Cat of the Century (9 page)

“Modern.” Aunt Tally got up, retrieved her gin from the chest of drawers along with a bottle of vermouth.

“Glasses?”

“Brought two up.”

She mixed a martini, sans olive, and handed the stiff drink to Inez.

“Potent.” Inez smiled broadly.

“I’m not a wimp. Neither are you. None of these designer drinks. Gimme the real stuff. May I open my gift?”

“Please.” Inez placed her glass on the nightstand and gave Tally the present topped off with a colorful burgundy-and-forest-green bow, school colors.

Like an eager child, Aunt Tally removed the bow and tore off the paper. “It’s a cane, just like my silver one but with a gold head! Oh, Inez, gold is frightfully expensive.”

“Pull the head.”

As Tally did so, a long, straight sword slid out with a quiet swish from the ebony cane, which was a scabbard. “Glory be.”

“Sharp, sharp, sharp.”

“What an extravagant present.”

“You’re worth it. Keep it close, Blossom. These are crazy times, what with young people hooked on meth, some on PCP. Makes marijuana and cocaine look benign. Drugs mystify me. I can’t understand why anyone would do them.”

“Me, either. Gin is much better.” Aunt Tally laughed. “What a beautiful, beautiful gift. You’re a sweetie to worry about me. No crackhead will get me, Chickpea. I’m too mean.”

“You’ve got a point there.” Inez savored her martini.

“It is a crazy world, isn’t it? I never thought I’d live to see my
country topsy-turvy, the lunatics running the asylum. Drugs, a fence at the border with Mexico, religious nuts. Crazy.”

Though not particularly nostalgic, Inez did think things were better in her youth, with the exception of entrenched sexism and racism; even then, in most situations people behaved with good manners in daily discourse, regardless of hardships. Inez took another sip. “You asked earlier if I feel old. When I look at the world now, I don’t feel old but I don’t understand, and the loss of civility truly upsets me.”

“Me, too. And the language. Vulgar. Shows a pathetic lack of imagination. If you’re going to insult someone, be creative. The ‘F’ word is so … well, noncreative.”

“’Tis.” Inez inhaled the smoke Tally exhaled. “Oh, give me a cigarette.”

Tally lit one for Inez off hers and handed it over. “Another nail in your coffin.”

Inez laughed. “You do bring out the worst in me.”

“I hope so. What are friends for?” Aunt Tally glanced at the small electric clock by the bedstead. “Another four hours and I will be one hundred. I was born at 2:02
A
.
M
.” She leaned forward, placing her hand over her friend’s. “I wish I could do it all over again.”

“Me, too.”

“You know, Inez, I really don’t want to die.”

“I don’t, either. I know many of our classmates suffered so at the end that they wanted to die. We’re still healthy. It’s a game of chance. We drew lucky cards.”

“So we did, but if it’s my time, then I hope it’s fast. No lingering.”

“I feel the same way.” Inez’s eyes misted. “Oh, Tally, where, where did the time go? Like you, I’d do it all over again, even those times when my heart was barbecued on a spit. I love this life.”

Aunt Tally finished her gin. “Me, too. And one of the reasons I love it is because I have you for a friend.”

“Oh—” Inez couldn’t finish her sentence.

They cried, then laughed, finished their martinis and cigarettes, and went to bed, as the world outside transformed into a cold but extraordinary winter kingdom.

G
iven that it was going to be a long day, Inez started the meeting at nine. A foot of snow already covered the ground. Still, it kept coming down.

She looked around the room. “Let’s wait five minutes.”

Flo wiggled in her seat but said nothing. She conspicuously checked her watch.

Five minutes passed.

“Does anyone have any idea where Mariah is?” Inez asked.

“We can go on without her,” Liz stated.

“Yes.”

The meeting went smoothly without Flo and Mariah sniping at each other.

Inez wrapped it up in an hour, to her great surprise. Then she walked through the hall to Kenda Shindler’s office.

“Hello.”

“Kenda, did Mariah call you to say she wouldn’t be attending the meeting?”

“No.”

“That’s not like her.”

Inez left after a pleasant exchange. She walked along the shoveled paths back to the Fairchild Alumni House. Once there, she pulled out her cell and called Pete, Mariah’s husband. Not wishing to worry him,
she asked if he knew where Mariah had stayed last night. He cited a very nice B&B. Then Inez told him that Mariah hadn’t attended the board meeting. This surprised him, but he didn’t seem alarmed.

Next Inez called Gayle Lampe, because Gayle knew Mariah’s habits fairly well; they often traveled to the summer Saddlebred shows together. But Gayle hadn’t heard from Mariah after a quick coffee in Gayle’s office at about 6:00
P
.
M
., the previous evening.

Inez fought a sinking feeling in her stomach. She didn’t want to spoil Tally’s big day with her worry over Mariah. First she called Jahnae Barnett. Jahnae suggested they should leave a message with the proprietor of the B&B. If Mariah didn’t show up by 2:00
P
.
M
., Jahnae would call the police.

D
eputy Knute Sorenson arrived at Jahnae Barnett’s office at 3:00
P
.
M
. in a hard snow. Residents of Callaway County might be accustomed to driving in the snow, but there was always a slick spot here or there or the one fool who flew along at sixty miles an hour, only to spin out of control. It had taken the deputy longer to get to the campus than he would have liked.

Inez, tired, waited with Jahnae. The president had also called her husband, Eddie Barnett, a calm figure in a crisis and one not given to flights of fancy. Cognizant of news that the storm would worsen, he was heading home from one of his XVIII Wheelers Truck Washes out on Route 70. While Eddie might not carry an official title at the school, his common sense was appreciated by his wife, who was facing a troublesome, perhaps deeply upsetting situation.

