Nine Lives To Die

“How long, O Lord, how long?” Pewter dramatically complained as she sat under the fragrant Christmas tree, idly batting a glass ornament.

“Another hour,” Tucker guessed.

“Or more,” Mrs. Murphy said. “They’re used to rising with the sun, and it comes up so late now. That’s why Mom sets her alarm clock.”

“Doesn’t do any good. She rolls over and turns it off.” Pewter turned her attention to a blue ball decorated with frosted snowflakes.

“Not always.” Tucker felt compelled to defend Harry.

“Did you put more food out for Odin?” Mrs. Murphy asked Tucker.

“Good scraps, some cookies. We could go out and see if he’s come by again.”

“Too cold!” Pewter, on her back, batted everything she could reach.

“Let’s go back to sleep,” Tucker suggested. “We’ll wake up when they do.”

“M-m-m, catnip in some of these presents,” Pewter mused. “I can smell it. They put the toys in Ziploc bags, that’s the nasty hint of plastic, but I can still smell the magic weed.” A candy-cane-striped small package had her full attention. “Let’s open it.”

“Better not,” Mrs. Murphy advised.

“Oh, just one.” Pewter sweetly tempted her friend before biting into a corner of the box.

——

“Those devils!” Harry exclaimed when she walked into the living room at 7:00 A.M.

Fair surveyed the damage, then burst out laughing. Every present bore teeth marks. Those promising catnip or dried-food treats had been shredded, the corners chewed off, the contents devoured. The crinkle of paper, the excitement of the gifts themselves had been just too thrilling. Colored paper, ribbons, bows lay strewn about. A few ribbons dangled from the lower branches.

The culprits who had desecrated most everything were nowhere to be seen.

Tucker, awakened, padded in from the kitchen. “I told them not to do this.”

Hours later—gifts now opened, despite the claw marks, and the mess cleaned up—the cats appeared, strolling through the house as though nothing had happened. They even went so far as to rub on the humans’ legs.

“The gall.” Harry had to smile.

“Merry Christmas,” Pewter purred.

The kitchen phone rang.

“Merry Christmas,” Cooper wished Harry when she picked up the phone. “Love my gardening tool set, and how you hid it in the shed I don’t know. But when I opened your card, I followed the directions and found it. How clever. Thank you. You know I will write a proper thank-you.”

“I will, too. Fair must have told you I needed a lamp.”

“He did.” Cooper then added, “Anyone who wanted a white Christmas got their wish this year.”

“You sound a bit rushed or something.” Though now and then she could miss things, Harry was sensitive to her friend most of the time.

“Oh, the dispatcher called. Not many people on duty today, so I was asked to help.”

“What’s up?”

“Flo Rice is missing.”

Within fifteen minutes, Cooper showed up at their door, driving her Toyota Highlander. She’d gotten a good deal on a used one.

Fair, Harry, and the animals climbed into the cushy vehicle.

“You’ve got the full complement.” Harry smiled.

“Flo might prove difficult if she’s found,” said Fair. “Anyway, if we all go out together maybe it will go faster. Then you can come to the house for Christmas dinner,” Fair gallantly invited Cooper.

“Cooked the ham yesterday.” Harry settled in next to Cooper. “And I took off the bracelet you found in my tack room. Sets Flo off. If we find her, that’s the last thing we need.”

The animals stayed in back with Fair.

Cooper had called in to headquarters to inform the dispatcher that her neighbors were helping her search for Flo Rice. As it was a holiday, and the department was on skeleton crew, the dispatcher offered no resistance. That was Rick’s territory anyway. Why disturb him at home on the holiday?

“What did Esther say about Flo?” asked Harry. “I assume she’s who declared her missing.”

“Not much,” Cooper replied, pushing out from the driveway. “She’d spoken to her sister last night, and apart from being surly, Flo didn’t seem any worse than usual,” Cooper replied.

“Think it’s senile dementia?” Fair wondered.

