The Purrfect Murder

kiss, which made Carla titter.
    Mike McElvoy passed by, Noddy on his arm. “Good evening, folks.”
    “Mike.” Fair smiled at him.
    Carla curled her lip, but Jurgen had the manners to wish him a good evening.
    “Mike, with all your building inspections, do you ever have time to build for yourself?” Harry asked.
    Noddy answered for him. “You should see his shop. Well, he calls it a shed. It’s sacred. I don’t go in there.” She tittered. “It’s where he buries the bodies.”
    Mike gruffly replied with humor, “I am banished to the shed because I’ll dirty her house.”
    As Mike left, Carla hissed, “I truly hope I see him roasted on a spit.”
    “Now, Carla, don’t let that temper get the better of you. Redhead.” Jurgen genially explained her temper due to hair color.
    As the Paulsons left to distribute themselves among the throng, Aunt Tally said, “Lucille Testicle red.”
    Harry, tonic water in one hand, champagne in the other, decided the only way to survive this evening was to knock back the champagne immediately.
    Fair smiled as she did so, placing her fluted glass on the tray as yet another serving girl passed by.
    “Another?”
    “No, honey. I really will stick to the tonic water, but I needed help.”
    “Oh, Harry, loosen up,” Aunt Tally ordered. “A little medicinal application of spirits enriches life.”
    “Mutes the harshness.” Dolf sipped his champagne.
    A melody of trumpet notes called the assembled to the tables.
    As each gentleman seated each lady, then sat down himself, a moment of hush fell over the lawn. The variety of glasses on the table was truly spectacular.
    The band of strolling players left the scene, and an orchestra playing period pieces sat near the back of the platform, itself a wonder of ribbons, topiary, and birds. The tableau commenced on stage.
    Tazio, next to Fair, flushed from the praise.
    He leaned down to tell her, “All deserved.”
    Harry noted that Little Mim indeed graced Folly Steinhauser’s table—the Number 1 table, too. Her eyes cast over the scene. She was amused to see Mike McElvoy and his wife seated at a back table with Tony Long and his wife. Folly, no doubt, was working these two over for some grand building plan she envisioned for the future. Might work with Tony, but who knew about Mike?
    Will Wylde’s table was filled with his staff and their dates and husbands. Kylie leaned on her date. She wore the gold Rolex, which, being a sport watch, wasn’t proper. However, she wanted the world to view her treasure.
    This reminded Harry how generous Benita Wylde was, because “the girls” would not have been able to afford this evening on their own. Benita had told them Will would be horrified if they didn’t attend. He wanted people to live, to enjoy life.
    Dr. Harvey Tillach’s table, on the other side of the lawn, was also filled.
    Miranda and Tracy, at Harry’s table, which wasn’t all that far from Big Mim’s table, filled it with laughter. Miranda turned into the lively high-school girl she once was in Tracy’s company. Not that she couldn’t be lively on her own, but the years and the loss of her husband, George, had subdued her for a long, long time.
    A young man quietly poured the first serving of wine. Harry turned her glass upside down. One glass of champagne was all she could handle. She felt its titillating effects already.
    Miranda held up her glass. Cooper, seated beside Tracy, wondered at the nature of Miranda’s toast.
    Her deep, honeyed alto voice flowed over the table. “This is the day which the Lord has made; let us rejoice and be glad in it. Psalm One Eighteen, Verse Twenty-four.”
    Everyone joined Miranda’s toast.
    The first course, served in a coordinated, balletic fashion, added to the conversation.
    Cooper, surprisingly feminine in her bottle-green gown, had a blind date, Lorenzo McCracken, a Nicaraguan. Before the twentieth century, an outpouring of Scots had settled in Central America. The crossing of the Scots with the Spaniards had resulted in some progeny taking the best of both. Lorenzo possessed the square, manly features of a Scot, with intense Spanish coloring.
    Cooper, who hated blind dates, was thrilled with this one.
    Hard to tell how Lorenzo felt, since his manners were not only perfect but infused with charm.
    Cooper kept telling herself, “I know I’m a fool for Spanish-speaking men. On guard.”
    Yes, but for how long?
    This was a happy, happy crowd. Even Big Mim was happy, so