Wish You Were Here Page 8

  “Zat what he is?” Tucker, stiff-legged, got out of the basket. “Wanna play?”

  “Ball?”

  “No. How about tag? We can rip and tear while she isn’t here. Actually, we should rip and tear. How dare she go away and leave us here. Let’s make her pay.”

  “Yeah!” Mrs. Murphy’s eyes lit up.

  An hour later, when Harry flipped the lights on in the living room, she exclaimed, “Oh, my God!”

  The ficus tree was tipped over, soil was thrown over the floor, and soiled kittyprints dotted the walls. Mrs. Murphy had danced in the moist dirt before hitting the walls with all four feet.

  Harry, furious, searched for her darlings. Tucker hid under the bed in the back corner against the wall, and Mrs. Murphy lay flat on the top shelf of the pantry.

  By the time Harry cleaned up the mess she was too tired to discipline them. To her credit, she understood that this was punishment for her leaving. She understood, but was loath to admit that the animals trained her far better than she trained them.

  11

  The prospect of the weekend lightened Harry’s step as she walked along Railroad Avenue, shiny from last night’s late thunderstorm, which had done nothing to lower the exalted temperature. Mrs. Murphy and Tucker, forgiven, scampered ahead.

  The moment she caught sight of them, Pewter tore down the avenue to greet them.

  “I didn’t know she could move that fast.” Harry whistled out loud.

  When Pewter ran, the flab under her belly swayed from side to side. She started yelling half a block away from her friends. “I’ve been waiting outside the store for you!”

  Panting, Pewter slid to a stop at Tucker’s feet.

  Harry, thinking that the animal had exhausted herself, stooped to pick her up. “Poor Fatty.”

  “Lemme go.” Pewter wiggled free.

  “What is it?” Mrs. Murphy rubbed against Harry’s legs to make her feel better.

  “Maude Bly Modena.” The chartreuse eyes glittered. “Dead!”

  “How?” Mrs. Murphy wanted details.

  “Train ran over her.”

  “In her car, you mean?” Tucker was impatient waiting for Pewter to catch her breath as they continued walking toward the post office.

  “No!” Pewter picked up the pace. “Worse than that.”

  “Pewter, I’ve never heard you so chatty.” Harry beamed.

  Pewter replied. “If you’d pay attention you might learn something.” She turned to Mrs. Murphy. “They think they’re so smart but they only pay attention to themselves. Humans only listen to humans and half the time they don’t do that.”

  “Yes.” Mrs. Murphy wanted to say “Get on with it,” but she prudently bit her lip.

  “As I was saying, it was worse than that. She was tied to the track, I don’t know where exactly, but when the six o’clock came through this morning, the engineer couldn’t stop in time. Cut her into three pieces.”

  “How’d you find out?” Tucker blinked at the thought of the grisly sight.

  “Unfortunately, Courtney heard about it first. Market let her come in and open up for the farm trade, the five A.M., crew. The Rescue Squad roared by—Rick Shaw too. Officer Cooper, in the second squad car, ran in for coffee. That’s how we found out. Courtney phoned Market and he came right down. There’s some weirdo out there killing people.”

  “Like a serial killer, you mean?” Tucker was very concerned for Harry’s safety.

  “It’s bad enough that humans kill once.” Pewter sucked in her breath. “But every now and then they throw one who wants to kill over and over.”

  Mrs. Murphy murmured, “I liked Maude.”

  “I did too.” Tucker hung her head. “Why don’t people kill their sick young like we do? Why do they let them live and cause damage?”

  “Well, as I understand it, these psychos”—Pewter had an opinion on everything—“can appear mentally normal.”

  “That’s no excuse for the ones they know are nuts from the beginning.” Mrs. Murphy couldn’t cover her distress.

  “They think it’s wrong to weed out litters.” Tucker’s claws clicked on the pavement.

  “Yeah, they let the sickies grow up and kill them instead.” Pewter laughed a harsh laugh. “No one better come after Courtney or Market. I’ll scratch their eyes out.”

  Harry noticed the three animals were attentive to one another.

