“Yeah.” Tucker hurried to the door that separated the work area from the reception area.
Mrs. Murphy stretched her full length and began playing with the doorknob. This one was the right height for her. If she opened the door Harry would be on to one of her best tricks but Mrs. Murphy didn’t think she had a choice. She strained and held the knob between her two paws. With a quick motion she forced the knob to the left and the door popped open.
“Smart cat,” Berryman commented.
“So that’s how she does it,” Harry said weakly.
Tucker sauntered out, nonchalant, and sat three paces from Bob’s juicy ankle. Mrs. Murphy leaped back up to the counter to watch and wait.
“The slip, Harry.” Berryman’s voice filled the room.
Harry pulled out a registered mail slip and filled it out as candlelight flickered and a sheet of rain lashed at the front window. She tore up the first copy and started another.
“I’ll get it right,” she mumbled.
Berryman reached across and held her hand. She froze. Tucker moved forward and Mrs. Murphy crept to the edge of the counter. Berryman observed the cat and looked down at the dog. Tucker’s fangs were bared.
“Call off your dog.”
“Let go of my hand first.” Harry steadied herself.
He released her hand. Tucker sat down but continued to stare at Berryman.
“Don’t be afraid of me. I didn’t kill Maude. That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?”
“Uh—”
“I didn’t. I know it looks bad but I couldn’t take any more at her funeral. Josiah’s words ofwisdom,” he said bitterly, “were the straw that broke the camel’s back. What does he know about men and women?!”
Harry, confused, said,“I expect he knows a great deal.”
“You must be kidding. He uses Mim Sanburne to party in Palm Beach and Saratoga and New York and God knows where else.”
“I didn’t mean that. He’s observant, and because he isn’t married or involved he has more time than other people. I guess he—”
“You like him. All women like him. I can’t for the life of me figure out why. Maude adored him. Said he made her laugh so hard her sides ached. He yapped about clothes and makeup and decorating. They always had their heads together. I used to tell her he was nothing but a high-class salesman but she told me to stop acting like Joe Six-Pack—she wasn’t going to give him up. She said he gave her what I couldn’t and I gave her what he couldn’t.” Bob’s lips compressed. “I hate that silly faggot.”
“Don’t call him a faggot,” Harry admonished. “I don’t care who he sleeps with or who he doesn’t. You’re mad at him because he was close to Maude. He made you jealous.”
“So the cat’s out of the bag.” He sighed. “I don’t care anymore. You want to know why I hit him? Really? He came over and told me to pull myself together. ‘Think of your wife,’ he said. I was afraid that Maude had told him about us, and then I knew she had. Damn him! Coming over and oozing concern. He didn’t want Linda to go into a huff and ruin his orchestrated funeral. He didn’t care about Maude.”
“Of course he did. He paid for much of it.”
“We all paid for the funeral. He wants to look good so he can take over her store. He and Maude talked business as much as they talked mascara. He knows what a moneymaker it is. I—well, I don’t care about the business. Okay, it’s out in the open. I loved Maude. She’s dead and I’d give anything to have her back.” He paused. “I’m leaving Linda. She can have the house, the car, everything. I’m keeping my business. I’m alone but at least I’m not living a lie.” This admission calmed him. “I didn’t kill Maude. I wouldn’t have harmed a hair on her head.”
“I’m so sorry, Bob.”
“So am I.” He handed over the envelope to be sent to the IRS. “Rain slacked off.” Realizing what he’d said, he was embarrassed. He hesitated a minute before leaving.
Harry understood.“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”
“You can tell anyone you like. I apologize for fulminating. I’m not sorry for what I told you. I’m sorry for how I told you. You don’t need to put up with that. I’m so up and down. I—I don’t know myself. I mean, I go up and down.” This was the only way he could describe his mood swings.
“Under the circumstances, I think that’s natural.”
“I don’t know. I feel crazy sometimes.”
“It will even out. Be easier on yourself.”
He smiled a tight smile, said,“Yeah,” and then left.
Harry, exhausted from the encounter, sat with a thud. Tucker walked back to her.
“So the letters were love letters,” Mrs. Murphy thought out loud.
“Probably, but we don’t know,” Tucker replied.“Anyway, he could have killed her in a lovers’ quarrel. Humans do that. I overheard on the TV that four hundred and thirty-five Americans are killed each day. I think that’s what the newscaster said. They’ll kill over anything.”
“I know, but I don’t think he killed her. I think he told Harry the truth.”
“What are you meowing about, kitty cat? Now I’m on to your tricks. You’ve been opening doors all along, haven’t you? You little sneak.” Harry stroked Tucker’s ears while Mrs. Murphy rubbed against her legs. Vitality seeped back into her limbs, which felt so heavy with fear when Bob first came into the post office. She hoped the rest of the day would pick up. But unfortunately, Harry’s day went from bad to worse.
Mrs. Hogendobber drove up in her Falcon. She opened an umbrella against the rain. Mrs. H. saw no reason to trade in a useful automobile, and the interest rates on car loans were usury as far as she was concerned. Although once a month she drove over to Brady-Bushey Ford to allow Art Bushey the opportunity to sell her a new car, Art knew she had no intention of buying anything. She swooned over him, and being gallant, he took her to lunch each time she careened onto the lot.
“Harry! I made a mistake, a tiny mistake, but I thought you ought to know. I should have told you before now but I didn’t think about it. I just … didn’t. After you left the party or whatever you want to call it at Josiah’s, I stayed on. Mim and I were commenting on the state of today’s morals. Then Mim mentioned that you had encouraged Little Marilyn to contact Stafford in New York. I spoke about forgiveness and she haughtily told me she didn’t need a sermon, she attended Saint Paul’s for that, and I said that forgiveness extended through the other six days of the week as well.”
“I’m sorry you got on the bad side of her.” Harry leaned on the counter.
“No, no, that’s not it. You see, then Josiah mentioned that the government, the federal government, has never forgiven the draft evaders, not really, and Ned, who arrived after you left—quite drawn-looking, too, I must say—well, Ned laughed and said the IRS never forgives anyone. The power to tax is the power to destroy, and I said maybe it was just as well that Maude was dead because they’d catch up with her sooner or later.”
“Oh, no!” Harry exclaimed.
“Conversation ran to other topics and I didn’t think about it until now.”
“Why now?”
“I don’t know exactly. The rain made me remember all that water in Mim’s boat. What if—what if Mim wasn’t the killer’s target? After all, Mim can swim.”
“I see.” Harry rubbed her temples. This felt worse than a headache.
The entire town knew about Mim’s slashed pontoon because the workers Jim used to lift the boat onto his truck saw the damage. By now everyone was jumping to conclusions, so the gossip all over town was that Mim was the intended victim.
Mrs. Hogendobber breathed in sharply.“What do I do now?”
“If anyone brings up your slip—you know, asks a leading question about Maude and the IRS—pick up the phone and call me. Better yet, call Rick Shaw.”
“Oh, dear.”
“Mrs. H., you must trust me. The killer gives a signal before he strikes—I can’t tell you what it is. He gives warning, which makes me wonder if the slashed pontoon was really aimed at you.”