“Who knows? They can be hard to handle,” Cooper said. “Sometimes Alzheimer’s patients can be difficult, too. They’re confused, more are frightened, others become angry. Many of them resist, and the last thing you want to do is jack up some old person against the car. I’ve had them take a swing at me. Fortunately, their reflexes aren’t that good. It’s fairly easy to get out of the way.”

At Flo’s house, they found the door unlocked and her car gone. Her dog wasn’t there either, and the fire in her fireplace had gone out. The place was cold.

“Let’s restart a fire real quick,” Fair said, on his knees by the fireplace. “Her pipes will freeze.”

“Fair, she might not be coming home.” Harry expressed a dark thought.

“Maybe so, but if she does, she ought to at least walk into a bit of warmth on Christmas.”

Cooper looked through the rooms. “No tree. No cards. How sad.”

Harry sighed. “That it is.”

Fair quickly got the fire going, replaced the fire screen, and they left.

“Has anyone seen her car?” Harry asked.

“We put a call out, license plate number, but so few of us are on duty. Esther did mention that she told her sister to visit Cletus. She should say ‘Merry Christmas’ to someone. It may be that Esther hoped someone else would deal with Flo for a little bit.”

“I know just where Cletus lives.” Harry gave directions to Cooper, who didn’t mind. “Fair and I were students of his in high school.”

Fair rummaged through his pockets. “If we call on Mr. Thompson, shouldn’t we give him something for the holiday?”

“Susan and I dropped by goods from the church. That will have to do.” Harry turned to look at Fair sitting in the back.

“He’ll see us. That’s a treat,” Pewter smugly answered.

When they reached Cletus Thompson’s house, Harry noticed the drive had been shoveled out.

The three humans walked to the front door, cats and dog behind them. Fair knocked.

In a few moments, Cletus opened the door and smiled. “Harry, Fair, come on in.”

Harry, ever mindful of her manners, introduced Cooper. “This is Mr. Thompson, Deputy Cooper. Mr. Thompson, she’s our friend and neighbor.”

“Come on, come on in.” He motioned for them to step inside. “Dog and cats, too. My old dog, The Terminator, is asleep in the kitchen. They can go visit.”

While the aroma of whiskey clung to Cletus’s clothing, he seemed sober enough.

“Mr. Thompson—” Cooper began.

“Deputy, call me Cletus, and please sit down. Makes me nervous to see you all standing. Sit.”

Tucker, on her way to the kitchen, sat, then realized the order was not for her. She rose and padded into the kitchen, warmer than the spare front room.

Cooper took a seat and started anew as the old wing chair wobbled a little. “We were wondering if you’ve seen Flo Rice.”

“No. I hope she’s all right.”

“We do, too,” Cooper continued. “She’s just taken off. Her sister said they spoke last night. They haven’t been getting along, and now she can’t find Flo. She mentioned that you all were friends.”

“I don’t get to see enough of Flo, but she’s a good girl. She and Esther haven’t gotten on for years now. They used to be close, but”—he shrugged—“don’t really know what happened. Once Esther got married, they drifted apart.”

In the kitchen, the three animals spoke to the old dog. Half blind, mostly deaf, he lifted his age-spotted nose to sniff. Fortunately, he had a thick curly brown coat, which helped him stay warm.

“Who’s there?”

“I’m Tucker,” the corgi shouted. “And I brought two cats with me, Mrs. Murphy and Pewter.”

“If you crawl on these old towels with me you can wiggle in and it’s warmer,” The Terminator offered.

“Thank you,” Mrs. Murphy replied. “We’re only here for a short visit. Our humans are visiting yours.”

“That’s good. Cletus is alone too much and I’m slowing down,” the little dog forthrightly said. “I’m not long for this world. I don’t want him alone.”

“We hope you’re wrong,” Tucker shouted.

“Thank you, but I might as well accept it.” His milky eyes looked out from under shaggy brows. “See if you can’t get your people to pay visits to him.”

