've named any of their daughters Pocahontas."
"Uh . . ." The corners of her mouth turned upward. "No."
"I expected you to be more upset." He ground his cigarette into the ashtray until tiny brown strands of tobacco popped out of the butt. "You're the emotional type."
"I guess I'm in denial. First Charlie. Now Leo. It's not real yet."
"Did they ever date the same girl?"
"In high school?"
"Any time that you can recall."
"No. Not even from grade school."
"Can you think of anyone who hated Leo?"
"No. His wit could rip like a blade sometimes. But a true enemy? No. And I don't think his wife hated him either. After all, divorce is such a pedestrian tragedy."
"That's poetic."
"Is it?" She batted her long eyelashes at Rick, not a conventionally handsome man but a very masculine one.
He smiled back. "If you think of anything, give me a call." He stood up to leave and she rose with him.
"Sheriff, do you think Charlie and Leo were killed by the same person or persons?"
"I don't know, and I'm not paid by your tax dollars to jump to conclusions."
She showed him the door and bid him good day.
Later that same day he compared notes with Cynthia Cooper. Between the two of them they had buttonholed everyone who'd been at the shoot that day. Better to catch people as soon after an incident as possible. Rick was a strong believer in that.
They'd found Leo's car still in the parking lot at the Outback. None of the restaurant staff remembered seeing him get into another car, but they had been inside working. The small gathering of friends didn't remember him getting into another car either.
They sat in his office drawing up a flow chart for Leo. Each person's story confirmed what every other person said. There were no glaring omissions, no obvious contradictions.