Catch As Cat Can: A Mrs. Murphy Mystery - Hardcover

Buch 10 von 34: Mrs. Murphy Mysteries

Brown, Rita Mae; Brown, Sneaky Pie

 
9780553107449: Catch As Cat Can: A Mrs. Murphy Mystery
Hardcover
ISBN 10: 0553107445 ISBN 13: 9780553107449
Verlag: Import, 2002

Inhaltsangabe

The unsuspicious death of fast-living Roger O'Bannon at the Wrecker's Ball turns into a murder mystery when a second body is discovered, a situation that prompts "Harry" Haristeen and her animal companions--Tucker, Pewter, and feline sleuth Mrs. Murphy--to find a connection between the two victims.

Die Inhaltsangabe kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Über die Autorin bzw. den Autor

Rita Mae Brown is the bestselling author of several books. An Emmy-nominated screenwriter and a poet, she lives in Afton, Virginia.

Sneaky Pie Brown, a tiger cat born somewhere in Albemarle County, Virginia, was discovered by Rita Mae Brown at her local SPCA. They have collaborated on nine previous Mrs. Murphy mysteries: Wish You Were Here; Rest in Pieces; Murder at Monticello; Pay Dirt; Murder, She Meowed; Murder on the Prowl; Cat on the Scent; Pawing Through the Past; and Claws and Effect, plus Sneaky Pie’s Cookbook for Mystery Lovers.

Aus dem Klappentext

Never have two species co-created a work of such suspense and humorous catitude as the wildly popular mystery series by Rita Mae Brown and Sneaky Pie Brown. This time out, that agile-witted tiger puss Mrs. Murphy makes the round of parties where Virginia s Very Best People mingle with some of the worst. Together, she and her human must unravel a veritable cat s cradle of ambition, greed, and murder at the center of which waits a killer with the most tangled of motives.

CATCH AS A CAT CAN

Spring has come to the Blue Ridge Mountains, and spring fever to the tiny town of Crozet. As the annual Dogwood Festival approaches, romantic maneuvers are rampant. Even equable postmistress Mary
Minor Harry Haristeen inadvertently snatches a blind date from under the nose of manhunter Lottie Pearson, the university fundraiser.

As for Mrs. Murphy, her interest in the exploding bird population is intensified by Pewter s discovery of a dead rare woodpecker near the back porch. Feline intuition tells her more mysteries lie ahead. And they do.

A case of stolen hubcaps seems relatively straightforward until the truck that transported them to the unsuspecting O Bannon brothers upscale salvage yard turns out to be completely untraceable. And while everybody deplores the tipsy, raunchy behavior of young mechanic Roger O Bannon, nobody is sure it accounts for his sudden death over a sobering cup of coffee. But when his brother Sean will not authorize an autopsy and presses on with preparations for the Wrecker s Ball, the climax of the season s junketing, people start to whisper.

Then, as violent thunderstorms sweep in from the west to shadow spring festivities, another death occurs could it be murder? Harry ponders whether the two deaths are connected. And as she and her furry cohorts the cats Mrs. Murphy and Pewter and corgi Tee Tucker get mud on their boots and paws mapping local terrain and relationships and sniffing out telltale scents of villainy, someone is watching their every move.

When a shooting leads to the discovery of a half-million crisp, clean dollar bills that look to be very dirty, Harry s blood is really up. But by the time she s close to fingering a cold-blooded murderer, Mrs. Murphy already knows who it is and who s next in line. She also knows that Harry, curious as a cat, does not have nine lives. And the one she does have is hanging by the thinnest of threads.

Auszug. © Genehmigter Nachdruck. Alle Rechte vorbehalten.

Chapter 1

Long, low strips of silver fog filled the green hollows and ravines of the Blue Ridge Mountains. The mists feathered over the creeks and rivers at six-thirty in the morning. Redbud was blooming, the tulips had opened. The white and pink dogwoods would explode in another week.

Mrs. Murphy, awake since five-thirty, snuggled next to Pewter, whose small snore sounded like a mud dauber at work, a low buzz. The two cats rested in the hollow of Mary Minor Haristeen's back while Tucker, the corgi, stretched out to her full length, most impressive, on the hooked rug next to the bed. She, too, snored slightly.

Murphy loved spring. Her undercoat would shed out, making her look sleeker and feel lighter. The robins returned, indigo buntings and bluebirds filled the skies. Down by the creek the redwing blackbirds snatched insects, gobbling them in one swallow. The scarlet tanagers flew into the orchards for their forays. The rise in the bird population excited the tiger cat even though she rarely caught one. Both she and Pewter dreamed of killing the blue jay who made their lives miserable. Hateful and aggressive, he would dart at them in a nosedive, scream as he got close, then pull up at the last moment just out of paw's reach. This particular blue jay also made a point of pooping on the clean clothes hung on the line to dry. Harry hated him, too. Harry was Mary Minor's nickname, which often surprised people upon meeting the young, good-looking woman.

People assumed her nickname derived from her married name but she had earned it in grade school because her clothes were liberally decorated with cat and dog hair. Her little friends hadn't yet mastered spelling, so hairy became harry. To this day some of her classmates remained on uneasy terms with spelling but rarely with Harry.

Outside the opened window, the cat heard the loud rat-ta-tat-tat of woodpeckers. She couldn't remember a spring with so many woodpeckers or so many yellow swallowtail butterflies.

The giant pileated woodpecker, close to two feet in length, proved a fearsome sight. This bird, found throughout the hickory and oak forests of central Virginia, was a primitive life-form and in repose one could almost see his flying reptile ancestors reflected in his visage.

