"Don't think about it and don't let Laura think about it either when you go over there with Reverend Jones. It's too painful. She doesn't have to know all the details."
"You're right." Miranda lowered her eyes. "This is dreadful."
"Dreadful—"Mrs. Murphy whispered, "andjust beginning."
25
The hospital smell bothered Harry, reminding her of her mothers last days on earth. She avoided visiting anyone in a hospital if she could, but invariably duty overcame aversion and she would venture down the impersonal corridors.
Kerry was being kept for twenty-four hours to make sure she suffered no further effects from her assault. The doctors treated any blow to the head as serious. Cynthia Cooper was sitting next to Kerry's bed when Harry entered the room.
"How you doing?"
"Okay—considering."
"Hi, Coop."
"Hi." Coop shifted in her seat. "Hell of a night."
Kerry fiddled with her hospital identification wristband. "Cynthia went with Rick and Herbie to Laura Freely's. Laura collapsed when they told her."
"Who's with her until Dudley andThea can fly home?" Dudley and Thea were the Freelys' adult children.
"Miranda spent the night there. Mim's with Laura right now. The ladies will take turns even once the children return. There's so much to do and Laura is sedated. She can't make any of the decisions that need to be made. I think Ellie Wood Baxter, Port, and even BoomBoom will work out a schedule." Cynthia stretched her legs.
"Kerry, I dropped by to see if you needed anything from home, what with your dad being sick. I'm happy to pick up stuff for you."
"Thanks, but I'm okay."
"Cynthia—?" Harry's eyebrows pointed upward quizzically.
"I'm here to see she doesn't make a run for it. The .357 in her hand was the gun that killed Hogan. And it's registered to Kerry McCray."
"I don't own a gun." Kerry teared up.
"According to the records, you bought one at Hassett's in Waynesboro, July tenth."
"Are you arresting my friend here?" Harry tried to keep her voice light.
"No, not yet."
"Cynthia, you can't possibly believe that Kerry would kill anyone."
"I'm a police officer. I can't afford emotions."
"Bullshit," came Harrys swift retort.
"Thanks, Harry. We're not close friends, and here you are— thanks." Kerry flopped back on the pillows, then winced because she felt the throb in her head. "I never bought a gun. I've never been to Hassett's. On July tenth I worked all day as usual, handling new accounts."
Cynthia firmly said, "According to records, you showed your driver's license."
"I never set foot in that gun shop."
"What if Kerry is the one who masterminded the bank theft? Maybe Hogan is starting to figure out her m.o." Cynthia used the police shorthand for modus operandi. "She's getting nervous. She knew he was working late in that bank that night. Millions of dollars are at stake. She kills Hogan."
"And hits herself on the head hard enough to knock herself out—yet still keep the gun in her hand?" Harry was incredulous.
"That presents a problem." Cynthia nodded. "But Kerry could have an accomplice. He or she hits her on the head so she looks innocent."
"And I could fly to the moon." Harry sharply inhaled. "This summer is sure turning to crap."
"How elegantly put." Cynthia half smiled.
"Forget being an officer and be one of the girls just for a minute, Coop. Do you really think Kerry killed Hogan?"
Cynthia waited a long time. "I don't know, but I do know that the .357 is the same gun that killed Mike Huckstep."
"What?" Harry felt her throat constrict.
"Ballistics report came back at six this morning. Rick's lashing everyone on. Same gun. We'd like to keep that tidbit out of the papers, but I doubt the boss can. His job is so damned political."
"Huckstep and Hogan Freely." Harry frowned. "One's a Hell's Angel and the other's a bank president."
"Maybe Hogan had a secret life?" Kerry spoke up.
"Not that secret." Harry shook her head.
"You'd be amazed at what people can hide from one another," Cynthia replied.
"I know that, but at some point you've got to trust your instincts," Harry replied.
"Well then, what do your instincts tell you?" Cynthia challenged her.
"Hogan was getting close and that means the answer is in the bank."
"Think you're right."
Kerry moaned. "My goose is cooked, isn't it?"
Cynthia stared hard at her.
26
Because of federal regulations, the bank could not be closed on Monday. In fact, if Hogan had been shot during banking hours, the way the law reads he would have been left there and business would have continued while the sheriff worked. People would have had to step over the body. These stringent rules against closing a bank were born in the 1930s when banks bolted their doors or folded like houses of cards. As is customary when legislators cook up some ameliorative law, it never covers the human condition. The employees of Crozet National worked with black armbands around their left arms. A huge black wreath hung at the end of the lobby, a smaller one on the front door. Out front, the Virginia state flag flew at half mast. Mary Thigpen, the head teller for twenty-five years, kept bursting into tears. Many eyes were red-rimmed.
All the talk about Kerry so outraged Norman that he shouted, "She's innocent until proven guilty, so shut up!"
Rick Shaw had taken over the second floor, squeezing the accounting department, but they managed. The blood splattered on the wall of Hogan's office made Norman woozy. He wasn't the only one.
Mim Sanburne came by after her turn with Laura Freely to inform everyone that the funeral service would be held that Thursday at the Crozet Lutheran Church. The family would receive Wednesday night at home.
A subdued hush followed her announcement.
Over at the post office Harry asked Blair to help while Mrs. Hogendobber organized the food for Wednesday night. Dudley Freely proved incompetent due to shock. Thea, the older Freely child, was better at making some of the decisions forced upon her by the event. What kind of casket, or would it be cremation? What cemetery? Flowers or contributions to charity? She fielded these questions, but sometimes she would have to sit down, fatigued beyond endurance. She didn't realize a great emotional blow is physically exhausting. Mim and Miranda did. They took over. Ottoline Gill and Aysha handled the phone duties. Laura languished in bed. When she regained consciousness she would sob uncontrollably.
Rick and Cynthia tried to question her, but she couldn't get through even a gentle interrogation.
Rick pulled aside Mim outside the post office, as they had both driven in to get their mail. "Mrs. Sanburne, you knew Hogan all his life. Can you imagine him involved in some kind of scheme to defraud people—"
She cut him off. "Hogan Freely was the most honest and generous man I've ever known."
"Don't get huffy, Mrs. Sanburne, I've got two murders on my hands. I have to ask uncomfortable questions. He could have been involved in the theft and had his partner or partners turn on him. It's not an uncommon occurrence."
"I'm sorry, but you must understand. Hogan loved this town and he loved banking. If you knew the people he took chances on, the people he helped get started in business, well, he was about a lot more than money."
"I know. He helped me get my mortgage." Rick opened the door for Mim as they stepped into the post office.
Mrs. Murphy, crouched on the little ledge dividing the mailboxes, waited for Rick and Mim to open their boxes.
Rick opened his first and the tiger reached into his box, swatting his hand as he withdrew his mail.
"Murphy." He walked to the counter and looked around the corner of the boxes.
She looked back at him. "I wanted to make you feel better."
"That cat going to grab me?" Mim called.
Harry lifted her from the small counter, ideally suited for sorting into the rows of postboxes. "No, I've got her right here in my arms."