Murder on the Prowl

by Rita Mae Brown

  “Yes.” He unhanded her.

  “Did you kill Maury McKinchie?”

  “What?” He was shocked that she asked.

  “Did you kill Maury McKinchie?”

  “No.”

  62

  Neither Mrs. Murphy nor Tucker returned home all night. Harry had called and called. Finally she fed the horses and, last of all, Pewter.

  Walking down to get the paper, she heard Tucker bark. “We're safe!”

  “Yahoo!” Mrs. Murphy sped beside the dog, stopping from time to time to jump for joy, straight in the air, the snow flying up and catching the sunlight, making thousands of tiny rainbows.

  “Where have you two been?” Harry hunched down to gather them both in her arms. “I was worried sick about you.” She sniffed. “You smell like a fox.”

  “We spent the night with our hosts,” Murphy said.

  Tucker, turning in excited circles, interrupted. “We think there's evidence in Bowden's pond, and then we stayed too late and the bobcat tracked us. Oh, it was a close call.”

  “Tucker was brave!”

  “You, too.”

  “Such talk.” Harry laughed at their unintelligible chatter. “You must be starving. Come on. We've got to hurry or I'll be late for work.”

  Driving Blair's Dually into Crozet, Harry noticed the snow lying blue in the deep hollows.

  The three rushed into the post office, nearly getting stuck in the animal door. Mrs. Hogendobber, who usually greeted them, was so excited, she barely noticed their entry.

  “Hi, Miranda—”

  “Where have you been?” Miranda clapped her hands in anticipation of telling her the news.

  “What is the matter?”

  “Kendrick Miller confessed to Rick Shaw that he had killed Maury McKinchie and Roscoe Fletcher. He had made up the story about the Musketeer because he remembered the Musketeer was wearing a sword. The costume hanging in Jensen's locker was irrelevant to the case. He confessed last night at midnight.”

  “I don't believe it,” Mrs. Murphy exclaimed.

  63

  A crowd had gathered at Mim's . . . a good thing, since she put them to work stuffing and hand-addressing envelopes for the Multiple Sclerosis Foundation in which she was typically active.

  Brooks, Roger, and Karen were relieved now that St. Elizabeth's could return to normal. Sandy Brashiers, at the head of the envelope line, told them to pipe down.

  Gretchen, Mim's cook, served drinks.

  When Cynthia walked through the door, everyone cheered. Accorded center stage, she endured question after question.

  “One at a time.” Cynthia laughed.

  “Why did he do it?” Sandy Brashiers asked.

  Cynthia waited a moment, then said, “These were crimes of passion, in a sense. I don't want to offend anyone but—”

  “Murder is the offense,” Sandy said. “We can handle his reasons.”

  “Well—Roscoe was carrying on an affair with Irene Miller and Kendrick blew up.”

  “Roscoe? What about Maury?” Fair Haristeen, tired from a day in the operating room, sat in a chair. Enough people were folding and stuffing. He needed a break.

  “Kendrick has identified the poison used. He said Maury was on to him, knew he'd killed Roscoe, and was going to prove it. He killed him to shut him up.”

  Harry listened with interest. She felt such relief even as she felt sorrow for Irene and Jody. Irene had had an affair. No cheers for that, but to have a husband snap and go on a killing spree had to be dreadful. No wonder Jody had beaned Maury McKinchie at the hockey game. The tension in the Miller household must have been unbearable. “Nouveau riche,” Mim cried.

  “I'd rather be nouveau riche than not riche at all,” Fair rejoined, and since Mim adored her vet, he could get away with it.

  Everyone truly laughed this time.

  “How did Kendrick get such powerful poison?” Reverend Herb Jones wondered.

  “The nursery and gardening business needs pesticides.”

  Harry noticed BoomBoom's unusual reticence. “Aren't you relieved?”

  “Uh—yes,” said the baffled beauty. She'd had no idea about Roscoe and Irene. Why didn't Maury tell her? He'd relished sexual tidbits.

  Sandy Brashiers put his hands on his hips. “This still doesn't get April Shively off the hook. After all, she is withholding papers relevant to school operation.”

  “Maybe she will come forward now,” Little Mim hoped out loud.

