I’ll leave the car at the bank parking lot behind the downtown mall. Please don’t call Rick Shaw. And don’t worry about me.
Love,
Cabell
Taxi did just that. The letter was propped up against the coffee machine. She read it and reread it. In all the years she had known her husband, he had never done anything as drastic as this.
She dialed Miranda Hogendobber. She’d been friends with Miranda since kindergarten. It was seven-thirty in the morning.
“Miranda.”
Mrs. H. heard the strain in her friend’s voice immediately. “Florence, what’s the matter?”
“Cabell has left me.”
“What!”
“I said that wrong. Here. Let me read you the letter.” As she finished, Florence sobbed, “He must be suffering some kind of breakdown.”
“Well, you’ve got to call the sheriff.”
“He forbids me to do that.” Florence cried harder.
“He’s wrong. If you don’t call him I will.”
By the time Rick and Cynthia arrived at the beautiful Hall residence, Miranda had been there for a half hour. Sitting next to her friend, she supplied support during the questioning.
Rick, who liked Taxi Hall, smoked half a pack of cigarettes while he gently asked questions. Cynthia prudently refrained from smoking, or the room would have been filled with blue fog.
“You said he’s been preoccupied, withdrawn.”
Taxi nodded, and Rick continued.“Was there any one subject that would set him off?”
“He was terribly upset about Ben Seifert. He calmed down once the books were audited but I know it still bothered him. Ben was his prot?g?.”
“Was there resentment at the bank over Ben’s being groomed to succeed your husband?”
She folded her arms across her chest and thought about this.“There’s always grumbling but not enough for murder.”
“Did your husband ever specifically name anyone?”
“He mentioned that Marion Molnar couldn’t stand Ben but she managed to work with him. Really, the politics of the bank are pretty benign.”
Rick took a deep breath.“Have you any reason to suspect that your husband is seeing another woman?”
“Is that necessary?” Miranda bellowed.
“Under the circumstances, yes, it is.” Rick softened his voice.
“I protest. I protest most vigorously. Can’t you see she’s worried sick?”
Taxi patted Miranda’s hand. “It’s all right, Miranda. Everything must be considered. To the best of my knowledge Cabell is not involved with another woman. If you knew Cabby like I do, you’d know he’d much rather play golf than make love.”
Rick smiled weakly.“Thank you, Mrs. Hall. We will put out an allpoints alert. We’ll fax photos of Cabby to other police and sheriff’s departments. And the first time he uses a credit card we’ll know. Try to relax and know that we are doing everything we can.”
Outside the door Rick dropped a cigarette, which sizzled in the snow.
Cooper observed the snow melting around the hot tip.“Well, looks like we know who killed Ben Seifert. Why else would he run?”
“Goddammit, we’re going to find out.” He stepped on the extinguished cigarette. “Coop, nothing makes sense. Nothing!”
51
Harry wondered where Mrs. Hogendobber was, for she was scrupulously punctual. Being a half hour late was quite out of line. The mail bags clogged the post office and Harry was falling behind. If it had been any time other than Christmas, Harry would have left her post and gone to Miranda’s house. As it was, she called around. No one had seen Mrs. Hogendobber.
When the back door opened relief flooded through Harry. Those emotional waters instantly dried up when Mrs. Hogendobber told her the news.
Within fifteen minutes of Miranda’s arrival—half an hour before the doors opened to the public—Rick Shaw knocked on the back door.
He walked through the mail bags and up to the counter, glanced at the composite picture of the reconstructed head.“Lot of good that’s done. Not a peep! Not a clue!Nada!” He slammed his hand on the counter, causing Mrs. Murphy to jump and Tucker to bark.
“Hush, Tucker,” Harry advised the dog.
Rick opened his notebook.“Mrs. Hogendobber, I wanted to ask you a few questions. No need to cause Mrs. Hall further upset.”
“I’m glad to help.”
Rick looked at Harry.“You might as well stay. She’ll tell you everything anyway, the minute I leave.” He poised his pencil. “Have you noticed anything unusual in Cabell Hall’s behavior?”
“No. I think he’s exhausted, but he hasn’t been irritable or anything.”
“Have you noticed a strain in the marriage?”
“See here, Rick, you know perfectly well that Florence and Cabby have a wonderful marriage. Now this line of questioning has got to stop.”
Rick flipped shut his notebook, irritation, frustration, and exhaustion dragging down his features. He looked old this morning.“Dammit, Miranda, I’m doing all I can!” He caught himself. “I’m sorry. I’m tired. I haven’t even bought one Christmas present for my wife or my kids.”
“Come on, sit down.” Harry directed the wornout man to a little table in the back. “We’ve got Miranda’s coffee and some Hotcakes muffins.”
He hesitated, then pulled up a chair. Mrs. Hogendobber poured him coffee with cream and two sugars. A few sips restored him somewhat.“I don’t want to be rude but I have to examine all the angles. You know that.”
“Yeah, we do.”
Rick said,“Well, you tell me how one partner in a marriage knows what the other’s doing if she’s asleep.”
Miranda downed a cup of coffee herself.“You don’t. My George could have driven to Richmond and back, I’m such a sound sleeper, but well, you know things about your mate and about other people. Cabell was faithful to Taxi. His disappearance has nothing to do with an affair. And how do we know he wrote that letter voluntarily?”
“We don’t,” Rick agreed. A long silence followed.
“I have a confession to make.” Harry swallowed and told Rick about the misshapen earring.
“Harry, I could wring your neck! I’m out of here.”
“Where are you going?” Harry innocently asked.
“Where do you think I’m going, nitwit? To Little Marilyn’s. I hope I get there before she mails off that earring to New York. If you ever pull a stunt like this again I’ll have your hide—your hide! Do you understand?”
“Yes,” came the meek voice.
Rick charged out of the post office.
“Oh, boy, I’m in the shit can,” Harry half-whispered.
Rick opened the door and yelled at both of them,“Almost forgot. Don’t open any strange Christmas presents.” He slammed the door again.
“Just what does that mean?” Mrs. Hogendobber kicked a bag of mail. She regretted that the instant she did it, because there was so much mail in the bag.
“Guess he’s afraid presents will be booby-trapped or something.”
“Don’t worry. We can sniff them first,” Tucker advised.
Harry interpreted the soft bark to mean that Tucker wanted to go outside. She opened the back door but the dog sat down and wouldn’t budge.
“What gets into her?” Harry wondered.
“She’s trained you,” Mrs. Hogendobber replied.
“You guys are dumb,” Tucker grumbled.
“There goes our expedition,” Mrs. Murphy said to her friend.“Look.”
Tucker saw the storm clouds rolling in from the mountains.
Harry pulled a mail bag over to the back of the boxes. She started to sort and then paused.“It’s hard to concentrate.”
“I know but let’s do our best.” Miranda glanced at the old wooden wall clock. “Folks will be here in about fifteen minutes. Maybe someone will have an idea about all this … crazy stuff.”
As the day wore on, people trooped in and out of the post office but no one had any new ideas, any suspects. It took until noon for the news of Cabell’s vanishing act to make the rounds. A few people thought he was the killer but others guessed he was having a nervous breakdown. Even the falling snow and the prospect of a white Christmas, a rarity in Central Virginia, couldn’t lift spirits. The worm of fear gnawed at people’s nerve endings.