Рита Браун - Whisker Of Evil

“What’s going on?” Big Mim stood up.

Tazio breathlessly replied, “Paul shot a raccoon. He thinks it was rabid.”

15

F air had taken charge of the carcass, immediately returning to his clinic, where he removed the head and packed it in a plastic container of dry ice to ship out to Richmond in the morning. Then he called the home of the state veterinarian, a man he liked, Dr. Bruce Akey, informing him the raccoon head would be arriving tomorrow afternoon.

All that was needed was the head, since only brain tissue would be tested. But to satisfy himself, Fair pulled blood. As he hadn’t observed the raccoon, he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions. The animal could have been suffering from other maladies. Distemper can also produce strange behavior before the suffering creature dies. An animal becomes disoriented or, in the case of a wild animal, lethargic, no longer frightened of humans.

Harry, latex gloves on, had been in the operating room with her ex. She hung up her lab coat while Fair was on the phone with Bruce.

She walked into the office as he hung up. “Well, it will be all over Crozet by the morning that we have a rabies epidemic, whether we do or don’t.”

“I know.” He glanced down at Tucker, whose metallic rabies tag was fastened to her rolled leather collar. “What do you think, Sugar?”

“Glad I’ve got my vaccination.”

“Think we could be seeing a surge in the disease?” Harry asked.

“We could. My experience is, rabies goes in cycles coming down from the north. Starts in Canada, moves into New York State, and about three years later it’s here.”

“Guess there’s nothing the Canadian government can do about it with all that wildlife.”

“And think how long our border is with Canada.” Fair stooped down to scratch Tucker’s ears. “Even if you put a ranger every hundred yards, the animals would still run through them. No, the only answer is a pill form of the vaccine.”

“How do you know wild animals will take their pills?”

“If we had access to a pill and could afford it, we could put out thousands and thousands of pills in the various foods.” He thought some more. “Corn; so many animals eat corn. And for the obligate carnivores I suppose we could grind up hamburger. It’s a start.”

“You always have good ideas.” She smiled up at him, then checked her watch, an old Bulova that had been her father’s. “Later than I think!”

“Remember how your mother used to say that time moved faster as she got older? It’s the truth.”

“I know. Kind of scares me.”

He walked her out to her old 1978 truck, Tucker bringing up the rear. He opened the door, lifted up Tucker, then kissed Harry on the cheek. “Jim said something to me. Said I ought to take one or even two partners. I suppose I should, but I like running my own ship.”

“You’d still run your own ship, but there’d be more money and more paperwork.”

“And more personalities. All I have to worry about now is Alma.” He mentioned his new secretary, as his former one had retired.

“Jim’s right. First of all, honey, you’d be doing the hiring, and you’re a good judge of character.”

“Why, thank you.”

“I guess it’s kind of like marriage: You don’t really know somebody until you live with them, but, still, you’d get a good sense of them and you could build in a trial period for both of you. And the other thing is, you aren’t forty yet but we’re both kind of closing in.”

“I know.” He smiled weakly. “Just a number.”

“It is, but everyone sure makes a big damned deal out of it. If you had partners, the practice could expand and you’d make more money and hopefully have a little more time for yourself.”

“Which I would like to spend with you.”

She climbed into the truck, closed the door, then leaned out the open window to give him a kiss on the cheek. “If you’re lucky.”

16

M orning, ladies,” Rob Collier sang out as he tossed up two large canvas mail sacks in the back. “Thursday and heating up!”

“Morning. I didn’t hear you drive up.” Miranda, who lived across the alleyway, usually heard the big mail truck when it rumbled to the back door.

She felt she had the perfect life, for all she had to do was walk through her garden, cross the gravel alleyway, and unlock the back door. She incurred no commuting costs, and the walk wasn’t far enough to wear out shoe leather.

Harry, on the other hand, drove in from her farm at the base of Yellow Mountain, or, if the weather permitted, she might walk the four miles in just for the delight of it. This morning she drove.

“Any news from the other P.O.s?” Miranda asked.

“Page’s Store closed in Batesville, but the P.O. still rents space there.”

“Page’s Store? Why, that’s been open since 1913.” Miranda gasped, for she enjoyed the store and the whole Page family.

“I know, but time’s a movin’ on. Time flies like an arrow,” Rob said.

“And fruit flies like a banana,” Harry said.

Both Miranda and Rob laughed and shook their heads.

“Mom’s in one of her Looney Tunes moods.” Tucker smiled.

Rob, never one to turn a deaf ear to gossip, announced, “I heard that Dr. Langston told Sugar and Carmen, too, to come in and get tested for rabies.”

Harry, who thought she worked at the nerve center of Crozet, betrayed a flash of irritation. “Where’d you hear that?”

“Sister-in-law. Her best friend works in Dr. Langston’s office.” He enjoyed his scoop. “And Sugar said, ‘The hell with it. He’d be too damned late to do anything.’ But I reckon Carmen will go. She’ll have to emote over it for a time.”

“Rob.” Miranda had to stifle a laugh so her voice didn’t truly carry censure.

“Carmen is all over the map.” He had his hand on the doorknob. “I tell you, that girl is nine miles of bad road. She will get a man in trouble.”

“Rob, I thought most girls could get a man in trouble—especially you.” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“I wish.” He winked and left, the rumble of the big mail truck audible even inside the building.

At eleven the tall, genial Pug Harper stopped by.

Miranda leaned over the counter when the county’s postmaster came through the front door. “Mr. Postmaster, what can we do for you, or is this an inspection?”

Harry gathered up white rigid-plastic mail cartons into which she had folded the large mail sacks and placed them back on the floor, the wooden boards polished smooth from use. “Pug, how are you?”

“Just fine. And no, Miranda, this isn’t an inspection. Crozet’s post office is one of the best run in the county. Make that the state.” He beamed.

Pewter, half asleep in a canvas mail cart, opened one eye. “Laying it on thick.”

Mrs. Murphy, stretched out next to her, replied, “Wonder what’s up.”

Pug noticed the lump in the bottom of the mail cart sway ever so slightly. “Your coworkers are asleep on the job.”

Tucker, dead to the world under the cart, didn’t even lift her head.

“They sorted mail this morning at seven-thirty. You have no idea how productive they are.” Harry laughed.

“And you know, Pug, they have an unerring sense of which letters are bills and which are for real.” Miranda walked to the small table in the rear and picked up a dish covered with a dish towel, returning to the front counter. She lifted up the corner of the dish towel. “Blueberry muffins and oatmeal cookies.”