Matilda had used the same hay bale for years, and Harry gave her a wide berth, plus a few treats in the spring before she revved herself up for hunting. Matilda hunted a radius around the barn, sheds, and house from which she never varied. You could tell the time of spring or summer by where Matilda was. High summer she lived in the gorgeous old tree by the back screen door. Occasionally she would hang from a branch and swing, which sent Pewter into orbit.
Another rocket launch was about to happen, because Matilda, eyes now wide open, drew herself up, large body curled underneath her, and let out a loud “Ssssst!”
Pewter shot straight up, fur puffed out, turned in midair to reach the top of Matilda’s hay bale. This further irritated the snake, who now stuck her head out.
The drama queen screamed, “A dragon! I’m going to die!”
Prudently backing up, Mrs. Murphy hollered, “Calm down. It’s just Matilda.”
Those glittering snake eyes now focused on the tiger cat. However, Matilda, half in, half out of her hay bale, twisted around to give Pewter the full effect.
“Save me!” cried Pewter.
“What the hell is going on up there?” Harry climbed the ladder, passed the hay bale where Simon the opossum hid, way in the back. Discretion seemed the better part of valor for the opossum. Although half a pet after all these years, he mostly stayed out of view.
Seeing Harry, Pewter wailed more piteously. “The biggest snake in the world. She’s as long as the barn.”
Pewter and Matilda regarded each other. Harry, who quite liked this snake, spoke in a low voice. “I’m going to reach over you and lift off this terrified cat.”
Matilda turned around to fold herself back into her cozy quarters, although in fairness to Pewter’s frazzled nerves, it did take quite a bit of time for the serpent to whirl around her hind end. At last she was back in the rear of the bale, comfortable in her home.
Harry leaned over to lift up the cat, who put her arms around Harry’s neck. “She is huge, Pewts. I’ll give you that.” Walking to the ladder, Harry put the cat down. Mrs. Murphy already sat nearby, her expression bemused.
“You could have tried to help me.” Pewter swatted at Mrs. Murphy, who deftly avoided the slap.
“I give Matilda a wide berth,” the tiger cat admitted. “She’s okay, but still…”
Most of the expensive alfalfa and orchard grass/clover mix hay had been used up, and the hayloft was almost empty. Harry was reminded to clean the rafters. Cobwebs in summer catch flies, but by this time of the year, those cobwebs hung in dark clumps and strings. Time to take the leaf blower, bring them down, and sweep up the debris. The next generation of spiders would build silky new webs to catch the next generation of flies.
Climbing down, Harry walked into her tack room, sat down at her desk, and made a note to clean. Under it, she added the need to purchase more square alfalfa hay bales. Harry ran a tight ship. She grew her own orchard-grass hay, round-baled it, and if the hay was exceptionally good, when she needed square bales, she’d unroll a round bale and square-bale it. All this took expensive equipment. When he died, her father left hay equipment behind. Harry used the same equipment today as had her father, who had kept things in the best order. Sooner or later some of it would wear out. However, if well cared for, farm equipment from good manufacturers could last decades and decades.
Scribbling on a notepad designed by Gustave Eiffel, she whistled. The day was beautiful. She actually loved making lists and planning. She’d like to think it was in part due to her efficiency that her crops had brought in enough money last fall so she now had a little cushion. Purchasing alfalfa wasn’t going to crack her budget. Harry counted her blessings.
The phone rang. Susan’s voice sounded as if she was in the next room. “Hey, I called the house. No answer, so I’m calling the barn.”
“What’s up?”
“Frank Cresey tried to kill himself.”
Harry thought for a moment. “What did he have to live for? Poor devil, he even failed at suicide?”
Knowing how Harry’s mind worked, Susan was not put off by this response. “I don’t know what he’s got to live for, but maybe if he makes it, he’ll find something.”
“How’d you find out?”
“Olivia called me. Sobbing. Feels this is her fault.”
“How could it be her fault? He started his love affair with the bottle a long, long time ago.” Harry marveled at the human capacity to feel guilt. And then there were those who felt no guilt at all, regardless of what they’d done. Did Ginger’s killer feel guilt?
Susan stated the obvious. “Olivia’s a very emotional woman.”
“Trudy’s not. Where did she get that?”
“Harry, it doesn’t matter. She just is, and she’s upset. She didn’t tell her mother or Rennie about the scene on the mall. She called me because, well, you know, it’s obvious.”
“I guess,” said Harry, to whom it wasn’t obvious at all. “Is there anything I can do, or we can do?”
“Yes, meet me at the McConnell house. We’ll take Olivia for a drive or something. Her mother and sister know she’s upset. They don’t know much more.”
“All right. I’ll be over there shortly. Right now I’m in my work clothes. And I have to put the animals in the house. I don’t think Olivia would mind them, but it’d just be us.”
“That’s fine.”
—
Harry reached the house in Ednam Forest in twenty-five minutes. In the driveway, she stepped out of her truck and into the backseat of Susan’s Audi station wagon. Olivia sat in the front seat.
As Susan backed out, Harry reached forward, putting her hand on Olivia’s shoulder. Olivia covered Harry’s hand with her own.
The women talked in the car as Susan drove all the way to Sugar Hollow.
“I set him off,” Olivia cried. “I never imagined he would recognize me.”
“You’ve changed very little,” Susan remarked, observing from the road here that this part of Albemarle County was about one week behind the rest with its spring flowers and such.
“How did you find out, Olivia?” asked Harry.
“Sheriff Shaw.”
“What!” Both Harry and Susan exclaimed.
Olivia stared straight ahead, but didn’t seem to see the road. “When Frank was picked up on the mall after a nine-one-one call, he was writhing, retching, screaming in pain. So the ambulance driver obviously took him immediately to UVA Hospital, which is close by. They stabilized him, washed him, cleaned him up, and put him in a room by himself. He was unconscious by then, plus the doctor had given him something to calm him down.”
“Poor devil!” Susan exclaimed, checking in the rearview mirror to see Harry’s expression.
Olivia composed herself. “Well, when he became conscious, he asked for the sheriff. Sheriff Shaw and Deputy Cooper came to the hospital. Frank confessed to killing Daddy.”
“What!” Both Harry and Susan exclaimed again in unison. They were a regular Greek chorus.
“Frank said he shot Daddy with a .45.”
Harry’s keen mind was like a blade being sharpened. “Frank yelled on the mall that he wished he’d killed your father. Now he says he did.”
“Yes, I told the sheriff that, too.”
“And?” Harry’s voice lifted.
Olivia turned all the way around in the seat and looked Harry in the eye. “He pointed out that Daddy was killed by a .45. But Frank says he walked up, faced him at a distance, called out his name, and shot him. Obviously, he didn’t. Brinsley Sims said no one was on the fairway when Dad was shot.” Brinsley Sims, a longtime friend of Ginger’s, had been playing golf with him that horrible day.