Cat on the Scent (18 page)

36

The two cats walked over to Simon's nest. He opened an eye, then closed it.

“I know you're awake.”
Murphy tickled the possum's nose with her tail.

“I'm tired. I was out foraging all night,”
he grumbled.

“In the feed room.”
Pewter laughed.

“Go back to sleep. I'm borrowing this map that I stashed here. I'll bring it back.”

“Fine.”
He closed his eyes again.

They carried the map to the opened hayloft door, unfolded it, and studied it.

“It's the watershed, like you said.”
Pewter sat on the corner.

“Wish I knew what the separate squares meant. Any ideas?”

“No. They're in or adjacent to the watershed.”

“Well, let's put this back. There may be a good time to show the humans.”

The blue jay streaked past the hayloft, spied the cats, and shrieked,
“Tuna breath!”

Pewter lunged for the bird but Murphy caught her.
“Don't let him bug you like that. Do you want to fall out of the hayloft?”

“I will kill that bird if it's the last thing I do.”

“Self-control.”

Complaining, Pewter put the map in Simon's nest along with his ever-expanding treasures. The latest find was a broken fan belt.

“Mrs. Murphy, let's do nothing today. Nothing at all.”

“Good idea.”

37

The massive green Range Rover, outfitted for its owner with a hamper basket from Harrods, rolled down Blair Bainbridge's driveway at precisely 2:55
P
.
M
. Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, halfway across Blair's hay field, observed Sir H. at the wheel. He wore a bush hat, which offset his safari jacket nicely.

Sir H. Vane-Tempest never believed in buying a bargain when he could pay full price. He'd bought his attire at Hunting World in Paris. The French soaked him good.

The brief morning rain had subsided, leaving a sparkling sky with impressive cumulus clouds tipping over the mountains.

Pewter loathed mud. She hated the sensation when it curled up between her toes. She'd have to wait until it dried, then pick it out with her teeth. Mrs. Murphy, while not lax in her personal grooming, wasn't as fastidious as Pewter. But then Pewter was a lustrous gunmetal-gray, which showed any soiling, whereas Mrs. Murphy was a brown tiger with black stripes, her mottled coat hiding any imperfections.

Pewter felt that she was a rare color, a more desirable color than the tabby. After all, tabbies were a dime a dozen.

The cats reached the porch door as Sir H. Vane-Tempest stepped out of his Rover. He'd lost weight since the shooting and actually looked better than he had before he'd been drilled with three holes.

He knocked on the screened-porch door.

“Come in, H.” Blair walked out to greet him. “Arch is in the living room.”

Mrs. Murphy shot through Blair's tall legs. Pewter slid through, too. “You stinkers!” He laughed.

As Blair served drinks, Murphy and Pewter edged to the living-room door. Vane-Tempest noticed them when he entered the house, but he paid little attention. To him cats were dumb animals.

“Arch—” Vane-Tempest nodded.

“H.,” Arch replied coolly. “How did you leave Sarah?”

“I told you she'd do as I asked.” A wrinkle creased his brow. “Actually, BoomBoom came over to give her some soothing herbs. Don't look at me like that—it's what she called them, soothing herbs.”

“She still selling that herb stuff? What's she call it, aromatherapy?”

“Yes. The girls are going on a shopping spree. BoomBoom will share her latest catharsis. I'll come home. Sarah will forget to be out of sorts but she'll suggest that we both try Lifeline. That's BoomBoom's latest salvation—she's quite predictable.” He laughed.

Archie didn't laugh. “I don't think any woman is predictable. Mine threw me out.”

“Won't last. Make amends. Buy her a new car or something.”

“I don't have that kind of money.” Archie sourly turned and noticed Mrs. Murphy seated under the coffee table.

“You will.”

“Blair,” Archie called out, impatiently.

“I'm coming.” He returned with a silver tray bearing two Irish-crystal decanters and three matching glasses. “Sherry, if you're so inclined, or Glenlivet.”

Vane-Tempest longingly stared at the scotch, then sighed. “A cup of coffee or even tea. Early for tea, but I'll brave it. Cutting back.” He indicated the booze.

“Tea it is. Arch?”

“I'm fine. What is that cat doing here again? Harry's cat.” He didn't see Pewter. She had ducked behind a wing chair.

“I beg your pardon.”
Murphy brazenly strolled into the middle of the room.

“Two days in a row. I guess I rate.” Blair loved Harry's cats.

“Get Murphy out of here,” Archie grumbled.

“Are you allergic?” Vane-Tempest politely inquired.

