Rest in Pieces: A Mrs. Murphy Mystery
Rita Mae Brown
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Mrs. Murphy thinks the new man in town is the cat's meow.... Maybe she should think again. Small towns don't take kindly to strangers--unless the stranger happens to be a drop-dead gorgeous and seemingly unattached male. When Blair Bainbridge comes to Crozet, Virginia, the local matchmakers lose no time in declaring him perfect for their newly divorced postmistress, Marry Minor "Harry Haristeen." Even Harry's tiger cat, Ms. Murphy, and her Welsh Corgi, Tee Tucker, believe he smells A-okay. Could his one little imperfection be that he's a killer? Blair becomes the most likely suspect when the pieces of a dismembered corpse begin tuming up around Crozet. No one knows who the dead man is, but when a grisly clue makes a spectacular appearance in the middle of the fall festivities, more than an early winter snow begins chilling the blood of Crozet's very best people. That's when Ms. Murphy, her friend Tucker, and her human companion Harry begin to sort throughout the clues . . . only to find themselves a whisker away from becoming the killer's next victims.
from that. Probably he was playing a game. Fitz was inventive. “I would love you if you were”—she thought for something déclassé, off the board—“Iraqi.” He laughed. “That is a stretch. Ah, yes, the Middle East, that lavatory of the human race.” “Wonder what they call us?” “The Devil’s seed.” His voice became more menacing and he spoke with what he imagined was an Iraqi accent. One of the fourteen phones in the overlarge house twittered. The harsh ring of the telephone was too cacophonous for
Rough terrain barely slowed her down. They reached a large hill from which they could see a long, low valley. The hounds, following the fox’s line, streaked across the meadow. The Field Master, the staff member in charge of maintaining order and directing the field, led the hunt over the first of a series of coops—a two-sided, slanted panel, jumpable from both directions. It was a solidly imposing three feet three inches high. “Is that Harry?” Blair pointed to a relaxed figure floating over the
will put out an all-points alert. We’ll fax photos of Cabby to other police and sheriff’s departments. And the first time he uses a credit card we’ll know. Try to relax and know that we are doing everything we can.” Outside the door Rick dropped a cigarette, which sizzled in the snow. Cooper observed the snow melting around the hot tip. “Well, looks like we know who killed Ben Seifert. Why else would he run?” “Goddammit, we’re going to find out.” He stepped on the extinguished cigarette.
1704.’ And there on her grave was her blue silk ribbon.” The kittens screamed at the end of the story. Harry glanced over at the scared babies. Mrs. Murphy was lying on her side in front of them, eyes half-closed. “Mrs. Murphy, are you picking on those kittens?” “Hee hee” was all Mrs. Murphy would say. 58 No goblins bumped in the night; no human horrors either. Harry, Cynthia, and Blair awoke to a crystal-clear day. Harry couldn’t remember when a winter’s day had sparkled like this one.
stared at this man whom he once knew. “Tom, you passed, you know.” Tiny bits of patella were scattered on the barn aisle. A faint smile crossed Tom’s features as he fought back his agony. “Yeah, I fooled everybody. Even that insufferable snob, that bitch of a mother-in-law.” A dark pain twisted his face. His features contorted and he fought for control. “I would never have been able to marry Little Marilyn. Fitz-Gilbert could marry her. Tommy Norton couldn’t.” “Maybe you’re selling her short.”