Рита Браун - The Tail Of The Tip-Off

"Mom, he's upset."

Tazio scratched his ears.

"Did you ever spend time with Mychelle?"

"No. Why would you think that?"

"Uh, well, you're both colored." Fred used the old polite word because he couldn't keep up with the new ones and Tazio understood that.

She smiled. "It's funny that you bring that up, Fred. Our jobs put us on opposite sides of the fence, don't you think?" He nodded and she continued. "And don't get me wrong, I'm not touchy, but just because people are the same color doesn't mean they're going to get along. People in the same family don't get along."

He blushed. "You're right. I, uh, well, Tazio, I used to know how to act in the old days. I knew my place and so did everyone else, but now I get confused. Lorraine"-he mentioned his wife-"says people are people and don't fret over these political fashions. She calls them 'fashions' but Lorraine doesn't work for the county government. She works at Keller and George"-he named the town's premier jewelry store-"and what she says isn't going to get blown out of proportion or wind up in the newspapers. You can't even say 'Boo' at Halloween without someone calling you a pagan."

"Mom, what's a pagan?"

"Sweetie, you're vocal this morning." Tazio smiled at her boy and wondered how she ever lived without a dog's perfect love. "You know, Fred, I never really thought about how it is in a government job. I guess there are people out there just trying to set you up."

"You wouldn't believe it." He put his index finger on the smooth maplewood tabletop. "I apologize for my extended bad mood. Lorraine says it's extended. Guess it is. You haven't seen my good side. I have one, actually."

"I'm sure you do." Tazio knew something was eating him. "Mychelle's awful death has been a great blow to you. She was your student. I'm sure she was grateful for all you taught her."

"I still can't quite believe she's gone. And that's why I wondered if she had said anything. I'm grasping at straws but I want to catch her killer as much as Rick and Cooper do, only if I catch him, I'll kill him. I swear I will. Taking the life of a young woman. Leaving her to bleed to death. My God, Tazio, they're more humane at the SPCA."

"Yes," she quietly replied. A silence followed, then she spoke. "Have you had breakfast? Let me take you up to the corner. Scrambled eggs?"

He held up his hand, palm outward, "No, no, thank you. Hot oatmeal with honey this morning. That will carry me to lunch. I'm sorry to come in here and bother you."

"You haven't bothered me. I wish I could be helpful. I've told Cooper all I know-which is very little."

"When Mychelle came up to you in line that day, was she frightened?"

"Agitated. I thought she was mad at me but I couldn't for the life of me figure out why."

His eyebrows knitted together. "Wasn't mad at you. No. Afraid. A bluff. Instead of showing it, she got angry. I knew her pretty good."

"Do you have any idea what she was afraid of?"

"No."

"Fred, sooner or later, the person who killed Mychelle will be caught. I really believe that and I know that Sheriff Shaw and Deputy Cooper won't rest until they catch him."

He sighed. "I hope so." Then he turned for the door. "You be careful. Make sure no one thinks you know anything."

"Well-I don't." A small ripple of fear ran through her.

"Thanks for your time. 'Bye." He left.

"I don't know anything. Why would anyone think I knew something just because they saw us in line or out in the parking lot or on-site? Or because we're African-American. Half. My other half is Italian. So what do I do, Brinkley, serve spaghetti one night and cornbread the next? I'm just me. Why is it so hard for people to let you be yourself?"

"I don't know but I love you and I'll protect you and I'll eat anything you give me." He thumped his tail on the floor.

Greg opened the door, skidding inside. "Yehaw!"

"Must have been a great weekend." Tazio smiled, her spirits somewhat restored by his rosy-cheeked face and lopsided grin.

45

Pewter, reposing on the arm of the sofa, opened one jaundiced eye. "She's got that bounce to her step."

"Scary, isn't it?" replied Mrs. Murphy, nestled just below Pewter on the afghan thrown on the sofa cushions.

"Think she'll take us?" Tucker hated being left home.

"Even if she does we'll be stuck in the parking lot. Doesn't do us any good if we can't get in the building to see what's going on." Murphy could think of better things to do than sit in the truck.

"Now, you babies be good. No tearing up things. I am speaking to you, Miss Puss." Harry walked into the living room to directly address Mrs. Murphy.

"How do you know it's me?"

"You're a bad kitty and too smart for your own good."

"Right." Pewter opened the other eye.

"Pewter, you go right along with her. I am still furious over those silk lampshades in the bedroom you sliced and diced."

"That was fun." Mrs. Murphy recalled her evening of destruction much as old college chums recalled getting blasted at a fraternity party in their youth.

Youth is more fun in retrospect.

"I'll go. Leave the cats at home." Tucker wiggled in anticipation.

"Brownnoser." Pewter turned her nose up.

"Sacrilegious cat," Tucker called back.

"You ate those communion wafers as much as I did." Pewter was quick to defend herself.

"You started it."

"Tucker, I'd be ashamed to lie like that." Mrs. Murphy sat up. "Elocution started it."

"Sure was funny seeing the Rev stuck. It's the unplanned, stupid things that get you. Like glue on the floor." Pewter giggled.

"People think life is going to be as they imagine it, not as it really is. That's why murderers are caught sooner or later. They get stuck just like Herb. Somewhere out there, there's glue." Mrs. Murphy smiled.

"That's why we should be there tonight," Tucker seriously stated.

"She isn't going to spend the night. Cooper will be there. So will other people. She isn't going to be able to hang back or sneak in. Don't worry, Coop will take care of her. It's another night we have to worry about. The Sheriff's Department will drop its guard or get called off and Mom will fly down there to the Clam. If she thinks she can get away with it," Mrs. Murphy logically deduced.

"Yeah." Pewter backed her up.

"All right, see you later." Harry sailed out of the house, the .38 in a holster on her belt in the hollow of her back.

"'Bye," the animals called back in unison.

They listened as the Ford truck coughed to life.

"We have the whole house to ourselves. What can we do?" Murphy gleefully asked.

"Sleep." Pewter was tired. Traffic had been heavy in the post office this Tuesday.

"U-m-m, we could open the cupboard doors and pull stuff onto the counter."

"If we do that we might break china," Pewter replied.

"We could pull out canned goods. We don't have to open the china doors. Or we could sit on the floor and pull open the lower cabinet. A little Comet strewn over the kitchen floor will look worse than it really is." Mrs. Murphy wanted to play.

"No," the other two replied.

"Party poopers." The tiger jumped down from the sofa and walked back to the bedroom. She pressed the On button on the television remote control. This would make Harry think she was losing her mind because she'd swear she turned off the Weather Channel before she left home.

Mrs. Murphy watched the curve of a low pressure system now in the Ohio River Valley. It was pointing Virginia's way. More bad weather was due to arrive, tomorrow night most likely.

She pressed the channel changer to the Discovery Channel. The program highlighted elephants. She settled on the bed to watch it. At least the program was about animals. The cat couldn't abide sitcoms. Not enough animals. Many didn't even have one. Heresy to her.