Rest In Pieces (25 page)

Rick charged out of the post office.

“Oh, boy, I’m in the shit can,” Harry half-whispered.

Rick opened the door and yelled at both of them, “Almost forgot. Don’t open any strange Christmas presents.” He slammed the door again.

“Just what does that mean?” Mrs. Hogendobber kicked a bag of mail. She regretted that the instant she did it, because there was so much mail in the bag.

“Guess he’s afraid presents will be booby-trapped or something.”

“Don’t worry. We can sniff them first,”
Tucker advised.

Harry interpreted the soft bark to mean that Tucker wanted to go outside. She opened the back door but the dog sat down and wouldn’t budge.

“What gets into her?” Harry wondered.

“She’s trained you,” Mrs. Hogendobber replied.

“You guys are dumb,”
Tucker grumbled.

“There goes our expedition,”
Mrs. Murphy said to her friend.
“Look.”

Tucker saw the storm clouds rolling in from the mountains.

Harry pulled a mail bag over to the back of the boxes. She started to sort and then paused. “It’s hard to concentrate.”

“I know but let’s do our best.” Miranda glanced at the old wooden wall clock. “Folks will be here in about fifteen minutes. Maybe someone will have an idea about all this . . . crazy stuff.”

As the day wore on, people trooped in and out of the post office but no one had any new ideas, any suspects. It took until noon for the news of Cabell’s vanishing act to make the rounds. A few people thought he was the killer but others guessed he was having a nervous breakdown. Even the falling snow and the prospect of a white Christmas, a rarity in Central Virginia, couldn’t lift spirits. The worm of fear gnawed at people’s nerve endings.

52

Christmas Eve morning dawned silver gray. The snow danced down, covering bushes, buildings, and cars, which were already blurred into soft, fantastic shapes. The radio stations interrupted their broadcasts for weather bulletins and then returned to “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen.” A fantastic sense of quiet enshrouded everything.

When Harry turned out Tomahawk and Gin Fizz, the horses stood for a long time, staring at the snowfall. Then old Gin kicked up her heels and romped through the snow like a filly.

Chores followed. Harry picked up Tucker while Mrs. Murphy reclined around her neck. She waded through the snow. A snow shovel leaned against the back porch door. Harry put the animals, protesting, into the house and then turned to the odious task of shoveling. If she waited until the snow stopped she’d heave twice as much snow. Better to shovel at intervals than to tackle it later, because the weather report promised another two feet. The path to the barn seemed a mile long. In actuality it was about one hundred yards.

“Let me out. Let me out,”
Tucker yapped.

Mrs. Murphy sat in the kitchen window.
“Come on, Mom, we can take the cold.”

Harry relented and they scampered out onto the path she had cleared. When they tried to go beyond that, the results were comical. Mrs. Murphy would sink in way over her depth and then leap up and forward with a little cap of snow on her striped head. Tucker charged ahead like a snowplow. She soon tired of that and decided to stay behind Harry. The snow, shoveled and packed, crunched under her pads.

Mrs. Murphy, shooting upward, called out,
“Wiener, wiener! Tucker is a wiener!”

“You think you’re so hot,”
Tucker grumbled.

Now the tiger cat turned somersaults, throwing up clots of snow. She’d bat at the little balls, then chase them. Leaping upward, she tossed them up between her paws. Her energy fatigued Tucker while making Harry laugh.

“Yahoo!”
Mrs. Murphy called out, the sheer joy of the moment intoxicating.

“Miss Puss, you ought to be in the circus.” Harry threw a little snowball up in the air for her to catch.

“Yeah, the freak show,”
Tucker growled. She hated to be outdone.

Simon appeared, peeping under the barn door.
“You all are noisy today.”

Harry, bent over her shovel, did not yet notice the bright eyes and the pink nose sticking out from under the door. As it was, she was only halfway to her goal, and the snow was getting heavier and heavier.

“No work today.”
Mrs. Murphy landed head-deep in the snow after another gravity-defying leap.

