Рита Браун: Claws And Effect

Claws and Effect

Rita Mae Brown

Dedicated to the people who work in

animal shelters. You're overworked and

underpaid but you have given your life

to a different kind of reward.

God bless you.

Cast of Characters

Mrs. Murphy: Beautiful, brainy, saucy, she is the perfect cat. Just ask her.

Pewter: A gray cat with strong opinions, she is often reluctantly pulled into Mrs. Murphy's schemes.

Tee Tucker: A courageous corgi who loves Harry. She loves Mrs. Murphy and Pewter as well but she thinks the cats can be awful snobs.

Mary Minor "Harry" Haristeen: Energetic, organized, very task-oriented, she provides her friends with laughter just by being herself. She's the postmistress of Crozet although a graduate of Smith College. Many people consider her an underachiever.

Mrs. Miranda Hogendobber: She's older and a good friend to the thirtyish Harry. Her husband was the former postmaster of Crozet. She's widowed and rather religious.

Big Mim Sanburne: The Queen of Crozet, a contemporary of Miranda's, is imperious and relentless in her efforts to "improve" Crozet and its inhabitants.

Little Mim Sanburne: The Princess of Crozet is often resentful of languishing in her mother's shadow but she's beginning to emerge. It's about time; she's in her thirties.

Jim Sanburne: The Mayor of Crozet is the affable husband of Big Mim. He married well above his station.

Aunt Tally Urquhart: The Dowager Queen, in her nineties, she passed on control of the town to her niece years ago. This does not mean she doesn't want to get her own way.

The Reverend Herbert C. Jones: He's the beloved pastor of the Lutheran Church. By his position and by his nature, he can often help others. His two cats, Cazenovia and Elocution, appear to have religious impulses.

Dr. Bruce Buxton: Sought out by athletes because he is a celebrated knee specialist; he's also sought out by single women because he's single. Bruce has a big head.

Sam Mahanes: The administrator for Crozet Hospital juggles the budget as well as the doctors' egos. With a few exceptions, he gets along with people.

Tussie Logan: The head nurse in Pediatrics is dedicated to her job. She's attractive and available.

Hank Brevard: The plant manager at Crozet Hospital lives to complain. People just tune him out.

Susan Tucker: As Harry's best friend she has to be a good sport. She's a wife and mother, drawing comfort from her family. She bred Tee Tucker.

Ned Tucker: Susan's lawyer husband, who works hard and loves his family.

Danny Tucker and Brooks Tucker: Their teenaged son and daughter, respectively.

BoomBoom Craycroft: She's a dazzler who upsets other women by simply walking into the room. Too many people assume that because she's beautiful, she's dumb. Boy, have they got a wrong number.

Dr. Larry Johnson: He's an older, trusted general practitioner who tried to retire once with dismal results. He knows many secrets and keeps all of them.

Sheriff Rick Shaw: Overworked, understaffed, and underpaid, he nonetheless loves his job and plays strictly by the book-well, most times.

Deputy Cynthia Cooper: Bright, on the rise in her profession, she, too, loves law enforcement. She hangs out with Harry and the gang in her free time and she's beginning to wonder if there's a man out there ready for a wife who's a cop.

Fair Haristeen, DVM: Harry's ex-husband is a sought-after equine practitioner, who still loves Harry. He's a big enough man to have learned from his mistakes. He's open-minded and thoughtful.

1

"People tell me things. Of course, I have a kind face and I'm a good listener, but the real reason they tell me things is they think I can't repeat their secrets. They couldn't be more wrong."

"People tell me secrets." The corgi looked up at Mrs. Murphy, the tiger cat, reposing on the windowsill at the post office.

"You're delusional. Dogs blab." She nonchalantly flipped the end of her tail.

"You just said people think you can't repeat their secrets but they're wrong. So you blab, too."

"No, I don't. I can tell if I want to, that's all I'm saying."

Tucker sat up, shook her head, and walked closer to the windowsill. "Well, got any secrets?"

"No, it's been a dull stretch." She sighed. "Even Pewter hasn't dug up any dirt."

"I resent that." A little voice piped up from the bottom of a canvas mail cart.

"Wait until Miranda finds out what you've done to her garden. She hasn't a tulip bulb left, Pewter, and all because you thought there was a mole in there last week."

"Her tulips were diseased. I've saved her a great deal of trouble." She paused a moment. "And I was careful enough to pull mulch over the hole. She won't find out for another month or two. Who knows when spring will come?"

"I don't know about spring but here comes Mim the Magnificent." Tucker, on her hind legs, peered out the front window.

Mim Sanburne, the town's leading and richest citizen, closed the door of her Bentley Turbo, stepping gingerly onto the cleared walkway to the post office because ice covered much of central Virginia.

Odd that Mim would own a Bentley for she was a true Virginian, born and bred, plus her family had been in the state since the early 1600s. Driving anything as flashy as a Bentley was beyond the pale. The only thing worse would be to drive a Rolls-Royce. And Mim didn't flaunt her wealth. Miranda, who had known Mim all of her life, figured this was a quiet rebellion on her friend's part. As they both cruised into their sixties, not that they were advertising, this was Mim's salvo to youth: Get Out Of My Way.

People did.

Mary Minor "Harry" Haristeen smiled when Mim pushed open the door. "Good morning."

"Good morning, Harry. Did you have trouble driving in today?"

"Once I rolled down the driveway I was fine. The roads are clear."

"You didn't ask me if I had trouble." Miranda walked up to the counter dividing the post office staff from the public. As she lived immediately behind the post office, with just an alleyway in between, she slipped and slid as she made her way to work on foot.

"You haven't broken anything so I know you're fine." Mim leaned on the counter. "Gray. Gray. Cold. Hateful."

"Four degrees Fahrenheit last night." Miranda, passionate gardener that she was, kept close watch on the weather. "It must have been colder at Dalmally." She mentioned the name of Mim's estate just outside of town. As some of Mim's ancestors fled to America from Scotland they named their farm Dalmally, a remembrance of heather and home.

"Below zero." Mim strolled over to her postbox, took out her key, the brass lock clicking as she turned the key.

Curious, Mrs. Murphy dropped off the windowsill, jumped onto the wooden counter, then nimbly stepped off the counter onto the ledge that ran behind the postboxes, dividing the upper boxes from the larger, lower boxes. She enjoyed peering in the boxes. If a day dragged on she might reach in, shuffle some mail, or even bite the corners.