Wish You Were Here (Mrs. Murphy Mysteries) by Rita Mae Brown

Author:Rita Mae Brown [Brown, Rita Mae]
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2004-03-30T07:00:00+00:00

Rob Collier listened intently to the tale of Berryman’s outburst. He lingered over his afternoon pickup.

“. . . blood oozing onto his Turnbull and Asser shirt. I tell you, Rob, that must have hurt more than the blow.”

Rob pulled his eyelashes, a nervous habit. “Something’s not right.”

“No shit, Sherlock.”

Rob smiled good-naturedly. “Yeah, well, I’m not as dumb as you think. You’re a woman and I’m a man. I know some things that you don’t. Maybe a man cries because he killed someone and suddenly feels guilty.”

Harry leaned over the counter, inadvertently touching Tucker, who was snoozing under it. The corgi awoke with a grunt.

“I don’t know.”

“See, what’s going on here is, he’s too full up to keep it to himself. Bob Berryman don’t go ’round blubbering in public.”

“Right.”

Tucker yawned. Mrs. Murphy was sleeping with one eye open in a mail bin. Tucker could see the lump at the bottom of the canvas bin. She slunk over and very carefully, very gently bit the lump.

“Ah-h-h.” Mrs. Murphy, startled, yelped. Tucker laughed and bit her again.

“Those two put on a real show, don’t they?” Rob was diverted for a moment from his theory. “As I see it, Maude had something on Berryman. Bet your bottom dollar.”

Harry drew in air between her teeth. “Well, something was going on.”

“Maybe they were running drugs. Berryman travels nine states.”

“I can’t picture Maude as a drug dealer.”

“Hey, sixty years ago booze was illegal. The son of one of the biggest bootleggers in the country became President. Business is business.”

“Where does Kelly fit in?”

“Found out”—Rob shrugged—“or was in cahoots.”

“Next you’ll be telling me Mim Sanburne is a cocaine queen.”

“Anything is possible.”

“Let’s don’t talk about Mim, even though I brought her up. She’s on my reserve shit list. She’s mad at me. Oh, excuse me—ladies of Mim’s quality don’t get mad; they become agitated. She’s agitated with me because I told Little Marilyn to invite her brother to the wedding.”

Rob whistled. “Now there’s an odd couple.”

“Little Marilyn and Fitz-Gilbert Hamilton? He sure hasn’t shown his face around here. Probably feels safe in Richmond.”

“No, no—Stafford and Brenda Sanburne. She’s about the prettiest thing I ever saw but . . . Well, I wish him happiness, but you can’t go around breaking the rules and not expect to suffer for it.”

“You’re big on rules today.” Harry thought, Love whomever you could. It was such a rare commodity in the world, you’d better take it where you could find it. No point arguing with Rob, who was a tender racist as opposed to the horrendous kind. Still, they did their damage, whether by trickle or by tidal wave.

Rob checked his watch. “Zip time.”

He hopped into his mail truck as Mrs. Murphy hopped out of the mail bin. “Tucker, I was sleepy. Your snoring kept me awake last night.”

“I don’t snore.”

“You do. Snort. Snort.” Mrs. Murphy imitated a snore but she was far from it.

“What’s with you two?” Harry walked over to the mail bin. “There’s nothing in here.” Mrs. Murphy rubbed against her leg.

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