Рита Браун - Full Cry

“Peter would shower, shave, put on a suit or a navy blazer with some kind of pants, a tie, and off he’d go. Twenty minutes, tops,” Rooster informed Raleigh.

A red ball rolled into the large closet as Golly giggled. “Look what I have.”

“That’s not yours.” Raleigh snatched the ball.

“Pig.” Golly sat on a forest green pair of high-heel shoes, squashing them.

Finally Sister settled on a tailored suit, double-breasted, with a magenta pinstripe. She wore a pale pink blouse and a deep teal silk scarf. She was always putting together colors in odd ways, but they worked. After much deliberation, she wore shoes the color of the suit.

“Can you imagine wearing panty hose?” Golly wanted to snag the nylons.

“No.” Rooster wrinkled his nose. “Where’s she going, anyway?”

“Special party for Reading for the Blind. Kind of a fund-raiser, but more low-key than the dance stuff.” Raleigh knew his mother’s charities and special interests.

Golly shot out of the closet, cut in front of the dogs, and walked into the bathroom where Sister performed a last-minute makeup check. Golly hit the wall with all fours, bounced off, and turned to face the dogs.

“King of the hill!”

The two canines stopped, then Rooster said, “Golly, you’re mental.”

“I’m a killer. I can bring down bunnies twice my size. I can face off a . . . a bobcat. I can terrify a cow. I am Kong!” She spun on her paws, flew the entire length of the upper hallway, hit the wall there, bounced off, and flew back, running right under the dogs’ bellies.

“She is mental,” Rooster repeated.

“I think she has to go to the bathroom,” Raleigh said. “She gets that way if she has to do Number Two.”

“I do not!” Golly was outraged. “But if I have to go, I’ll go in your bed because you have mortally offended me.” She turned in a huff, jumping onto the counter where the makeup sat.

“I don’t know how you’ve stood it for all these years,” Rooster consoled Raleigh. “At least when I lived with Peter, he didn’t keep cats. They’re horrible.”

“Oh, ignore her, Rooster. She just wants attention. Think of her as a tiny woman in a fur coat.”

Golly, purring for all she was worth, watched as Sister put on lipstick, considered it, wiped it off, put on a more pinkish, subdued color, considered it, threw the tube in the trash in disgust. Finally Sister wiped her lips and rubbed in a little colored gloss.

“She’s losing it,” Golly grandly announced.

“No. She’s finding it,” Raleigh answered.

By the time Sister reached the gathering, darkness enveloped the town, the white church steeples contrasting against the darkness. A light snow fell.

Marty Howard, a force in the reading group, urged people also to get involved in the Committee to Promote Literacy.

Clay and Izzy Berry moved through the group. Izzy had a sister who was blind and was passionate about the work of this group. Xavier and Dee were there, as well as Dalton Hill and Ben Sidell.

“Ben, this is the first time I’ve seen you at one of our functions. Thank you for coming,” Sister warmly greeted him.

“Marty asked me to drop by. You gave us great sport today, Master.” He smiled at her.

“Thank you. Mostly I was trying to hang on and stay up with the hounds. Coyote, as I’m sure you know.”

“That word filtered back to us. Bobby Franklin galloped as fast as I’ve ever seen him go.” He nodded in the direction of the genial, plump Bobby.

The Franklins donated printing to this group.

“Big as he is, he can go.” Sister smiled. “He’s trying the Atkins Diet now. Let’s all encourage him. Betty sure looks fabulous. She put her mind to losing weight last summer, got it off, kept it off.”

“Well, you don’t see too many fat whippers-in, do you?” Ben absentmindedly rattled the cubes in his glass. “Guess you heard about the brief exchange between Xavier and Sam?”

“I did,” Sister tartly responded.

“Gray intervened, and Clay moved Xavier up. Lends spice to the proceedings.”

“Maybe too much.” As Xavier and Dee came over, Sister pecked him on the cheek, then her. “Haven’t I just left you?”

“What a day.” Xavier, face drawn, complimented her.

“X, thank you for your restraint.”

He shrugged. “I’ve got bigger things on my mind than that worm.”

“Honey,” Dee gently chided him.

“Well, I don’t mind telling you all how I feel. It’s not like we don’t know one another. And Ben, you’re out there riding, so I count you in.” Xavier inhaled. “The storage fire is turning into a nightmare.”

Sister sympathized. “I’m sorry. It’s got to be a strain.”

“The investigator won’t release the money until the situation, as she calls it, is clarified. How can I clarify Donnie Sweigert winding up as Melba toast? Melba toast that committed arson. It’s crazy.”

“Honey.” Dee squeezed his arm.

“Sorry. I’m a little stressed.”

“These investigators are good, sugar. She’ll figure it out,” Dee reassured her husband.

Ben glanced briefly to the floor, then looked up.

“Sorry, Ben. Dee didn’t mean it that way. This is a tough situation. I know you’re doing all that you can.” Xavier, for all his troubles, was sensitive to the feelings of others.

Clay and Izzy joined them. Politically wise, Clay didn’t want the tension between Xavier and himself to become gossip fodder. Yes, he wanted the check, but he didn’t know what more to do about it either.

After a few moments of social chat, the group broke up. Ben remained with Sister. She noticed Clay moving off to talk to one group of people while Izzy moved over to another, chatted briefly, and then left the room. She noted that Dalton also left the room by another door.

“Meant to ask you, you know the high school and college coaches around here, don’t you?”

“Some better than others,” Sister answered.

“With the exception of the university men’s basketball coach, most of these guys have been working a long time, great stability.”

“Winners don’t get fired,” Sister replied, knowing the same applied in the hunt world.

Few people understood the pressures on a professional huntsman. He or she has to produce, just like the quarterback for a major league team. Huntsmen are professional athletes minus the endorsement, media hype, and titanic salaries. Many of these men and women could have had careers in the lucrative sports. They chose love instead of loot.

“What’s the problem with men’s basketball at the university?”

“Boy, it’s a yo-yo, isn’t it? Let’s hope they’ve turned the corner.” She touched his arm. “Look at these kids playing basketball and football now. They’re hulks.”

“That they are.” Ben lowered his voice. “Sam Lorillard mentioned something to me at the breakfast. Mitch and Anthony did some odd jobs for Berry Storage. We knew that. Donnie Sweigert was always the driver, never any other driver.”

“I don’t see the significance.”

“I’m not sure I do, either. Sam’s friend, Rory Ackerman, who’s now in rehab in Greensboro, was the one who told him this. Anyway, Sam said Mitch and Anthony only delivered furniture to coaches or trainers.”

“Have you asked Clay?”

Ben nodded that he had. “Said he’d check his records. Said he couldn’t trust Mitch and Anthony or any of the railroad denizens to stay sober long enough for a long haul. They only made the short runs, and Donnie drove those because he didn’t like going cross-country. Also Clay said he felt Donnie could control the drunks. I think Donnie himself drank more than Clay knew.”