Harry nodded through another encore.
The two singers bowed, then left the dais.
Harry and Susan made their way through the crowd to congratulate Miranda.
“Thank you.” The older woman beamed. “What an honor to sing with him.” She leaned forward to whisper, “I was worried that he’d be imperious, but he wasn’t.”
“Who could be imperious with you?” Susan complimented her.
“I put your present in the Falcon.” Harry loved that Miranda drove the old Ford from the ’60s, just as she drove her old truck.
“Now, you didn’t have to do that.” Miranda saw Aunt Tally heading for the bar and being intercepted by Big Mim. “Oh, dear, we’re about to have a contretemps.”
Harry and Susan looked in the direction that Miranda was looking.
“Well, the old girl has a right to her martinis.” Harry laughed. “Probably why she’s lived so long.”
“Right. She’s pickled,” Susan remarked.
Miranda laughed. “Pickled or not, Aunt Tally is a handful.”
Resisting her niece, whose hand gripped her elbow, Aunt Tally burst into a smile as Bill Keelo walked toward her. “Bill, to my rescue.”
“Beg pardon.” He pushed his black- rimmed spectacles back up the bridge of his nose.
Under her breath, Aunt Tally hissed, “Unhand me, Mimsy, or I’ll crack you over the head with my cane, and I mean it.”
“You’ve had enough,” Big Mim whispered back.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” As Bill offered her his arm, Aunt Tally purred, “Wasn’t that the most beautiful singing?”
Big Mim conceded defeat—rare for her—turned on her heel, and bumped into Brother Speed. “I’m sorry.”
The wiry fellow replied, “I’ve had worse bumps than that.”
“Haven’t we all,” Big Mim agreed. “Do you ride anymore?”
“Funny you should mention that, because I was thinking about getting a job riding young horses. As long as I give back fifty percent to the brotherhood, I can work outside. It’s all I know, and I’m not much good at the jobs Brother George finds for me.”
“Come by the barn. Paul could use a part- time rider.”
“Thank you.” Brother Speed felt elated. “That is a Christmas present.”
Quite a few horse people would be at the Corbett Realty Christmas party at Keswick Club. Brother Speed planned to go there after this party to see if he could find more part- time work. In fact, quite a few people would be braving the roads to go to the eastern side of the county. The Corbett party could get quite frolicsome.
Bill waited patiently at the bar while Aunt Tally stood to the side. Brother Ed jostled him, not intentionally.
“Back off, Ed.”
“Sorry. I was shoved from behind,” Brother Ed mildly replied.
“Right.” Bill’s voice dripped with sarcasm, which Brother Ed ignored.
As Bill left to hand Aunt Tally her drink, Fair, also waiting, said to Brother Ed, “Bill’s been touchy lately.”
“Prima donna.” Brother Ed shrugged. “He’s always accusing Bryson of being a prima donna, but I say it takes one to know one.”
“Guess so,” Fair genially replied. “The prima donnas in my life are the cats.”
“Not Harry?” Brother Ed’s eyebrows raised. “No.” Brother Morris, surrounded by fans, was attempting to make his way to the bar. With a straight face, Brother Ed said, “Here he comes with his disciples. Next performance he’ll walk on water.” Fair laughed. “We’d pay to see that.” “I’ll tell Brother Morris. He’s very eager to fill the coffers.” Brother Ed smiled. Fair returned to Harry and Susan, handing both ladies their drinks. “Where’s yours, honey?” Harry inquired. “I’m good.” He’d had one hefty scotch on the rocks, and that was enough. “I checked. The tonic water is Schweppes.”
“Aren’t you the best?” Harry squeezed his hand, then stared at Susan’s drink. “When did you start drinking daiquiris?”
“Tonight. Ned’s politicking, and I thought I’d live large.” She laughed. Her husband, Ned, was a first-term state representative, which was an exciting position, even if sometimes frustrating.
“Bill Keelo surprised me up at the bar,” said Fair. “He was curt, borderline rude, with Brother Ed. I’ve never seen Bill like that.”
“That’s because Brother Ed used to be gay.” Harry shrugged. “Bill works on my mood with this. I don’t know what’s happened to him, but I don’t remember him being this homophobic.” She turned to Susan. “What do you think?”
She dismissed it. “Oh, he’s going through male menopause. The old midlife crisis. He’s been irritable to everyone.”
Fair waved at a client across the room. “Maybe some-thing’s come up in the family.”
“Who knows?” Harry’s attention was on Brother Speed, who was talking to Paul de Silva.
Then Brother Speed joined them, excitedly telling them about his hopes to work part- time at Big Mim’s.
“Ever met a horse you couldn’t ride?” Harry wondered.
“One or two,” Brother Speed admitted.
On the way home after the party, Harry mentioned that if Brother Speed could help her with the yearlings for a month or two, it would be good. “I didn’t want to open my mouth without asking you.”
“Great idea. We ought to be able to afford him.” Fair smiled, since he knew Brother Speed wouldn’t charge much.
“Great. I’ll call him tomorrow.”
Tomorrow would be too late.
16
December 22 dawned overcast and cold, with gusty winds. Harry consoled herself with the idea that once on the other side of the winter solstice she’d gain about a minute of sunlight a day. She’d been up at five- thirty, and now, at seven, she’d broken the ice on all the outside water troughs and turned out the horses. In summer this routine was reversed. The horses would be in the barn now, fans cooling them, and turned out at night.
She picked stalls and threw some cookies up for Simon, the possum who lived in the hayloft along with a great horned owl and a huge blacksnake. Matilda, the snake, hibernated in the back hay bales and could give one a start, but between her, the owl, and the cats, the rodent population remained satisfyingly low.
On the other side of the county, Tony Gammell, huntsman for Keswick Hunt, performed his morning chores. The kennels sat across a paved road from the Keswick Club, which was a beautiful and exclusive haven for golfers, tennis players, and anyone who wanted to sit on the veranda to enjoy the setting. Not that anyone would be sitting out today. Last night, the same night as the St. Luke’s party, the club had hosted Corbett Realty’s Christmas party. Some people, either due to business or being indefatigably social, attended both parties.
When Tony walked out of the kennels after feeding the hounds, he thought to check the fence lines. No matter what he or anyone else dealing with hounds did, sooner or later one of the dogs would try to dig out. He didn’t notice it at first, being intent on his fences, but on the way back he saw a lone figure on the tennis court, sitting against the chain- link fence. Anyone driving into the club by the main entrance wouldn’t notice. Tony stopped. Knowing that Nancy Holt, the tennis pro, wouldn’t be out in the cold, and no one else would even attempt to play in this wind, he sprinted across the lightly traveled road to the fence. As he was on the outside, he knelt down and then grasped the fence as he nearly fell over from the shock. Brother Speed, legs spread out, back against the fence, appeared to be dead. Blood covered the clay court where the body sat.
Tony rose, shaking, and ran to the other side of the court. He opened the door and hurried to the body. An intelligent man and a quick thinker, Tony knew not to touch the body. Upset as he was by the sight, he looked carefully. Brother Speed had frozen, so he’d been there for hours. His throat was slit. Taking a deep breath, Tony ran to the main office of Keswick Club, a separate entity from the hunt club. No one was at work yet, as it was only seven- fifteen. He ran back to the kennel, a bit more than a quarter mile, and grabbed his cell, which he’d perched on a ledge. He dialed 911, gave accurate information, and was told to wait where he was. He then dialed his wife, Whitney. Tony didn’t realize how shaken he was until he heard his wife’s voice. She, in turn, was so upset she told him to stay where he was, she’d be right there.