The Purrfect Murder

into her back. “I haven’t met Bechtal, but from what Rick and Cooper have said—I peppered them with questions, naturally—he’s a true believer. Those kind of puritans rarely are larcenous. I could be wrong.” She pressed her forefingers to her temples. “This is strange. What’s truly strange is, why is Bechtal taking the fall? Is there more violence to come? Is the money going to fund it? Or is he the dupe?” She began to rub her temples, her mind almost overheating.
    “Do you have a headache?”
    “I do now.” Big Mim smiled, then again reached for her daughter’s hand. “We’ll get through this. And—I hope you know this—about the Democrats, you know your father has nothing to do with them going after you or what may come next.”
    “I know. He can’t help being a Democrat.” Little Mim smiled, a bit of relief flowing into her thanks to her mother’s response. “Any more than you can.”
    “It’s a generation mark. My generation would sooner die than register Republican. But in those days a Southern Democrat was a conservative. Well, that’s irrelevant. We have to get to the bottom of this. How were you asked for the money before?”
    “Same.”
    “Seems stupid to send a local letter airmail, doesn’t it?”
    “Does. But I never got a phone call or anything like that. Just three letters and now the fourth.”
    “When you had the procedure, did anyone else know?”
    “Harry and Susan.”
    “You all were never close. Although you’re closer now. How did Harry come to know?”
    “Serendipity. It’s a long story.”
    “Did she have an abortion, too?”
    Little Mim replied, “No, no. Harry and Susan just happened to be there when I opened the letter with my pregnancy report. They helped me after that. Right now, let’s go to Rick Shaw. You’re right. I can’t go along hoping the worst doesn’t happen. I might as well face the music.”
    Big Mim rose; Pressman followed. “I’ll go with you.” As they walked toward the house, Big Mim said, “She’s solid, that Harry.”
    “Yes.”
    “Darling, don’t shy away from motherhood. You will find it changes you profoundly. Blair, too. Don’t deny yourself that love and, well, all that work, too.” She smiled, a small but sweet smile. “I know I wasn’t what people would call a loving mother. I’m too reserved, but I did love having you, raising you, watching your first steps, hearing your first words. Do you know what they were?”
    “Momma?”
    “I’ve told you,” Big Mim answered in a mock scolding tone. “Your very first words were ‘nana, nana,’ and you were in your daddy’s arms down at the stable, looking into a stall. We laughed because we thought you were trying to neigh.”
    “Bet I was. Well, at least I’m consistent. I’d rather be in the stable than anywhere else.”
    “Even the governor’s mansion?”
    “Fat chance of that now. Mother, I love politics, it’s in my blood, but if you put a knife to my throat—God, I wish I hadn’t just said that.”
    Big Mim waved the comment away. “Figure of speech.”
    “I’d rather be in the stable.” She paused as they reached her car. “I think I can do some good. I’m practical and I don’t give in to fads, pressure.”
    “Then you will get there. This is a test. You will come through. I don’t have to tell you how ugly it may get if Jonathan spills the beans, or if his accomplice does. Stand firm, be clear, and speak the truth. That alone puts you in the minority.” She waited a moment as Little Mim opened the driver’s door. “Don’t pass up motherhood because of a college mistake.”
    “You just want to be a grandmother.” A bit of Little Mim’s contrariness was returning, so she was feeling better.
    Also, being around Aunt Tally morning, noon, and night had an effect.
    “I do, but, darling, I love you. I want you to feel the happiness a child, children, can bring. I know I wasn’t a good mother. I was responsible, but I’m not, you know, a Miranda or a BoomBoom or a Susan, where the love bubbles up on the surface and overflows. I’m too rational. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for a lot of things, but I have always loved you, and I love you more now than I ever have. I’m proud of you.”
    Stunned, Little Mim burst into tears, reaching for her mother. The two stood there, crying, hugging.
    At last, Little Marilyn caught her breath. “Mother, I’ve always wanted to be like you, but I can’t. I’m not as smart as you are. I’m not