  “Whoever this is has something to cover up,” Mrs. Murphy thought out loud.

  “Yes, they have to cover up that they’re demented and they’ll kill again, during a full moon, I bet,” Pewter said.

  “No. I don’t mean that.” Mrs. Murphy’s eyes became slits. Tucker had lived with Mrs. Murphy since she was a six-week-old puppy. She knew how the cat thought. “This person is after something—or has something to hide. It might not be a thrill killer.”

  “Don’t you find it peculiar that he or she leaves the bodies about? Doesn’t a killer try and bury the body?” Pewter figured that’s what vultures were for, but then, people were different.

  “That struck me about Kelly’s body.” Mrs. Murphy ignored a caterpillar, so intense was her concentration. “The killer is displaying the bodies . . .” Her voice drifted off because Market Shiflett emerged from his store and was waving at Harry.

  “Harry, Harry!”

  Harry heard the fear in his voice and ran down to the store. “What’s the matter?”

  “S’awful, just awful.”

  Harry put her arm around him. “Are you all right? Want me to call the Doc?” She meant Hayden McIntire.

  Market nodded he was fine. “It’s not me, Harry. It’s another murder—Maude Bly Modena.”

  “What?!” Harry’s color fled from her cheeks.

  “I’m keeping my girl inside. There’s a monster out there!”

  “What happened, Market?” Harry, shocked, put her hand against the store window to steady herself.

  “That poor woman was tied to the railroad tracks like in some silent movie. The fellow saw her—the brakeman, I guess, on the morning passenger train—but too late, too late. Oh, that poor woman.” His lower lip trembled.

  “Who else knows?” Harry’s mind was moving at the speed of light.

  “Why do you ask?” Market was surprised at the question.

  “I’m not sure, Market, I . . . Woman’s intuition.”

  “Do you know something?” His voice rose.

  “No, I don’t know a damn thing but I’m going to find out. This has to stop!”

  “Well”—Market rubbed his chin—“Courtney knows, Rick Shaw and Officer Cooper, and Clai and Diana of the Rescue Squad, of course. Train people know, including the passengers. Train stopped. A lot of people know.”

  “Yes, yes.” Her voice trailed off.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “That I wish so many people didn’t know already. Controlling the information might have been a way to snag a clue.”

  “Yeah.” The phone rang inside. “I’ve got to pick that up. Let’s stick together, Harry.”

  “You bet.”

  Market opened the door and Pewter scooted in, calling her goodbyes over her shoulder.

  A miserable Harry unlocked the door to the post office, Mrs. Murphy and Tucker behind.

  “Come on.”

  Mrs. Murphy looked at Tucker. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

  Tucker replied, “Yes, but we don’t know where.”

  “Damn!” Mrs. Murphy fluffed her tail in fury and walked dramatically into the post office.

  Tucker followed as Harry picked up the phone and started dialing. “It could be miles and miles from here.”

  “I know!” Mrs. Murphy crabbed. “And we’ll lose the scent—if it’s there.”

  “It held a little bit the other time. That day was stinky hot too.”

  Mrs. Murphy leaned up against the corgi. “I hope so. Buddy-bud, we’re going to have to use our powers to get to the bottom of this. Harry’s smart but her nose
is bad. Her ears aren’t too good either. People can’t move very fast. We’ve got to find out who’s doing this so we can protect her.”

  “I’ll die before I let anyone hurt Harry!” Tucker barked loudly.

  “Susan, there’s been another murder.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Susan replied.

  She started to dial Fair at the clinic but hung up the phone. It was a knee-jerk reaction to call him.

  “Rick Shaw came by for Ned,” Susan said as Harry unlocked the front door. It was 7:30 A.M.

  “What’s he want with Ned?”

  “He wants him to organize a Citizen’s Alert group. Harry, this is unbelievable. This is Crozet, Virginia, for Pete’s sake, not New York City.”

  “Unbelievable or not, it’s happening. Did Rick say anything about Maude?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, was she alive when she was run over?” Harry’s entire body twitched at the thought and a wave of nausea engulfed her.

