"Boss, he could have picked someone up after the dinner and gone to wherever they went in their car. Charlottesville is a college town. There's a semblance of night life." Not for her. She fell between the college students and the married, which put her in the minority.
"Could have."
"You think he knew the killer just as Charlie probably did, don't you?"
"If he didn't know the killer I'm convinced the killer is innocuous in some fashion. A nonthreatening person or functionary, you know, like a teacher." He stopped. "Someone you wouldn't look at twice in terms of physical fear. Leo could have been killed by a woman for that matter."
"She'd have to be fairly strong to hoist him into the dumpster," Cynthia said.
"Yes, but it could be done. The man Hunter Hughes saw go into the locker room at Farmington was thin. Average height, but as it was from a distance the man could have been shorter. Doesn't mean it's our killer, and it doesn't mean the same person killed both men. But it's odd."
"That it is."
"Have you talked to Charlie's ex-wives?"
Cynthia cracked her knuckles. "Yes. Finally reached Tiffany, wife number four-don't you love it-'Tiffany,' in Hawaii. Said she'd heard he was shot and she was sorry she hadn't done it herself. When I asked for suspects she said, apart from herself, the person who hated him most when she was married to him was Larry Johnson."
"Larry Johnson? That doesn't make any sense." Rick ran his hand over his balding head. "Or maybe it does."
"Abortions. Does Larry perform abortions?"
"He's a general practitioner, so no, he doesn't. But he knows where the bodies are buried, as they say." He noted the clock on the wall, five-thirty in the afternoon. "The best time to talk to Larry is in the morning. Maybe we should both make this visit. Oh, did you talk to Mim yet?"
"Yes, she's fine as long as she knows things before anyone else does."
"I asked BoomBoom about shoes. She remembered everybody's shoes. Another thing: for BoomBoom she was remarkably self-possessed. No vapors. No lace hankies to the eyes and thence to the bosom. Another oddity."
"What do you think of Tracy Raz?" Cynthia asked.
"A trained observer and a damned sharp one at that."
"Ran a check on him. Legit. Korea. A solid Army career, Major when he mustered out and into the CIA."
"If he hadn't pointed out those prints in front of the dumpster before more people walked around I might have missed them. He said nothing. He motioned with his eyes and then turned to push the gawkers back. He's a pro." He slapped his hand on his thigh. "You know what I'm going to do?" She shook her head and he continued. "Take the wife to the movies."
"Good for you." She wished she had someone in her life. She'd go out with a guy but eventually her schedule and work would turn him off. "I'll see you at Larry's office. Seven."
"Yep."
He stopped at the door. "Two footprints next to each other at the dumpster isn't much to go on. The Bean footprint is a man's, size eight and a half or nine. The heel footprint, well, we couldn't tell, since the toe would have been on a rock."
"Could have been a man and woman, side by side, heaving in Leo," Coop said. "He was a short, but stocky man. But then, some of the trash in there was heavier than cartons."
"Some memories are heavier than others, too." He opened the door. "I don't think it's coincidence that Charlie's death came now. And now Leo." He shrugged. "Gotta go."
26
Fair measured Poptart around the girth. He'd dropped by to see how Harry was doing after the shock. He glanced at last week's figures on the chart hanging outside each horse's stall.
Poptart quietly stood in the center aisle. The horse, a big girl, half-closed her eyes.
Mrs. Murphy, sitting on the tack trunk, asked, "Don't you ever get hungry for meat?"
"No."
"Not even an eensy piece?"
"Do you get hungry for timothy or for grain?" Poptart's large brown eyes focused on the tiger, now standing on her hind legs to touch noses with the large creature.
"No. You're right. I can't expect you to like what I like and vice versa."
"We like lots of the same things. Just not foods."
"You'll be surprised at how much less grain you'll need to feed her."
"I like my grain," Poptart protested.
"She's an easy keeper." Harry patted the gray neck. "I give her half a scoop, a couple of flakes of hay, plus she's got all that grass to eat."
Fair also patted Poptart on the neck, then led her out to the pasture behind the barn, where she kicked up her heels and joined Gin Fizz and Tomahawk, who had been measured before she had.
"How come you didn't tell me about Tracy Raz?"
"Fair, he just started renting here."
"Seems a good man."
"Miranda likes him. I've noticed she doesn't quote the Scriptures around him as much as she does around us."
Fair laughed as he leaned over the fence. Poptart bucked, twisted, and bucked some more.
They walked back to the house. The evening had begun to cool down. Tracy was calling on Big Mim. They sat in the kitchen together along with Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker.
"Sure you're okay?" He reached for her hand.
"Yes." She squeezed his offered hand. "It shocked the hell out of me. Both Mim and I about fell over."
"I would have about passed out myself."
"A dead body is bad enough but the"-she paused-"incongruity of it . . . that's what shocked me."
"It looks like this reunion might be, uh . . . eventful."
"Well, that's just it." She grew suddenly animated. "I don't remember anything from high school. I mean I don't remember some awful thing that would provoke revenge. Especially senior year, the big one."
"Yeah. I can't remember anything either. But maybe something did happen in your senior year. You know how sometimes things are vague or you're on the edges of it? Obviously, I was a freshman in college. All I remember from that year is missing you."
"I wrote you a letter a day. I can't believe I was that disciplined." She laughed.
"Maybe you loved me," he softly suggested.
"I did. Oh, Fair, those were wonderful and awful times. You feel everything for the first time. You have no perspective."
"You had some perspective by the time we married. I mean, you dated other men."
She patted his hand, removed hers, then noticed the animals, motionless, had been watching them. "Voyeurs."
"Interested parties." Murphy smiled.
"If this is going to get mushy I'm leaving," Pewter warned.
"Bull. You're as nosy as we are." Tucker giggled.
"I feel like we're the entertainment tonight." Fair spoke to the animals.
"You are," Pewter responded.
"They're my family," Harry said.
"So am I. Like it or not." Fair leaned forward in his chair.
"Can you remember how you felt back then? The wild rush of emotion? The sense of being your own person?"
"I remember. People grow in lots of different ways. Sometimes they stop. I think Charlie stopped. Never got beyond high school. Leo got beyond it but his defenses stayed the same: shoot from the hip. Susan has matured." He thought for a moment. "I think I have, too."
"Have I?"
"Yes, but you won't trust anyone again."
"I trust Mrs. H. I trust Susan."
"I should have said men. You won't trust men."
"I trust Market."
"Harry, you know what I mean. You won't trust men as romantic partners. You won't let a man into your life."
"I guess." Her voice sounded resigned.
"You know, I dropped by tonight to see how you were-check the horses, too. I don't know if it's your reunion or because I'm getting close to forty . . . the murders or that this late summer has been uncommonly beautiful, but whatever it is-I love you. I have always loved you, even when I was acting a fool. And I think you love me. Love me the old way. Down deep."