“I’ll help. Maybe Clare’s in the barn.”
“Who knows? She’s around somewhere,” Harry replied.
Once in the barn, Harry put Madam’s halter on, walking her out for Geoff Ogden, who owned her. Not really a mule man, he had fallen in love with the sweet girl years ago and, like all love stories, or most love stories, they wound up together.
Madam happily walked into the aisle, and as Geoff, leading her, passed the space for the canary cart, he glanced over, then half laughed. “Someone had too much to drink, I fear.”
As Madam’s hoofs reverberated on the aluminum walk-up ramp to the trailer, Harry looked at the cart.
“Arlene.”
Arlene came over. She poked Clare. “She’s dead.”
Harry checked her pulse. Her wrist was cold. “Good God. What’s going on here?”
Clare was emphatically dead.
33
April 30, 2018
Monday, 6:00 P.M.
After he left, the three women repaired to the cabin, where Harry let out the two cats and the dog for a quick run through the rain. Tucker and Mrs. Murphy flew to the barn, having heard everything. Pewter chose not to get her paws wet.
“Would you like a drink? We’ve got water, cola, and iced tea. I can also make hot tea over the fire. Brought my teapot and hanging rod,” Harry offered.
“No, thanks. I’d like to sit for a moment.” Arlene dropped into a chair.
Harry pulled one up for Susan, then sat on the cooler. No one said anything for a few minutes.
“She appeared in good health. After all, she ran with her beagles,” Susan offered.
“She did,” Harry concurred.
“A heart attack or a stroke can hit you at any time. She was what, late forties?” Arlene wondered.
“Fifties,” Susan said with finality. “She had a good face-lift. I can always tell.”
Harry glanced at her friend. “You can. I can’t.”
“I never thought of Clare as vain.” Arlene raised her eyebrows.
“I don’t think she was. Face-lifts are a lot more routine these days. I mean people say, ‘It’s not the real me, it’s the best me,’ ” Susan replied. “No one really wants to look old.”
“I guess.” Harry sighed.
“Well?” Susan held her palms upward. “Whatever took her away, I doubt it was a result of a face-lift.”
“That’s the truth. She looked like she was sleeping,” Arlene murmured.
“But here’s the thing. What was she doing in the cart?” Harry asked.
Arlene gave her a sharp look. “Maybe she wanted to visit Madam.”
“Why would she crawl into the cart?” Harry’s mind ever worked. Logic, there had to be logic.
“Maybe she thought she’d left something in the barn or cart and when the party was over, the dinner and all, she went back to look. The deputy searched her room. Suitcase not packed. The other deputy said her purse was in her truck. So?” Susan was at a loss.
“So,” Harry started explaining her point of view, “there are ways to kill people to make it look natural if you know what you’re doing. Any doctor or nurse can kill pretty much with impunity. We have doctors and nurses hunting hounds.”
“Oh, Harry, Dr. Rijke didn’t kill Clare,” Arlene responded.
“Of course he didn’t, but I’m simply saying we don’t know that it was a natural death because, if you think about it, the circumstances aren’t natural. She leaves the Institute. Nothing unusual there. Doesn’t return to her cabin, or if she did, she didn’t pack. No goodbyes or anything, which to me means she’s coming back. So why was she going to the barn?”
“She rather liked the mule. Really,” Arlene posited.
“Well, it’s too bad Madam can’t talk.” Susan was frustrated. Madam wasn’t there to talk, but Mrs. Murphy, Tucker, and Ruffy were.
Mrs. Murphy jumped into the cart, sniffing everywhere.
“Anything?” Tucker and Ruffy wondered.
“A lingering perfume.” Mrs. Murphy again sniffed everything. “And some mud from her boots.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ruffy said.
“Why?” Mrs. Murphy leapt down.
“Dead is dead.” Ruffy rubbed against Mrs. Murphy and she felt a cold little shiver.
“Yeah, but it will upset the humans.” Tucker knew this would set off Harry.
“Don’t humans have a saying? From their Bible? ‘An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth,’ ” Ruffy questioned.
“They do,” the cat replied.
“Clare’s death is an eye for an eye.” Ruffy wagged his tail.
“Oh, dear.” Tucker sat down. “This means this will go on until everything is cleared up.” The corgi looked at the ghost beagle. “Our human won’t rest until it is. She has a sense of justice.”
“I see.” Ruffy did, too. “My human lies in an unquiet grave. If your human figures this out, perhaps she will at least be at peace, and we can go for walks, happy walks.”
The cat swept her whiskers forward. “It’s important to humans to say prayers for the dead. Not necessarily the evil dead, but they do that, too. Everyone is entitled to, what can I call it, a send-off? So if our human can figure out what happened, she can say prayers for your human.” Mrs. Murphy then asked, “Will that bring peace? Justice and peace?”
“The justice is done. But I think perhaps prayers would bring her peace.” Ruffy hoped this would be the case.
“We will do what we can,” Tucker promised.
“Then I will see you all again. I would like that.” Ruffy lifted his floppy ears.
The three returned to the cabin, Tucker scratching at the door.
When Harry let them in, Pewter pronounced with relish, “Mom has them all upset. She says it’s murder.”
The three looked at one another.
Tucker murmured, “Maybe this will be easier than we thought.”
“What’s her reasoning?” Mrs. Murphy got down to brass tacks.
“She says there’s no way Jason and his wife and vice president at the dealership would die so close together. There has to be a connection.” Pewter loved having the news. “Arlene said maybe the stress did Clare in. She and Jason were close. Maybe it really was a stroke or a heart attack. Mom says, no way. Susan is now fretting. She says it looks like a natural death.”
“Mom won’t give up.” Mrs. Murphy knew her human.
And the humans were at it.
“Harry, why do you do this? You drive me crazy. I say the woman had a heart attack. Maybe it was stress. Maybe she had a weak heart anyway,” Susan vented.
“It’s too convenient. Okay, a doctor could shoot her full of potassium. Granted, the needle mark would show. If it were cyanide, someone could snap it under her nose. Death would be pretty fast.”
“Harry,” Arlene gently said, “it would be pretty fast for the person snapping the cyanide.”
“Well, yeah. But then again, what if they wore a gas mask?”