"Beg pardon?"
"The male version of nymphomania," Larry answered Cynthia.
"Oh."
"We laugh and tell jokes about what a stud he is but in fact he's sick. In Charlie's case he was sick in body as well as in mind."
"Did Tiffany know about the AIDS?" Rick inquired.
"He was not infected when they were divorced, which was three years ago. Charlie became HIV-positive shortly thereafter and displayed no signs of the disease. In other words, he was HIV-positive but he had not yet developed full-blown AIDS. I don't know if Tiffany knew about it. She would, of course, know about the genital herpes and she no doubt suspected there were unclaimed children along the way."
"More than the one?" Cynthia was surprised, although on second thought she wondered why.
"Yes-but only one lives here. The others were out of town."
"My God, did he provide for them or anything?" Like most women, Cooper had a strong maternal streak and couldn't understand how some men could be so callous concerning their offspring.
"As far as I know he didn't do squat." Larry rose from his chair and sat on the edge of his desk before them. "We're professionals. You and I see things most people do not see and don't want to see. We aren't supposed to be emotional. Well, I fail because there were times when I could have killed Charlie myself-and yet, I liked the guy." He held up his hands.
"Larry, the mother might have strong motivation to kill Charlie."
"Not now. The child is in the late teens and in no danger from infection. Charlie became HIV-positive seventeen years after the child's birth. As for the other women, why kill him now? Furthermore, Rick, the murders of Charlie and Leo appear to be by the same person. Yes?"
"Yes."
"The connection is the answer and I don't have it." He cleared his throat. "When do you get the autopsy report on Leo?"
"Not until next week. Everyone is on vacation. The coroner's office is shorthanded."
"Would you like me to call in and ask for special blood work?"
"Yes, thank you. If they both were HIV-positive that would be a beginning."
"I'll call them right now. We can talk to them together." He glanced at the clock on his desk. "Someone will be there by now."
The rest of the day Cynthia Cooper thought about the young person in Crozet. She hoped the person would have Charlie's looks and his brilliance but not his grotesque irresponsibility. Then she thought how she looked at people every day but didn't really see them. They were all accustomed to one another. If there was a resemblance to Charlie, she'd missed it.
28
The slight drone of a bumblebee, growing stronger by the moment, irritated Mrs. Murphy to the point where she opened one glittering green eye. The marvel of insect engineering zoomed closer. She batted at it with a paw but the large black and yellow creature zigged out of the way.
"Losing your touch," Tucker laconically commented.
"Bull. I'm lying on my side. If I'd been sitting up that bomber wouldn't have had a chance. 'Course, if I'd been sitting up she wouldn't have come near me."
"Yeah, yeah," Tucker, also on her side under a hydrangea bush, said.
Mrs. Murphy sat up. "Where's Pewter?"
"In the post office. Leave the air-conditioning? Ha!"
The sweltering heat intensified. Mrs. Murphy and Tucker had left the post office to scrounge around Miranda's garden in the late morning. It didn't seem so hot then but they couldn't find anything of interest despite a soft, lingering chipmunk scent, so they fell asleep.
BoomBoom's elegant BMW rumbled down the alleyway. She parked behind the post office, getting out of the driver's side as Marcy Wiggins and Chris Sharpton emerged from the passenger and rear doors.
Chris glanced over at the dumpster and shuddered.
"Guess I shouldn't have parked here." BoomBoom's hand flew to her mouth. "I didn't think of it. I haven't processed all this emotionally. I mean, I still have such unresolved-"
"Let's go inside." Chris cut her off before BoomBoom's lament could gather steam.
Marcy kept staring at the dumpster. "I heard he was covered in maggots."
"No." Chris shook her head. "Stop this."
Marcy began shaking.
Tucker and Mrs. Murphy crept to the edge of Miranda's yard to listen more closely.
"Marcy, are you going to be sick?" BoomBoom moved toward her to help.
"No, no, but I can't take this. People talking behind our backs. Talking about Bill killing Charlie. Talking about me and Charlie. This is a vicious little town!" She burst into tears. "I wish we'd never moved here. Why did I let Bill talk me into this? He wanted to come home. He said he'd be head of oncology faster in Charlottesville than in some huge city."
BoomBoom put her arm around the frail woman. "Things will get better."
Chris put her arm around her from the opposite side. "People gossip in big cities, too."
"But you can get away from them. Here, you're"-she gulped for air-"trapped. And I'm not working on your high-school reunion anymore! I'm sorry but it's too dangerous."
"Marcy, that's okay," BoomBoom soothingly said. "But this awful stuff doesn't have anything to do with our reunion. It's some bizarre coincidence. Come on, let's get you in the air-conditioning. Harry will let you sit in the back while you, uh, regain your composure."
Marcy allowed herself to be led into the post office.
"Gossip." Tucker shook her head. "People would be much improved if their tongues were cut out of their heads."
"Maybe." Mrs. Murphy yawned.
"If I say red, you say black. If I say apples you say oranges. You're contrary."
Mrs. Murphy smiled. "Sometimes I am, I guess. It's the feline in me."
"Bum excuse."
"Gossip is ugly stuff said about people behind their backs. But people, being a herd animal, need to be in touch. They need to talk about one another. There's good talk and bad talk but think about it, Tucker, the worst thing that can happen to a human being is not to be talked about," Murphy expounded.
"Never thought of that," Tucker replied.
"Follow me."
The dog padded after the cat, the small pieces of gravel hot in the sun. They stopped in front of the dumpster. The yellow cordoning tape had been removed.
"Nothing left."
"I'm not so sure. Let's look where they put the plaster casts. See, there's little bits of plaster left in the indentations."
"I see that," the dog crabbily said as she stared at the chain-link heel mark from the Bean boot and the high-heel mark not far from it. "Left foot and right."
"Could be anybody's and these marks may have nothing to do with Leo's demise but if Rick Shaw took plaster casts we ought to pay some attention to them. They're close together."
"Like two people, you mean. One holding him on the left side and one on the right. That's why the heel mark is deep on this right side."
"It's a possibility."
"So that means there are two people in on this."
"That, too, is a possibility." She lifted her head, sniffing the air. "Rain coming."
Tucker sniffed. "Tonight."
"The bullet into Leo's forehead was fired at close range. And the humans are saying that means he knew who killed him. But who else, I mean, what manner of stranger, would a man allow close to him?"
"A child."
"Or a woman."
"Ah, the two marks. A woman. She kills him and her male partner helps dispose of the body."
"I don't know, but I'm leaning that way."
"It could have been Marcy and Bill Wiggins."
"Could have been Laurel and Hardy, too."
"There you go again. Smartmouth." The dog headed toward the animal door of the post office.
The cat came alongside, brushing against her friend. "You're right. I'm awful." She walked a few steps, then stopped. "What bothers me is that we're missing something and I won't feel reassured until we know it. I don't like that Mom knew these two as well as she did."