Nine Lives To Die

Advent’s music, as well as the vestments and church décor, always pleased Harry and put her in a holiday mood. She looked forward to this time of year, as did Lucy Fur, Elocution, and Cazenovia.

The candles, garlands in the hallways, the wonderful smell of Christmas, and the enormous tree in Reverend Jones’s office were all a cat could ask for, but this year the overflow of goods in the meeting room down the hall made it the best Christmas ever.

Elocution had investigated every toy box, pulling out what moved or squeaked. Lucy Fur and Cazenovia, however, preferred to burrow deep into blankets, sweaters, even some especially plush towels.

This Sunday, December 15, after another good sermon preached, Reverend Jones, the cats, and the ladies in charge of the gifts to the poor wrapped toys after the service. The blankets and towels were tied up with red and green raffia, placed in clear plastic bags.

The door of the meeting room swung open, and the ladies from St. Cyril’s came in.

Jessica Hexham walked up to Reverend Jones. “Have you all heard? Lou Higham is missing.”

“No,” Reverend Jones answered.

Jessica spoke louder. “Arden, who is a wreck, said he’s been missing since Friday afternoon.”

Harry, looking up from folding jackets, did not mention Cooper’s stopping by the barn Friday afternoon, nor the deputy’s being called in Saturday to help with the search.

BoomBoom wondered, “Why isn’t it on the news?”

Jessica shook her head. “I don’t know, but I bet it will be.”

Reverend Jones put his arm around Jessica. “Let us know if we can help Arden if you hear of anything.”

Looking around the room at all the boxes, Jessica said, “What we can do is make these deliveries until we hear otherwise. It’s just so upsetting,” she said to the others. “Well, I’m sure there will be a good explanation.”

“Ladies,” Susan called to the St. Cyril’s women, all talking, pouring through the door, “let’s go over the list and you all can decide who takes what.”

The Catholic women, Susan, and BoomBoom huddled in a corner at a long table. Susan, ever organized, had maps that she had colored in Father O’Connor’s unique code indicating drunkenness, et cetera.

“Better not take my toys.” Elocution pushed a fuzzy ball on the floor.

“Get enough dirt on it and they’ll leave it,” Lucy Fur advised.

“Good idea.” The fluffy cat hurriedly rolled the ball over wet footprints.

Harry kept on wrapping, hoping to be able to add more jackets to the boxes, which could use them.

The door opened again and Esther Mercier Toth walked in. “Girls, I’m late. Al and I had an argument over who would take the Explorer. Flipped a coin finally.”

“That means you won.” Jessica smiled at the older woman she barely knew.

Before Esther joined the St. Cyril’s ladies auxiliary, she stopped by Harry. “Thank you for visiting Flo. I take care of her. I don’t know how her name got on Father O’Connor’s list, but Flo will enjoy a good Christmas now.” She paused, thought for a moment. “How was she?”

“Uh.” Harry struggled to find a way to frame the visit in the nicest way possible.

“Say no more.” Esther smiled. “But she wasn’t hostile, was she?”

“No, Miss Mercier, I mean Mrs. Toth.”

This made them both smile.

“Old habits.” The former math teacher smiled. “Flo, brighter than I, is really a good sort. You just have to work with her, know what I mean?”

“I think I do. Her house is immaculate, coldish, but very clean. And what a library.”

“Yes, always the reader.”

As Esther joined the others, Harry realized Esther had not heard about Lou. One by one, the news was passing through the volunteers.

Esther joined the others, all making notations on their own maps. No way you could write on your GPS.

Harry kept folding, but she wondered at the various ways people cope with pain, disappointment, crushed dreams. Most people feel terrible, tears are shed, their friends take them out or talk to them. Little by little, they reemerge. Some bounce right back. If anything, they seem strengthened by the setback. Others never recover. Maybe Flo fell into that group.

Harry figured she belonged in the middle group. Noticing the women carrying boxes, she left off her task and began to tote box after box.

Once back inside, the women gabbed on as they worked.

BoomBoom closed up a box. “Lou better have a good story when he walks through the door.”

“He can always claim amnesia.” Esther picked up a light box to put in her car.

“If he’s alive,” Harry blurted out.

“Harry, that’s awful. There are all kinds of reasons why he might not have called or gotten through.” Esther had reached the door.

“You’re right.” After Esther had left the room, Harry said to Susan, BoomBoom, and Reverend Jones, “Since Friday afternoon? Something has to be wrong.”

“Maybe he was in an accident and no one knows who he is?” Reverend Jones speculated. “No ID for some reason.”

“He’d have to be a passenger in someone else’s car and he would have to have left everything in his car,” said Harry. “It is possible.”

“Yeah, well, if he was in an accident, who was driving?” Susan’s eyebrows shot upward.

The door opened and in walked Miranda. The service at her church had just ended and she wanted to join the others here to help. Plus, she liked being with her younger friends.

“Good to see you, Miranda,” said the Reverend. “Now that you’re here, I can leave. The girls are, uh, being girls.” He was glad to alter the drift of the conversation.

This made them laugh, but the cats protested.

“Don’t go. Not yet.” Elocution had indeed saved the now soggy ball.

“Come on, kitties.” He knelt down and picked up Cazenovia. “Come on.”

“The sacrifices I make!” Elocution trotted after him, as did Lucy Fur.

BoomBoom filled in Miranda on Lou, as well as Esther’s conversation with Harry.

“Flo Rice tried to attend the Church of the Holy Light, but it wasn’t for her,” said Miranda. “She had a fit when her Catholic church dispensed with Latin.” Miranda was more interested in Flo than in Lou, whom she didn’t know.

The Church of the Holy Light, an evangelical church, was Miranda’s church. She sang in the choir. Her magnificent voice brought people to services just to hear her. She had no ego about this gift at all.

“I knew Flo when she was young,” said Miranda. “We attended different schools, but Charlottesville, the county, so much smaller then, everybody knew everybody, or thought they did.”

Susan got right to it. “Was she peculiar?”

“Not at all. She was vivacious, bright, popular. ’Course she had hot competition from Esther. They battled over everything, but sisters do.”

“She’s not vivacious and popular now,” Susan said.

“She turned.” Miranda used the old southern word for a big change in behavior.

“Do you know why?” Harry inquired of her former coworker, a dear friend of Harry’s parents’.

“No, I was never that close to the Merciers. All I heard was she began to get snappy, quite irritable—oh, what, twenty-some years ago? Some people said her mother kept her in line, and when Mildred Mercier died, oh, 1990, Flo lost her restraining influence. I don’t know. She offended her friends, her boss. That sort of thing. Never knew why.”

“Do you think something like that could have happened to Louis Higham?”

“Harry, how in the world do you get from an older, highly odd lady to Lou Higham, Mr. Personality?” Susan threw up her hands. “And we don’t even know if anything bad has happened to him.”

“How do we know he didn’t turn?” asked Harry. “People hide these things, families cover up. It’s not so far-fetched. Nobody knows what happens behind closed doors.”

Everyone in the room stared at Harry, then BoomBoom remarked, “She has a point.”