“Think Harry will make Christmas cookies or pour syrup in the snow?”
Simon wondered.
“Mrs. MacGregor was the best about the syrup, you know.”

“Don’t count on it,”
Tucker yelled from behind Harry,
“but she got you a Christmas present. Bet she brings it out tomorrow morning, along with the presents for the horses.”

“Those horses are so stupid. Think they’ll even notice?”
Simon criticized the grazing animals. He nourished similar prejudices against cattle and sheep.
“What’d she get me?”

“Can’t tell. That’s cheating.”
Mrs. Murphy decided to sit in the snow for a moment to catch her breath.

“Where are you, Murph?”
Tucker always became anxious if she couldn’t see her best friend and constant tormentor.

“Hiding.”

“She’s off to your left, Tucker, and I bet she’s going to bust through the snow and scare you,”
Simon warned.

Too late, because Mrs. Murphy did just that and both Tucker and Harry jumped.

“Gotcha!”
The cat swirled and shot out of the path again.

“That girl’s getting mental,”
Tucker told Harry, who wasn’t listening.

Harry finally noticed Simon. “Merry Christmas Eve, little fellow.”

Simon ducked away, then stuck his head out again.
“Uh, Merry Christmas, Harry.”
He then said to Mrs. Murphy, who made it to the barn door,
“It unnerves me talking to humans. But it makes her so happy.”

A deep rumble alerted Simon.
“See you, Murphy.”
He hurried back down the aisle, up the ladder, and across the loft to his nest. Murphy, curious, stuck her head out of the barn door. A shiny new Ford Explorer, metallic hunter-green with an accent stripe and, better yet, a snow blade on the front, pulled into the driveway. A neat path had been cleared.

Blair Bainbridge opened his window. “Hey, Harry, out of the way. I’ll do that.”

Before she could reply, he quickly plowed a walkway to the barn.

He cut the motor and stepped out. “Nifty, huh?”

“It’s beautiful.” Harry rubbed her hand over the hood, which was ornamented with a galloping horse. Very expensive.

“It’s beautiful and it’s your chariot for the day with me as your driver. I know you don’t have four-wheel drive and I bet you’ve got presents to deliver, so go get them and let’s do it.”

Harry, Mrs. Murphy, and Tucker spent the rest of the morning dropping off presents for Susan Tucker and her family, Mrs. Hogendobber, Reverend Jones and Carol, Market and Pewter, and finally Cynthia Cooper. Harry was gratified to discover they all had gifts for her too. Every year the friends exchanged gifts and every year Harry was surprised that they remembered her.

Christmas agreed with Blair. He enjoyed the music, the decorations, the anticipation on children’s faces. By tacit agreement Cabell would not be discussed until after Christmas. So as Blair accompanied Harry, the cat, and the dog into various houses, people marveled at the white Christmas, and at the holiday bow tied on Tucker’s collar, compliments of Susan. Eggnog would be offered, whiskey sours, tea, and coffee. Cookies would be passed around in the shapes of trees and bells and angels, covered with red or green sparkles. This Christmas there were as many fruitcakes as Claxton, Georgia, could produce, plus the homemade variety drowning in rum. Cold turkey for sandwiches, cornbread, cranberry sauce, sweet potato pie, and mince pie would be safely stowed in Tupperware containers and given to Harry, since her culinary deficiencies were well known to her friends.

After dropping off Cynthia’s present, they would drive through the snow to the SPCA, for Harry always left gifts there. The sheriff’s office was gorged with presents but not for Rick or Cynthia. These were “suspicious” gifts. Cynthia was grateful for her nonsuspicious one.

Blair remarked, “You’re a lucky woman, Harry.”

“Why?”

“Because you have true friends. And not just because the back of the car is crammed with gifts.” He slowed. “Is this the turn?”

“Yes. The hill’s not much of a grade but in this weather nothing is easy.”

They motored up the hill and took a right down the little lane leading to the SPCA. Fair’s truck was parked there.

“Still want to go in?”

“Sure.” She ignored the implication. “The doors are probably locked anyway.”

Together they unloaded cases of cat and dog food. As they carted their burden to the door, Fair opened it and they stepped inside.

