Рита Браун - Sour Puss

"You did."Mrs. Murphy supported Pewter, which gave the gray cat great satisfaction.

Harry and Coop batted ideas around. Allit did was make them dizzy with implication. Ideas aren't hard evidence.

After their discussion, Harry walked out into the center aisle. Movement caught her eye and she looked up to see Matilda dangling from a rafter; blacksnakes enjoy a good climb.

Matilda startled Harry for an instant. "I wish she wouldn't do that."

38

The heavy aroma of coffee from Shenandoah Joe's curled into Fair's nostrils. He sighed, inhaled deeply, then opened his eyes. He'd fallen asleep on the couch, but his boots were neatly lined up on the floor, a pillow was under his thick blond hair, and a blanket covered him.

Pewter, resting on his chest, opened her eyes when he did. "Good morning. Breakfast!"

"Pewter, you must weigh twenty pounds."

The gray cannonball on his chest shifted her weight. "/ do not. I have big bones."

From the kitchen Mrs. Murphy called out, "Ha!"

"Oh, shut up. You're no beauty basket, either."

"Maybe not, but at least I'm in shape."

Tucker, patiently waiting by her ceramic food bowl, groaned. "Not a fight before breakfast."

"Come on, Pewts, I need to get up."

Grumbling, switching her tail furiously, Pewter vacated her spot.

Fair sat up, rubbed his eyes, then headed for the bathroom.

By the time he walked into the kitchen, Harry had made a cheese omelette, lots of capers in it, with fresh tomato slices on the side sprinkled with olive oil and fresh parsley ground like green confetti.

"Good morning." She smiled as she put the plate on the table along with an English muffin.

"Thanks. When did you get in?"

"Nine-thirty. You were out like a light." She sat down to join him.

Harry wore a cotton undershirt—the kind kids called wife beaters—and thin cotton boxer undershorts. Once the worst of the winter passed, she hated to wrap up in a robe.

"I don't remember. God, I must have been tired. I read your note on the blackboard, drank a tonic water, and sat down toread the newspaper." He watched the cream swirl in his coffee. "How's it going at Coop's?"

"She was smart. She unpacked the kitchen first. Since that's the worst job, anything after that is easy. I've got to remember to bring some flowers, something to make it like home." She rose, grabbed a little notebook on the counter under the phone, and scribbled "flowers" on the page. "Can you think of a good housewarming gift?"

"Does she have a coffee grinder?"

"No. Perfect." Triumphantly, she wrote, "Coffee grinder."

"See how smart I am?"

"I know. You married me." She demolished her omelette. "Horse okay?"

"Yeah. He'll make it. I'd hoped we could haul him down to Virginia Tech, but I don't think he would have made it; he was losing blood. We put down plastic tarps, clean, tranqed him, and he dropped on the tarp. Operated there. I don't know if he'll ever hunt again, but he might be able to amble on trails. He just shredded his suspensory, deep lacerations in his right shoulder. Had to stitch that up, but it's the suspensorythat's the real issue." He cited a ligament in the foreleg.

"Mandy will give him good care, and she'll never part with him." Harry named the owner, a kind woman in her fifties.

"All comes down to the owner."

"I've been thinking about Jed."

"Cuts make you think of him? He's finally happy. He's made friends at BoomBoom's with the other horses."

"Actually, I've been thinking about Jed ever since I talked to Coop yesterday, and then as we were organizing the house we talked some more."

"I'll bet." Fair grinned, then rose to pour more coffee. "Want more hot water for your tea?"

"No thanks."

"Well, what about Jed?"

"He was sound."

"Right."

"Why did Toby call you there?"

"I thought we talked about this."

"We did, sort of, and you mentioned that when you had that impromptu lunch with Arch and Bo that Arch thought Toby had lost his mind."

"Right. You said when you saw Toby at Alicia's he was irrational," Fair replied.

"He was. Alicia, Arch, and myself were witness to it. He wasn't a pretty picture. But Coop says that there is a slight question mark about Hy's suicide. The coroner sent the photos to Richmond."

"What does that have to do with Toby?"

"Just this: what if you were set up to look like Toby's killer? What if Hy really told the truth? He didn't kill Toby. He panicked when he saw the body and fled. One of those things—the killer has it all planned out and something unexpected happens. Pretty much life, isn't it? One unexpected thing after another."

"True." Holding his coffee cup in his hands, Fair thought. "Why me? I can't think of anyone that mad at me."

"I can't, either."

"And I don't have anything to do with vineyards. I figure that's the tie, the vineyards."

"I have a quarter of an acre."

"You do, but that's not my business. I'll put my back into it, but no one will ever accuse me of being a vintner."

"Think hard."

He did, but he couldn't think of an enemy. He could think of people who didn't put him high on their list but not a violent enemy.

Two hours after Fair left for the clinic, Harry worked with the babies. She'd gotten them used to halters; now she was getting them accustomed to the lead rope, with their mother's help.

Tucker watched from the middle of the paddock, and each cat sat on a fence post.

Harry trotted with a little fellow.

She suddenly stopped. "Oh, my God, I've been blind as a bat!"

39

It's funny how when one person realizes something, so often another person thinks of this at the same time.

Harry took the lead rope off the foal, patted the little guy, then quietly walked to the barn. Rushing about, being emotional around horses, particularly foals, upsets them. No matter what her realization, Harry was a horsewoman first.

Her cell phone, sticking out from her back pocket, irritated her. She plucked it out, holding the small device, as she opened and closed the wooden gate to the paddock. Then she sprinted for the barn, Tucker at her heels.

As they ran, they heard a big diesel engine throbbing in the driveway.

"Intruder!"Tucker alerted Harry, who heard it, too.

"I'm not taking any chances, Tucker. We don't know whose diesel that is. You stay in the tack room."

Harry skidded into the center aisle, grabbed the fixed ladder to the hayloft, climbing the steps two at a time. She'd stuck the cell in her back pocket again. When she reached the top step she held the rails of the ladder, which extended three feet beyond the top foot rail. She swung onto the loft floor with such force that her cell dropped from her back pocket. She didn't notice as she ran for the open loft doors.

Mrs. Murphy, dozing with Pewter in the tack room, awakened with a start. She leapt off the saddle blanket over the saddle, dashed out the open tack-room door, and climbed up after Harry.

Tucker sat in the center aisle, looking up.

Pewter opened one eye as she reposed on a second saddle—Fair's, since it had a larger seat. She closed it, only to open it again as she heard the truck door slam, motor still thrumming.

Harry ran past Simon, who was playingwith his curb chain, and hid behind the highest stack of hay bales as she thought about what to do. She was three hay bales down from Matilda, who did not like the thumping on the loft floor. Why couldn't Harry walk? In the cubbyhole next to her, Matilda's eggs jostled slightly.

Simon put down the curb chain. The cell phone captured his attention. What a wonderful toy. He scurried to fetch it, carting it back to his nest. He pulled out the antenna and inadvertently pressed buttons until the small unit glowed. This was his best-ever find.