  “How do you know for sure it was Mr. Miller?” Karen said to everyone's amazement.

  Cynthia answered, “A detailed confession is about as close to a lock as you can get.”

  “Why'd he tell?” Harry wondered aloud.

  Cynthia winked at her. “Couldn't live with the guilt. Said he confessed to Father Michael first, and over time realized he had to give himself up.”

  “Well, it's over. Let's praise the Lord for our deliverance,” Miranda instructed them.

  “Amen,” Herb agreed and the others joined in.

  “You know, I keep thinking about Irene and Jody sitting home alone. They must be wretched. We should extend our sympathy.” Miranda folded her hands as if in prayer.

  Everyone looked at Mrs. Hogendobber, thought for a moment, and then agreed that she had a point. It might not be fun to go over to the Millers', but it was the right thing to do.

  After the work party, Harry, Fair, Big Mim, Little Mim, Herb Jones, Miranda, and Susan Tucker drove over. The kids piled into Roger's old car. Father Michael had been with the family since Kendrick gave himself up late that afternoon. It was the priest who answered the door. Surprised to see so many people, he asked Irene if she would be willing to see her neighbors. She burst into tears and nodded “yes.”

  The first person Irene greeted was Big Mim, who after the formalities offered them a sojourn in one of her farm dependencies if they should need privacy from the press.

  Irene thanked her and began crying again.

  Miranda put her arm around her. “There, there, Irene. This is too strange to contemplate. You must be feeling confused and terrible.”

  “Bizarre,” Jody said forthrightly. “I can't believe he lost it like that.”

  Irene, not ready to give up on her husband, sputtered, “He's no murderer!”

  “He confessed,” Jody said flatly.

  “We're your friends, no matter what.” Softhearted Roger couldn't bear to see Jody's mother cry.

  “Mom, I want to go back to school. I know this won't go away, but something in our lives has to be normal.”

  “Jody, that only puts more pressure on you.” Irene worried about the reaction of the other students.

  “Hey, I'm not responsible for Dad. I need my friends.”

  “We'll see.”

  “Mom, I'm going.”

  “We'll watch over her,” Karen volunteered.

  As this issue was hashed out, Father Michael and Herb Jones huddled in a corner. Father Michael, secure in the company of another cleric, whispered to him that he was tremendously relieved that Kendrick was behind bars. After all, he himself was likely to be the next victim.

  “Bragging?”

  “Not exactly. The first confession was straightforward. The second one, he said he liked killing. He liked the power. I can't say I ever recognized his voice.”

  “Was there a sense of vindication?” Herb inclined his head close to Father Michael's.

  “I couldn't say.”

  “A touch dramatic.”

  “The entire episode was certainly that.”

  Later that evening Harry told Mrs. Murphy, Tucker, and Pewter all that had transpired at Big Mim's and then over at Irene Miller's. Angry though they were at not being included, they listened as she babbled while doing her chores.

  “They're so far away from the truth it hurts,” Tucker said and Pewter agreed, since Mrs. Murphy had briefed them on what she felt was truly going on.

  “It's going to hurt a whole lot more.” Mrs. Murphy stare
d out the window into the black night. Try as she might, she couldn't think of what to do.

  64

  Typical of central Virginia in late November, a rush of warm wind rolled up from the Gulf of Mexico. Temperatures soared into the low sixties.

  Students were now back at St. Elizabeth's, thanks to Kendrick's midnight confession.

  Harry and Miranda shoveled through the landslide of mail.

  Jody Miller and Karen Jensen pulled in front of Market Shiflett's store.

  “Things are finally settling down.” Miranda watched the girls, smiling, enter the grocery store.

  “Thank God.” Harry tossed a catalog into the Tucker post box. “Now if my truck would just get fixed! I'm getting spoiled driving Blair's Dually and I don't want to wear out my welcome.”

  “Think of all the string and rubber bands they have to remove,” Pewter quipped sarcastically. “What are Jody and Karen doing out of school?”

  “Hookey,” Tucker thought out loud.

  Mrs. Murphy said, “There's a big field hockey game after school today, and a huge football game Friday. Maybe their coach got them out of class.”