  “I thought of that too. I asked him. He said they didn’t know but they believed not. The coroner would know exactly when she died.”

  “If Rick said that, it means she was dead already. I mean, you’d have to be pretty stupid not to tell after a certain point. Did he say anything else?”

  “Only that it happened out near the Greenwood tunnel, out on that first part of track.”

  Harry said, almost to herself, “What was she doing out that far?”

  “God only knows.” Susan sniffed. “What if this—this creature starts after our children?”

  “That’s not going to happen. I’m sure of it.”

  “How would you know?” A note of anger crept into Susan’s voice.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ignore your concern for the children, and you should keep the kids in at night. It’s just that—well, I don’t know. A feeling.”

  “There’s a madman loose! Tell me what Kelly Craycroft and Maude Bly Modena had in common! Tell me that!”

  “If we can figure that out, we might catch the killer.” Command rang through Harry’s voice. She was a born leader, although she never acknowledged it and even avoided groups.

  Susan knew Harry had made up her mind. “You aren’t trained in this sort of thing.”

  “Neither are you. Will you help me?”

  “What do I have to do?”

  “The police ask routine questions. That’s fine, because they learn a lot. We need to ask different questions—not just ‘Where were you on the night of . . . ?’ but ‘How did you feel about Kelly’s Ferrari and how did you feel about Maude’s big success with her store?’ Emotions. Maybe emotions will get us closer to an answer.”

  “Count me in.”

  “I’ll take Mrs. Hogendobber and Little Marilyn for starters. How about if you take BoomBoom and Mim. No, wait. Let me take BoomBoom. I have my reasons. You take Little Marilyn.”

  “Okay.”

  Rob sailed through the front door. He dropped the mail sacks like lead when Harry told him the news. He absolutely couldn’t believe this was happening, but who could?

  Tucker and Mrs. Murphy overheard Harry reveal the location of the murder.

  “We can’t get there by ourselves unless we’re willing to be gone an entire day.”

  “Can’t do that.” Tucker pulled at her collar. The metal rabies tag tinkled.

  “So, how are we going to get out there? We need Harry to take us in the truck.”

  “Half of Crozet will go out there. People have a morbid curiosity,” Tucker observed.

  “When she gets in that truck, no matter when, we’d better pitch a fit.”

  “Gotcha.”

  Mrs. Hogendobber was stopped by Market Shiflett as she ascended the post office steps. She emitted a piercing yell upon hearing the news.

  Josiah, crossing the street, hesitated for a split second and then came over to see what was amiss.

  “This is the work of the Devil!” Mrs. Hogendobber put her hand on the wall for support.

  “It’s shocking.” Josiah tried to sound comforting but he never would like Mrs. Hogendobber. “Come on, Mrs. H., let me help you inside the post office.” He swung open the door.

  “When did you hear?” Mrs. Hogendobber’s voice sounded even.

  “On the radio this morning.” Josiah fanned Mrs. H., now sitting by the stamp meter. “Would you like me to take you home?” Josiah offered.

  “No, I came for my mail and I’m going to get it.” Resolutely, Mrs. Hogendobber stood up and strode to her postal box.

  Harry and Josiah followed her as Fair screeched up out front, killing the engine before turning off the key as his foot slipped off the clutch.

  “You could have come right through the window,” Mrs. Hogendobber admonished him.

  Fair shut the door behind him. “I thought I’d give the taxpayers a break and not do that.”

  “This old building could use a rehab.” Josiah turned the key in his box.

  “Do you know about that sweet Maude Bly Modena? Murdered! In cold blood.” Mrs. Hogendobber breathed heavily again.

  “Now, now, don’t get yourself overexcited,” Josiah warned her.

  “Quite right.” Mrs. Hogendobber controlled herself. “So much evil in the land. Still, I never thought it would come home.” She touched her eyebrow, trying to remember. “The last bad thing that happened here—apart from the drunken-driving accidents—why, that would be the robberies at the Farmington Country Club. Remember?”

  “That was in 1978.” Harry recalled the incident. “A gang of high-class thieves broke into the homes there and took the silver and the antiques.”

