Рита Браун - Pawing Through The Past

Murphy climbed up Chris's leg, her back, and reached up to claw deep into her face. Chris struggled to rise and throw off the cat. Pewter climbed up and hung on to Chris's gun hand, sinking her fangs into the fleshy part of the palm. Chris tried again to throw off the cats, slipped in the snow, and fell down, cats shredding her face and hand.

Harry scrambled and grabbed the gun as Chris flailed, screaming, struggling to her knees. Harry had gotten up and smashed the butt of the gun into her skull. Chris dropped face first into the snow. Harry kicked her in the ribs, then kicked her again, rolling her over. Chris was out cold. Harry wanted to kill her. But some voice inside reminding her "Thou shalt not kill" prevented her from her own rage and act of revenge.

She looked into the falling snow, the flakes sticking to her eyelashes. Half-dazed herself, she sank to the ground.

Mrs. Murphy, on her hind paws, licked Harry's face. "Come on, Mom. You've got to tie her up before she comes to-come on."

Pewter licked the other side of her face.

Harry blinked and shook her head, then stood up, swayed a little but walked into the barn, grabbed a rope lead shank, and made quick work of tying Chris's hands behind her back and tying her feet up behind her, the rope also around her neck. If Chris kicked her feet she'd choke herself.

She hurried over to Tracy, who was slowly awakening. She rubbed snow on his face. He opened his eyes.

"Tracy, can you get up?"

She put his arm around her shoulder and they both slipped and slid into the kitchen, where a groggy, sore corgi wobbled to her feet.

59

Harry, Miranda, Tracy, Fair, Susan, and Cynthia sat before Harry's roaring fire in the living-room fireplace. It was past midnight but the friends had gathered together as the snow piled up outside.

Fair treated Tucker's knot on the head by holding her in his lap, applying an ice pack periodically.

"You were saved by the grace of God," Miranda, still terribly upset, said. "He sent his furry angels of deliverance." She started to cry again.

Tracy sat next to her on the sofa, putting his arm around her. "There, there, Cuddles. You're right, our guardian angels worked overtime." A bandage was wrapped around his head and one eye was swollen shut.

"Mrs. Murphy and Pewter are heroes." Harry sat cross-legged before the fire, her cats in her lap. "You know, I would never have figured this out. So much for my deductive powers."

"If it makes you feel any better, I don't think I would have figured it out either," Cynthia consoled her. "We waited for a mistake and he finally made one. Had it not been for Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, you all would be dead and Ron would be heading for New York to get Hank Bittner."

"Has he confessed?" Fair, both hands on Tucker, asked.

"Yes. He didn't expect to live. His plan was to kill Dennis and then himself after killing Bittner. He felt no particular animosity toward Harry, but toward the end, the power went to his head. He chained Dennis in his basement, forcing him to cooperate. He told Dennis if he didn't help him he'd kill Dennis's children as well as others from the class of 1980. If Dennis would help-with a gun in his ribs-he'd confine himself to the locker room boys. He broke his promise, of course."

"What about the two footprints at the dumpster?" Harry asked. "Remember, an L.L. Bean chain print and a high heel. You told us about that after we pestered you."

"He had his boots on. The heel was someone else. That was the thing. He could still pass as a man, an effeminate one, if he again dressed in men's clothes. He swears he nailed Leo Burkey in the Outback parking lot. Says he came back around and got Leo in the car. As to Charlie, Ron came down the back stairs, dressed as a man, walked into the locker room and shot him. He always identified himself first. He said Charlie laughed and Leo turned white as a sheet."

"What an elaborate ritual of revenge." Tracy's head throbbed. "To fake his own death. He knew whoever jumped off that bridge would be swept to sea. They hardly ever retrieve the bodies of the people who jump or fall from the Golden Gate Bridge."

"It was a despondent man he met in a bar," Cynthia said. "They made a suicide pact, the other fellow jumped and Ron didn't. Ron wrote the note 'Enough is enough.' People were so shocked at seeing a man standing on the edge of the bridge they didn't notice another man creeping away."

"But the yearbook!" Harry stood up, brushing off her rear end. She was sore from the struggle and her left jaw, turning dark red, would soon turn black-and-blue.

"He rummaged around used-bookstores. Found yearbooks, leafing through them. He said he looked through hundreds until he found a picture of a tall, lanky dark-haired girl that would work. People don't study yearbook pictures. He knew you wouldn't scrutinize. He said he decided to live life a blonde, which would make you laugh. He somewhat resembled Chris Sharpton. He understood people in a cunning fashion. He especially understood the code of politeness. He knew people around here wouldn't pry."

"Is Chris Sharpton alive?"

"Yes. She's married for the second time and lives in Fort Wayne, Indiana. She married her high-school boyfriend, divorced him, and in a fit sold off everything they'd had together, including her high-school yearbook. The book found its way to a San Francisco used-bookshop. Sometimes those dealers buy in lots from other dealers. At least he didn't kill Chris Sharpton," Cynthia said. "Rick had our guys calling and checking everything the minute he started talking."

"Did he fake Marcy Wiggins' suicide?" Susan felt terrible for the dead woman.

"No, she really was despondent and was on antidepression medication for months. She kept her gun in the glove compartment of her car. He'd steal it, then put it back. Brazen. If she'd caught him, he'd have made up a story."

"When did he become a woman?" Miranda wanted to know.

"After college. He worked for a large pharmaceutical com-pany, learned as much as he could about the process, saved his money, moved to San Francisco, and underwent the sex-change process there, which is time-consuming and costly. It didn't make him any happier, though. All those years he was transforming, his one motivation was to return and punish his tormentors."

"Time stopped for him." Fair removed the cold pack from Tucker's head for a moment, to the relief of the dog.

"He'll get the chair," Susan bluntly stated.

"He wants to die. His only regret is that he couldn't kill Hank Bittner and Dennis."

"What will happen to Dennis?" Harry wondered out loud. "Was he in on it from the beginning?"

"No. Dennis drove to Chris's after losing our tail. He put his van in Chris's garage-at her suggestion. Or should I say, his? He was upset from the reunion supper and wanted to talk. She lured him into sex games. He went to bed with her and that's how Chris-or Ron-got the cuffs on him without a struggle. After that Ron was always near him with a gun on him. He was up in the stairwell when Dennis hit you, Harry. They were waiting for Hank."

Cynthia shrugged. "Dennis was a coward in not fighting Leo, Charlie, Rex, and Bob in the locker room but then four against one isn't good odds. Two against four if Ron had fought back isn't good odds either, but Dennis was afraid to be discovered. He was in a sexual relationship with Ron. At least up until the rape. But you know, Dennis wasn't a coward once Chris revealed who she really was. He said he was prepared to die in order to save his children. Ron confirms that, too."