Рита Браун - Pawing Through The Past

The light darkened with each minute as the clouds grew gunmetal gray outside. Mrs. Murphy squinted because the old odor of grease, oil, and gasoline hurt her eyes. Both animals walked over to where the van had been parked. It was easy to discern the spot since every other inch of space was crammed with vehicles in various states of distress or undress.

"I give them credit," Tucker, nose to the ground, said. "Usually they muck up the scent but it smells like only two people were here."

"Tucker, I can't smell a thing. The gasoline masks everything. Makes me nauseous."

"Funny, doesn't bother humans much." Tucker lifted her black moist nose, then stuck it to the ground again. "Dennis was here all right. There's a hint of the darkroom plus his cologne. Cold scent. I think the only reason there's scent left is the closed van kept it safe and the moisture coming up through the concrete floor held some of it, too." She sighed. "I have good powers but if we had a bloodhound, well, we'd know a lot more. There's also that English Leather smell-the same smell I picked up in Crozet High, upstairs."

"Great," Mrs. Murphy sarcastically said, for she was hoping that scent wouldn't be found. Guarding against two humans is harder than guarding against one.

Tucker looked at Mrs. Murphy, her deep brown eyes full of concern. "Two. Two for sure."

Murphy wanted to sit down a moment but the greasy floor dissuaded her. "Tucker, let's get back to the post office."

They ran back to the post office. Cynthia Cooper's squad car was parked in the front.

As they pushed through the animal door, Pewter bounded to greet them. "Dennis Rablan called! He threatened Mother."

"What?" Tucker and Murphy shouted.

"Yes, he called about five minutes after you left and he said, 'Butt out, Butthead.' Then he said, 'Ron Brindell lives!' Mom called the sheriff, and Cynthia, who was around the corner, got here in less than two minutes, I can tell you. No one knows where he called from but Mom said he sounded like he was right next door."

Miranda kept her eye on the door. If someone came in she would go directly to the counter and help if they needed her. Cynthia and Harry sat at the table.

"He's not far, Coop. And he wasn't on a cell phone. The reception was too clear." Harry, surprisingly calm, spoke. "But Ron being alive? I don't believe it."

"I called 360° Communications just in case, got E.R. Valenzuela. He's checking every call within the last ten minutes."

"Can they do that?"

"Yes. The technology is amazing and evolving by the minute. They'll work backwards, from your number. Harry, go over the conversation again. In case something occurs to you, an inflection of voice, a background sound, anything at all."

Harry folded her hands on the table. "The phone rang. I picked it up. I recognized Dennis's voice immediately. His voice was clear and firm, I guess is how I'd describe it. He didn't shout or anything. He just said, 'Butt out, Butthead' and 'Ron Brindell lives' and hung up." She furrowed her brow. "Wait, he breathed out hard and I heard a clink. A metal sound but I can't tell you what really. Just something like metal touching metal."

"He knows you saw him, obviously." Coop ran her fingers across her forehead, then squeezed the back of her neck. She felt a whopper of a tension headache coming on.

"But we know Dennis is alive."

"Yes, that makes it easier. Now we have to find him. Do you think his saying 'Ron Brindell lives' is meant as literal truth or is it part of the revenge scenario?"

"I don't know. People saw Ron jump from the bridge. How could he live?"

Miranda walked back to them. "There have been a few survivors since the Golden Gate Bridge was built, but Dennis doesn't want to hurt you, Harry. I truly believe he's warning you. What 'Ron Brindell lives' means, who knows?"

Murphy yowled. "The Old Gray Mare! I get it. Ain't what she used to be."

"Hush, sweetie." Harry picked her up to pet her.

"Don't let your guard down!" Murphy put her paws on the table.

"Guess Dennis was Ron Brindell's boyfriend. Bittner was right."

"Oh, that's another thing." Coop spoke to Harry, then glanced up at Miranda. "Dennis called Bittner, too. Told Bittner he was next."

The Reverend Herb Jones stomped his feet, bent over to pick something up, then opened the door. "Three beautiful ladies. I've come to the right place." He turned over the soggy white envelope that he'd found on the ground outside. "Addressed to Mrs. George Hogendobber. Now Miranda, this has to be someone younger than we are. They should know that you address a widow differently. It should be Mrs. Miranda Hogendobber. The old ways let you know the important things, right off. No wonder the young waste so much time. They're slipping and sliding trying to find out the essentials." He laughed. "Listen to me! I'm getting old!"

"Not you." Miranda took the envelope.

"Must have slipped out of the door. It's been stepped on." Herb leaned over the counter as Miranda opened the note.

She read, "His power to punish is real. He is God's servant and carries out God's punishment on those who do evil." She thought a moment. "Romans, Chapter thirteen, Verse four."

"You know the Bible better than I do!" Herb complimented her.

She read the note again. "Cynthia, I think you might want to look at this. It could be a crank or it could be Dennis trying to justify himself."

"Dennis?" Herb's eyebrows raised in puzzlement.

"He's alive." Harry then told him what had just happened.

As she was filling in the good Reverend, the phone rang.

Miranda picked it up. "Cynthia, E.R. Valenzuela for you."

Cynthia listened, then hung up the phone. "Wasn't a cell phone."

"He's here," Harry said with resolution.

"There are two and one of them you can't see, I mean, none of us can see. We take him for granted!" Murphy howled.

"Here it comes." Herb called attention to the big snowflakes falling from the glowering sky.

57

"Don't drive to New York. We'll be stranded in the storm." Dennis, right hand chained to the passenger door, pleaded. His left hand was chained to his belt. His wrists were raw from the handcuffs he'd been wearing since Saturday.

Ron Brindell started the car. "You might be right about that. I'm bored, though. Hey, I'll get Harry."

"She hasn't done a thing to you."

"She saw you," Ron said. "You know. I don't care. I just feel like killing someone else from the bad old days."

"I had a ski mask on," Dennis said wearily. "Look, just kill me and get it over with. You don't care if she saw me or not. I called her and Hank. Want me to call BoomBoom and Baltier, too?" he asked. "Just kill me. You're saving me for last, anyway." Dennis held no illusions that Ron had a scrap of sanity left but he tried to reason with him.

"Why, Dennis, what a courageous thing to say," Ron replied sarcastically.

"All right then, let's drive to New York."

"I will get Bittner. Maybe not tonight but I'll get him."