  “And left the silver plate.” Mrs. Hogendobber didn’t realize how funny that was and couldn’t understand why, for a moment, Harry, Fair, and Josiah laughed.

  “The theft wasn’t funny, Mrs. H.,” Harry explained. “But on top of being robbed, everyone would find out who had good stuff and who didn’t. I mean, it added insult to injury.”

  Mrs. Hogendobber found no humor in it and made a harrumphf. “Well, this has been too much for one morning. I bid you adieu.”

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to see you home?” Josiah offered again.

  “No . . . thank you.” And she was gone.

  “Didn’t they find that stuff stashed in a barn in Falling Water, West Virginia?” Fair asked.

  “They did, and that was a stupid place to put it too.” Josiah shut his mailbox.

  “Why?” Harry asked.

  “Putting exquisite pieces like that in a barn. Rodents could chew them or defecate on the furniture. The elements could expand and contract the woods. Just dumb. They knew good stuff from bad but they didn’t know how to take care of it.”

  “Maybe they packed them up or crated them.” Fair wasn’t very knowledgeable about antiques.

  “No, I remember the TV reports. They showed the inside of the barn.” Josiah shook his head. “No matter, that’s small beer compared to . . . this.” He walked over to the counter where Fair was leaning. “What do you think?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What about you, Harry?” Josiah’s face registered concern.

  “I think whoever did this was one of us. Someone we know and trust.”

  Josiah instinctively stepped back. “Why do you think that?”

  “What’s the killer doing? Flying in and out of Charlottesville to murder his victims? It has to be a local.”

  “Well, it doesn’t have to be someone from Crozet.” Josiah was offended at the idea.

  “Why not? It’s not so strange when you think about it.” Fair ran his fingers through his thick hair. “Something goes wrong between friends or lovers; the hurt person blows. It can happen here. It has happened here.”

  Josiah slowly walked to the door and put his hand on the worn doorknob. “I don’t like to think about it. Maybe it will stop now.” He left and for good measure circled around the post office to Mrs. Hogendobber’s house to make sure she arrive
d home safely.

  “What can I do for you?” Harry, even-toned, asked Fair.

  “Oh, nothing. I heard on the way to work and I thought I’d see if you were all right. You liked Maude.”

  Harry, touched, lowered her eyes. “Thanks, Fair. I did like Maude.”

  “We all did.”

  “That’s it. That’s what I need to find out. We all liked Maude. We mostly liked Kelly Craycroft. To the eye, everything looks normal. Underneath, something’s horribly wrong.”

  “Find the motive and you find the killer,” Fair said.

  “Unless he or she finds you first.”

  12

  Harry paused before knocking on BoomBoom Craycroft’s dark-blue front door. She’d brought the cat and the dog along because when she left for her lunch break the animals carried on like dervishes. First the ficus tree, now this. Must be the heat. She glanced over her shoulder. Mrs. Murphy and Tucker, good as gold, sat in the front seat of the truck. The windows, wide open, gave them air but it was too hot to be in the truck. She turned around and opened the truck door.

  “Now, you stay here.”

  The minute Harry disappeared through the front door of the Craycroft house, that order was forgotten.

  BoomBoom’s West Highland white shot around from behind the back of the house. “Who’s here? Who’s here, and you’d better have a good reason to be here!”

  “It’s us, Reggie,” Tucker said.

  “So it is.” Reggie wagged his tail and touched noses with Tucker. He touched noses with Mrs. Murphy, too, even though she was a cat. Reggie had manners.

  “How are you?”

  “As good as can be expected.”

  “Bad, huh?” Tucker was sympathetic.

  “She’s just grim. Never smiles. I wish I could do something for her. I miss him too. He was a lot of fun, Kelly.”

  “Do you have any idea what happened? Did he take you places that humans didn’t know about?” Mrs. Murphy asked.

  “No. I’m supposed to be a house dog. I’ve seen the concrete plant a few times but that’s it.”

  “Did he seem worried recently?”

  “No, he was happy as a dog with a bone. Every time he made money he was happy and he made lots of it. Bones to them, I guess. He wasn’t home much but when he was, he was happy.”