"Me, too. Can't make rhyme or reason of this."
"Patience." He lifted another board, she grabbed the far end to help.
"What's that expression, 'Grant me patience, Lord, but hurry.' I recall Mom saying that a lot." She stepped to the side, nearly stepping on Tucker, who jumped sideways. "Sorry, Tucker."
"Cutest dog."
"Thank you." Tucker cocked her head at Tracy.
"Being all over the map, I couldn't keep a dog. Li had one. Well, I guess it was mine, too, but since I was on the road so much it was really hers. Beautiful German shepherd. Smart, too. I knew as long as Bruno was with her, she was safe. You know, two weeks after Li died, Bruno closed his eyes and died, too. Granted he was old by then but I believe his heart was broken." Tracy's eyes clouded over.
"I couldn't live without Mom." Tucker put her head on her paws.
The cats listened to this with some interest but neither one would admit to such excessive devotion. The truth was, if anything ever happened to Harry, Mrs. Murphy would be devastated and Pewter . . . well, Pewter would be discomfited.
Harry stooped down to pat Tucker's head, since she was whining. "When I was little Mom and Dad had a German shepherd named King. Wonderful dog. He lived to be twenty-one. Back then we had cattle, polled Herefords and some horned Herefords, too, and Dad used King to bring in the cattle. Mom always had a corgi-those dogs herd as efficiently as shepherds. Someday I'd like to get another shepherd but only when I'm certain a puppy won't upset Tucker and the kitties. They might be jealous."
"A puppy! I'll scratch its eyes out," Pewter hissed.
"No, you won't. You'll hop up on the table or chairs. You like babies as much as I do." Murphy laughed at the gray blowhard.
"No, I don't and I don't recall you liking puppies or kittens that much. I recall you telling those two kittens of Blair Bainbridge's ghost stories that scared the wits out of them."
Murphy giggled. "They grew up into big healthy girls. Of course, we hardly see them since they spend half their life at the grooming parlor."
Harry lifted another board. She and Tracy were getting into a rhythm. "Corgis are amazing dogs. Very brave and intelligent. Tee Tucker's a Pembroke-no tail. The Cardigans have tails and to my eye look a little longer than the Pembrokes. Pound for pound, a corgi is a lot of dog." She bragged a touch on the breed, a common trait among corgi owners.
"I noticed when I came out back this morning-back of Market's, I mean-that Pewter was in a tree. She could see everything. Mrs. Murphy sat on the squad car. She, too, could see everything, as well as hear the squad radio calls. And Tucker sat just off to the side of the dumpster door. Her nose was straight in the air so she smelled everything. Miranda said it was the animals that called attention to the dumpster."
"I did." Tucker puffed out her white chest.
"True, you have the best nose. I'd bet you against a bloodhound." Mrs. Murphy praised the dog.
"Don't get carried away," Pewter dryly said to the tiger.
"Chatty, aren't they?" Tracy pounded in nails.
"You sure notice everything."
"That's my training. I noticed something else, too. When they pulled the body out of the dumpster there was a stain across the seat of his pants, noticeable, like a crease. The killer sat him on the edge of the dumpster before pushing him back into it. As Leo was a big man and as the crease was pronounced, he sat there for a minute or two at the least before the killer could maneuver the body into the dumpster and close the lid. That's what I surmise. Can't prove a thing, of course. And I asked Miranda if she heard a car back there but her bedroom is away from the alley side of the house. She said she heard nothing. I would assume, also, that the killer was smart enough to turn off his headlights and that Leo Burkey's car will turn up somewhere."
Harry stepped aside as he nailed in the last of the boards. He'd also brought out the fence stain so he could stain them right away. She counted twenty-seven boards that he'd replaced.
"I'll get another brush." She walked to the toolshed where she kept brushes of every shape and size, all of them cleaned and hung, brush side down, on nails. Harry never threw out a paintbrush in her life. By the time she returned he'd already painted one panel.
"It's not going to look right with some freshly painted and the others faded so I'm going to do the whole thing. Now you don't have to work with me. After all, this was my idea, not yours."
"I'd like to work with you. I'm so accustomed to doing the chores alone."
"When was the last time you stained these fences?"
"Eight years ago."
He studied the faded boards and posts. "That's good, Harry. Usually this stuff fades out after two or three years. I pulled five gallons out of the big drum you've got there. I'm impressed with your practicality. Had the drum on its side on two wrought-iron supports, drove a faucet in the front just like a cask of wine. You know your stuff, kid. What is this, by the way?"
"Fence coat black. You can only buy it in one place in the U.S., Lexington Paint and Supply in Lexington, Kentucky. They ship it out in fifty-five-gallon drums. I've tried everything. This is the only stuff that lasts."
"Smart girl." He whistled as he painted, carefully, as he did everything. He was a tidy and organized man. "Is there a connecting link between the two victims?"
"Huh?"
"Leo and Charlie."
"Well, they graduated in 1980 from Crozet High School. They were both handsome. That's about it. They weren't friends. I don't think they saw one another after high school."
"Nothing else? Did they play football together or golf or did they ever date sisters or the same woman? Were they involved in financial dealings together?"
Harry was beginning to appreciate Tracy's ability to construct patterns, to look for the foundation under the building. "No. Charlie wasn't much of an athlete. He thought he was but he wasn't. Leo was much better. He played football and basketball in high school and then he played football in college, too."
"Where'd he go?"
"Uh, Wake Forest."
"What about Charlie?"
"He went up north. Charlie was always smart in a business way. He went to the University of Pennsylvania. Charlie had a lot of clients. He was an independent stockbroker. I don't know if Leo was one or not, though I doubt he was."
"Anything else?"
"They were both senior superlatives. I can't see that as much of a connection, though. Not for murder, anyway."
"I saw you had two superlatives."
"I know you were Most Athletic."
"Yep. We have that in common." He smiled at her. "Keep a notebook handy. Has to be little so you can stick it in a pocket. When ideas occur, write them down. No matter how silly. You'd be surprised at what you know that you don't know."
"Interesting." Murphy got up and headed for the barn.
"Where are you going?" Pewter enjoyed eavesdropping.
"Tackroom. I am determined to destroy those mice." She flicked her tail when she said that.
Tucker laughed. Murphy stopped, fixing the corgi with a stare, a special look employed by Southern women known as "the freeze." Then she walked off.
"We'll find the killer or killers before she gets one thieving mouse." Tucker laughed loudly.
That quick, Murphy turned, leapt over a startled Pewter, bounded in four great strides to the corgi. She flung herself upon the unsuspecting dog, rolling her over. Tucker bumped into the big paint bucket. A bit slopped out, splattering her white stomach.
"Murphy!" Harry yelled at her.
Murphy growled, spit, swatted the dog as she righted herself, then tore toward the barn, an outraged Tucker right after her. Just as Tucker closed the gap, Murphy, the picture of grace, leapt up, and the dog ran right under her. The cat twisted in midair, landed on the earth for one bound, was airborne again as she jumped onto the bumper of the red dually, then hurtled over the side into the bed. She rubbed salt into the wound by hanging over the side of the truck bed as the dog panted underneath.