The Purrfect Murder

killings, well, someone wants to take credit. The newspaper or TV station receives an acknowledgment. Hasn’t happened.” Folly plucked an orange out of a large bowl.
    “Maybe they’re waiting, or maybe they want people to think this was the work of a single crazy.” BoomBoom got up and left the room, calling over her shoulder, “Tea or coffee?”
    “Both.” Susan rose to help her. “Anyone for iced tea?”
    Folly raised her hand.
    Harry said, “I hope this doesn’t kick off a wave of violence across the country—doctors being targeted, clinics blown up.”
    “I do, too.” Herb leaned back in the old club chair, Lucy Fur now on his lap. “Benita…” He shook his head, tears welling up. “Remarkable.”
    “She is.” Folly also teared up. There was no need to recount that Folly, BoomBoom, and Alicia were with Benita when Rick told her what had happened. Everyone knew.
    Susan and BoomBoom reappeared with two trays of drinks.
    “What does Ned say?” Folly asked Susan as she poured tea.
    Without taking her eyes off the cup, Susan said, “It was funny in a way. They happened to be in session, and when the news crept into the chamber, thanks to a zealous page, the men who came in on the coattails of the far right, vociferously antiabortion, couldn’t distance themselves fast enough. Ned said as much as he mourned Will Wylde; it was all he could do not to laugh out loud at these opportunistic buffoons.”
    “Ned’s pretty conservative.” Folly did not yet have the feel for Virginia politics. In her mind, Democrat equaled liberal.
    “About financial issues, he certainly is. He’s live and let live on everything else.”
    Herb smiled at Folly and said, “Ned’s what you might call an old-time Southern Democrat. Well, let me amend that: he’s a new-time Southern Democrat. He’s not racist and he’s not pushing women back in the kitchen, but he’s part of the old-time religion.”
    “Which is…” Folly arched an eyebrow.
    BoomBoom, smiling, handed a plate of cookies over to Folly, who passed it on. “When you go into the voting booth you ask one question, ‘Is it good for Dixie?’”
    Folly, thinking this was a joke, laughed. “Oh, BoomBoom, you don’t mean it.”
    The others in the room realized it was best to shut up.
    Tazio returned to the murder. “Yesterday I was at the Paulsons’ house, meeting with our fave, Mike McElvoy, and I was surprised to learn he’s antiabortion. But he seemed genuinely upset about Will.”
    “He’s a perfect ass,” Folly said venomously.
    “That insults mules.” Harry was surprised at Folly’s emotion. “He’s a dumb human.”
    “Ego,” BoomBoom simply said.
    “Give a little man a little power and he abuses it every time.” Tazio had Mike’s measure.
    “Carla’s on the floor about Will. She’d gotten to know him socially. He was her doctor, too. She’s a mess.” Folly shrugged. “But you know Carla, she’s not one to let slip the opportunity to call attention to herself.”
    Herb laughed despite himself. “We can pray that Carla…um…Let me think about this.”
    That lightened the mood.
    “Carla’s like Teddy Roosevelt. She wants to be the bride at every wedding and the corpse at every funeral.” Susan used the famous quote.
    Herb looked at BoomBoom, then Folly. “Girls, thank you for being with Benita. Boom, give my thoughts to Alicia, too.”
    “I will. The kids fly in today, and that will be a big help.”
    “Will Junior is the spitting image of his father.” Harry liked the whole Wylde family.
    “Funeral date?” Folly wondered.
    “Can’t do anything until the coroner releases the body.” Susan knew a bit about this procedure, since Ned was a lawyer. “In the case of any suspicious death it takes longer, but I expect the funeral will be next weekend, if all goes as it should.”
    “Oh, no, that’s the fund-raising ball for Poplar Forest, in Bedford County, September twenty-seventh. Everyone has to be there.” Folly’s face registered disappointment.
    Poplar Forest was Thomas Jefferson’s summer home, which was in the process of a painstaking restoration.
    “Even if it is, the funeral will be in the morning and the fund-raiser’s at night,” Tazio logically reminded her.
    “But people will be…you know,” Folly countered.
    “Let’s not worry about it until we know. And if the funeral is in the morning, we can all remind people that Will would want us to have a good time and to raise as much money as we