A Hiss Before Dying

November 7, 2016 Monday

“Better here than at a firing range.” MaryJo lifted the flintlock rifle to her shoulder, fired.

The metallic sound when the shot hit the empty soda can sounded great.

“Good shot.” Harry was impressed.

“You shoot. Glad you got the pistol revamped.”

“The firing pin is so graceful. The trigger fits my finger curve perfectly. These things are works of art.”

“Couldn’t help myself. I bought this rifle last week. Ed Clark fired my imagination, forgive the pun.” MaryJo continued, “I’m learning to make my own cartridges. Bruce stopped in his tracks when he came home from a small job out at Continental Estates. I had powder, paper, string lined up on the oilcloth tablecloth I bought just for this. Fortunately, he’s an understanding husband.”

The cats sitting on the top rail of the three-board fence way in the back pasture observed all this. Tucker sat below.

“Let’s hope she doesn’t get obsessed with this,” Mrs. Murphy remarked.

“Just wait. Old firearms, history.” Pewter’s tail hung straight down. “She’ll start reading about battles where those things were used. She’ll have to practice and be a good shot. She’s using a pistol her ancestor used in the Revolutionary War. Who cares?”

“The horses are watching like we are. Two humans shooting at a target. Just seems boring.”

After a half hour of this the two women walked back to the barn. MaryJo, rifle over her shoulder, stopped to place it in her Range Rover.

“MaryJo. If you have time let’s drive over to the school. I’ll call Cooper and Tazio. Maybe they can meet us there,” Harry suggested.

MaryJo checked her Baume and Mercier watch. “We’ll need to take separate vehicles. I have to go home to dress for dinner with a client.”

“Business must be good,” Harry said.

“Good enough for me to buy that rifle.” MaryJo smiled. “You and Fair should consider more aggressive investing. Just a thought.”

Within twenty minutes the two women met Cooper and Tazio at the formerly named Crozet Colored School. In respect of history, however painful, changing the name seemed a bad idea.

Tazio opened the thick door to the ninth- to twelfth-grade building. As she did so, her dog Brinkley, a yellow Lab; Tucker; and the cats decided to stay outside and play as the sun was low on the horizon.

“Looks pretty good, doesn’t it?” Tazio beamed, her smile warm.

“Does,” Harry agreed.

“Bruce told me they cleaned it up after he and the boys had their poker game here while we had our wildlife meeting,” MaryJo added.

“Thought if we were here, we could come up with an idea for a fund-raiser. There’s still work to be done,” Harry told them. “Ned is approaching the county commissioners about using this to teach history. Having students from the county spend some days or a week studying as did the children from the past. Given all the schools we now have that would cover months.”

“Susan called me about that. Great idea. But a fund-raiser?” Tazio questioned.

Harry jumped in. “The more people that see this, the better. We can print up a card or small booklet about the history. We’ve got three buildings. Let’s use them for a blowout party. Cocktails in the elementary school. Dinner here. Dancing in the storage shed, which is this size. That will take some work but we can do it.”

“When?” Cooper was intrigued.

“What about an early spring party or St. Patrick’s day?” Harry tossed out those two times.

As the humans deliberated, mulling over how to decorate the buildings, work out food, the animals chased a deer who easily dumped them.

“Fast,” Tucker acknowledged.

“And she knows the territory better than we do.” Mrs. Murphy sat down.

Brinkley turned back toward the school. Nearing the buildings, a squirrel scrambled over the storage facility.

“Go away!” the squirrel shouted.

“Oh, shut up.” Pewter bared her fangs.

“I’ll throw acorns.”

“You have to find them first.” Brinkley laughed.

“Drop dead.” The gray fellow with the flicking tail ducked into an opening he’d made where the roof and sidewall met.

“Let’s get him.” Pewter was working at the door.

With joint effort they only managed to pound on the locked door, but the noise was considerable.

“That doesn’t sound good. Let me check this out.” Harry opened the door to the high school, the racket loud now.

“My dog’s in on it.” Tazio joined her.

Didn’t take them a minute to reach the storage building, four frantic animals at the door.

Tazio fished the keys out of her pocket, opened the door, and was nearly knocked over as they rushed in.

Harry stepped inside, cut on the light. “What the—?”

Cooper, now behind her, also stopped.

As the squirrel disappeared, the animals shut up, then Tucker said, “Old cologne.” The others agreed.

MaryJo walked through the door.

A black Tahoe sat on the low wooden floor. Two large barnlike doors at the rear of the building would allow a vehicle to be driven in, unloaded.

They could see a mesh cage, a few large feathers inside, in the back of the Tahoe. Cooper opened the front door of the vehicle, opened the glove compartment

She read the registration.

Pierre Rice.