The Purrfect Murder

Harry would appear in public looking like a farmhand.
    She knew Harry in passing, so she switched into “lunch lady” mode.
    Tazio stepped around her drafting table. “Mrs. Paulson, you remember Harry Haristeen; her mother was a Hepworth. Her father, a Minor.” Tazio knew perfectly well that Mrs. Paulson didn’t know the bloodlines, but the simple fact that Tazio recited them meant “important person.”
    Not that Harry gave a damn.
    Extending her hand, radiating a smile, the well-groomed woman purred, “Of course I remember.”
    Harry politely took her hand, using the exact amount of pressure all those battleaxes at cotillion drilled into her year after year. “I can see you’ve hired the most talented architect in the state.” She paused. “Love your new wheels.”
    “Isn’t the interior beautiful? Just bought it last week.” Carla Paulson brightened. She checked her diamond-encrusted Rolex. “Well, I’ll call later for another appointment. Oh, before I forget, Michael McElvoy said he’d be out at the site tomorrow at eleven.”
    Tazio wanted to say she had an appointment then, which she did, but if one of the county building inspectors was going to be at the construction site, then she’d better be there, too. Michael lived to find fault.
    “Fine. I’ll be there.” Tazio smiled and walked Mrs. Paulson to the door, while Mrs. Murphy and Pewter jumped on the high chair and onto the drafting table. Those pink erasers thrilled the cats. Tazio even had special white square ones that squeaked when bitten.
    Brinkley, a young yellow lab rescued by Tazio during a snowstorm at a half-completed building site, chewed his bone. Tucker lay down in front of the wonderful creature and put her head on her paws to stare longingly at the bone.
    Once Carla Paulson exited, Tazio exhaled loudly.
    “Murphy, Pewter, what did I tell you?” Harry warned.
    Murphy batted a square white eraser off the table. Both cats sailed after it.
    “Don’t worry about it. I have a carton full of them back in the supply closet. In fact, I’ll give you one.” She took another breath. “That woman is plucking my last nerve. I thought Folly Steinhauser was high-maintenance and Penny Lattimore a diva, but Carla is in a class by herself.”
    “I can see that.”
    Tazio slyly smiled. “The diamond Rolex watch is so over the top.”
    “Better to wear plain platinum. Worth more and not showy. In fact, most people think it’s steel.” Harry leaned on the drafting table. “But if Carla owned a platinum Rolex, she’d have to tell everyone it wasn’t steel and ruin it, of course.”
    “Harry,” Tazio laughed, “you’re so Virginia.”
    “Oh, look who’s talking.”
    “I’m from St. Louis, remember.”
    “Doesn’t matter. You mentioned that gaudy watch. I didn’t.”
    Tazio was half Italian, half African-American, and all gorgeous. Her family, prominent in St. Louis, had provided her with the best education as well as a great deal of social poise, since her mother was on every committee imaginable. From the time she was small, her mother had marched her to different parties, balls, fund-raisers.
    “I’m worn out, because she keeps changing her mind. Well, I’ll grant, she’s been consistent about the wormwood, but every time she changes something the cost spirals upward. It’s not my money, but you move a window an inch and either Orrie”—she named the head of construction by his nickname—“or I have to call the building inspector. Michael McElvoy, as you heard.”
    Harry started to giggle. “Lucky you.”
    “Oh, well, everyone has their problems. You came to pick up the numbers on the different heating systems for St. Luke’s. Got ’em.” She walked back to her large, polished mahogany desk, about ten feet from the drafting table. Picking up a folder, she said, “Here. Digest it, then let’s go over it before the next vestry meeting.”
    Harry flipped open the folder. “Jeez.”
    “Lots of choices, and each one has pluses and minuses.”
    “Herb have a copy?” Harry mentioned the pastor of St. Luke’s, Rev. Herb Jones.
    “I thought we should put our heads together first. Anyway, he’s on overload because of the St. Luke’s reunion next month.”
    The reunion would be Saturday, October 25. Each October, St. Luke’s held a gathering of all its members. Many who had moved away from central Virginia returned, so the numbers ran to about three hundred.
    “Okay. I’ll get right on this. Be nice to