Harry smiled and kept silent as she unlocked the door for Mim Sanburne, who was unusually early. She paused but did not say hello.
“Good morning, Mim.” Harry decided a lesson in manners might be amusing.
Big Marilyn’s expertly frosted hair caught the light. “Are you under house arrest?”
“We’re rehashing the Stamp Act and how it led up to the Revolution,” Officer Cooper retorted.
“Deference is greatly to be sought after in public servants. Our sheriff prides himself on his staff. But then—” Mim didn’t finish what would have been a threat, for Josiah jauntily opened the door. Nor did she tell Harry that she had indeed called Mignon Haristeen, who told her to mind her own goddamned business and reinstate Harry on the Cancer Ball committee. Yes, Mignon deplored the divorce but Harry had worked hard for the charity and the charity should come first. That made Mim back down.
“Stop what you’re doing and come on over to the shop,” Josiah said. “I’ve worked a miracle.”
“I’ll come over when Larry gives me my lunch break.”
“That’s no fun. We should go now—the more the merrier.” He swept his arm to include Mim and Officer Cooper.
“Thrilled,” Mim said without conviction.
Susan pulled up at the same time as Rick Shaw.
Josiah watched them through the window. “I envy you, Harry. You’re at the hub of Crozet–Grand Central.”
“Hi,” Susan called out.
Rick Shaw came in on her heels. “I need a buddy today when I ride,” she said. “You’re it, Harry.”
“Okay—but I think we’ll melt.”
Rick ushered himself behind the counter and collected BoomBoom’s papers from Officer Cooper. He made no attempt to hide this collection, but he didn’t draw attention to it either. “Has she been a good girl?” He nodded in Harry’s direction.
“Good as gold.”
“Officer Cooper, how long are you going to shadow Harry? Will I ever be able to have an intimate dinner with her?” Josiah emphasized the “intimate.”
“Only if you do the cooking,” came Cooper’s swift reply.
“Where’s Mrs. Murphy?” Susan inquired.
“Pouting in the mail bin,” Harry said.
“Sheriff Shaw, would you like to see the shop before I open it? You wouldn’t know it was the same shop,” Josiah persisted.
It wasn’t. Harry dropped by after lunch. Well, after what started out as lunch and ended up being an appetite killer. She zipped into Crozet Pizza, only to behold BoomBoom and Fair in earnest conversation at a table. She was beginning to like BoomBoom more and Fair less but she couldn’t bear them together. She left without even a slice of that famous pizza.
Maude’s shop, transformed into a high-quality antiques showroom, conveyed that sleek, urbane yet country mix that was Josiah’s forte. The packing materials were arranged in the back room and even they looked inviting. Officer Cooper rummaged around. She loved antiques.
“You’re glum, sweetie. What’s up?” Josiah sidled over to Harry.
“Oh, Fair and BoomBoom were at Crozet Pizza. It’s silly for it to hurt, but it does.”
He curled his arm around her shoulders. “Harry, anyone who ever died of love deserved it. There are other fish in the sea and besides, you’ve wasted far too much time, far too much, on Pharamond Haristeen.”
“I guess.”
Officer Cooper rested herself in a cushy wing chair to better appreciate the discussion.
“It’s a new day tomorrow, brighter and better.” He turned to Cooper. “You and I are going to be friends. You have exquisite taste, I can see, but tell me, is my favorite postmistress really in danger?”
“I can’t answer that.”
Josiah pulled Harry even closer to him. “I wasn’t born yesterday. Mrs. Hogendobber certainly was packed off in great haste. If she’s on vacation, so to speak, and you’ve got a police dogsbody—pardon me—that means the authorities are worried about her and you. Well, so am I.”
Officer Cooper crossed her legs. “I know you’ve spoken to Rick but for my satisfaction, who do you think is the killer?”
“I don’t know, which is so frustrating . . . unless it was Mrs. Hogendobber and you’ve locked her up to keep the townies from lynching her. Mrs. H., a killer—unlikely, although she can kill a conversation faster than Limburger cheese.”
“Any idea about motive?” Harry asked.
“Some sort of grudge, I should think.”
“Why do you say that?” Officer Cooper shifted her position.
“He’s humiliated the bodies, if you think about it. I think that bespeaks some kind of powerful emotion. Anger. Jealousy perhaps. Or he was spurned.”
“You’re such a romantic. I think it’s over money, pure and simple.” Harry folded her arms across her chest. “And the mutilation of the bodies is to keep us away from the real issue.”
“Which is?” Josiah’s eyebrows raised.
“Damned if I know.” Harry threw up her hands.
“No. Damned if you do, because he would kill you—according to your analysis. According to my analysis you’re perfectly safe.”
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Officer Cooper smiled up at Josiah.
37
Lolling under the crepe myrtle behind Maude’s shop, Mrs. Murphy, Tucker, and Pewter waited for Harry to be released from her obligatory socializing.
Pewter batted at a red ant scooting through the grass. “Black ants are okay but these little red ones bite like blazes.”
“Better than fleas.” Mrs. Murphy lay on her back, her four legs in the air, tail straight out.
“Last year was the worst, the absolute worst.” Tucker pricked her ears, then relaxed them. “Every week I was drenched with a bath, doused with flea killer, the worst.”
“For me it was flea mousse. Harry doesn’t like bathing me, for which I am grateful. But, Pewter, this mousse smells like rancid raspberries and it’s sticky. Rolling in dirt, grass, even rubbing against the bark of a tree does no good. This year I’ve been moussed once.”
“Market embraces the concept of the flea collar. The first week the fumes were so intense my eyes watered. After that I figured out how to wriggle out of them. He’s so slow it took four lost flea collars before he gave up.”
“Do you like humans?” Tucker addressed Pewter.
“Not especially. A few I like. Most I don’t” was her forthright reply.
“Why?” Mrs. Murphy twisted her head so she could better observe Pewter. She stayed on her back.
“You can’t trust them. Hell’s bells, they can’t even trust each other. Take a cat, for instance. If you wander into another cat’s territory, you know it right away. Unless there’s an important reason to be there, you leave. The lines are clear. Nothing is clear with humans, not even mating. A human being will mate with another human being for social approval. They rarely sleep with the person who’s right for them. But humans are much more like sheep than cats. They’re easily led and they don’t look where they’re going until it’s too late.”
“They aren’t all like sheep,” Tucker responded.
“No, but I agree with Pewter—most of them are. Something terrible happened to the human race way back in time. They separated from nature. We live with a human who has some connection to the seasons, to other animals, but she’s a country person. They’re few and far between. And the further humans move from nature, the crazier they get. In the end it’s what will destroy them.”
“I don’t give a damn if they die, every last one. I just don’t want to go with them, if it’s the bomb you’re talking about.” Pewter slashed her tail through the grass.
“The bomb’s the least of it.” Mrs. Murphy shook herself and sat up. “They’ll kill the fish in the rivers and then the fish in the oceans. They’ll wipe out more and more species of mammals. They won’t have good water to drink after they kill the fish. They won’t even have good air to breathe. If you don’t have an adequate oxygen supply, how can you think clearly? Worse, they have no sense of when and how much to breed. Even a squirrel can read a bad acorn harvest and hold back breeding. A human can’t read harvests. They keep reproducing. Do you know there are over five billion humans on the earth right now as I speak? They can’t feed what they’ve got and they’re breeding more.”