"Ah-" Herb pressed the end of the spoon bringing up the bowl of it. "Good at it, too. Young and full of conservative zeal minus the social agenda. I don't know what they'll do, although if they're smart, really smart, they'll draft Tazio Chappars for the job."
"Tazio?" Fair considered this. "That would be brilliant."
"With Ned considering a run for the State House, the Republicans need young leadership to create excitement. Ned will be a strong candidate. Tazio might be able to attract a new, vigorous element into the Republican Party." Herb, keenly political, enjoyed the elections the way some folks enjoy chess.
"Susan mentioned people were very supportive." Harry knew she'd get sucked into all this and she so hated politics.
"Charlotte's down with the flu." Herb brightened when his rib-eye steak sandwich was put before him. "Just what the doctor ordered."
"Better take one to Charlotte then," Harry teased him.
"I tell you what, you don't know how good a secretary she is. These last two days I've answered phones, sorted the mail into must-do, can-wait, and throwaway piles, checked the office supplies. I'm low on everything plus I've had to fiddle around with the rescheduling of the carpets. They swore on a stack of Bibles, and to a pastor, too, that they would be at the church doors at eight A.M. on Tuesday. I think I'd better send Hayden McIntyre over to Charlotte's. I need her!"
"Did you send her flowers?"
"Yes." Herb smiled at Harry as he bit into the delicious sandwich.
"Anything I can do to help? I'm off this weekend. Zack's on call." Fair shared on-call duties over the weekends with other vets. It was a good system, otherwise no equine vet in Virginia would ever have a weekend off. Horses seem to watch the calendar, being careful to injure themselves over the weekend, preferably very late at night.
Tazio Chappars came in. "Hey," she called when seeing them.
"Sit down." Fair stood up.
"No, please sit, Fair. I can't. I've got Brinkley in the truck. I don't want to leave him so I thought I'd pick up a sandwich and go back to the office."
"It's Saturday. A beautiful Saturday," Harry beamed. "You can't go to work; who knows when we'll get another one?"
"I know, I know, but I've got to catch up."
"I'll catch up in 2020." Herb laughed, his deep rumble shaking the table.
"You and Brinkley are becoming best friends." Harry thought maybe she'd better order an extra sandwich to divide among three put-out animals at home.
"I love that dog. How did I live this long without my own dog? I always told myself I was too busy but I have my own office so he comes to work with me, he goes to the construction sites. He's such a good dog, so smart." She glowed.
"Labs are," Fair agreed.
"There's a corgi sitting at home who vehemently disagrees," Harry laughed, "but Labs are incredible creatures."
"He talks to me," Tazio sheepishly admitted, "and I talk back."
"Harry talks to her critters all the time." Herb polished off the rib-eye sandwich.
"Oh, and you don't talk to Elocution and Cazenovia?"
Herb nodded at Harry. "Couldn't write a sermon without them. Just thought I'd throw the spotlight on you."
"Nice to chat with you all. Let me go order a sandwich. What did you have, Herb? It looked good." Tazio inhaled the delicious aroma.
"Rib eye."
"That's what I'll get. And one for Brinkley." She walked over to the counter.
Just then Mychelle Burns entered, looked around nervously, saw Tazio, and sidled up to her.
Tazio, at pains to conceal her dislike, smiled. "What are you doing in Crozet?"
"Nothing," she fibbed. "Saw your truck with the dog in it." Mychelle lowered her voice. "I need to talk to you. Privately."
Tazio's brow furrowed. "Not today."
"Monday? In your office."
"Mychelle, I don't have my Filofax with me. Call me Monday."
"Don't put me off. I will be in your office Monday at nine. You be there. It's important."
"You know, you're becoming like Fred. That's not an attractive prospect." Tazio exhaled through her nostrils. "I need to check my book."
Mychelle lowered her voice almost to a whisper. "Don't fuck with me."
Surprised at the other woman's crude language, Tazio replied, "Mychelle."
"Wait until you hear what I have to say. Here's a preview: Fred, at night, takes debris from construction sites and dumps them at Matthew's site. Here's another preview: H.H. paid under the table for copies of Matthew's job blueprints. You need to talk to me."
"All right, Mychelle, all right. Monday at nine." Tazio wondered what was going on.
Without a goodbye, Mychelle turned and left, not even bothering to close the front door behind her. One of the waitresses hurried over to close it.
Harry, along with Fair and Herb, watched the exchange although they couldn't hear what transpired. Tazio looked back at them and shrugged. She paid for her two sandwiches and left, waving as she did so.
"Mychelle is not winning friends and influencing people," Fair observed.
"She used to be upbeat. Job's affected her. People get upset when something's wrong and it costs money to fix it. I suppose we need these building codes but they seem so, I don't know, too much paperwork, too much interference." Herb ordered Boston cream pie.
The lightbulb switched on in Harry's head. Of course, she thought to herself, how easy, both had access to H.H. Under my nose and I never saw it. One of those women is, was, H.H.'s lover. I'd bet my life on it!
"Harry?" Fair touched her hand.
"What?"
"You didn't hear a word I said."
"Fair, I'm sorry, I just had an idea." She smiled. "I'm listening, really. You have my full attention."
18
Coaches ride a roller coaster. While the best of them hope to build students' character, prepare them for life's unpredictables, they still must win and win convincingly. The most successful character builder in America isn't going to get a renewed contract if his or her team doesn't win. And of all coaches, the two most visible to the public are football and basketball, the college sports with the largest following, the lucrative TV contracts.
In the dark ages, no one even knew the women's basketball coach's name. These days they were stars with all the perks and pressures their male counterparts had endured and enjoyed for close to one hundred years-except one. Women's coaches didn't sleep with male students. Male coaches used to cut a swath through the girls, although those days, too, had waned thanks to administrators finally waking up to the abuse inherent in such a relationship even if freely contracted. Then again, the male coaches were usually married, a sticking point.
Married women coaches would pace the sidelines, their husbands and children breathlessly watching. The unmarried women coaches would pace the sidelines, the unmarried men breathlessly watching.
It never occurred to Coach Ryan and her assistant coaches that a murderer was watching. H. H. Donaldson's death, now known to be suspicious, wasn't connected to basketball. At least, no one thought it was.
Since Cameron loved basketball, idolized the players, and worshipped Coach Debbie Ryan, H.H. had purchased a block of ads to run concurrent with the women's basketball season thinking it would make his little girl happy. He'd even bought her a subscription to the University of Virginia newspaper so she could read the fuller accounts of the very games she had witnessed.
Each Monday, Georgina Craycroft, BoomBoom's sister-in-law and head of Virginia Graphics, would design an ad for H.H. based on that week's opponents. The last of H.H.'s ad designs would run out Sunday. Georgina didn't know whether to continue. The staff of The Cavalier Daily didn't want to bother Anne Donaldson but H.H. had paid for the season. Still, Georgina didn't wish to create more designs if Anne wasn't interested. She'd refund whatever monies were outstanding. Georgina was a fair-minded person.