Tail Gait

One Hour Later

Debating what to do, Harry pulled her old truck into Susan’s driveway. After they unloaded the four dwarf crepe myrtles next to the garage, Harry opened the front door and called for Tucker, who had been left behind at Susan’s to play with her brother.

“Where are we going?” Tucker asked, happy to be outside.

“In the truck, kid.” She lifted the solid corgi onto Susan’s lap. “I’ll get Owen.”

Driving out the curving driveway, Tucker sat between the two women while her brother Owen sat in Susan’s lap.

“You make me crazy,” said Susan.

“Ditto.”

“Well, why did you have to say anything about Olivia going to the mall?”

“It popped into my head, Susan. I’ve explained myself all the way down Route Two-fifty. I’m not going to explain myself all the way back. It just popped into my head, and I got a funny feeling.”

“Well, now I do too. She was shocked, and, well…”

“She has diminished judgment. Death, divorce, even losing your job causes such turmoil. Diminished judgment can last as long as the loss or sorrow. At least that’s what I’ve observed.”

“Yes,” Susan tersely replied.

Neither spoke until they reached the Charlottesville Downtown Mall. Once the hub of economic activity, Main Street was blocked off to through traffic in 1976, creating a walking mall. Harry’s mother had a fit because, she declared, they could walk just fine when there were cars and sidewalks. When the anchor to this scheme—the large department store, Miller & Rhoads—left, activity sagged, and with it, profits. Over time, nice restaurants took over old spaces, the Paramount Theater was restored, specialty shops opened. Much had improved, but like all those revitalization ideas, the city planners rarely took into account how people really shop. At least there was still a large hotel at the western end, the Omni.

Harry pulled her truck into the parking garage at the eastern end, circling upward until she found a space big enough to park the 1978 Ford F-150. She and Susan hopped out, lifted out their corgis, snapped on the dogs’ leashes. The concrete stairwell’s heavy walls amplified their steps.

“I don’t know why I do things with you,” said Susan. “All you do is get me into trouble.”

“Oh, spare me, Sissy Tolerance! You get me in as much trouble as I get you. Now, where do you think the drunks are on this beautiful spring day?”

“Down by the Paramount, I guess.”

They headed to what people thought of as the center of the mall, passing storefront shops, displays in the large windows. As they reached the Paramount, they heard a scream.

“Don’t touch me!” they heard Olivia’s voice holler, then saw her backing away from a man at one of the large planters filled with blooms.

“Let’s go!” Tucker gave a hard yank on her leash. She flew across the brick walkway.

“Tucker!” Harry yelled.

Owen also broke free from Susan. The two dogs and two women ran toward Olivia. Tucker reached her first and spun around, facing the man advancing on her. “Touch her and you die!”

Bloodshot eyes looked down at the corgi as Owen reached the scene. He bared his fangs. Olivia, startled by the shocked reaction of Frank Cresey when he saw her, was now startled and gratified by her two protectors. Harry and Susan reached Olivia as a small crowd of people gathered around.

“What are you doing here?” growled Frank. He wore tattered clothing, had long, unkempt hair. His beautiful body was now wasted and thin.

“Come on, Olivia, let’s go.” Harry put her arm through Olivia’s.

Susan was trying not to breathe, as Frank reeked of sweat, alcohol, and urine. She inserted herself between Olivia and Frank, as did the two dogs. “Frank, she has as much right to the mall as anyone.”

First mistake. Never try to reason with a drunk.

Frank took a step toward Susan, who held her ground, as Harry pulled the transfixed woman away. That fast, both dogs latched on to a leg. He was so loaded with alcohol, he barely felt it.

“Owen, leave him!”

With jaws clamped tightly around a thin lower leg, the corgi, not yet willing to release Frank, looked up at his human.

“I’m glad he’s dead, you know!” Frank screamed, so the retreating Olivia could hear him. “Ruined my life. I hope he died in fear and pain! You came here to pity me. I don’t want your pity. I don’t want to ever see you again. And you’ll never see your father again!”

Susan backtracked and again ordered, “Owen, Tucker, come on!”

The two dogs released Frank. Trotting to Susan, they were still looking backward, fangs bared.

A man attempted to help Frank, bleeding heavily now, to a bench on the mall. Frank backhanded the Good Samaritan. Two police officers appeared from different directions, both running. Frank howled, no words, just howled.

Harry half pulled, half dragged Olivia to Fourth Street. When she reached the corner, she pulled Olivia into Daedalus Used Books. The proprietor, Sandy McAdams, looked up just as Susan, Tucker, and Owen crossed the threshold.

“Ladies, dogs, is it literature that created such flushed cheeks?” The bearded book lover smiled.

“Oh, Sandy.” Harry caught her breath. “You don’t know how good you look!”

Before he could respond, Susan filled him in on the uproar on the mall.

“Frank Cresey,” said Sandy. “Well, well, I’m not surprised. Some days he walks into the store, sits down, and picks up a book. I give it to him just to get him out because customers can’t stand the smell. Other days when he’s clean, I let him stay. He says he was the star halfback on the 1975 UVA football team. Hard to believe.”

