Murder at Monticello

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Authors: Rita Mae Brown
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properties?” Ansley challenged her father-in-law while Warren held his breath.
    â€œDepends on the year,” Wesley waffled. “And how do you know that?”
    â€œMim’s lecture.”
    â€œMim Sanburne is the biggest pain in the ass this county has suffered since the seventeenth century. Before this is all over, Jefferson will be besmirched, dragged in the dirt, made out to be a scoundrel. Mim and her Mulberry Row. Leave the servant question alone! Damn, I wish I’d never written her a check.”
    â€œBut it’s part of history.” Ansley was positively enjoying this.
    â€œWhose history?”
    â€œAmerica’s history, Big Daddy.”
    â€œOh, balls!” He glared at her, then laughed. She was the only person in his life who dared stand up to him—and he loved it.
    Warren, worry turning to boredom, drank his orange juice and turned to the sports page.
    â€œHave you any opinion?” Wesley’s bushy eyebrows knitted together.
    â€œHuh?”
    â€œWarren, Big Daddy wants to know what you think about this body at Monticello stuff.”
    â€œI—uh—what can I say? Hopefully this discovery will lead us to a better understanding of life at Monticello, the rigors and pressures of the time.”
    â€œWe aren’t your constituency. I’m your father! Do you mean to tell me a corpse in the garden, or wherever the hell it was”—he grabbed at the front page to double-check—“in Cabin Four, can be anything but bad news?”
    Warren, long accustomed to his father’s fluctuating opinion of his abilities and behavior, drawled, “Well, Poppa, it sure was bad news for the corpse.”
    Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â Â 
    Ansley heard Warren’s Porsche 911 roar out of the garage. She knew Big Daddy was at the stable. She picked up the phone and dialed.
    â€œLucinda,” she said with surprise before continuing, “have you read the paper?”
    â€œYes. The queen of Crozet has her tit in the wringer this time,” Lucinda pungently put it.
    â€œReally, Lulu, it’s not that bad.”
    â€œIt’s not that good.”
    â€œI never will understand why being related to T.J. by blood, no matter how thinned out, is so important,” said Ansley, who understood only too well.
    Lucinda drew deeply on her cheroot. “What else have our respective husbands got? I don’t think Warren’s half so besotted with the blood stuff, but I mean, Samson makes money from it. Look at his real estate ads in
The New York Times
. He wiggles in his relation to Jefferson every way he can. ‘See Jefferson country from his umpty-ump descendant.’ ” She took another drag. “I suppose he has to make a living somehow. Samson isn’t the brightest man God ever put on earth.”
    â€œOne of the best-looking though,” Ansley said. “You always did have the best taste in men, Lulu.”
    â€œThank you—at this point it doesn’t matter. I’m a golf widow.”
    â€œCount your blessings, sister. I wish I could get Warren interested in something besides his so-called practice. Big Daddy keeps him busy reading real estate contracts, lawsuits, syndication proposals—I’d go blind.”
    â€œBoom time for lawyers,” Lulu said. “The economy is in the toilet, everybody’s blaming everybody else, and the lawsuits are flying like confetti. Too bad we don’t use that energy to work together.”
    â€œWell, right now, honey, we’ve got a tempest in a teapot. Every old biddy and crank scholar in central Virginia will pass out opinions like gas.”
    â€œMim wanted attention for her project.” Lulu didn’t hide her sarcasm. She’d grown tired of taking orders from Mim over the years.
    â€œShe’s got it now.” Ansley walked over to the sink and began to run the water. “What papers did you read this

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