“Merry Christmas.” He gave Harry a kiss on the cheek.

“Merry Christmas.” She returned it.

“Where is everybody?” Blair inquired.

“Oh, they go home early on Christmas Eve. I stopped by to check a dog hit by a car. He didn’t make it.” Harry knew that Fair never could get used to losing an animal. Although he was an equine vet, he, like other veterinarians, donated his services to the SPCA. Every Christmas during their marriage, Harry brought food, so Fair naturally took those days to work at the shelter.

“Sorry.” Harry meant it.

“Come here and look.” He led them over to a carton. Inside were two little kittens. One was gray with a white bib and white paws and the other was a dark calico. The poor creatures were crying piteously. “Some jerk left them here. They were pretty cold and hungry by the time I arrived. I think they’ll make it, though. I checked them over and gave them their shots, first series. No mites, which is a miracle, and no fleas. Too cold for that. Scared to death, of course.”

“Will you fill out the paperwork?” Harry asked Fair.

“Sure.”

She reached into the carton and picked up a kitten in each hand. Then she put them into Blair’s arms. “Blair, this is the only love that money can buy. I can’t think of anything I’d rather give you for Christmas.”

The gray kitten had already closed her eyes and was purring. The calico, not yet won over, examined Blair’s face.

“Say yes.” Fair had his pen poised over the SPCA adoption forms. If he was surprised by Harry’s gesture, he wasn’t saying so.

“Yes.” He smiled. “Now what am I going to call these companions?”

“Christmas names?” Fair suggested.

“Well, I guess I could call the gray one Noel, and the calico Jingle Bells. I’m not very good at naming things.”

“That’s perfect.” Harry beamed.

On the way home Harry held the carton on her lap. The kittens fell asleep. Mrs. Murphy poked her head over the side and made an ungenerous comment. She soon went to sleep herself. The cat had eaten turkey at every stop. She must have gobbled up half a bird all totaled.

Tucker took advantage of Mrs. Murphy’s food-induced slumber to give Blair the full benefit of her many opinions.
“A dog is more useful, Blair. You really ought to get a dog that can protect you and keep rats out of the barn too. After all, we’re loyal and good-natured and easy to keep. You can housebreak a corgi puppy in a week or two,”
she lied.

Blair patted her head. Tucker chattered some more until she, too, fell asleep.

Harry could recall less stressful Christmases than this one. Christmases filled with youth and promise, parties and laughter, but she could not remember giving a gift that made her so blissfully happy.

53

Highly potent catnip sent Mrs. Murphy into orbit. Special dog chewies pleased Tucker. She also received a new collar with corgis embroidered on it. Simon liked his little quilt, which Harry had placed outside his nest. It was a small dog blanket she had bought at the pet store. The horses enjoyed their carrots, apples, and molasses treats. Gin Fizz received a new turn-out blanket and Tomahawk got a new back-saver saddle pad.

After chores Harry opened her presents. Susan gave her a gift certificate to Dominion Saddlery. If Harry added some money to it she might be able to afford a new pair of much needed boots. When she opened Mrs. Hogendobber’s present she knew she would be able to afford them, because Mrs. H. had also given her a certificate. Susan and Miranda had obviously put their heads together on this one and Harry felt a surge of affection wash over her. Herbie and Carol Jones gave her a gorgeous pair of formal deerskin gloves, also for hunting. Harry kept rubbing them between her fingers; the buttery texture felt cool and soft. Market had wrapped up a knuckle bone for Tucker, more turkey for Mrs. Murphy, and a tin of shortbread cookies for Harry. Cynthia Cooper’s present was a surprise, a facial at an upscale salon in Barracks Road Shopping Center.

No sooner had she opened her packages than the phone rang. Miranda, another early riser, loved her earrings. She also promised Harry she’d bring all the food gifts she’d received to work so that whoever came to the post office could help themselves, thereby removing the temptation from Mrs. Hogendobber’s lips. Hanging up the phone, Harry realized that she and Miranda would wipe out the food before anyone walked through the door.