  “Wish we'd get out of work early.” Pewter rubbed the plastic comb Harry had just installed on the corner of the post boxes. It was advertised as a cat-grooming aid.

  “'Course St. E's won't be worth squat—they lost too much practice time, but Crozet High ought to have a good game.” The tiger enjoyed sports.

  “St. E's practiced,” Tucker said. “Of course, how well they practiced with all the uproar is anyone's guess.”

  Jody and Karen came out of the store, placed a big carton in the back of Karen's old car, and drove off.

  Susan zoomed into the post office through the backdoor. “Good news!”

  “What?” came the animal and human chorus.

  “Sean Hallahan has regained consciousness.” She beamed. “He's not out of the woods yet, but he knows his name, where he is, he recognizes his parents. He's still in intensive care. Still no visitors.”

  “That's great news.” Harry smiled.

  “Once he's really clear, off some of the painkillers, he'll have other pains to deal with . . . still, isn't it wonderful?”

  65

  The deep golden rays of the late-afternoon sun slanted over the manicured field hockey pitch. The high winds and snow of the previous week had stripped the trees of their leaves, but the mild temperature balanced the starkness of early winter.

  Knowing how rapidly the mercury could fall, Harry tossed four blankets over her shoulder.

  As she made her way to the bleachers, the Reverend Herb Jones called out, “You opening a trading post?”

  “Four beaver pelts for one heavy blanket.” She draped a royal-blue buffalo plaid blanket over her arm as if to display her wares.

  Miranda, warm in her MacLeod tartan kilt with a matching tam-o'-shanter, soon joined them. She carried two hot thermoses, one of tea, the other of chocolate.

  “You come sit by me.” Herb patted the hard wooden bleacher seat next to him.

  Sandy Brashiers, beaming, shook the hands of parents, telling each of them how grateful he was that St. Elizabeth's frightful ordeal was behind them. He thanked everyone for their support, and he promised the best for the remainder of the semester.

  Coach Hallvard, about to face the formidable St. Catherine's team from Richmond, had not a second to glad-hand anyone.

  Mim accompanied her daughter, which put Little Mim's nose out of joint because she wanted to be accompanied by Blair Bainbridge. He, however, had been roped into setting up the hot dog stand since his Dually, the newest in town, could pull the structure. Not only did Blair's Dually have a setup for a gooseneck trailer, he also had a Reese hitch welded to the frame.

  “Mother, why don't you sit with the girls?” Little Mim waved broadly at Miranda in MacLeod tartan splendor.

  Mim, sotto voce, replied, “Trying to get rid of me?”

  “Why, Mother, whatever gave you such a silly idea?”

  “Humph. You need me to extract money out of these tightwads, Marilyn. You haven't been a raging success.”

  “Considering all that's happened here, I've done pretty damn well, Mother. And I don't need you to advertise my shortcomings. I'm conversant with them.”

  “Well, aren't we testy.”

  “Yes, we are.” Little Mim gave her a sickeningly sweet smile.

  These last two years Little Mim had found some backbone. Her mother enjoyed friction on the odd occasion, although she wasn't accustomed to receiving it from her formerly obsequious daughter. However, it did spice up the day.

  “Mimsy,” Miranda called out, knowing Mim hated “Mimsy.” She felt devilish. “Sit with us.”

  Mim, throwing her alpaca shawl, deep raspberry, over her wildly overpriced Wathne coat, paraded grandly to the bleachers, leaving Little Mim to scoot to the hot dog stand where she found, to her dismay, Cynthia Cooper helping Blair set up shop.

  The home team trotted across the field as the rhythm section of the band beat the drums.

  Karen Jensen ran with Brooks. “Toni Freeman has moves like a snake,” Karen said about the opponent who would be covering Brooks.

  “I'll be a mongoose.”

  “This is going to be a tough game.” Karen grew increasingly fierce before the game.

  “Zone. You'll be in the zone.”

  “Yeah. There's Rog.”

  Brooks waved back at Roger.

  “Tossed salad.” Karen laughed, meaning Roger had flipped over Brooks.

  Jody loped up from behind. “Let's skin 'em alive, pound 'em senseless! Yes!” She moved by them.

