Рита Браун - Sour Puss

Harry watched Tucker's tail-less rump disappear under the water. When Mrs. Murphy followed suit, Harry ran back about twenty yards, picked up speed, and pushed off the bank. She made it to the other side, hearing a crescent of the bank's lip tumble into the water.

"I'm not going in here again!"Pewter wailed.

Neither Mrs. Murphy nor Tucker paid any mind to the gray cat.

Harry looked across the creek. "Pewts, go on back to the barn."

"Carry me!"Pewter wailed piteously.

"Dear God, give me patience," Harry muttered, then gauged the distance, walked back thirty yards this time, ran hard, and sailed over. She picked up Pewter, now purring, put her on her shoulders. "Hang on."

Crouching low on Harry's broad shoulders, claws sunk in, Pewter gushed, "/ love you."

Taking into account her feline burden, Harry hit the turbocharger and made it, although her right foot just found purchase onthe bank. Part of the softened earth gave way and she lurched forward as Pewter leapt off. When she righted herself, she had to laugh, for the gray cat had the good manners to wait for her when she could have run ahead.

Mrs. Murphy and Tucker, frustrated, sat down until Harry and Pewter drew closer. Then they again took the lead.

Sweat rolled over Harry's forehead by the time she reached the peach orchard. The sun, high, drenched with golden light the tiny first nubs, the dark bark incised with thin horizontal lines raised at the edges.

The two cats and dog darted into the peach rows. Harry shrugged but dutifully followed.

Tucker stopped, as did Mrs. Murphy, nearly dry from running. Pewter was perfectly dry.

Harry blinked at the sight of the sticky strips. She examined one. She walked to the next one, peering intently.

Noticing the stealth-bomber bugs, different from the others, she almost got her nose stuck on the yellow strip.

"What in the hell is going on?" she exclaimed.

Tucker barked, "Come here."

Harry did. She beheld the earth and her heart dipped deeper than the sunken dirt.

26

Because of the peach rows, the sheriff did not bring in a backhoe. Two men rhythmically dug into the reasonably workable dirt. If it had rained within the last week the task would have been easier, but at least the earth wasn't hard.

Coop and Rick reached Harry within a half hour of her call. So did Fair. He canceled his last appointment—hoof X-rays for a purchase exam.

Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker sat by Harry and Fair, although as the men dug deeper the pleasing aroma of decay enticed Tucker. The humans couldn't smell it until one man's spade hit a rib cage.

He stepped back, eyes watering.

Rick and Cooper moved to the grave's edge. The other digger stopped, too.

It was time to call in the forensics team. By early evening they knew they had Professor Forland.

Harry and Fair were aghast at the news but not entirely surprised once it was apparent the remains were human.

Coop had dropped by to tell them.

"Do you know how he was killed?" Harry asked.

"He had been shot, but that doesn't mean that's what killed him. The coroner will know soon enough." She then spoke to Fair. "You found Toby, and we found Professor Forland on your property."

"So I'm under suspicion?"

"You are." She adored Fair, but she was also a very good law-enforcement officer.

"Are you going to arrest him?" Harry's hands shook slightly.

"No. I'm just letting you know where things stand, and," she paused, "I'm sorry."

As soon as Cooper drove off, Fair called Ned. "Ned, I need you."

After Ned agreed to represent Fair, Harry called Patricia Kluge and Bill Moses, since they were the last people to see Professor Forland alive, apart from the killer. Harry then asked Bill if she could bring over a strip of the flypaper with the strange insect.

If Bill didn't know what it was, he'd find out fast enough, since he had every conceivable program for his computer relative to wine-growing.

Then Harry, Fair, Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker glumly sat in the living room.

Finally Harry said, "We'll get to the bottom of this."

"I hope so, honey. Innuendo can ruin one's reputation. Sometimes I think the facts are irrelevant once the media gets hold of you."

"We'll come through." She put her hand on his. "In the meantime, we carry on. Business as usual."

He was glad she was by his side. "Right."

Pewter, on the back of the couch behind Fair, faced Mrs. Murphy, who was behind Harry. Tucker curled up at the end of the sofa.

"Thought of something,"Pewter piped up.

"What?"Mrs. Murphy's tail swayed slightly.

"Jed heard two trucks."

Tucker lifted her head. "Hy's and Fair's." "He couldn't have heard Fair's truck. Jed had jumped out and was on his way by then. That's why Fair couldn't find him." Pewter sat up.

Mrs. Murphy looked at Pewter, then at Tucker. "She's right"

27

"It cuts the water supply, cuts off the nutrients going through the xylem, like our veins." Bill Moses studied the sharpshooter on his computer screen.

Harry had taken the strips to Bill and Patricia. Hy Maudant might know of the glassy-winged sharpshooter, but Harry had considered his position and hers. Also, Patricia and Bill could quickly command help if needed. Right now, Hy could not.

Patricia leaned over her husband's shoulder as he brought up a picture of the odd-looking insect. "How long does it take to get established?"

"That's just it." Bill hunched forward as he scrolled up more information. "The sharpshooter shouldn't be here at all. We're too far north."

"But it is here." Harry absorbed their rising concern.

"It just doesn't make sense." Bill then answered his wife's question. "If this insect introduces the bacteria into the vine, it can kill all of them in one to two years. According to this, some vines may survive five years, but the glassy-winged sharpshooter shouldn't be able to survive frosts."

"What were the sharpshooters doing in my peach orchard?" Harry asked.

"Because the bacteria can infect peaches, plums, almonds, as well as grapes. It may not take hold in your orchard, but you don't want to wait to find out."

"No." Angry, Harry's heart beat faster. "No. And why does someone want to harm my peaches? There are hardly any Alverta peaches left. Bad enough Professor Forland's body was there. I just can't believe it."

"Right now your Alverta peaches seem to be a magnet for evil." Patricia put her arm around Harry's shoulders, then asked her husband, "Bill, how does the disease spread? I know the insect carries it, but how quickly can it spread?"

Bill scrolled up more information. "Mmm,a sharpshooter can fly a quarter of a mile. Once established, the insect population explodes. And the bacteria can be transmitted to the host within an hour's worth of feeding."

"That's a long time to eat," Harry ruefully joked.

"What else?" Patricia moved from Harry to lean over Bill again.

"One good thing: not all sharpshooters are infected."

"So maybe these bugs are clean?" Harry said hopefully.

"We should call the USDA."

"Yes. We need to send some of these strips to Virginia Tech, too. They'll work fast." Bill looked back at the screen. "Today. We have to do this today. In the 1880s, the sharpshooter destroyed thirty-five thousand acres of vineyards in southern California. When the sharpshooter migrated to the Hill Country of Texas after five unusually warm winters, it killed every vine in every vineyard, and that was after 1995."

"My grapes are more than a mile from the peach orchard." Harry felt a ripple of despair. "Isn't there anything I can do to protect my peaches or my grapes?"

"Put up sticky strips to keep an eye on your insect population. There isn't a tried-and-true remedy." He stood up. "I'll run these strips down to Blacksburg."