“To that damned cat, I am. She made a fool of me at that meeting.”

“Hardly needed the cat for that,” Vane-Tempest dryly noted.

“I don't trust her. Something uncanny about her.” Archie pouted.

Blair scooped up Murphy. “Come on, sweetie. I'll give you a treat, but outside.”

Murphy wrinkled her nose.
“You're an asshole, Archie Ingram.”
Then she called to Pewter,
“Hide under the sofa. I'll meet you outside later.”

Blair put Mrs. Murphy over his shoulder while Pewter squeezed under the large sofa. He intended to poach salmon for supper, so he sliced off a bit, then diced it while the teakettle boiled. He placed a small bowl of the fresh salmon outside for the tiger.

Murphy prowled around the cars. The windows were open. She might as well investigate the interiors.

Once the tea was served, Vane-Tempest got down to business. Since he had called this meeting no one else could start it.

“I'll get straight to the point: Sarah wants to be a partner in Teotan Incorporated.”

“Does she know what we're doing?”

“No, Arch, she does not.” Vane-Tempest shot him a baleful glance. “But she knows we're purchasing land.”

“Did you tell her?” Archie's right eye twitched nervously.

“No. She went through my papers when I was in hospital. Under the circumstances that was normal. I told her the lawyers would handle everything, but that didn't satisfy her. She was terribly worried. Also, she doesn't trust my lawyers.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. Some of these men have served me for over twenty-five years. Sarah's feeling is that should the worst befall me, they won't work with her, they won't reveal to her the full extent of my holdings.”

“She's worried about them stealing from her?” His tone revealed curiosity as well as irritation.

“No. I don't think that's it. She wants to be in charge. The only way she can make intelligent decisions is to have accurate information. I never thought about it until she raised the issue, but I can see her point of view.”

“Why can't you teach her about your investments without bringing her into Teotan?” Blair asked sensibly.

“Oh, I can.” Vane-Tempest held up his hands. “But she read some of the real-estate transactions. She understands property, of course, so she wants to be part of this. She doesn't know the full significance of our purchases.”

“I see.” Blair poured himself a glass of sherry. He enjoyed the nutlike flavor.

“I tried to dissuade her.”

“What if we refuse her?” Archie crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in the chair.

“I don't know.” He shrugged. “But I do rather think—what's the expression . . . it's distasteful but, ah yes—I think she's better inside the tent pissing out than outside the tent pissing in.”

Blair and Archie remained silent for a moment.

“I sense this is unwelcome.”

Blair cleared his throat. “A surprise. My concern is not her response to the purpose of our corporation. Sarah can appreciate profit as well as the next man—woman.” He stroked his chin. “My concern is, what would be her function? Whatever resources she puts into the corporation would, in effect, be your resources.”

“Quite true. She hasn't a penny that doesn't come from me.”

“And she'd have a vote. You'd control Teotan.” Archie neatly summed up the situation.

“It does rather appear so, but I would never assume that Sarah would always agree with me. If you two present something sensible she might be swayed. I don't know. I mean, there's little potential for disagreement. Our business plan is clear but I understand your concern. It would throw Teotan out of balance.”

Archie rose, put his hands behind his back, and paced. “She's bright. She's beautiful. Once Teotan goes public she'd make a hell of a spokesperson. People tend to trust women more than they trust men.”

Blair raised an eyebrow. “Exactly what do you mean by ‘going public'?”

“Not public-issue stock, obviously. No, I meant when Teotan presents its plan to the county commission. Who better to present it than Sarah? She's perfect.”

“I never thought of that.” Vane-Tempest smiled.

Blair poured him another cup of tea. “Do
you
want her in the corporation?”

“Quite frankly, at first, I did not. I was offended when she suggested it and put out that she'd read my papers. She had access only to the papers at home, but still. However, once she explained her fears, I considered what I would do in her circumstances: the same thing.”

“Having Sarah in Teotan at this late date . . .” Blair paused. “You would control the corporation after I've pumped in seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars. That's—”

“I understand.” And Vane-Tempest did. He was a businessman, after all. “You, Tommy, and I put in equal shares and Archie put in sweat equity. We have—I forget the exact term—right of survivorship, in essence, to Tommy's share. We don't need another partner. And she'll be hell to live with.” He wiped his brow. “On the other hand, apart from being a spokesperson, she does have a way about her. Sarah could—how did Ridley put it one day? Could talk a dog off a meat wagon.” He smiled. “You people have such colorful expressions.”

