“I’ll get it, Mom.”
“We’ll both go.” Priscilla had noted the intense conversation between the two men.
Jerome returned to his subject. “The other thing about a needle. If those guys thought they were getting a flu shot, by the time the rabies showed up there’s no needle mark. Slick.”
“Tell you what. Why don’t you come to my office Wednesday? Let’s sit down and go over this and I’ll help you. I’m not saying your thesis is wrong. I suppose it could be done. Have you asked other vets?”
“Every single one I see.”
“Well, what have you heard?”
“Like you, they wondered about getting a live virus, but when I talked about saliva they listened. No one outright said it wouldn’t work, although everyone thought it was”—he paused—“far-fetched.”
“I guess what keeps crossing my mind is, why?”
“That’s easy. Rabies is one hundred percent fatal.”
“I know that.” Fair tried not to be irritated. “But surely there are easier ways to kill someone, if we even knew that those two men were killed. There’s no reason to think Sugar was murdered.”
“You don’t know that.”
“You’re right, I don’t,” Fair conceded.
“See, what I think is that this is a fine way to get rid of someone. They wouldn’t know what hit them and they’d never think of their flu shot or whatever carrying rabies. They’d die long after their shot.”
“Jesus, it’d be a lot more humane to pull the trigger.” Fair whistled.
“This ain’t about being humane.”
“No, no, it isn’t.” Fair watched the two tall women, folders in hands, emerge from the back door of the house. “Now you’ve got me wondering. Well, look, I’ll see you Wednesday and that will give me time to make a couple of calls. My old professor at Auburn ought to have some thoughts about this.”
“Talked to Hayden McIntire, Bill Langston, Tavener, Dr. Flynn, Dr. Cowles, all the vets. Kinda got them interested, too.” Jerome puffed out his chest. “And Sheriff Shaw. See, Fair, I see the bottom of the barrel, a lot. I know how those people think.”
“People who mistreat animals aren’t necessarily killers. I know they’re the bottom of the barrel, but killers, I don’t know.”
“People who disrespect living things or disrespect the law, I know how they think. We got a situation here.” Jerome’s eyes blazed.
30
Tuesday after work, Harry nimbly walked along the spine of her new shed roof. Fair, Blair, Paul, Susan, Tazio, and BoomBoom, who was able to help today, stuck to their promise to help. The T-111 siding with batten added for looks had yet to be painted, and it emitted a fresh lumber odor. Harry had splurged on a standing seam tin roof. Mrs. Murphy trotted behind Harry, since she wasn’t afraid of heights either.
Tazio, Paul, Blair, and Susan taped the seams of the Sheetrock inside Harry’s workroom. She’d put in insulation and a small gas flame stove that looked just like a wood-burning fireplace, which she carefully vented. Harry wanted to experiment in the coming winter to see if gas heat was effective and if it was cheaper. She was very interested in the cost of operating the stove. If it worked she might put one in her bedroom, since that side of the house was bitterly cold in wintertime. Also, if the power cut out, she’d still have heat.
Paul couldn’t live without music. His boom box played Latino tunes. Harry almost always worked in silence so she could listen to every animal around her, the wind come up, whatever, but she found she liked Paul’s music. And she liked Paul.
Tucker sprang to her feet, followed by Brinkley. They ran down the drive.
“Intruder!” Tucker announced.
Brinkley asked, “How do you know it’s an intruder?”
“I don’t, but I have to do my job, you know.”
Pewter, who had joined Mrs. Murphy on the roof, observed the Lab’s one stride to Tucker’s three. She started to giggle.
Mrs. Murphy’s eyes followed Pewter’s gaze and she giggled, too. “Let’s just say that Tucker can turn inside Brinkley. You’ve got to give her that.”
“I do,” Pewter replied. “Here comes Tavener. It’s about time he buys himself a new truck.”
Equine and cattle vets could easily rack up forty thousand miles a year in Virginia making calls. A very good vet, which Tavener was, would cover his own county and adjoining counties, plus he would be called out of state for special consulting jobs. On any given day Tavener or Fair might find themselves down at Blacksburg at Virginia Tech or up at Leesburg at the Marion duPont Scott Equine Center, two outstanding hospital facilities.
Tavener’s Ford, a 1996 diesel engine, labored with over 320,000 miles on the speedometer. Strong as a work truck is, sooner or later the owner is going to pour money into brakes, clutch cables, maybe even a replaced piston. Tavener wasn’t cheap, but he’d get attached to a vehicle and then complain bitterly if he had to adjust to a new one, because there was always something different. He did not regard items like air bags or wishbone suspension as improvements.
The two dogs stopped as the truck pulled up to the shed.
Tucker, wishing to teach the young Lab, who had just turned a year old, said, “Never take your eyes off the human until your human indicates it’s okay.”
“But it’s Tavener.”
“That doesn’t matter, Brinkley. The only people you don’t guard are family members or best, best friends. For instance, I wouldn’t stare down Susan. But I even follow BoomBoom until Harry says ‘Hello’ or something. A dog can’t be too careful. And you have to remember—I know I keep repeating this to you—human senses are dull. It’s not just their eyes or nose, but they shut down their feelings. They miss so much.”
“That doesn’t make much sense.” The yellow Lab wagged his tail as Tavener smiled at them.
“Don’t tell me you’re going to break a sweat.” Fair, who’d just come up on the roof, laughed as he looked down at his colleague.
“You’re right.” Tavener laughed, too.
“There’s room up here on the roof. I don’t want you to feel lonesome down there. I’m checking the crimping on the seams,” Harry called to him as the other people stuck their heads out of the workroom to greet the genial vet.
“Okay, now we can tag along.” Tucker bounced up to Tavener, who scratched her ears.
“Keeping everyone in line, Tucker?” Tavener sternly regarded her.
“Indeed.”
“Me, too.” Brinkley offered a paw.
“Dog’s are so-o-o obsequious.” Pewter sniffed.
“They can’t help it, Pewter. They’re pack animals. So are humans. It’s why they get along like they do,” Mrs. Murphy sagely noted.
Pewter shrugged, a thinly disguised air of superiority. “Well, not everyone can be a cat.”
“Hey, look at that.” Mrs. Murphy quickly walked to the edge of the roof, turned around, and backed down the ladder.
Tavener had lifted from the back of his truck a long, thin package wrapped in butcher paper. A verdigris pole could be seen sticking out from the bottom.
Harry hurried down the ladder, Pewter perched on her shoulders. Pewter could back down a ladder if she had to; she did it in the barn often enough, but that ladder was nailed to the wall. Under these circumstances, hitching a ride with Harry was preferable.
“Harry, you need this.” Tavener beamed as he handed her the package.