Ward’s green and white van, front torn off, engine parts scattered over the lot, burned, thick black clouds rising upward.
“Oh, my God.” Benny put his right hand over his heart.
“God had nothing to do with it.” Mrs. Murphy wanted more than anything to get her humans back to Crozet, Virginia.
B y the time Harry, Fair, Booty, and others reached the parking lot, the flames had engulfed the remains of the van. Fortunately the only other damage was to the windshield of a truck parked fifty yards from the van. A piece of debris had smashed through it.
As the people stood there helplessly watching, Benny ran for Ward, who upon hearing the explosion had put the horse to be moved back in a stall. He didn’t know what had happened, but he figured the commotion would spook the horse.
The two men now ran to the parking lot.
Carlos, who’d been as close to the event as Benny, explained to the others what they heard, what they saw. Charly had pulled into the Route 60 parking lot minutes before the van blew apart. He ran down, too.
As Ward and Benny approached, Booty hurried to him. “Man, I’m sorry. What a goddamned mess.”
Charly, hearing this, bluntly said, “Mess? Benny could be dead.” He waited, then added, “I’ll guarantee you when the cops finally finish crawling over what’s left, they’ll find it was a bomb.”
“We’re not in Baghdad.” Booty frowned.
Ward, speechless, put his arm around Benny’s shoulders.
Benny, voice low, whispered, “Someone wants us dead.”
“Just me, I think.” Ward’s voice was even softer than Benny’s.
Renata drove into the lot. She had seen the black smoke curling upward but couldn’t have imagined the source. Upon seeing that this wasn’t a brush fire, she turned around, but she heard fire engines and knew she couldn’t get out, because they’d both reach the opened gate at about the same time. So she pulled a one-eighty and cautiously drove behind the long barn where Charly kept his horses. She, too, got out and ran to the scene.
She reached the small knot of people as the fire trucks and sheriff’s squad car spit out small stones tearing into the parking lot.
“What happened?” Renata asked.
Charly simply said, “Ward’s van was bombed.”
“Oh, God.” She quickly walked over to Ward but didn’t really know what to say, so she hugged him, then Benny. Renata wondered if this show was cursed, but she kept her misgivings to herself. She could be emotional, but she could put other people’s feelings first. Right now Ward needed consoling.
Booty snarled, “Charly, stop saying the van was bombed. It could have been anything. I mean, these old jobs, the wires burn, touches grease or gas. Boom.”
“Booty, my job was explosives.” Charly referred to his combat service. “I’m telling you, someone planted a bomb in Ward’s van. The kind that detonates a few minutes after ignition.”
Harry asked the question on other minds, too. “Why?”
“How the hell do I know?” Charly, upset, growled.
Renata, voice quiet but commanding, said, “We’re all upset, Charly, don’t take it out on Harry.”
“You’re right. Harry, I apologize.”
“That’s okay.” Harry’s eyes watered as the wind blew the smoke their way.
“Let’s move,” Fair sensibly suggested. “Sheriff Howlett knows where to find everybody. We’ll just add to the confusion.”
Benny, shaking now that it had begun to sink in, said, “My favorite penknife was in that van.”
Ward tried to think if he’d left anything valuable in the cab or in the box. Apart from two leather halters and lead shanks, he couldn’t think of anything.
As Harry and Fair walked back to Barn Five, she touched Fair’s forearm. “Where are the kids?”
“I expect the explosion scared the bejesus out of them. They’ll be back at the barn.”
They were chasing Miss Nasty through Booty’s barn. The monkey squealed to high heaven. Given the commotion down in the parking lot, no one was paying attention to an irate monkey.
Mrs. Murphy kept up with her as she climbed rafters and dropped down to beams, but Pewter and Tucker shadowed her from the aisle. Miss Nasty finally squeezed out under an eave and climbed up to a large overhanging light fixture at the main entrance to the barn. There she sat howling obscenities and abuse. For good measure she tried to pee on Pewter and Tucker, who’d just emerged from the barn, but they ducked back in.
Mrs. Murphy backed down a stall post and walked to the large entrance. She called up to the monkey, “Tell me where the pin is and I won’t bother you.”
“Never! Never!”
“Why’d you take it?” Tucker asked, then dashed to the side.
As Miss Nasty had completely emptied herself, Tucker was safe. The two cats, realizing this, also walked outside and turned to view the monkey, who swung on the light fixture, then righted herself and sat on it. She sure wouldn’t be doing that if it were night and the fixture were turned on.
“’Fess up, Miss Nasty.” Pewter thought the animal even worse than the blue jay who dive-bombed her at home.
“Pretty things for pretty girls.” Miss Nasty struck a pose.
“My, my, don’t we think a lot of ourselves,” Pewter purred maliciously.
Mrs. Murphy thought to change her tack. “How do you keep getting away from Booty?”
“Easy as pie.” She puffed up, swung around again.
“Show me,” Tucker egged her on.
Too smart for that, Miss Nasty just intoned, “I have my ways.”
“I thought he locked you in that big gilded cage.” Pewter slyly moved a little closer to the wooden side of the barn.
“Twit. It’s painted white.” Miss Nasty now contemplated her nails.
“But he locks it?” Pewter called up.
“Yes.” She grinned, ear to ear. “I can get into or out of anything.”
“You didn’t get into the van that just blew up, did you?” Mrs. Murphy realized that Miss Nasty knew a lot more than she was telling.
“No.” The monkey stared down, grinned again as she enjoyed her superior position. “You can’t trick me. I’m too smart.”
“You go with Booty everywhere, don’t you?” Mrs. Murphy kept on.
“’Cept on dates.”
“With you along, the date would be a disaster.” Pewter laughed.
Miss Nasty flipped her the bird, a gesture she’d studied from Booty. “Fat fleabag.”
“You play with yourself,” Pewter fired back.
“I have an itch.” Miss Nasty bared her fangs.
“Gross.” Pewter’s pupils narrowed to slits.
Mrs. Murphy hissed quietly, “Pewter, shut up. Let me handle this.”
Pewter glared at her tiger friend, but she piped down.
“You know about Booty’s bringing in Mexicans,” Mrs. Murphy flatly declared.
“How do you know that?”
“Saw you in Charly’s barn in the middle of the night on Thursday.”
“What were you doing there?” Miss Nasty was becoming intrigued.
“Harry couldn’t sleep, so she came over to check on the horses. Was the night after Charly and Renata had the big fight. She took Queen Esther, Voodoo, and Shortro out of his barn.”