Рита Браун - Pawing Through The Past

"Is Dennis gay?" Fair asked.

"I don't know. Ron was crazy about him and Dennis said at that time in his life getting laid was the most important thing in the world."

"In a way, I'm surprised more gay people don't lose it, become violent." Fair had never really thought about it.

"Statistically, they are one of the most nonviolent groups we have in America," Cynthia replied. "Yet they are still utterly despised by a lot of people. It was worse in Ron's youth. That doesn't justify what he's done. And the press will make a big hoo-ha over it. Every gay leader in the country will have something to say and every reactionary will point to this as proof positive that gays are the Devil's spawn, ignoring the fact that most violent crimes are committed by heterosexual males between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five. The truth is irrelevant."

"It always has been," Susan agreed. "My husband can tell you that."

Ned Tucker, being a lawyer, had seen enough lying, cheating, and getting-away-with-it to fill three lifetimes.

"No wonder we couldn't figure out what was happening," Harry said thoughtfully. "A man consumed by revenge, turns into a woman. One life is deformed, if you can stand that word, and four men die for it twenty years later. I would have never figured out that Chris Sharpton was Ron Brindell. I'm just glad to be alive-even if I am a little dumb."

"None of us would have figured it out." Susan, too, knew she wouldn't have put the pieces together.

"Then what was all that business about the mother of Charlie Ashcraft's illegitimate child?" Fair asked. "A couple of the victims mentioned that-and, well, there was a lot of loose talk."

"That was a red herring," Cynthia replied. "But at that stage no one except the victims knew this was connected to Ron Brindell. They thought Charlie's murder might have something to do with his past lovers or his illegitimate child."

"Does anyone know who that woman is?" Harry asked Cynthia.

"It has no bearing on the case," Cynthia quickly said.

"I'd like to know." Harry shrugged. "Curiosity."

"Forget about it." Susan sighed. "It will come out in time. All of Crozet's secrets eventually see the light of day."

"I can't believe all the times I was in Chris's company and I never thought anything. Although I thought she had awfully big feet," Harry exclaimed.

Cynthia said, "He was brilliant in his way."

"Well, I owe thanks to one brave dog and two kitties who flew through the air with the greatest of ease." Harry kissed Mrs. Murphy and Pewter.

Tracy said, "And I thank them, too. Ron hit me hard on the back of the head. If he'd shot me the noise would have warned you. He would have finished me off after he killed you."

"Tracy, you came all the way back from Hawaii for your reunion. I'm sorry it was spoiled," Harry said.

"Brought me home. I'm thankful for that. I might stay awhile." He squeezed Miranda to him.

"I don't think I would have figured out that Chris was Ron." Mrs. Murphy rubbed against Harry's side as she was again seated on the floor.

"She was as nice as she could be and she didn't seem masculine or anything-except she had this little Adam's apple. I never thought a thing about it," Pewter said.

"I should have known." Tucker sat up on Fair's lap. "Too much perfume. She masked her scent or rather lack of it. You can change forms but you can't really change scent but so much. That's probably why he doused his black sweats and black shirt with English Leather. It smells manly."

"Well, we'd better go check on Simon." Mrs. Murphy left the room followed by Pewter and Tucker, too.

"Are you guys going potsie?" Harry asked.

"God, I wish she wouldn't say that. It sounds so stupid. I love her, I'm thrilled she's alive, but is there any way to get her to drop 'potsie' from her vocabulary?" Tucker laid her ears back.

"Just say yes, you are, and come on," Pewter advised.

Outside, the cold bracing air felt clean as they breathed. The snow was now nearly eight to ten inches deep. Tucker ran to the barn, snow flying up behind her. Pewter and Mrs. Murphy, hopping from spot to spot since the snow was almost over their heads, soon followed.

Simon peered over the loft edge. The horses offered thanks to all. They'd been in their stalls and couldn't do anything to help.

"Thank you, Simon," Murphy meowed.

"Flatface," Pewter called up.

"Who's there?" said the enormous bird, who knew exactly who was there as she looked down from her high nest.

"Thank you," they said in unison. "Thank you for helping to save Harry."

"Inept groundlings!" came the Olympian reply.

Dear Reader,

Perfect revenge. I must tell. Today the thermometer soared to 105.4°F. Granted, that's hateful to man or beast but I needed a constitutional. My human thinks she knows what's best for me. The gall. I don't pretend to know what's best for her even when I do. Anyway, she wouldn't let me outside. Of course, I'm not going to befoul the rug. I used my dirt box like a civilized animal. Still, it bothered me that I couldn't do what I wanted to do when I wanted to do it. I'm sure you understand.

Later, she got all dolled up. That in itself is worthy of comment. Oh, the whole symphony of loveliness-hair curled, lipstick, mascara, a summer blouse and skirt along with sheer hose. Why do women wear nylons? To entice us, I suppose.

I hid behind the chair and when she walked by on her way to the front door, I attacked, snagged the hose, and she had a run that ruined them. The fussing and cursing did my heart good. Naturally, she was late for her date. Too bad. That will teach her to pay attention to my needs/demands.

Before I forget it. My website iswww.ritamaebrown.com. We've simplified the address. Don't worry. You don't have to waste time with her stuff. You can go right to my pages and I hope you do. You can reach me at P. O. Box 696, Crozet, VA 22932.

I'd be thrilled if you'd tell me your acts of revenge-just in case.

Pewter, by the way, is on a diet. This is not improving her personality. Even the dog doesn't want to be around her but I must admit she is looking good. She got so fat there for a while that the floor shook when she waddled on it.

Hope all is well with you.

Sneaky Pie

Books by Rita Mae Brown with Sneaky Pie Brown

WISH YOU WERE HERE

REST IN PIECES

MURDER AT MONTICELLO

PAY DIRT

MURDER, SHE MEOWED

MURDER ON THE PROWL

CAT ON THE SCENT

SNEAKY PIE'S COOKBOOK FOR MYSTERY LOVERS

PAWING THROUGH THE PAST

CLAWS AND EFFECT

CATCH AS CAT CAN

THE TAIL OF THE TIP-OFF

WHISKER OF EVIL

Books by Rita Mae Brown

THE HAND THAT CRADLES THE ROCK

SONGS TO A HANDSOME WOMAN

THE PLAIN BROWN RAPPER

RUBYFRUIT JUNGLE