“No way.”
“Yeah, I really did, and you’re the only person who knows. I’ve been working with this guy for two years now and I’m making progress. I’m becoming, uh, human.”
The phone cut into whatever Fair would have said next. Harry jumped up and walked into the tack room. She heard Mrs. Hogendobber almost before she picked up the phone. Mrs. H. told her that Kimball Haynes had just been found by Heike Holtz. Shot twice. When he didn’t show up for a date or answer his phone, she became worried and drove out to his place.
Harry, ashen-faced, paused for a moment.“Fair, Kimball Haynes has been murdered.” She returned to Mrs. H. “We’ll be right over.”
38
A tea table filled with tarts and a crisp apple pie aroused the interest of Tucker, Mrs. Murphy, and Pewter. The humans at that moment were too upset to eat. Mrs. Hogendobber, a first-rate baker, liked to experiment with recipes before taking them to the Church of the Holy Light for suppers and benefits. The major benefit was to Harry, who was used as the guinea pig. If Harry ever stopped doing her high-calorie-burning farm chores, she’d be fat as a tick. Mrs. H. had planned to bring the treats to work tomorrow, but everything was up in the air.
“That bright young man. He had everything to live for.” Miranda wiped her eyes. “Why would anyone kill Kimball?”
Fair sat next to her on one side of the sofa, Harry on the other.
Harry patted her hand. An awkward gesture, but it suited Mrs. Hogendobber, who was not a woman given to hugs or much public display of affection.“I don’t know, but I think he stuck his nose too far in somebody’s business.”
Mrs. Hogendobber lifted her head.“You mean over this Monticello murder?”
“Not exactly. I don’t know what I mean.” Harry sighed.
Fair’s baritone filled the room. “Crozet is a town filled with secrets, generations deep.”
“Isn’t every town full of secrets? The precepts for living don’t seem to take into account true human nature.” Harry smelled the apple pie. Pewter crouched, making ready to spring onto the teacart. “Pewter, no.”
“Nobody else is going to eat it,” the cat sassed her.“Why waste good food?”
Her anger rising because Pewter not only refused to budge but wiggled her haunches again for the leap, Harry rose and chased the cat away from the cart. Pewter ran a few steps away and then sat down defiantly.
“You’re pushing it,” Mrs. Murphy warned her.
“What’s she going to do? Smack pie in my face?” Pewter wickedly crept closer to the sweet-laden cart.
“Listen, let’s eat some of this before Pewter wears me out.” Harry sliced three portions of pie, the rich apple aroma deliciously filling the room as the knife opened up the heart of the pie.
“Oh, Miranda, this is beautiful.” Harry handed out three plates. She sat down to eat, but Pewter’s creeping along toward the cart disturbed the peacefulness, which had been disturbed enough. Giving up, she cut a small slice for the two cats and a separate one for Tucker.
“You spoil those animals,” said Mrs. Hogendobber.
“They’re great testers. If they won’t eat something, you know it’s bad—not that your pastries could ever fall into that category.”
“Many times I wished I weren’t such a baker.” She patted her stomach.
They enjoyed the pie until their thoughts returned to Kimball. As they talked, Harry got up and poured coffee for everyone. She often felt better if she could move around. Harry’s mother used to say she had ants in her pants, which wasn’t true, but she thought better if she walked about.
“Super. The best, Mrs. H.,” Fair congratulated her.
“Thank you,” she replied listlessly, then a tear fell again. “I hate crying. I keep thinking that he never had the chance to be married or to have children.” She placed her cup on the coffee table. “I’m calling Mim. Surely she’s heard.”
Harry, Fair, and the animals watched as she dialed and Mim came on the line. A long conversation followed, but as Mim did most of the talking, Miranda’s audience could only guess.
“She’s right here. Let me ask her.” Mrs. Hogendobber put her hand over the mouthpiece. “Mim wants us to meet with the sheriff tomorrow. Oliver Zeve has already been questioned. Noon?”
Harry nodded in the affirmative.
Miranda continued.“That’s fine. We’ll see you at your place, then. Can we bring anything? All right. Bye.”
“Take her some of this pie,” Fair suggested.
“I think I will.” She remained by the phone. “Sheriff Shaw is doing a what-do-you-call-it, ballistics check? They’re hoping to trace the gun.”
“Fat chance.” Harry put her face in her hands.
“Maybe not.” Fair thought out loud. “What if the killer acted in haste?”
“Even if he acted in haste, I bet he’s not that stupid—or she,” Harry countered. “And to make matters worse, the rains washed out any chance of making a mold from tire tracks.”
“And washed out the scent too,” Tucker mourned.
“This is so peculiar.” Mrs. Hogendobber joined them on the davenport.
“We need to go through the papers that Kimball read. I’m sure that Rick Shaw has already thought of that, but since we’re somewhat familiar with the period and the players of that day, maybe we could help.”
“And expose yourselves to risk? I won’t have it,” Fair said flatly.
“Fair, you didn’t give me orders when we were married. Don’t start now.”
“When we were married, Mary Minor, your life was not in danger. If you don’t have the sense to see where this is leading, I do! There’s a man dead because he uprooted something. If he found it, chances are you’ll find it, especially given your disposition toward investigation.”
“Unless the killer removes the evidence.”
“If that’s possible,” Mrs. Hogendobber said to Harry. “This may be a matter of going over those records and diaries and putting two and two together. It may not be one document—then again, it may.”
“And I am telling you two nitwits”—Fair’s voice rose, making Tucker prick up her ears—“what Kimball Haynes found may be something of current interest. In his research he might have stumbled over something that’s dangerous to someone right now. It’s very hard to believe that Kimball would have been killed over a murder in 1803.”
“You’ve got a point there,” Mrs. Hogendobber agreed, but she felt uneasy, deeply uneasy.
“I’m going through those papers.” Harry was as defiant as Pewter had been. The gray cat watched in astonishment. Mrs. Murphy, privy to a few Mr.-and-Mrs. scenes, was less astonished.
“Harry, I forbid it!” He slammed his hand on the coffee table.
“Don’t do that,” Tucker barked, but she didn’t want her mother in danger either.
“Settle down, you two, just settle down.” Mrs. Hogendobber leaned back on the sofa. “We know for certain that Kimball read through Mim’s family histories, and the Coleses’. Don’t know if he got the Randolphs’ yet. Anyone else?”
“He kept a list. We’d better get that list or get Rick to let us photocopy it.” Harry, mad at Fair, was still glad he cared, although she was confused as to why that should make her so happy. Harry was slow that way.
Fair crossed his arms over his chest.“You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying. Let the police handle it.”
“I am listening, but I liked Kimball. We were also helping him piece together the facts on this thing. If I can help catch whoever did him in, I will.”
“I liked him too, but not enough to die for him, and that won’t bring him back.” Fair spoke the truth.
“You can’t stop me.” Harry’s chin jutted out.
“No, but I can go along and help.”
Mrs. Hogendobber clapped.“Bully for you!”
“What do you think, Tucker?” Mrs. Murphy picked up her tail with a front paw.
“He’s still in love with her.”
“That’s obvious.” Pewter lay down, far more interested in the pastries than human emotions.