The Purrfect Murder

more impact than pretending to be on a bateau rolling down the James River.”
    “She did that, too,” Harry reminded Susan.
    “Actually, she did.”
    “See what I missed growing up in St. Louis,” Tazio replied. “Well, I’ve done my due diligence here. Let’s go back. I’ll have to make a few calls from the car, and I apologize.”
    “Noticed your cell didn’t ring.” Harry never turned hers on unless she had to make a call.
    “I needed a break. If Folly isn’t bugging me, it’s Carla. My other clients are okay. Oh, that reminds me, I need to get updated quotes on those furnace systems. Did a little more work on that. Haven’t had time to send it over to Herb, but it can wait until tomorrow. And, of course, thanks to Folly, I have to present all this to Marvin Lattimore.”
    “Think Folly’s sleeping with him?” Susan could say this among friends.
    Given Folly’s dazzlement by Marvin at vestry-board meetings, the possibility had become obvious to all.
    “I don’t know. Penny won’t much like it.” Harry had wondered the same thing.
    “She can’t be naive.” Tazio stooped to pick up her plans from the deep-green lawn. “He runs a charter airline. People who travel a lot, especially in those circumstances, have ample opportunity to indulge in affairs.”
    “Marvin doesn’t strike me as the affair type,” Susan said.
    “One-night stands.” Harry winked.
    “Well…” Susan’s voice trailed off.
    “All right, kids,” Harry called, and Tucker, Owen, and Brinkley scrambled to their feet.
    Mrs. Murphy and Pewter followed at a more leisurely pace.
    At the parking lot, Susan lifted up the hatch on the station wagon and the animals jumped in. They’d stay in the back for a while. Sometimes the dogs fell asleep back there, but the cats always leapt into the backseat to keep the humans company.
    No sooner did Susan pull out of the lot than Tazio’s cell rang.
    “On course?” was all Folly Steinhauser uttered in Tazio’s ear.
    “Yes,” came the equally terse reply.
    “Good. Talk to you tomorrow. Have to meet again with the caterer.”
    “Tazio, can you make calls if the radio is on low?” Harry asked.
    “Sure.”
    “Susan, see if you can get the news. I want to know about who shot Will.”
    Susan clicked on the radio.
    “Just press 103.5,” Harry said.
    “NPR.” Susan knew the numbers. “That’s not going to work south of Lynchburg.”
    “Damn.”
    “You’ve got ants in your pants today.”
    “Well, I want to know. Don’t you?”
    “I do,” Susan agreed, while Tazio nodded as she punched in the number of the company building the platform.
    As Tazio talked, Susan finally got a news station. First they endured the national news. The international was already over. Finally, local news came on, but it started with Richmond and the governor’s latest push for new road construction.
    “I don’t care about northern Virginia.” Harry cupped her chin in her palm.
    “Don’t be ugly.” Susan smiled. “If Ned ever runs for governor, they’ll vote for him up there.”
    “I suppose.” Harry remained unconvinced.
    “Today in Charlottesville, the sheriff apprehended Jonathan Bechtal, who confessed to the murder of Dr. Will Wylde. Bechtal stated that ‘Death must be met with death.’” The announcer continued on, then switched to baseball.
    “The Orioles today—”
    “Turn it off,” Harry groaned. “I can’t stand the bad news.”
    “Cards.” Tazio cupped her hand over the mouthpiece of her mobile, a big smile on her face.
    “Every dog has his day,” Susan, another Orioles fan, promised.
    Tucker lifted her head but decided a comment would be useless. The humans wouldn’t understand, anyway.
    “What a relief, they’ve got the killer.”
    “Saves Little Mim’s behind,” Harry succinctly put it.
    “Maybe,” Susan slowly drawled, for she was processing the road, her speed, the news, “but he said he had Wylde’s records. Who’s to say he won’t find a way to make them public? After all, he’s now the center of attention.”
    “Bluffing.” Harry paused. “I hope.”
    Tazio ended her call and another came in. “Yes.” Long silence. “I did.” More silence. “Give me the punch list. I’ll go over everything and I’ll measure everything, too. He’s blowing smoke up your fanny.” An even longer silence. “Good-bye.” This was said quite crisply. “I hate her!”
    “What?” Harry leaned forward.
    “Carla is having a cow because Mike