“We will try,” Mrs. Murphy replied. “Was anyone here in the last day or so? Flo Rice?”

“Not a soul.”

“People think Flo is difficult, crazy,” said Tucker. “What do you think?”

“Angry maybe, but I don’t think she’s crazy. At least when she comes here, she and Cletus talk about old times and current stuff.”

“We hope we see you again.” Mrs. Murphy listened as the adults stood up in the next room.

“My pleasure. It’s nice to talk to someone who knows what you’re saying.” He chuckled.

Once back in the Highlander, Cooper called in to see if anyone had found Flo’s car. No one had.

“Did anyone check the morgue?” Harry asked.

“I called them before I called Esther Toth. Let’s pray she’s still among the living.”

Fair, Pewter on his lap, put his hand on the back of Harry’s seat. “Have an idea. Go to the old Valencia farm.”

“Where’s that?”

“In Free Union. I’d tell you to go the back way, but I don’t know about the roads being plowed out. Plus, there’s that bridge construction.”

They drove all the way round to Hunt Country Store, hung a left, and drove through rolling white acres, many fences wrapped with garlands, and almost every gate bore a boxwood wreath or evergreen with roses of red berries.

“Used to be hunt country. That’s why the store is called Hunt Country Store,” Harry mused.

“Now it’s Dollar Country.” Fair laughed. “Give them credit, most of them buy a horse or two, but the land’s all chopped up. Happening everywhere, really.”

“Bet you can still find acreage at a bargain in Tornado Alley.” Cooper was referring to that part of the Southwest and Midwest frequently slammed by the killer storms.

“Yeah.” Fair leaned back in his seat, much to the comfort of Pewter. “Some wonderful country out there, good hay country, cattle, and good people, too.”

“Never met anyone from those parts who’s a lazy slug,” Harry chimed in.

Cooper thought for a moment, then said, “You know, when people first move here they think southerners are lazy.”

Harry and Fair laughed, then Harry said, “Well, so they do, until the first sticky, hot day they try to work the way they can, at their speed, up north. They drop like flies! No one can beat southern heat. You have to pace yourself and work with it.”

“Hard to remember those sultry days now.” Fair leaned forward again as the gray cat grumbled. “Slow down, Coop. Left at the fork. Two miles up ahead you’ll see white fencing, river-stone gates with a big brass plaque set in front on the stone which reads ‘River Run.’ That’s the old Valencia farm.”

“The Watts estate.” Cooper knew it by the current owner’s name. “What a beautiful place.”

“When Mrs. Valencia owned it she’d throw these great picnics,” said Harry. “She’d invite everyone, workers, landowners, everyone from the hunt club, the churches, her children’s playmates. What parties. What wonderful days those were. Maybe it’s me, but I think people were more open then.” She spied the stone gates ahead.

“Different times,” said Fair. “Even if someone with Mrs. Valencia’s resources displayed her kindness, lack of snobbery, threw parties, who would come? How many people have the time to enjoy themselves today like they did when we were kids?” Fair ran his forefinger under his nose, feeling the stubble, and he’d shaved that morning. “Everyone works all the time. I know I do.”

“When you have the time, you don’t have the money. When you have the money, you don’t have the time,” Harry succinctly put it.

Cooper drove up to River Run’s grand main house. She was in uniform, so when Horace Watts opened the door, his expression quickly changed to one more welcoming. She explained herself. He nodded assent, then closed the door without so much as a holiday greeting.

“Mr. Comfort and Joy.” Cooper grimaced once back in the car.

“He treats his horses well, but if anyone should be visited by the Ghost of Christmas Past I expect it’s Horace Watts.” Fair laughed.

“Honey, where do you want Coop to go?”

“Sorry. Drive to the stables, the one with the double cupolas. Lucky everything has been plowed. Park in front of the stables.”

As softly as they could, the crew of three opened the main double doors—beautiful heavy oak doors, paned glass on top—and closed them behind them. The stable’s interior was also heavy oak; brass fittings gleamed and a hand-laid brick floor added to the warm feel of the stable.

