The Purrfect Murder

it’s political.”
    “Could be political if someone did come in screaming. Dr. Wylde was on the hot seat.” Cooper said this in a kind fashion.
    “That he was.” Sophie’s eyes teared up.
    “Ever mention names of people he thought were violent?” Rick asked.
    Margaret, folding her arms across her chest, said, “If only it were that simple, Sheriff. The short answer is no. The antiabortionists who incline toward destructiveness are never your neighbors, because you can hold them accountable. What these antiorganizations do is bus people in for demonstrations, throw packets of blood at the doctors—”
    Kylie interrupted with a wail, “And us.”
    Margaret ignored her, feeling that one dealt with pain and suffered by holding it together and never, ever, by blubbering or seeking pity. “I’m not saying local people didn’t join in barricading our office, but you can pretty well bet the killer is not a local. At least that’s one woman’s opinion.”
    “And one I certainly respect.” Rick nodded to her. “Ladies, this is a vicious blow. I am so sorry for you all, for Will’s family. I promise you we will get to the bottom of this.” He paused. “In the future, either Deputy Cooper or myself may call upon you again. I apologize in advance for the inconvenience.”
    “We’ll be glad to help in any way,” Margaret replied.
    “Indeed.” Sophie wiped her eyes again.
    Rick opened the door into the corridor. Cooper followed, but as they reached the front door, she turned and hurried back to Will’s office. She rapped on the door.
    Margaret unlocked it. “Come in.”
    “Channel Twenty-nine just pulled up with the mobile unit. You might want to lock this door again and go somewhere in the office where they can’t see you.”
    Kylie started to rock back and forth and cry again.
    Margaret turned to Sophie. “Let’s get her back in the supply room and cut the lights.”
    “I expect they’ll be out of here in an hour. They’ll want to talk to people in other offices and then they’ll probably go shoot footage of his house or the hospital. But if you want to avoid their questions, sit tight for at least an hour.”
    “Thank you, Deputy Cooper.” Margaret closed the door and cut the lights.
    Rick turned as Cooper joined him on the raised outside steps. “And?”
    “Going to lock up and hide in the supply room.”
    He nodded. “That will give them a little time. Until tomorrow, at least.” He watched the small crew quickly set up. “Come on, we’ve got to get to Benita before someone else does and certainly before this breaks. You know once they’ve got the video shot, they’ll interrupt any show going.”
    “Damn.”
    “That’s a nicer word than ‘shit.’ I’ve got to watch my language.” He took a deep breath, lifted his chin, and strode toward the television crew. He made the time-out sign before the camera rolled. “Dinny, I’ll give you a statement, I’ll keep you in the pipeline, but I have got to get to Benita Wylde before she hears of this. All right?”
    Dinny Suga, who was pretty and petite, knew enough about the community to know she had to respect this or she’d never get another good story out of Shaw again. Even though she’d worked for Channel 29 for only a year, she was becoming part of the community, one she was learning to love—if for nothing else than the fact that no one would dream of calling her Asian-American. She was just Dinny Suga.
    “I understand.” She looked to her camerawoman, nodded, and the light blinked over the top of the minicam.
    Sheriff Shaw gave a terse statement that the murder had occurred at around two-thirty P.M . No suspect had been apprehended, and, yes, Dr. Wylde had been targeted in the past for harassment.
    “Thank you, Sheriff.”
    “Dinny, give me an hour. If she’s not home, she’s on the golf course, most likely.”
    “Okay.”
    Within twenty minutes, Rick and Coop were zipping toward the back nine in a golf cart. When members started to wave at them as they roared through their games, they quickly discerned this was the sheriff and his number-one deputy; something had to be really wrong.
    Benita, back on 13, had just hit a gorgeous approach shot, which her three bosom buddies admired. When she heard the cart, saw who was in it, she dropped her club. There’d been enough threats on Will’s life these last ten years. She just knew. So did the others.
    She said nothing as Rick stopped and climbed out.
    “Benita, I am