The smaller woodpeckers, though large enough, seemed less fearsome. Mrs. Murphy enjoyed watching woodpeckers circle a tree, stop, peck for insects, then circle again. She noticed that some birds circled up and some circled down and she wondered why. She couldn't get close enough to one to ask because as soon as they'd see her, they'd fly off to another juicy tree.

As a rule, birds disdained conversation with cats. The mice, moles, and shrews happily chattered away from the safety of their holes. "Chattered" being a polite term, because they'd taunt the cats. The barn mice even sang, because their high-pitched voices drove Mrs. Murphy crazy.

The tiger glanced over at the clock. Harry, usually up at five-thirty, had overslept. Fortunately, today was Saturday, so she wouldn't have to rush in to work at the post office in Crozet. A part-time worker took care of Saturday's mail. But Harry, an organized soul, hated to waste daylight. Murphy knew she'd fret when she awoke and discovered how late it was.

Pewter opened one chartreuse eye. "I'm hungry."

"There are crunchies in the bowl."

"Tuna." The fat gray cat opened the other eye, slightly lifting her pretty round head.

"I wouldn't mind some myself. Let's wake up our can opener." Murphy laughed.

Pewter stretched, then gleefully sat, her back to Harry's face. She gently swept her tail over the woman's nose.

Mrs. Murphy walked up and down Harry's back. When that didn't produce the desired effect she jumped up and down.

"Uh." Harry sneezed as she pushed the tail out of her face. "Pewter."

"I'm hungry."

"Me, too," Murphy sang out.

The dog, awake now, yawned. "Chunky beef."

"You guys." Harry sat up as Murphy stepped off her back. "Oh my gosh, it's six-forty. Why did you let me sleep so late?" She threw off the covers. Her bare feet hit the hooked rug and she sprinted to the bathroom.

"I'm standing vigil at the food bowl." Pewter zipped to the kitchen.

Murphy, in line behind her, jumped onto the kitchen counter.

Tucker, much more obedient, accompanied Harry to the bathroom, looked quizzically while she brushed her teeth, then quietly followed the human into the kitchen, where she put a pot of hot water on the stove for tea.

"All right, what is it?"

"Tuna!" came the chorus.

"M-m-m, chicken and rice." She put that can back on the shelf.

"Tuna!"

"Liver." She hesitated.

"Tuna!"

"Tuna," Tucker chimed in. "If you don't feed them tuna they'll make a mess and it will take me that much longer to get my breakfast," she grumbled.

Harry reached into the cupboard, lifting out another can. "Tuna."

"Hooray." Pewter turned little tight circles.

"Okay, okay." Harry laughed and opened the can with the same hand opener her mother had used. The Hepworths, Harry's mother's family, thought fashion absurd. Buy something of good quality and use it until it dies. The can opener was older than Harry.

The Minors, her father's family, also practical people, proved a bit more willing to let loose of money than the Hepworths. Harry fell somewhere in the middle.

After feeding the cats and dog, she turned on the stove, pulled out an iron skillet, and fried up two eggs. Breakfast was her favorite meal.

"Well, I've got Mr. Maupin's seeder for the weekend so I'd better overseed those pastures," she said to the animals, good listeners. "I was lucky to get it. Anyone with a seeder can rent it out for good money, you know. I'd love to buy one but we'd need almost twenty thousand dollars and you know, I'd rather stand in line and wait to rent Mr. Maupin's. Even a used one is expensive and you only use it in the spring and in the fall, depending . . ." Her voice trailed off, then rose again. "The trouble is, when you need it, you need it. We were lucky this year." She reached over to stroke Mrs. Murphy's silken head, as the cat had joined her at the table. "I just feel it's going to be a lucky spring. Worms to turn and eggs to lay."

She washed her dishes, walked out on the screened-in porch, and threw on her barn jacket which hung on a peg. The temperature was in the forties but by noon would near sixty-five.

As Harry stepped outside into the refreshingly cool air the first thing she noticed was the fog on the mountains. The sun, rising, reflected onto the fog, creating millions of tiny rainbows. The sight was so beautiful that Harry stopped in her tracks and held her breath for an instant.

The cats noticed the rainbows but their attention was diverted by a huge pileated woodpecker, lying in the dust, just off the screened-in porch.

"Cool." Pewter hurried over, tried to pick up the freshly dead bird in her jaws. It was quite heavy. She gave up.

"I could help you with that," Tucker offered.

"Touch my bird and you die," Pewter hissed.

Mrs. Murphy laughed. "It's not like you brought it down, Pewter."

"I found it. That's almost as good."

"Yeah, the great gray hunter." Tucker curled her upper lip.

"I don't see you catching anything, fat bum." Pewter's eyes narrowed to slits.

"I'm not fat. I don't have a tail. That makes me look fat," Tucker replied sharply....

„Über diesen Titel“ kann sich auf eine andere Ausgabe dieses Titels beziehen.

Verlag
Import
Erscheinungsdatum
2002
Sprache
Englisch
ISBN 10 
0553107445
ISBN 13 
9780553107449
Einband
Gebundene Ausgabe
Anzahl der Seiten
287
Kontakt zum Hersteller
Nicht verfügbar
Verantwortliche Person
Nicht verfügbar

Weitere beliebte Ausgaben desselben Titels

9780553580280: Catch as Cat Can: A Mrs. Murphy Mystery

Vorgestellte Ausgabe

ISBN 10:  0553580280 ISBN 13:  9780553580280
Verlag: Random House Publishing Group, 2003
Softcover