“You could put her in my place,” Archie soberly suggested. “She could cover my tracks.”

“Your tracks are well covered, Archie.” Vane-Tempest spoke forcefully. “An investigator would have to go through two dummy corporations in Bermuda and there are no papers with your name on them. You're paid in cash.”

“Aileen told me my career was over.”

“Aileen doesn't have the facts,” Vane-Tempest flatly stated.

“What I've done is immoral.” A flush covered Archie's angular face.

“Balls!” the Englishman exploded. “Spare me Aileen's refined morality. You've made a sound business decision. You supply us with pertinent information, connect us with the proper people in Richmond, and serve your county. Our plan will save Albemarle millions of dollars.” He gestured expansively. “And why shouldn't we be amply rewarded for our foresight?”

“Buck up, Archie.” Blair agreed with Vane-Tempest, although he recognized Archie's moral predicament. Still, Archie had known what he was getting into.

Archie mulled this over. Their plan
would
save the county money. “It is a good plan, isn't it?”

“We have Tommy to thank for the first glimmer.” Blair missed the fun-loving Tommy. “If he hadn't pushed me into flying lessons I'd have never studied the watershed from the air.”

“Nor would we have applied ourselves to underground streams and rivers.” Vane-Tempest perked up; the tea was giving him a lift. “If one studies the land mass one can pick out those depressions, those possible water sources. The fact that no one had considered this is evidence of precisely how stupid elected officials are. Present company excluded, of course.” He nodded to Arch.

“Some are dumb, others are on the gravy train.” Archie's eyes glittered with anger. “No one can tell me that fortunes won't be made with a reservoir, and those fortunes won't necessarily be made here. Outsiders will bid on the job and, oh, how interesting that state process can get. I've watched this bullshit mumbo jumbo for years. All they do is waste money, siphon off a nice piece into their own pockets, and let the taxpayer pay through the nose.”

“Right. Which is why our plan of wells to service the northwest corner of the county is brilliant.” Blair sat up straight. “The wells we have already dug are moving at eighty-eight gallons of water a minute. That's extraordinary. With the underground water we're tapping we can service Free Union, Boonesville, Earlysville, that whole northwestern corner all the way to the county line. The only expense will be for constructing cisterns or water towers, and that's a hell of a lot cheaper than building a reservoir. The county buys the water from us at an attractive rate. If this works, which I know it will, we can do the same thing for the other sections of the county.”

“But we'll have more competition. Other people will copy us and start buying up the land.” Archie sat down again. “There's talk about these wells being dug but so far as I know no one has figured out the purpose. But people will buy up land. Just wait.”

“I'll attend to that. There's no reason we can't absorb some of these entrepreneurs into an umbrella corporation or create limited partnerships for, say, the southeastern corner of the county. We can worry about that later.” On a roll, Vane-Tempest continued. “Your job, Arch, apart from keeping us informed of what's cooking at the statehouse, is to introduce the idea of floating a bond to set up those water towers and cisterns.”

“I can't do that until you present your idea to the public.”

“Which is where Sarah comes in.” Vane-Tempest smiled without warmth.

“Let me think about this. I'm not saying no, I just want to think. Give me a week.”

“Fair enough.” Vane-Tempest opened his palms, a gesture of appeasement. “Now, another matter. Which one of us killed Tommy Van Allen? We all had something to gain.”

Stunned, Archie reacted first. “That's a sick joke!”

As the men wrangled, Mrs. Murphy emerged from the Range Rover. She'd already investigated the 911, loath to leave it because it smelled so good. Being small, the Porsche took no time at all. The Range Rover, however, sucked up almost forty-five minutes of precise sniffing and opening compartments.

Next on the list was the U-Haul.

The U-Haul had an open back like a stall with a Dutch door. It hadn't been unpacked. Looked like Archie couldn't make up his mind what to do.

Once inside, Mrs. Murphy picked her way over the suitcases, one small desk, and a chair. Her eyes were adjusting to the light. She noticed a cardboard box with a picture of handcuffs on the outside, haphazardly tossed into a carton. She pushed the box, and something rattled inside. She tried to open it but it was shut tight.

Claws out, Murphy smashed into the cardboard full-force. With her claws embedded all the way through the cardboard, she easily lifted the lid. A pair of shiny handcuffs, key in the lock, gleamed up at her.

The slapping shut of the porch door alerted her to the approach of a human.

The tiger scrambled over the desk and chair, managing to propel herself out the back. She dropped onto the ground as H. Vane-Tempest reached his car.