Рита Браун - Pawing Through The Past

"Wow, this is a first," Tucker exclaimed.

Harry grinned. "Hasn't been this full since Mom was alive."

Milk, half-and-half, bottled water, and Dortmunder beer filled the beverage shelf. Chicken and steak, wrapped in cellophane, rested on another shelf. Fresh lettuce, collard greens, pattypan squash, and perfectly round cherry tomatoes spilled over the vegetable compartment. On the bottom shelf, neatly placed side by side, gleamed red cans of real Coca-Cola.

Stacked next to the refrigerator were a variety of cat and dog canned foods with a few small gourmet packs on top.

"A cornucopia of delight." Pewter flopped on her side, rolling over then rolling back in the other direction.

"He must be rich to buy so much food at once." Tucker admired the canned food, too.

"It is amazing." Murphy purred, too, excited by the sight of all those goodies.

Harry closed the door, turned to wash her hands in the sink, and noticed her yearbook and a 1950 yearbook resting on the table side by side. She opened the 1950 yearbook and saw Tracy's name in youthful script in the upper right-hand page. Strips of paper marked her yearbook. She flipped open to each one. Tracy had marked all the photographs in which Charlie Ashcraft and Leo Burkey appeared.

She closed the book and walked outside toward the sound of the pounding.

Tracy, shirt off, replaced worn fence boards with good, pressure-treated oak boards, piled neatly in one paddock.

"Tracy, you must be a good fairy or whatever the male version is." She smiled.

He pushed back his cowboy hat. "Oak lasts longer."

"Please give me the bill for the wood and the groceries. Otherwise, I'll feel like I'm taking advantage of you."

"I love for women to take advantage of me." He laughed. "Besides, you don't know how good it feels to be doing something. Bet the post office was wild today, wasn't it?"

She knew he'd changed the subject because he didn't want to hear anything more about repayment. "Yes."

"Damn fool thing. I read through your yearbook. I hope you don't mind."

"No."

"Dead bodies don't bother me. Got used to that in Korea. But wanton killing, that bothers me."

"Me, too. Can't make rhyme or reason of this."

"Patience." He lifted another board, she grabbed the far end to help.

"What's that expression, 'Grant me patience, Lord, but hurry.' I recall Mom saying that a lot." She stepped to the side, nearly stepping on Tucker, who jumped sideways. "Sorry, Tucker."

"Cutest dog."

"Thank you." Tucker cocked her head at Tracy.

"Being all over the map, I couldn't keep a dog. Li had one. Well, I guess it was mine, too, but since I was on the road so much it was really hers. Beautiful German shepherd. Smart, too. I knew as long as Bruno was with her, she was safe. You know, two weeks after Li died, Bruno closed his eyes and died, too. Granted he was old by then but I believe his heart was broken." Tracy's eyes clouded over.

"I couldn't live without Mom." Tucker put her head on her paws.

The cats listened to this with some interest but neither one would admit to such excessive devotion. The truth was, if anything ever happened to Harry, Mrs. Murphy would be devastated and Pewter . . . well, Pewter would be discomfited.

Harry stooped down to pat Tucker's head, since she was whining. "When I was little Mom and Dad had a German shepherd named King. Wonderful dog. He lived to be twenty-one. Back then we had cattle, polled Herefords and some horned Herefords, too, and Dad used King to bring in the cattle. Mom always had a corgi-those dogs herd as efficiently as shepherds. Someday I'd like to get another shepherd but only when I'm certain a puppy won't upset Tucker and the kitties. They might be jealous."

"A puppy! I'll scratch its eyes out," Pewter hissed.

"No, you won't. You'll hop up on the table or chairs. You like babies as much as I do." Murphy laughed at the gray blowhard.

"No, I don't and I don't recall you liking puppies or kittens that much. I recall you telling those two kittens of Blair Bainbridge's ghost stories that scared the wits out of them."

Murphy giggled. "They grew up into big healthy girls. Of course, we hardly see them since they spend half their life at the grooming parlor."

Harry lifted another board. She and Tracy were getting into a rhythm. "Corgis are amazing dogs. Very brave and intelligent. Tee Tucker's a Pembroke-no tail. The Cardigans have tails and to my eye look a little longer than the Pembrokes. Pound for pound, a corgi is a lot of dog." She bragged a touch on the breed, a common trait among corgi owners.

"I noticed when I came out back this morning-back of Market's, I mean-that Pewter was in a tree. She could see everything. Mrs. Murphy sat on the squad car. She, too, could see everything, as well as hear the squad radio calls. And Tucker sat just off to the side of the dumpster door. Her nose was straight in the air so she smelled everything. Miranda said it was the animals that called attention to the dumpster."

"I did." Tucker puffed out her white chest.

"True, you have the best nose. I'd bet you against a bloodhound." Mrs. Murphy praised the dog.

"Don't get carried away," Pewter dryly said to the tiger.

"Chatty, aren't they?" Tracy pounded in nails.

"You sure notice everything."

"That's my training. I noticed something else, too. When they pulled the body out of the dumpster there was a stain across the seat of his pants, noticeable, like a crease. The killer sat him on the edge of the dumpster before pushing him back into it. As Leo was a big man and as the crease was pronounced, he sat there for a minute or two at the least before the killer could maneuver the body into the dumpster and close the lid. That's what I surmise. Can't prove a thing, of course. And I asked Miranda if she heard a car back there but her bedroom is away from the alley side of the house. She said she heard nothing. I would assume, also, that the killer was smart enough to turn off his headlights and that Leo Burkey's car will turn up somewhere."

Harry stepped aside as he nailed in the last of the boards. He'd also brought out the fence stain so he could stain them right away. She counted twenty-seven boards that he'd replaced.

"I'll get another brush." She walked to the toolshed where she kept brushes of every shape and size, all of them cleaned and hung, brush side down, on nails. Harry never threw out a paintbrush in her life. By the time she returned he'd already painted one panel.

"It's not going to look right with some freshly painted and the others faded so I'm going to do the whole thing. Now you don't have to work with me. After all, this was my idea, not yours."

"I'd like to work with you. I'm so accustomed to doing the chores alone."

"When was the last time you stained these fences?"

"Eight years ago."

He studied the faded boards and posts. "That's good, Harry. Usually this stuff fades out after two or three years. I pulled five gallons out of the big drum you've got there. I'm impressed with your practicality. Had the drum on its side on two wrought-iron supports, drove a faucet in the front just like a cask of wine. You know your stuff, kid. What is this, by the way?"