Рита Браун - Hiss Of Death

Much as she learned and loved it all, looking at the mountains, seeing the peach trees in full bloom, the pastures turning an impossible emerald green, she knew she’d be a country girl forever. Given the lump in her breast, Harry wondered how long forever would be. Putting that out of her mind, as well as the nasty fact that Wednesday loomed, for it was already Sunday, she handed Cynthia Cooper a gin rickey.

“When did you learn to make one of these?” Coop admired the tall, thin glass, leaning back in the lawn chair in Harry’s backyard. “My mother used to make these, and gin and tonics.”

“Once the weather turned, right? That’s when your mother made them?”

“Right.”

“Well, I am officially welcoming spring. We’re more than a month on the other side of the equinox, but damn, March twenty-first was cold. It’s stayed cold. Today feels like spring, the light looks like spring.”

“Yes, it does.” Coop gratefully sipped the drink, her fingerprints on the frosted glass. “Did your mother show you how to make a gin rickey?”

“She did. One and one-half ounces of good gin. Momma stressed good . Juice of half a lime and ice-cold club soda. Fill the glass with ice, then add the gin and lime juice, and finally fill it up with club soda. But you know, I’ve turned into a lazy toad. If it takes preparation I don’t do much, and that includes food—unless we’re entertaining or if Fair’s had a brutal day.”

“We’re all starved for time, aren’t we?” Coop pondered.

“My mother always arranged fresh flowers; she handed Dad a Scotch and soda the minute he walked through the door. She made meals with fresh ingredients. Who can live like that anymore?” Harry shrugged.

“I don’t know. I’m lucky if I have time to water my garden. The sheriff’s department hasn’t hired new people since the crash. We need help. I’m working more hours than ever,” Coop noted.

Then Coop added, “Seems like a lame excuse. My mother did it all herself, and she worked as a telephone operator, long hours sometimes. I don’t know as she had any more time than I do.”

“Mine, too. She worked in the library both because they needed the money and she loved it. You know, she’s been dead for eighteen years. Dad, too; one really couldn’t live without the other, and I think about them every day. I miss them, I’d give anything to talk to them. You’re lucky yours are still with you.”

“I am. Say, how did it go packing up Paula’s?”

“Great. So many people turned up to help the Bentons, we had it all knocked out by three-thirty. Hey, Paula’s nickname was Pooch. Her mother told me.”

“Funny.” Coop took a long sip, then closed her eyes, leaning back on the lawn chair.

Both women wore sweaters, for the mercury stubbornly hung at fifty-four degrees all day. However, it was such a lovely time of day, just six P.M., both wanted to be outside.

The cats sat on the fence to watch the horses. Tucker flopped on her side, slept under Harry’s lawn chair.

“Rick’s on a diet,” Coop said, referring to her boss, Sheriff Rick Shaw. “His mood is like the stock market.”

“And you’re in the squad car with him most of the time.”

“Friday he plucked my last nerve. I told him his wife could divorce him, I can’t. Take pity on me. Made him laugh. He’s not really that out of shape. Ten pounds. If he loses that, he’ll look good. No, he wants to go back to his weight when he played football for Davidson.”

“Give him credit for a high goal.”

“He was the middle linebacker. You know that, I think. He’s got that linebacker brain, which is actually about perfect for law enforcement: Stop the run!”

Harry laughed. “Guess it is.”

“Oh, I did a little research on the scarab beetle. It isn’t a symbol of death. First, I’m sorry it took me a while.”

“Don’t apologize. We’re both busy as cat’s hair.”

The cats, with their sharp hearing, turned to look at Harry, who was about fifty yards from where they sat.

“Is that a slur?” Pewter wondered.

“Nah, it’s one of those expressions that doesn’t exactly make sense. You know, like ‘the exception proves the rule’.”

“I don’t get that one, either,” Pewter agreed. “She has quite a few. ‘A square peg in a round hole’ confuses me. She doesn’t own any square pegs.”

Back on the lawn, Cooper shared her research. “The Egyptians thought the dung beetle, the scarab beetle, kept the sun moving. That’s why they were so important. If they stopped rolling the sun, we’d all die. Turns out, obviously, once I got on the Internet I couldn’t stop.” Coop paused. “Maybe that’s why our mothers could accomplish so much. No Internet. Your mother would have been obsessed with it.”

“You’re probably right, but she loved holding a book in her hands, so perhaps she could moderate her impulse to know everything right this minute.”

“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.” Coop took another delicious sip. “Back to the poop, literally. Turns out, Harry, that the dung beetle is the strongest beetle in the world. The male can pull one thousand one hundred and forty-one times his own body weight.”

“I’ll be. I’m as amazed that you’ve remembered all this.”

“Got hooked. Plus, I’m a cop. I’m trained to remember detail.” Coop said this not realizing Harry really was going to get hooked midweek. “Okay, there’s more. If you and I were that strong, we’d be able to pull six double-decker London buses filled with passengers.”

“Jeez.” Harry began to admire the beetle.

“Furthermore, the males battle rivals. They descend into the tunnels the female digs under dung. If another male is there, they duke it out. Has to be the heavyweight contest of the world. They actually lock horns. Whoever pushes out his opponent wins.”

“Actually, Coop, the female wins, which is the way of the world.”

The tall, lean deputy thought about this. “True. That explains so much male dysfunction, which I see every day, whether it’s violence, drunkenness, crazy risks. Most crimes are committed by men, and there are millions of unhappy men out there. For some, the unhappiness turns to anger. They have to lash out at somebody or something.”

“Funny. When I was young and the feminist movement was firing up, Mother always said that it didn’t matter how much political power men had. Nature had given women the most powerful weapons.”

“Your mother had a lot of insight. Even the Muslim radicals can’t control women one hundred percent. Instead, they kill them.”

“We don’t have to look to the Mideast for nutcases.”

“Right. How’d we get from dung beetles to this?”

“Friendship. One of the greatest joys of my life is sitting talking to you, to someone I love, and letting our minds go wherever.”

“It’s a luxury, isn’t it?” Coop said.

“ ’Tis. Thanks for the research.”

“Glad to do it.”

“I keep wondering whether Paula saw something amiss at the hospital. In my head, there was no crime committed, but my weakness is I want a reason.”

“Your weakness is you want the truth. Millions are satisfied with a reason that has no relationship to the truth. Think about that. Every day I see people who are so irrational, so completely off the rails. Even worse, some of them are armed.”

“Yes, but if we give up our guns, then only the criminals have them.”

“I know. Listen, I don’t know any of us who are in law enforcement who don’t have our concealed-weapon permit for when we’re off-duty. You see too much, and, Harry, it happens so fast.”

“I don’t know how you do it.”