Harry’s barn, also with a hand-laid brick aisle, had been built around the same time as River Run’s stables but by her ancestors, people of more modest means. Fair walked to the tack room door, also half glass.

A little dog barked.

Tucker barked back.

“Hush,” Harry whispered.

As Fair opened the door, Cooper stepped through. “Miss Rice, you’ve given people a fright.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Flo defended herself, sitting in a chair with the farm’s name embroidered on the back.

“Actually, ma’am, you’re trespassing,” Cooper informed her.

“I used to work here, you know. I could still run this place and I’m not using up Mr. Watts’s money. I read by flashlight.” She stayed in the chair.

“Ma’am, I can see that, and I bet it’s warmer in here than at home, isn’t it?”

“It is, but I didn’t turn on his baseboard heat here. It was on, I guess so the pipes don’t freeze in the bathroom. Honest. I didn’t turn it on, and Mr. Watts doesn’t even walk down to check.”

Fair, hoping to jolly her along, said, “Bet you could run it, Miss Rice. You know all Mr. Watts’s horses are in Camden, South Carolina, for the winter. Still, a place needs running.”

“Does,” she answered as Buster, her dog, leapt onto her lap.

Cooper asked, “Where is your car?”

“What’s it to you?” Flo sassed.

“Miss Rice, we’re trying to help,” said Cooper.

“I’m not telling.”

“Well, you can’t stay here, so I’ll have to take you home in my car. How will you get around? Maybe your sister will come pick up your car if you won’t tell us, but you have to leave.” Cooper’s voice was nice but firm.

“My sister! Ha.”

“Miss Rice, Deputy Cooper is right,” said Harry. “You are trespassing. You don’t want Mr. Watts to press charges.”

“Watts, what does he know? I worked for Mrs. Valencia when this place was grand. Mrs. Valencia never cut a corner or a person. She was gracious. These new people don’t know how to act. They don’t know what’s expected of them. You take care of the people who work for you. You buy one of the old Virginia places, you have to come up to the mark.”

Fair smiled at her. “Miss Rice, you’re right.”

Pleased at this, she petted Buster. He was interested in the three animals and vice versa.

Cooper wasn’t letting up. “Ma’am, gather up your things.”

“I don’t have anything. A toothbrush.”

“Miss Rice, please don’t force Deputy Cooper to call in more officers because you’re uncooperative,” Harry cajoled. “If you cooperate, things will be fine.”

“Right.” Fair beamed at Flo. “Now, where’s your car?”

She wiggled in her seat for a moment, then looked up at the tall, powerfully built man. “Next barn. The breeding shed. I drove it right in. No one’s there at all.”

“May I have the key?” he asked.

“In the ignition,” she replied.

“All right. I’ll follow you girls”—he looked at Flo when he said “girls”—“and I’ll meet you at your house. I’ll take good care of your car.”

“My house is so cold.” Flo made a face. “It’s old. I’m old.”

Cooper stepped toward her, holding out a hand. Flo took it and was pulled up, Buster under one arm.

“I built a fire before we drove over here,” said Fair. “I’ll stoke it when we get to your home.” He smiled.

“What if I don’t go?” She hesitated for a moment.

“I’ll have to call backup and we’ll have to hold you for an appraisal of your condition,” said Cooper. “And then I must put you in a cell.”

Flo raised her voice to the officer. “No! You all won’t let me keep Buster.”

“I will personally take him to the Albemarle County SPCA. He will receive good care. Now, what will it be, ma’am?”

Buster whimpered, “Don’t take me away.”

Tucker comforted the small dog. “Don’t worry. Cooper’s bluffing. She doesn’t want to do any of this. Make your human see reason.”

Buster licked Flo’s face.

Flo announced, “I’ll go back home.”

“Good. Your sister is worried about you,” Cooper said.

“She wants to kill me.”