Рита Браун - Tail Gait

“All the way to Orange. I got such a good deal.” She sighed.

“Oh, well, there are worse things. Let’s go in and you can tell me why you wanted to see me.”

As Harry followed her neighbor, she called to the cats, hovering over a mole hole as if the mole would be stupid enough to come out.

Inside, the cats and Harry sank into the alcove. “I’ll come over and mow,” said Harry. “Don’t fret.”

“I’ll pay you.”

“You will not. Now shut up. I don’t want to hear another word. But before I do that, you and I need to walk where you want mowed. All that hard freezing and thawing has pushed up stuff, including tree roots as big as elephant trunks.”

“I’m surprised some coffins haven’t pushed out of their graves.” Cooper put up coffee for herself and boiled water for Harry’s tea.

“Make a good horror movie.” Harry quickly raised her voice. “Don’t you dare!”

“Piffle.” Pewter took her paw out of the lower cabinet door, which she’d managed to wedge it into.

Cooper walked over, opened the door, took out a bag of treats bought especially for two spoiled cats, then shook it into two bowls. “There.”

“You are the best human, really the best,” Pewter meowed before shoving her face into the goodies.

“So what’s up?” Harry asked as Cooper poured.

“An odd thing, and I’ll need your help with Snoop again.”

“Really?”

Cooper told her about Snoop finding the letter opener yesterday. Snoop had informed Paul Huber, and events shot off from there. “Paul Huber drove over to talk to Rick and me. He was not far away from Snoop’s work site, as he was working on the huge Continental Estates project.”

Paul was doing the landscaping. Rudy had already put in the roads.

“I would imagine Paul was both upset and confused.”

“He’s certainly organized. He pulled out his tablet, one of those expensive Macs, had the truck usage information in maybe two minutes. As it turned out, that was the same truck used to plant the birch over at Claiborne Bishop’s. I asked, Did he check mileage each day? I knew it was a long shot. He said the company checks it once a week for each vehicle.”

“Because employees might be using trucks for personal use?” Harry inquired.

“Right, especially one-ton and half-ton trucks. Paul said they hadn’t found a good daily mileage program but that once a week had been very helpful. If anyone had a notion to use a company truck a lot, it would show up.”

“ H-m-m. But the presence of the wooden letter opener doesn’t mean he was killed there.”

“We crawled over that truck, and we also impounded it. By the time that truck returns to Paul Huber, there won’t be a fiber we haven’t investigated. He was fine with that. Shocked that Frank’s body might have been in his truck, but cooperative.”

“What did Snoop say?”

“Not much. He was shaken. He swears that it was a letter opener he gave to Frank. As to what appears to be dried blood, obviously, we have to run that through the lab, but there was a stain on the blade.”

“Report on Frank isn’t back from the medical examiner’s office?”

“Shouldn’t be too much longer. Luckily, his body was in decent shape. A couple of days packed in soil is better than weeks or months. We already know the cause of death is stabbing.”

“Fundamentally, I’d say the cause of death was alcohol.”

A tight smile crossed Cooper’s lips. “I figure most alcoholics are committing slow suicide. Frank received extra help.” She rose, picked up papers from her kitchen counter, and handed them to Harry, then sat again. “What Frank had been reading just this last year.”

Harry scanned the list. “Ginger McConnell’s influence is apparent even if Frank hated him. May I copy this?”

“I made that for you. You’re the reader. Thought you might recognize some of those books.”

“I recognize a lot of them. One thing’s for sure, Frank still had an active mind. You don’t read books like these unless the lights are on upstairs.” She tapped her head.

“I thought about Professor McConnell, too. But I still can’t find the crucial connection between the two.”

Harry folded her hands together, elbows on the table, rested her head on her hands. “Here are two people, one the student of the other back in the mid-seventies, both dead and both interested in the Revolutionary War, post-Revolutionary America. That isn’t a period overrun with novelists, historians—some academicians, sure. But for whatever reason, that war doesn’t stir up people like successive wars.”

“Eighteen twelve. Who thinks about that?” Cooper knew a little about history, liked it some.

“Every time you sing ‘The Star-Spangled Banner,’ ” Harry said and smiled.

“Who can sing that? Too hard.” Cooper leaned over. “What about this book?”

“The Men Who Lost America. What about it?”

“Wasn’t that in Ginger’s office?” Cooper asked.

“He has shelves filled with everything and from every writer since the Revolution, I swear. But this was written by a UVA professor. Probably had extra meaning for Ginger.”

“M-m-m,” Cooper murmured, then said, “Will you go talk to Snoop again?”

“Of course. What do you want me to ask?”

“What he really thinks. He clammed up when Paul showed up. Of course, that makes sense. It’s his and Marshall’s companies that hire Snoop and the other mall residents for odd jobs. He has just complicated their lives.”

Shrewdly, Harry replied, “Whoever killed Frank complicated their lives. Snoop simply realized Frank’s body had been in that truck.” She finished her tea. “I’ll make up a basket and go down today.”

“If tomorrow is better, that’s fine. I know the weekends are about the only time you and Fair get to spend together.”

“He’s worn out. Had to deliver another foal late last night. I’ll be back so we can watch a movie tonight. He loves that.” She stood up. “Now you’ve got me all fired up. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.”

—

Two hours later, basket in hand, Harry and Tucker found Snoop at his usual post on the large planter. He waved to her as she approached.

“Lunch.” She sat next to him, placing the basket in his lap as people strolled by.

Opening one end, he peeked inside. “I smell bacon.”

“Bacon, avocado, turkey, and lettuce with Thousand Island dressing, and you get to choose between a Co-Cola, water, or sparkling grapefruit juice.”

“Sparkling grapefruit.” She handed him a light green ice-cold can, as well as a sandwich.

Tucker watched with soulful eyes as Harry unwrapped her own sandwich.

“Here, beggar.” She gave the corgi a tidbit.

They ate in the sunshine, the temperature now in the low sixties.

After a few chocolate-chip cookies, with their debris back in the basket, Harry sat, soaking up the sunshine. A full stomach aids good feelings. Snoop sat wordlessly next to her, watching people go by: the piercings, blue hair, cutoffs, as well as those who sported preppy looks.

She noted the painted bucket by his feet with carved letter openers, little boxes, nice things. “Snoop, heard about your discovery.”

“Yeah.”

“A shock, right?”

He nodded. “I’m standing there in the middle of people, the driver, some of the other work crew, Mr. Huber, Mr. Reese, the sheriff, the deputy, and I’m thinking, What if one of these guys killed ol’ Frank? Know what I mean?”

Put that way, she did know what he meant. “Makes a lot of sense. You were smart to shut up.”

“I ask myself, What did Frank know? He wasn’t killed for his money. Maybe somebody stabbed him because they believed his raving about the professor, but I don’t think so. But I think Frank knew something.”