“He was,” Olivia quietly affirmed.

“Oh, sorry, Sandy,” said Harry. “This is Olivia Gaston, Ginger McConnell’s daughter. She lives in New Orleans with a brilliantly industrious husband.”

“Your father was a wonderful man, and a good customer,” said Sandy. “Please accept my sympathies.”

“Thank you.” Flustered, Olivia glanced from Sandy to Harry to Susan, then down to the corgis. “This is all my fault.”

“You are not responsible for a drunk,” Susan firmly told her.

“He screamed he’d recognize me anywhere, which after forty years amazes me.” She turned to Sandy. “I was wildly in love with him when I was eighteen, and Daddy broke it up. I haven’t seen him since.”

“Your father was a wise man.” Sandy took a deep breath. “Those poor devils have killed so many of their brain cells, even if they could once think rationally, they’ve forgotten how. But—he recognized you. How extraordinary.”

“Olivia hasn’t aged much.” Susan smiled.

“Susan, that’s a fib.” Olivia was calming down. “I’ve changed, my hair color hasn’t.” She half laughed.

“Any good books on dogs?” Tucker inquired.

Sandy reached under his desk, twirling two pungent treats, which he tossed to the dogs.

“Better than a book.” Owen swallowed.

“We’ll get out of your hair, Sandy,” Susan apologized. “But we knew we’d be safe here.”

“Thank you. If you need anything, let me know. More books coming in every day.” He smiled, then turned to Olivia. “Your father would call once a week to ask if I had found anything from 1775 to 1820. Occasionally I come upon valuable old books, or I hear of a family Bible that’s turned up. He was diligent. He wanted old maps, old anything. He’d go down to Richmond, up to D.C., to Atlanta. I remember, one time, he drove to Guilford, North Carolina, as some wonderful old Revolutionary War maps turned up. Big battle there, you know.”

“I know. We lost that one.” Olivia smiled. “Daddy would talk about that time as though remembering old friends.”

“I guess to him they were,” Sandy said kindly. “We owe who and what we are to those who came before. Now, please, let me help you with anything, anything at all.”

—

As the group left, they walked toward the parking lot, where Olivia had also parked. Her car—well, her mother’s car—was on the second level, so they entered the stairwell. It was always dark, a source of complaint, but Olivia was glad because she burst into tears.

“I am so stupid.”

At the second-floor landing, Susan put her arms around the slender woman. “You’ve had a terrible shock and you’ve lost one of the mainstays of your life. A girl only gets one father.”

“I don’t know what possessed me. I…” The group entered the garage’s second level.

Harry, ever logical, said, “We shouldn’t have told you where Frank lives, so to speak. Curiosity would drive any of us to take a peek.”

“Forty years. Why would I want to look at him? I guess I couldn’t believe he’d fallen so low.” She wiped away the tears with a handkerchief supplied by Susan, always ready for flat tires, tears, headaches, anything and everything.

“Everything is a jumble when someone you love dies.” Harry knelt down to pet Tucker and then Owen. “At least it was for me when Mom and Dad died.”

Olivia stood up straighter. “Here I was acting as though I’m the only person to ever lose a father, and I had mine so much longer than you had yours, Harry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Susan said, “Nothing is wrong with you. It’s just right now, and for the next few months, it’s best not to make major decisions.”

When Olivia looked puzzled, Harry succinctly said, “Diminished judgment.”

“Yes.” Olivia walked to her car. She pushed the unlock button on her key ring but didn’t open the car door. “I can’t sleep. I keep turning over in my mind who would want to harm my father, the kindest of men. I even rummaged through his desk at home, the file cabinets, looked through his checkbook. I was sure I’d find a clue, but no. His piles of research were, as they always were, neat stacks all over his desk and some on the floor.”

“Did he use a computer?” Harry wondered.

“Daddy? He did. He was slow. Of course he had all those research assistants at UVA. All he had to do was tell them to look up something, or send a message to a colleague who used email. Dad was hands-on. Even if one of his ‘kids,’ as he called them, handed him research papers, if he could, he’d drive to examine the original sources. He was fanatical about that.”

Although seeing that Olivia was more composed, Susan suggested, just in case, “How about if I drive you home? Harry can follow. Good plan, I think.”

Olivia hesitated for a moment. “Yes. Yes, I think it is.” She scanned both of their faces. “Please don’t say anything to Mother or Rennie. No reason to upset them over my mistake. My curiosity got the better of me.”

“Of course not.” Susan took the keys from Olivia’s hand and slid behind the wheel as Olivia walked to the passenger door.

Five minutes later and two levels up, Harry opened the truck door. A little creak reminded her: Time for more grease. She lifted the dogs onto the bench seat, swung herself up, and then followed Susan and Olivia home.

“I wonder if Frank is even strong enough to kill someone,” she mused aloud.

“Best not to find out,” warned Tucker, still angry at the man.