A Hiss Before Dying

October 24, 2016 Monday

“I’m not talking to you.” Pewter sashayed in front of Tucker.

“Good. I need the break,” the corgi fired back.

“You think you’re so smart.” The gray cat fluffed her tail slightly so as to enlarge her person.

Truthfully, her person did not need enlargement.

Mrs. Murphy, trailing behind, veered clear of the two arguing animals.

Never took much to set off Pewter, but Tucker had sworn she saw a red-tailed hawk—of which there were many—and one should seek cover.

The cat naturally disagreed, said it was an osprey, a water bird, and the two barely resembled each other. Both started the day peevish over their breakfast bowls. How any creature, four-legged or two, could be peevish on such a spectacular October day was a mystery.

The sky sparkled a deep robin’s-egg blue with a few wispy, pure clouds high above. Last night was the first light frost. A slight wind caused the remaining leaves to rustle. There was enough color to lift one’s spirits, to celebrate fall in central Virginia.

The animals, domestic and wild, showed their lush winter fur, a dense undercoat adding more fluff and more protection.

“Think we’ll see more eagles?” Mrs. Murphy finally spoke.

“Making a big comeback,” Tucker replied. “That’s what Liz Potter said at Mom’s wildlife meeting, remember?”

“Nasty birds. Hate ’em,” Pewter declared.

“I still wonder why the one we did see was flying from the mountains. Eagles nest by water, big, high nests. Mom says there are lots down on the James River and even some on the Rockfish,” Mrs. Murphy mused.

“You’re right, but I’m sure he had a reason. Maybe fishing was better that day in the Shenandoah Valley,” Tucker said.

“Doesn’t explain the eyeball.” Pewter sniffed. “I really do hate big birds.”

“Birds like eyeballs,” Tucker announced, as though they didn’t know.

“Crows and vultures. Eagles are fish eaters,” Mrs. Murphy replied. “I suppose any animal, including a human, will eat carrion if nothing else is available. Some protein there.”

“Remember the time we came upon the corpse dressed as a scarecrow and the crows mobbed it? Sang a song about eyes, too, which was really horrible.”

Pewter puffed her tail out more. “Birds have no respect.”

“Neither do humans. It was a human who hoisted the body up on the pole,” Tucker wisely noted.

They chattered on. Being creatures of the moment with no need for ideologies, they accepted the habits of other animals. Humans attached theories and ideologies to habits, some correct, some not correct. The two cats and dog never did that. They looked life square in the eye, which doesn’t mean they always liked what they saw.

“It’s getting close to Halloween. Might have something to do with it. I hate Halloween, too.” Pewter spoke as though she was on Mt. Olympus.

“I’m not overly fond of it either,” Mrs. Murphy confessed.

“What I don’t understand is why do they want to look like skeletons, dead things? Zombies? Monsters? They’ll all be dead soon enough, why push it?” Pewter sensibly said.

“If I knew the answer to that, I’d think like a human, God forbid.” The sturdy dog raised her nose in the air. “Girls, up a tree. Someone’s coming. A coyote.”

The two cats needed no further prodding, for coyotes would kill and eat anything.

Within a minute, Odin, a young fellow, approached Tucker, legs farther apart, braced, in case. On seeing a friend, the corgi relaxed.

“Scared me there for a minute.”

“I didn’t think anything scared you.” The handsome fellow smiled at the dog.

The cats and dog had helped Odin survive a bitter winter when he was scrawny and half grown. They’d debated about it but then moved by his plight, pulled food and garbage out to him behind the barn. Odin never forgot and would bring the threesome tidbits of gossip from the wild animals, things he’d observed at other farms.

“Heard about the body at Sugarday?” Tucker asked.

“No, that’s pretty far away. Might hear about it in a day or two, but there aren’t many of us that far east of here. Coyote, I mean,” Odin replied. “The only thing I heard was a human was found under a boulder up by 250.”

The cats in the tree and Tucker related the details of the beagles finding a body, shot twice in the back. As Harry had seen the body, their information was good. Pewter also, in glowing detail, described the eagle carrying an eye, which she was sure belonged to the corpse under the big rock.

The coyote sat on his haunches. “Guess he didn’t stand a chance. Either one.”

“Maybe they didn’t deserve one,” Pewter called down.

“If we ever get to see the Waldingfield beagles, we’ll ask them. The humans usually miss something.” Tucker didn’t mean that as a slam, but it was what she’d observed in her lifetime.

—

As it was, Deputy Cooper, in her tidy office, was going over the known facts of the two corpses.

Sheriff Shaw popped in. “Anything strike you?”

“If we can get an ID on the second body, that might help. For the first guy, good record, truck driver for a Louisville company for eight years. No accidents. Everything we found out has checked out since the day we called the trucking company. No record of any sort. Clean. The trucking company, mid-South, obviously, ships east as far as Boston and as far west as Denver. No problems there that have shown up, anyway. All trucks state inspected. All drivers vetted for criminal records. Random blood tests to determine if anyone is on drugs or drink. Noland Charmin was clean. Married. Father of two. No one can think of what happened to him. Waiting for the medical reports. I’ll track down habits, you know, did he like basketball? Sometimes interests tell you more than records.”

“Mmm,” Rick said.

“Second victim still unidentified, obviously.”

The sheriff stared at Cooper for a moment. “Patience. It always takes patience.”

And so it would. But like so many things in a criminal investigation, by the time they found out what they needed, they would be a day late and a dollar short.