“I—I saw her sprawled there and I ran up. All that blood. All that blood. I’ve never seen so much blood, and it was still squirting up, like a fountain, a dying fountain.”
Cooper waited patiently, saying only, “Go on.”
“I don’t know, Coop. I saw the knife right by there.” She pointed to Carla’s left hand. “And I picked it up. I don’t know why.”
“All right. Listen to me. Listen hard now. In a few moments the law-enforcement people here who helped with parking will come up. They are going to take you with them. I can’t stop them. You are the prime suspect.”
“I didn’t kill her. I loathed her, but I didn’t kill her.”
“For your sake. Tazio, I truly hope so. You’ll need to compose yourself and go quietly. You’ll have the opportunity to make one phone call to your lawyer.”
“He’s here. Ned.”
“All right, then, I’ll fetch him after they take you to jail. Say nothing, Tazio. I mean it. Say nothing until you can talk to Ned. I hope he can extradite you up to our facility, but I doubt it. You’re in for a rough time. You have to be strong.”
“God.” Tazio swallowed more tears.
Cooper could see an officer walking toward them. “I wonder if Little Mim alerted them. You know she’s never without her cell. It’s attached to her like an enema bag.”
“You think I killed her, don’t you?” Tazio gulped.
“I hope you didn’t, but I can’t let emotion sway the evidence. You were standing over the body with the knife in your right hand. Her wound indicates she was slashed by a right-hander. Of course, that’s about ninety percent of the population. I have to do my job, Tazio.”
“I understand.” Tazio fought to control her emotions.
“I’m sorry.”
“I am, too, but I swear to you by all that’s holy, I did not kill Carla Paulson.”
A young officer with a buzz cut arrived. Clearly this was the first murder victim he’d seen.
Cooper had to hold her tongue, because she almost said, “Cadet.” Instead, she introduced herself, said her rank, and gave a brief rundown.
He quickly called a superior officer.
Cooper sighed for so many reasons, not the least of which was she had so looked forward to this evening.
“Who’s he?” The cadet tilted his head in the direction of a man in white tie, standing off to the side out of Cooper’s range of vision.
She said, “Lorenzo McCracken.”
He stepped toward them and said, “This beautiful lady is my date. I worried when she didn’t return to the table, so I came looking for her. When I perceived the situation, I thought it best not to disturb her since she was”—he thought a moment—“working.”
Within minutes a gaggle of officers was there, including the sheriff. He’d had the presence of mind not to drive over the lawn or turn on sirens and lights.
Again Cooper recounted what she’d witnessed and how long she thought the victim had been dead.
The sheriff, Eli Grundy, knelt down, felt the side of Carla’s neck. “You’re right, Deputy, it couldn’t have happened more than ten minutes before you found her.” He stood back up, grass stains on his knees. He nodded at his deputy, who began reading the Miranda Act to Tazio. “Take her away.”
Tazio said nothing but looked at Coop, and Coop smiled slightly.
“Sheriff, we’d better get back there before people leave,” the novice said.
“Son, let me handle this,” Sheriff Grundy grunted.
Cooper spoke up. “Currently, they know nothing and the speeches are about to begin, followed by dancing. If I might make a suggestion, Sheriff, it could save time.”
Although not a fan of women in law enforcement, Eli Grundy had bowed to the inevitable. And this woman had done everything by the book, so he listened. “What?”
“If you and your men stayed unobtrusively in the background, that wouldn’t be unusual. After all, you are security. Allow me, if you will, to go to each table and ask them to write on a napkin who was absent from their table during the time of the murder. The organizing committee has all the table names, so we don’t need to waste time with that.” She took a breath. “While it certainly appears that you have apprehended the murderer, it is possible there’s an accomplice or more to it than meets the eye.”
He pondered this. “And we can keep anyone from leaving.”
“Right. If we go in now, with your people in uniform, and try to get this information, it will upset people. My experience is if they are calm they recall more clearly.”
“We have to tell them.”
“We do, Sheriff Grundy, but if I could secure this information first, I think you’ll have much of what you need, in addition to the prime suspect. As Lorenzo and I are in evening clothes, we aren’t going to arouse suspicion.”
“Go ahead.” He crossed his arms over his chest and for a moment wished he had someone that sharp on his force. He was staring at the novice officer when he thought that, but the kid had to learn sometime.
As Lorenzo walked with Cooper back to the tables, he said, “You’re something, you know that?”
She didn’t, really. She smiled and replied, “Thank you. You take the first twenty-five, I’ll take the last. They can write on napkins.”
“Good.”
The two quickly went from table to table.
Cooper swept by Harry’s table, Number 11, leaned down, and whispered into Ned’s ear. “Tazio’s being taken to jail. Can you help her?”
Ned’s face registered surprise as he said, “Of course.”
“You can’t leave until the sheriff gives the all-clear. He’s over under the south portico. Lorenzo and I will take Susan home.”
“Okay.” A grim look passed over Ned’s face before he could rearrange his features as though this was a social conversation.
Within fifteen minutes Cooper and Lorenzo had scribbled-on napkins from each table.
Lorenzo returned to Table 11, while Cooper delivered the napkins to Sheriff Grundy.
“Thank you.”
“Sheriff, the deceased’s husband, Jurgen Paulson, is seated at Table One. He knows nothing except that his wife hasn’t returned to the table for a half hour.”
“I’ll take care of it.” The sheriff knew who Big Mim was, an Urquhart before her marriage, thanks to Cooper’s tip-off. Like most Virginians of many generations, he knew his pedigrees. The Virginian—indeed, the Southern—obsession with blood seems silly, even punitive sometimes, to non-Southerners. However, Harry’s grandmother and mother used to intone like a mantra, “Know your people.” Knowing bloodlines meant you knew your people. While it could be used in the pettiest forms of snobbery, it could also be extremely useful. Certain traits, as well as certain medical conditions, tended to run in families. Socially, of course, the knowledge was invaluable.
The rich Urquharts had always been forces for progress and justice, even if high-handed in manner.
Given his station in life, Sheriff Grundy had not met Big Mim before. He looked at Cooper and smiled tightly. She’d helped him twice tonight. He’d remember.
Cooper memorized as many of the Albemarle County names as she could. Margaret Westlake, Kylie Kraft, Harvey Tillach, Ron Steinhauser, and Little Mim had left their tables. She made a rhyme out of it, hoping the names from her county wouldn’t drop out of memory. The people she had already thought of knew Dr. Wylde. The minute she had a chance, she’d write all this down.
As Jurgen Paulson strode toward the dais, an officer came up and gently led him away.
Folly Steinhauser, who was announcing the names for thanks, looked down to behold the sheriff walking toward her. She hoped she could finish her thank-yous.
He waited. She concluded and held her hand over the mic and said, “Sheriff.”
“I need to address the folks, ma’am, and I need you to help keep order.”
“Something’s wrong, isn’t it? That scream.”
“I’m afraid it is, ma’am.”
He stepped up to the mic, his very pleasant voice contained in the tone of command. “Ladies and gentlemen, we ask for your forbearance and cooperation tonight. There has been an unfortunate occurrence. We have, we believe, apprehended the perpetrator. It is my duty to inform you that Mrs. Jurgen Paulson has been murdered—” The crowd gasped. He continued, “If anyone feels they have information relevant to this event, please contact one of my men.” He swept his arm and, as if by magic, the uniformed officers stepped forward. “I know this will spoil this very special occasion, and I’m sorry for it. No one will be allowed to leave until I tell you to do so.”