Рита Браун - Pawing Through The Past

Miranda hung up. "Morning, Mim."

"Look." Harry showed Big Mim the mailing.

"Not very original, is he?" Mim sniffed, as she held the torn paper in her gloved hands.

"No." Harry sighed. "But each murder occurred after each mailing."

"Call Rick?"

"Just did," Miranda said.

"Whoever this is seems determined to spoil your reunion." Mim tapped the countertop.

"He already has, in a way. We won't be talking about what we've learned in twenty years or remembering the dumb things we did in high school. We'll be talking about the murders." Harry was angry.

"'Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy, that leads to destruction, and those who enter it are many.'" Miranda quoted Matthew. Chapter seven, Verse thirteen. "I don't know why that just popped into my head."

33

Streamers dangled from clumps of shiny metallic balloons, hanging like bunches of grapes. Mrs. Murphy and Pewter raced around the gym, leaping upwards to bat the strings. Tucker sat under a ladder watching the reunion crew frantically hanging the blown-up photo posters of the senior superlatives.

A light frost covered the ground with a silvery glaze. The gym, large and unheated for decorating, proved chilly. Fortunately, it would be heated in the morning.

Harry and Chris had set up three long tables by the entrance. These they covered with white tablecloths. Sitting on the tablecloths were beautifully marked stand-up cards for each letter of the alphabet. In neat piles in front of the alphabet cards were the identification badges for each returning class member. Each badge, on the upper left-hand side, carried a small photograph of the individual from high-school days. This had proved costly, causing another row between Harry and BoomBoom, but even Boom admitted, once she saw the badges, that it was effective. Some people change so much that the high-school photograph would be the only way to recognize them.

Susan brought sandwiches. Always organized, she had arranged the food for the two-day celebration but she'd even thought of the hard work the night before. They only had Friday night in which to prepare, since Crozet High was in use throughout the week.

BoomBoom surprised everyone by having the photo frames built weeks before. Every balsa-wood frame was numbered, as were the low baskets in the shape of a running horse, the centerpieces on the table.

T-shirts were rolled and wrapped with blue and gold raffia. Disposable cameras, one for each participant, were also in the baskets, along with items from local merchants. Art Bushey threw in Ford key chains. Blue Ridge Graphics gave a deep discount on the T-shirts. The baseball caps, on the other hand, were on sale to raise money to pay for cost overruns. The T-shirts were meant to be money raisers but Bob Shoaf, who'd made a bundle in pro football, contributed the money for them so no one would be left out in case they hadn't enough money for mementos.

Harry's job was over. She'd stepped up publicity with each succeeding week. She'd done radio spots, appeared on Channel 29 Nightly News-along with BoomBoom, who never could resist a camera. She'd created clever newspaper ads using the mascot and pictures from 1980.

Local bed-and-breakfasts, as well as one hotel chain, offered discounts for returning members of the class of 1980 as well as the class of 1950.

Out of one hundred and thirty-two surviving classmates, seventy-four had sent in their deposits, as well as complaints about the strange mailings.

For Mrs. Hogendobber the return rate was one hundred percent. A fiftieth high-school reunion was too special to miss.

"Looks good." Harry admired the entrance tables. "It's simple. There's nothing to knock over. No centerpiece. They can pick up their badges and go."

"Now, where's the pile of badges for people you couldn't think of, I mean, you couldn't think of anything to say. You'll have to think fast," Chris said.

"They're here in this paper bag on my seat." Harry nervously pointed to the bag. "But I don't know if I'll be able to think of anything."

"Well, since I have no preconceived notions, I'll pop over from time to time and whisper in your ear-things like 'He looks like a warthog!'" She smiled. "Got your dress?"

"Yes. Miranda and Susan hauled me to town. Only have to wear it to the dance. I'm not wearing it the rest of the time."

A whoop from the hallway diverted their attention.

"Harry! You owe me ten dollars," Miranda's voice rang out.

Harry, along with the animals, hurried out into the long, polished hallway to behold Miranda on a skateboard, Tracy just behind her.

"I don't believe it!"

"Ten dollars." Miranda triumphantly held out her hand.

"Did I say ten dollars?" She grinned, then fished in her pocket. She'd forgotten the bet but vaguely remembered a crack about Miranda not being able to skateboard.

"She can do wheelies," Pewter remarked.

"Frightening, isn't it?" Tucker guffawed. "That's a lot of lady to hit the ground."

As though she understood the corgi, Miranda pushed off with her right foot and headed directly for the dog, who had the presence of mind to jump out of the way.

Mrs. Murphy said, "She's lost a lot of weight, Tucker. There's not so much lady to hit the ground. But still . . ."

"Sweetest ten dollars I ever made." Miranda held up the green bill after stopping.

Tracy stepped off his skateboard to put his arm around Miranda. "This girl practiced. She can even go down hills now."

"Mrs. H., you're something else." Harry laughed.

"Never underestimate the power of a woman." Miranda again waved the ten dollars in the air as Susan, BoomBoom, and Chris entered the hallway to see what was going on.

"Hee hee." Mrs. Murphy, eyes gleaming, hopped on Miranda's skateboard, rolling a few yards down the hallway.

"Human. That cat is human," Chris marveled.

"Don't flatter yourself." Mrs. Murphy got off, made a circle at a trot, then hopped on again, picking up a little speed.

Miranda finally took the skateboard from her, putting it behind the door of the cafeteria. Murphy would have pushed it out to play some more but Harry scooped her up to take her home. She was tired, even though the name-tag display hadn't been that trying. It was the anticipation that was exhausting her, that and a tiny ripple of dread.

34

Heart racing, Harry threw another log on the fire in the bedroom fireplace. She crawled into bed, finding the sheets cold. Then she crawled out, grabbed a sweatshirt, pulled it over her head, and slid back under the covers. Keeping an old house warm was a struggle, especially for Harry, who watched her pennies.

"Will you settle down?" Pewter grumbled from the other pillow.

The dry cherry log slowly caught fire, releasing a lovely scent throughout the room.

Harry tilted the nightstand light toward her, picked up her clipboard and reviewed tomorrow's agenda. Mrs. Murphy, cuddled on her left side, observed. Tucker was stretched out in front of the hearth, head on her paws.