The Purrfect Murder

so sorry to tell you this.”
    “He’s gone, isn’t he?”
    Rick nodded. “Yes, yes he is.”
    Coop, now also out, walked up alongside Rick.
    “How?” Benita remained calm, although she was as white as paste.
    “Sniper. One shot clean through the heart. At least he didn’t suffer.”
    She fought her tears. The rest of the foursome—Folly Steinhauser, Alicia Palmer, and BoomBoom Craycroft—quietly came up to Benita’s side.
    Alicia put her arm around Benita’s waist and said, “Let me drive you home, honey.”
    “Yes.” Benita’s voice faded.
    “The reporters.” Folly’s mind worked quickly. “Girls, we need to be there to get rid of them.”
    “We can take turns.” BoomBoom, who was tall, commanding, and beautiful, knew how to handle most situations, as did Alicia, a former movie star in the seventies and eighties.
    “You’re right,” Folly agreed.
    “Before anyone leaves, Benita, if you can stand it, it would be very helpful if you could answer a few questions.”
    “Yes.” A tear splashed on her lemon-colored golf shirt.
    “Have there been threats recently?”
    “No. In fact, we were just talking about that last night. We thought that maybe those nutcases finally realized violence is counterproductive.”
    “Any problems apart from the abortion extremists? A disgruntled employee or unbalanced patient, debts?”
    “No.”
    “Any old enemies from the past that you can recall?”
    She thought as she knelt down to pick up her club. “Harvey Tillach. Harvey hated him, but they avoided each other.”
    No reason to inquire about why Harvey hated Will Wylde, since everyone knew that Harvey, also a doctor, had accused Will of seducing his then wife. An accusation that Will hotly denied, but the damage had been done, because rumors take on a life of their own.
    Although, in truth, sexual peccadilloes rarely elicited the tongue-clicking found in the Puritan states. The people upset were the people directly involved. Most Southerners assume nature is taking its course and best to stay out of it.
    Alicia, firmly but with respect, said, “Sheriff, let me take her home. This is a staggering blow.”
    He nodded, then added, “Benita, I’ll need to question you again. I truly am sorry.”
    “I know, Rick, I know you are. Everybody loved Will.”
    BoomBoom said to Rick and Coop, “Let us know if there’s anything we can do, including strangle the killer.”
    Coop had grown fond of BoomBoom. “You’ll have to get a ticket and stand in line for that. But if we need you, I’ll call. Right now, do anything you can for Benita. It’s going to be tough. A media circus.”
    Folly shook her head silently, fearing the onslaught, as Alicia gently led Benita to one of the golf carts.
    As the two carts drove off, Rick turned to Coop. “She’s a good woman. She deserves better.”
    The sheriff and his deputy knew the wife is often a prime suspect in the husband’s murder. But these two didn’t think Benita Wylde had killed her husband. For one thing, she was on the golf course at the time of the murder. For another thing, it was a happy marriage. Whoever did kill the doctor knew the layout of the office buildings, his schedule, and could drive away without calling attention to himself.
    They climbed back into the squat golf cart. Rick drove, the noisy little engine competing with the usual sounds of a late afternoon on a prestigious golf course.
    Coop flipped open her notebook. “Want to give me names to question?”
    “In a minute. The first thing we’ve got to do is pull in as many people as we can on this case. Right now it’s a local murder. If the FBI agent for our territory decides this is a civil-rights violation, then we have to deal with the agency.”
    Coop grimaced, since the feds often treated local law-enforcement people like water bugs. “Been there. Done that. Remember the fuss five years ago when the pro-life people barricaded Will’s clinic? Boom! Civil-rights violations, because he couldn’t operate his business. Let’s hope this is just murder.”
    “Yep, sure as shooting.” He realized what he’d said but grinned despite himself. “Sorry.”

4
    D eath and destruction didn’t seem to shake up country people quite as much as it did their city cousins. The cycle of the seasons, the thrilling rebirth of spring and the rich harvests of fall, allowed people to know that death and life weave together each day. Not that anyone celebrated the untimely death of Dr. Will