MURDER, SHE MEOWED
A Bantam Book / December 1996
All rights reserved.
Copyright © 1996 by American Artists, Inc.
Illustrations copyright © 1996 by Wendy Wray.
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or
mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system,
without permission in writing from the publisher.
For information address: Bantam Books.
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Brown, Rita Mae.
Murder, she meowed / Rita Mae Brown Sneaky Pie Brown; illustrations by Wendy Wray.
p.cm.
ISBN-0-S53-09604-4
1. Montpelier Hunt Races, Montpelier Station, Va.—Fiction. 2. Haristeen, Harry (Fictitious
character)—Fiction. 3. Murphy, Mrs. (Fictitious character)—Fiction. 4. Women detectives—
Virginia —Fiction. S. Women cat owners—Virginia —Fiction. 6. Cats—Fiction. I. Title.
PS3552.R698M89 1996
813'.S4—dc20 96-20727
CIP
Published simultaneously in the United States and Canada
Bantam Books are published by Bantam Books, a division of Bantam Doubleday Dell Publishing Group, Inc. Its trademark, consisting of the words "Bantam Books" and the portrayal of a rooster, is Registered in U.S. Patent and Trademark Office and in other countries. Marca Registrada. Bantam Books, 1540 Broadway, New York, New York 10036.
PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
BVG 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Dedicated to Pooh Bear and Coye who love and guard Mrs. William O. Moss
Cast of Characters
Mary Minor Haristeen (Harry), the young postmistress of Crozet, whose curiosity almost kills the cat and herself
Mrs. Murphy, Harry's gray tiger cat, who bears an uncanny resemblance to authoress Sneaky Pie and who is wonderfully intelligent!
Tee Tucker, Harry's Welsh corgi. Mrs. Murphy's friend and confidante; a buoyant soul
Pharamond Haristeen (Fair), veterinarian, formerly married to Harry
Mrs. George Hogendobber (Miranda), a widow who thumps her own Bible!
Market Shiflett, owner of Shiflett's Market, next to the post office
Pewter, Market's fat gray cat, who, when need be, can be pulled away from the food bowl
Susan Tucker, Harry's best friend, who doesn't take life too seriously until her neighbors get murdered
Big Marilyn Sanburne (Mim), queen of Crozet
Rick Shaw, Albemarle sheriff
Cynthia Cooper, police officer
Herbert C. Jones, Pastor of Crozet Lutheran Church, a kindly, ecumenical soul who has been known to share his sermons with his two cats, Lucy Fur and Elocution
Arthur Tetrick, distinguished steeplechase officer and lawyer
Charles Valiant (Chark), young to be a steeplechase trainer but quite talented
Adelia Valiant (Addie), she turns twenty-one in November, catapulting her and Chark into their inheritance. She's a jockey—headstrong and impulsive
Marylou Valiant, Chark and Addie's mother, who disappeared five years ago
Mickey Townsend, a trainer much loved by Addie and much deplored by Chark
Nigel Danforfh, recently arrived from England, he rides for Mickey Townsend
Coty Lamont, the best steeplechase jockey of the decade
Linda Forloines, vicious lying white trash whose highest value is the dollar
Will Forloines, on the same ethical level as his wife but perching on a lower intelligence rung
Bazooka, a hot 'chaser owned by Mim Sanburne
Orion, Mim's hunter, who displays an equine sense of humor
Rodger Dodger, Mim's aging ginger barn cat, newly rejuvenated by his girlfriend, Pusskin. Rodger likes to do things by the book
Pusskin, a beautiful tortoiseshell cat, she dotes on Rodger and irritates Mrs. Murphy
Dear Reader:
Thank you for your letters. While I try to answer every one I can answer some of the more frequent questions here.
Do I use a typewriter? No. Mother does. I use a Toshiba laptop that costs as much as a used Toyota. I like the mouse.
Do I write every day? Only when the real mousing is bad.
Do I live with other cats and dogs? Yes, and horses, too, but I'm not giving them any free advertising. After all, I'm the one who writes the books therefore I deserve the lion's share of the attention.
Is Pewter really fat? Well, parts of her have their own zip code. And I just saw her eat a mushroom not ten minutes ago. A mushroom is a fungus. What self-respecting cat eats fungus? She drinks beer, too.
Is Mother fun? Most times. She slides into the slough of despond when she has to pay bills. She had a lot to pay this year because floods washed out part of our road and bridge. The insurance didn't cover it but I could have told her that. She's been working very hard and while I sympathize it does keep her out of my fur.
Am I a Dixiecat? Well, I was born in the great state of Virginia so I believe we're not here for a long time but we're here for a good time. I sure hope you're having as good a time as I am!
Love,
SNEAKY PIE
Murder, She Meowed
The entrance to Montpelier, once the home of James and Dolley Madison, is marked by two ivy-covered pillars. An eagle, wings outstretched, perches atop each pillar. This first Saturday in November, Mary Minor Haristeen—"Harry"—drove through the elegant, understated entrance as she had done for thirty-four years. Her parents had brought her to Montpelier's 2,700 acres in the first year of her life, and she had not missed a race meet since. Like Thanksgiving, her birthday, Christmas, and Easter, the steeplechase races held at the Madisons' estate four miles west of Orange, Virginia, marked her life. A touchstone.
As she rolled past the pillars, she glanced at the eagles but gave them little thought. The eagle is a raptor, a bird of prey, capturing its victims in sharp talons, swooping out of the air with deadly accuracy. Nature divides into victor and victim. Human-kind attempts to soften such clarity. It's not that humans don't recognize that there are victors and victims in life but that they prefer to cast their experiences in such terms as good or evil, not feaster and feast. However she chose to look at it, Harry would remember this crisp, azure day, and what would return to her mind would be the eagles . . . how she had driven past those sentinels so many times yet missed their significance.
One thing was for sure—neither she nor any of the fifteen thousand spectators would ever forget this particular Montpelier meet.
Mrs. Miranda Hogendobber, Harry's older friend and partner at work, rode with her in Harry's battered pickup truck, of slightly younger vintage than Mrs. Hogendobber's ancient Ford Falcon. Since Harry had promised Arthur Tetrick, the race director, that she'd be a fence judge, she needed to arrive early.
They passed through the gates, clambering onto the bridge arching over the Southern Railroad tracks and through the spate of hardwoods, thence emerging onto the emerald expanse of the racecourse circling the 100-acre center field. Brush and timber jumps dotted the track bound by white rails that determined the width of the difficult course. On her right, raised above the road, was the dirt flat track, which the late Mrs. Marion duPont Scott had built in 1929 to exercise her Thoroughbreds. Currently rented, the track remained in use and, along with the estate, had passed to the National Historic Trust upon Mrs. Scott's death in the fall of 1983.
Straight ahead through more pillared gates loomed Montpelier itself, a peach-colored house shining like a chunk of soft sunrise that had fallen from the heavens to lodge in the foothills of the Southwest Range of the Blue Ridge Mountains. Harry thought to herself that Montpelier, built while Americalabored under the punitive taxes of King George III, was a kind of sunrise, a peep over the horizon of a new political force, a nation made up of people from everywhere united by a vision of democracy. That the vision had darkened or become distorted didn't lessen the glory of its birth, and Harry, not an especially political person, believed passionately that Americans had to hold on to the concepts of their forefathers and foremothers.