The Purrfect Murder

think I would.” Susan turned onto the ramp heading west onto 64.
    “Tazio deserves it. She’s not close like you and I are close, but she deserves help.”
    “Let Paul do it. Tell him.”
    “Susan, I can’t do that and you know it. Paul wouldn’t be any good at something like this.”
    “You may be right about that, but, Harry, don’t even think about it. If you’re that worried, send Cooper or Rick there.”
    “Can’t do that without compelling evidence of either corruption or murder or both. I have to find some evidence. We know Carla loathed him. We know he’s antiabortion.”
    “That’s hardly enough to convict a man, and being antiabortion doesn’t make him Bechtal’s accomplice. I beg you, don’t do this.”
    As they rode in silence, everyone in that Audi station wagon knew that Harry would not listen to Susan’s good sense.

31
    S unday, October 5, flourished under the stationary high-pressure system that had ushered in the heartbreakingly beautiful weather of yesterday. The sky, intense blue, domed an emerald-green Virginia quickening to the accelerated pace of fall.
    Harry dutifully sat in church with her equally dutiful husband. She soon forgot to be antsy, because Herb gave a sermon based on Mark, Chapter 10, Verse 16.
    “And he took them up in his arms, put his hands upon them, and blessed them.”
    The good reverend expounded on this theme. How do we nurture one another, comfort one another, walk through life together?
    She hoped she could remember not just what he said but also how he said it in his deep, resonant voice, because she wanted to repeat it word for word to Miranda. He would return to the sentence from Mark as a refrain. She was pretty sure she could remember that.
    As the service ended and the choir sang, the parishioners marched out to where Herb, as was his custom, stood at the front door, shaking everyone’s hand, inquiring as to their health and welfare before sending them on their way. Such a simple act—putting his hand upon them—bound them all closer together. When she felt his warm hand shake hers, his left hand touch her shoulder, she realized with a thud that Herb had been practicing what he had been preaching for decades.
    She left him, warmed as well as wondering how she could miss something so obvious. She determined to try to be more like Herb. Given her focus on task, this would be a challenge.
    “Honey, give me a minute. I have to catch up on Zenaida.”
    As Fair nodded, turning to talk to other congregants, she raced over to the woman in charge of food for the October 25 St. Luke’s reunion. Harry promised four bushels of Silver Queen corn, harvested in August and put in cold storage. She worried it might not be enough and that the corn might not be as tasty as she’d hoped. Silver Queen should be eaten the second it’s plucked off the stalk. However, good yellow corn was still being harvested in the southernmost counties of Virginia, and she wondered if she should purchase some as a backup.
    Harry noticed while she and Zenaida spoke that Fair, lively and laughing, was talking with Susan and Ned. His countenance changed for a moment, becoming concerned.
    He is the most empathetic man, she thought to herself, then returned to corn. “If it has to be Silver Queen, I expect I can get it sent up from Georgia. Florida? Want me to call around?”
    “That gets pricey.” Zenaida furrowed her gray brows. “Yellow will do.”
    “I’ll pick up a couple of ears from the refrigeration plant and do a test run. With any luck, we might be okay.”
    “Good. Do that first.” Zenaida, easy to work with, smiled underneath her burgundy velvet hat.
    Ladies still wore hats to service at St. Luke’s. Harry usually plucked whatever complemented her outfit, but if she felt like spiting whoever sat behind her—an un-Christian action—in summer she’d wear a broad-brimmed hat with flowers. Since she spent most of her day wearing a baseball hat, she felt denuded without something on her head.
    When she rejoined Fair and they walked back to his truck, she asked, “How are Susan and Ned?”
    “Fine. Susan told me how badly our two little girls behaved yesterday.”
    “They still aren’t speaking.”
    “Ned said they’ve made bail. Big Mim will have all the money together. He’ll go down Tuesday.”
    “Oh, thank God.” Harry’s right hand flew to her breast. “Does Paul know?”
    “Ned called him this morning before Mass. The paperwork this takes.” He