  As the team approached the bench, the stands erupted in a roar. St. Catherine's also shouted. The entire senior class had trekked out from Richmond. This was a grudge match because St. Catherine's had edged out St. E's in the semifinals at last year's state tournament.

  The three animal friends sat with the humans on the bleachers.

  Pewter hated the crowd noises. “I'm going back to the car.”

  “Miranda closed up the Falcon; you can't get in,” Mrs. Murphy told her.

  “Then I'll go to the hot dog stand.” Pewter's eyes glistened.

  “Stay with us,” Murphy told her loudly.

  “Will you two stop fussing at each other!” Harry commanded.

  “She started it.” Pewter oozed innocence.

  A phone rang in Herb's pocket.

  “What on earth?” Miranda exclaimed when he pulled a fold-up cellular out of his Norfolk jacket.

  “The modern age, Miranda, the modern age.” He pulled out the antenna, hit a button, and said, “Hello.”

  Susan answered, “Herb, tell the gang I'm on my way. Oh, and tell Harry I dropped off BoomBoom to pick up her truck. It's ready.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “No. Be there in ten minutes.”

  “Fine. 'Bye.” He pressed the green button again, sliding the aerial down.“Harry, Susan will be here in ten minutes, and BoomBoom is bringing your truck. Susan dropped her off.”

  “BoomBoom? Great. Now I have to be terminally grateful.”

  “No, you don't. After all, she wrecked your truck in the first place.”

  “Given the way she drives, she'll wreck it again.”

  “Mother, you're irrational about BoomBoom.” Mrs. Murphy scratched her neck.

  “No, she won't,” Herb answered. “Here we go!”

  The game started with St. Catherine's racing downfield, taking a shot on goal, saved.

  “Jeez, that was fast.” Harry hoped St. Elizabeth's defense would kick in soon.

  “May I see that?”

  “Sure.” Herb handed Miranda the cellular phone.

  She slipped the aerial out and held it to her ear. “It's so light.”

  “I'll pick up my messages; listen to how clear it is.” He punched in what must have been seventeen or more numbers and held the phone to Miranda's ear.

  “Amazing.” Suddenly her fac
e changed. “Herbie, look.”

  Parading in front of the bleachers was April Shively wearing a St. Elizabeth's jacket. She was carrying three closed cartons that she dumped at Sandy Brashiers's feet.

  Blair noticed this from the hot dog stand. Cynthia hurried over, Little Mim at her heels.

  “Deputy Cooper.” A surprised Sandy put his hand on the boxes. “Marilyn.”

  “I'll take those.” Little Mim bent over and picked up a rather heavy carton.

  “No.” Sandy smiled falsely.

  April, her grin widening, turned on her heel and left. “Ta-ta!”

  “Damn her,” Sandy said under his breath.

  “Cynthia, you can't have these.” Little Mim squared her shoulders.

  “Why don't we examine them together? It will only help St. Elizabeth's if everything is aboveboard from the start.” Cynthia made a strong argument.

  “As headmaster, I'll take charge of those documents.”

  “Down in front!” a fan, oblivious to the drama, yelled at them.

  “Without me you won't be headmaster for long.” Little Mim clipped her words, then smiled at the deputy as she changed course. “Come on, Cynthia. You're absolutely right. We should do this together.”

  As they hauled off the cartons, the announcer blared over the loudspeaker, “We are happy to announce that St. Elizabeth's own Sean Hallahan has regained consciousness, and we know all your prayers have helped.”

  A huge cheer went up from the stands.

  66

  After the game, won by St. Elizabeth's, Jody, who'd played brilliantly, drove alone to the University of Virginia Hospital.

  Sean, removed to a private room, no longer had a guard since Kendrick had confessed. His father was sitting with him when Jody, wearing a visitor's pass, lightly knocked on the door.

  “May I come in?”

  Sean turned his head toward her, stared blankly for a moment, then focused. “Sure.”

  “Hello, Mr. Hallahan.”

  “Hello, Jody. I'm sorry this is such a troubling time for you.”

  “It can't be as bad as what you're going through.” She walked over to Sean. “Hey.”