Рита Браун - Catch As Cat Can

The owl's bright yellow eyes blinked. “What's on your mind, pussycat?”

“I have to get over to Tally Urquhart's but I can't cross the creeks.”

“Over the banks, debris hurtling in the water. The beavers don't even want to come out of their lodges and the lodges are getting holes punched in by tree limbs. You can hear the roar.” The owl blinked.

“Yes, I heard it when I left the house. I suppose I could open the truck window when we pass Tally's drive and hop out of the car. Mother has to slow for the curve but I don't like her knowing I can manage the windows. It's not good for humans to know what we know.”

She chuckled. “That's very owl-like of you.” She fluffed her feathers, turned her head almost the whole way around, then settled herself. “Want me to fly over?”

“I need to get in the house.”

“Ah, I can't help you there.”

“You see, two humans have been murdered. One was hanged and the other was shot.”

“I know.”

“I guess you would. You're out and about. I didn't think you cared much about human affairs.”

“I don't, but murder has a certain lurid curiosity. We owls don't murder one another. You cats might tussle, a bad fight, lose an eye, but you don't murder one another. It's one of those depressing curiosities about humans.”

“So it appears.” Murphy leaned toward the large bird. “I think there's been a third murder. Roger O'Bannon. And either his brother did it or his brother is next in line.”

“Ah, so I am not my brother's keeper?” She rocked back and forth on her huge feet.

“Cain and Abel. Mrs. Hogendobber would know the exact quote from the Bible. I don't but I know the story.”

“As do I. Cain slew Abel because he was jealous. The Hebrew God favored Abel. All religions have such a story. Being sacred to Athena, I'm partial to the Greek myths myself. But it would have to be a powerful motive for blood to kill blood. Either that or Sean O'Bannon is one cold-blooded creature.”

“I don't think he is. I could be wrong. Crozet is so small. You think you know people but you don't. But I really don't think Sean is cold-blooded. What puzzles me the most is what the victims have gotten themselves into—over five hundred thousand dollars was found in Donny Clatterbuck's safe. So I would have to say that money is the motive and if that's just Clatterbuck's cut then we are talking about a great, great deal of money. But I can't for the life of me think of what they could be doing to generate that kind of cash. It's not drugs, at least I don't think so, and we know the money's not counterfeit. I've thought and thought. I even thought what if they've been selling state secrets but there are no state secrets in Albemarle County. The government officials and military brass retired here are just that, retired.”

“Slavery.”

“Huh?”

“Mrs. Murphy, there's still slavery. Children are bought and sold. People from Asia and South America are sold as domestic slaves smuggled into the U.S. Oh, it's called something else but it's slavery. When you can't speak the language, you can't go out on your own. You work for nothing or next to nothing and another human, maybe the one who smuggled you in, controls your life. There's a lot of money in smuggling people across the border.”

“I never thought of that. I don't know, but it's something and it's here. This I do know, if Sean O'Bannon isn't part of it he'll be dead before too long. If he lives, I have to assume the worst.”

“Can't you set a trap for him? If he doesn't fall into it, he's innocent,” the owl said with deliberation.

“That's just it, since I don't know what it is that they're doing, I can't bait a trap.”

“You are in a pickle.” The owl chuckled. “But your human is safe. Why worry?”

“No, she's not. She was there when the safe was cut open by BoomBoom Craycroft, of all people. So now her blood is up. She's as curious as a cat but without the nine lives.”

“Harry does have an odd way of stumbling onto the truth.” The owl scratched her head with her foot.

“You could do me a favor. When weather permits, fly over O'Bannon Salvage. See if anything looks peculiar from the air. Sometimes land betrays things. Oh, and there's a very offensive rat that lives there, he calls himself Pope Rat. I think he knows a lot.”

“If I catch him and carry him aloft he'll sing like a robin.” She chuckled low and deep, the idea of swinging the rat in the air appealing to her.

“When we find out what it is we'll no doubt wonder how we missed it,” the cat sighed.

“Or be completely amazed. Humans, for all their faults, can be damnably clever.”

34

Although the rain had stopped, the runoff slopped over highways, and culverts, jammed with gunk, backed up and overflowed. Everywhere one looked there was running water. The shoulders off the sides of the roads shone with it.

Driving slowly, Harry gave thanks that her lands rested high above the floodplain. Structures built in lowlands had flooded basements at the least.

Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker had been arguing since climbing into the truck. Murphy was determined to jump out when Harry slowed for the curve by Tally Urquhart's farm entrance.

Pewter vowed she would not launch herself from a moving vehicle. What did she care if Sean might be in danger? Besides, the long, long driveway meant she'd get her feet wet.

Tucker moaned because she might squeeze out the window but not being as agile as the cat, she feared the drop. No point in collecting broken bones.

“But I need your nose,” Murphy pouted.

“Won't do you a bit of good if I can't haul myself up the driveway. It's not a good plan, Murphy. Be patient. Sooner or later, Mom will call on Tally.”

“By that time it will be too late.” The sleek cat put her paw on the window crank as the old truck didn't have electric windows.

“No, it won't.” Pewter was nervous that if Murphy rolled down the window and shot out of the truck, Harry would swerve and they'd slide off the road into the muck. Not an appealing prospect to a fastidious cat.

Tally's farm lay up ahead, marked by a big rectangular sign with a white rose on a dark green background and the name “Rose Hill” swinging in the light breeze. Mrs. Murphy, using both paws, started cranking down the window when to her delight, Harry turned right onto the drive.

“Murphy, what are you doing?”

“Damn, now she knows I know how to roll down the window.”

“I told you not to do it.” Pewter smugly moved over to sit next to Harry.

“Brownnoser,” Murphy spat.

“That does us no good at all. What if this is a short visit? We need a plan,” Tucker, being practical, said.

“All right. When we get there, Tucker, go straight to the dining room. The flooring is old random-width. There are cracks between the boards. Sniff the cracks. Would be a bitter smell, I think. Pewter, go into the pantry. You do the same thing but get on the shelves. You'll have to stick your nose in sugar bowls, creamers, any small bowl, but be careful. You don't want to inhale anything into your system. Stuff would be lethal. Think how quickly it killed Roger O'Bannon.”

“If it did,” Pewter replied. “We'll never know without an autopsy. He could have died of natural causes.”

“We'd best hope he did,” Tucker grimly said.