Inez explained to Deputy Sorenson, a competent fellow of about thirty-four, who was missing and why she thought it highly unusual.

“Any reasons you can think of concerning her absence?” He was a pleasant, respectful young man.

“No,” Inez replied patiently. “She did borrow from the alumnae accounts without clearing it with the board, but she replaced the money quickly. Twenty-five thousand dollars.”

“Did anyone else know but you?”

“The president, Dr. Barnett, was informed yesterday.”

“Did Mrs. D’Angelo have enemies that you knew about?”

“Flo Langston. Perhaps ‘rival’ is a better term than ‘enemy.’ They graduated in the same class in 1974. Never did get along.”

“Did Mrs. Langston know about the twenty-five thousand dollars?”

“No,” Inez crisply replied. “Had she known, she would have used it against her. The two have been fighting for control of the board for the last year. It reached a nadir recently. The standing chair had to step down, which is why I’m acting chair despite my advanced age.”

“Which is?” He’d been scribbling in his notebook.

“Ninety-eight.”

He looked up quickly from his notebook, his brown eyes wide. “Ninety-eight.”

“Ninety-eight.” Inez smiled, and old though she was, a hint of flirtation infused that smile.

“If you don’t mind me asking, ma’am, how have you kept so, uh, fit?”

“I’m an equine vet. Still go out on a case as a consultant. Lots of physical labor and using one’s mind. And I’m an alumna of William Woods. I like to think I’ve kept going because I want to know what’s happening at my alma mater.”

Jahnae said evenly, “I called the bed-and-breakfast where Mariah was staying; she never came back last night. Her car is parked by the barns. She often parks there when visiting here. She’s a passionate horsewoman. We are beginning to worry, obviously.”

Inez spoke up, “No one has touched the car, for what that’s worth.”

“Might be helpful.” He then asked, “Did she ever threaten anyone physically?”

“Well,” Inez temporized, “not exactly. Two board meetings back, she threatened to tear off Flo Langston’s face.”

“Was Mrs. Langston frightened or angry?” He scribbled again.

“Angry. She said if she were to tear off Mariah’s face, she wouldn’t know where to start since she always saw two.”

It took the deputy a moment to grasp the insult.

Jahnae said, “Officer, is there any way to keep this low-key? We’re celebrating the one hundredth birthday of one of our alumna this evening. The weather is already causing some distress. We don’t need”—
she thought for a moment—“another problem. We’ve assembled the alumnae board so that you might question them as soon as possible. They’re sworn to secrecy until after the event.”

“Think they’ll keep their promise?” He’d seen enough of human behavior to know that most people couldn’t resist being the bearer of bad news; the greater the disaster, the happier they were to report it.

“I believe they will.” Inez smiled. “If not, they answer to me.”

He studied her for a moment, then smiled slightly. “I see.”

Before questioning the board, Deputy Sorenson called for a backup. “Gina, I’m at William Woods. Will you go to the stables on campus and—” He glanced at Inez.

“New Range Rover Sport, black.” She supplied the information.

“Find a new black Range Rover Sport parked back at the barns. The owner is missing. I’ve got some people to question. If there’s anything there, I don’t want it to walk.”

Gina readily agreed. As everyone knew the university, she needed no directions. Deputy Sorenson then walked into the conference room.

Jahnae touched Inez on the shoulder. “Would you like me to attend?”

“No, you have enough to do. If there’s any further development, I’ll call you on your cell.” Inez breathed deeply. “She’s dead, Jahnae. I feel it in my bones.”

Her face registering not shock but sad agreement, Jahnae nodded. “Let’s pray she’s not.”

By 4:00
P
.
M
., nothing new had turned up, and Inez walked through the snow to clear her head, then returned to the Fairchild Alumni House. Tally, Big Mim, and Little Mim were upstairs, getting ready for this evening’s festivities. Harry was ironing her skirt in the kitchen. She hated ironing but had dutifully found the ironing board in a hallway closet. Inez told Harry everything, because she trusted Harry’s keen mind.

“Tally won’t find out until after the celebration, hopefully.” Harry
set the iron on its haunches. “Could Mariah have been involved in something more scandalous than a money problem?”

“Possible. These days anything is possible. Actually, it was probably always that way. It’s just now we’re badgered by news around the clock. It only makes things worse, I think.” Inez sank into a kitchen chair.

“Maybe she had something on someone on the board. Blackmail. If business is on the skids, human behavior can always be relied upon for misdeeds. Or sex. Never run out of problems there.”

“The D’Angelos are successful people; they contribute heavily to political campaigns. It’s crossed my mind that she might have gotten involved in something unsavory, as you have said, gotten the goods on a prominent public figure. Mariah is too smart to try blackmail. It would have been disguised as something else.” Inez tipped her head back, her silver curls catching what little light there was. She’d lit a cigarette, one of the three she smoked every day. “God, that tastes good.”

“Cooper loves Dunhills, too. Terribly expensive. She can’t afford them, but I know when she treats herself, it’s the red pack. She doesn’t like menthol.”

“Haven’t seen Cooper in a while. Remind me to bum a cig off of her. I love it. Clears out my sinuses. I shouldn’t be smoking, but …”

“Inez, at your age, you can do as you damned well please.”

A big grin crossed Inez’s symmetrical face. “I need to be reminded of that more often. I don’t know how long I have to live, but less than you.”