Catch As Cat Can

                Rick sighed."I need to pay my respects anyway. I'll ask Sean if he's up to identifying the little jerk. If he's not, we let him go."

                Unexpectedly, Sean agreed to do it, said he could handle it. When Rick brought Wesley to him he swore he'd never seen the kid though Wesley matched the description he'd given. Either there were two young men with a pronounced scar over the left eye or Sean was too rattled to make sense of anything. Then again, in his vulnerable state he could have figured nailing a kid for hubcaps wasn't worth it.

                Rick released Wesley Partlow. He'd already run a check with DMV on the kid's license, which was current and clean. His address was Randolph Street, Waynesboro. He didn't really think too much about it. Small-fry.

                16

                At seven o'clock Sunday morning, Fair Haristeen drove through puddles in Harry's driveway He stopped in front of the barn because he knew she'd be feeding the horses. At the slam of his truck door, Tucker joyously dashed out to greet the vet. Tucker loved Fair.

                "Wasn't that an awful storm?" The corgi wagged her tailless bottom.

                Small tree limbs were scattered over the yard and dogwood petals covered the ground.

                "You're the best dog." Fair bent over to pat the silky head.

                "I'm in here," Harry called out from the center aisle of the attractive old barn.

                "Figured." Fair jumped over a puddle."You should see the roof of BoomBoom's barn. Swiss cheese."

                "Your first call?"

                "Not exactly. When I drove by I saw her and Thomas standing out by the barn so I pulled up. You know when Kelly"-Fair mentioned BoomBoom's deceased husband-"built that barn I couldn't believe he'd put on such a cheap roof. The man was a paving contractor. He knew better."

                "Yeah, but riding wasn't his thing so he built a cheap barn. Pretty tacky of him."

                Fair removed his baseball cap."Never thought of it. He had more money than God."

                "Just a little revenge on his part. Control. And to what do I owe your company?"

                "Does the word 'control' have anything to do with it?"

                Mrs. Murphy, lounging in the hayloft with Simon, the opossum, remarked, "You know, I think he's gaining insight."

                "M-m-m." Simon evidenced scant interest in human couplings and uncouplings."Did I show you the beads I found?" He rolled out his treasure.

                "Simon, those aren't beads, they're ball bearings, and if you found them around here it means a piece of Mom's equipment is about to the a horrible death."

                "Really?"

                "Really. Where did you find them? And 1 assume this had to be a few days ago. You weren't fool enough to go out in that storm."

                "I'm not telling."

                "All right. Don't tell but put them back-maybe she'll see them before the damage is done. Something's broken."

                "I'm not putting them back and I'm not telling. .Anyway, maybe I didn't find them here. They re shiny and I found them fair and square. I like shiny things."

                "Marsupials are weird." Mrs. Murphy lashed her beautiful tail to and fro. She didn't like being disobeyed.

                "Pewter grabbing a dead woodpecker and then Harry picking it up is pretty weird."

                "She took it to the taxidermist." Mrs. Murphy laughed, her good humor restored."And you know that Pewter will tear it to shreds the minute that stuffed bird is brought back into the house." The cat tiptoed over to the edge of the hayloft, having decided that the human conversation might be more interesting than her own. Not that she didn't like Simon, but he was a bit simpleminded at times.

                Pewter reposed in the tack room on a neatly folded Baker blanket. She'd gorged herself at breakfast and would need half the day to digest.

                "It's been quite a Dogwood Festival." Fair dipped a clean old towel in water, rubbed it on a glycerin bar, and began wiping down Harry's hunt saddle.

                "You don't have to do that."

                "No, but I like to be useful." He hummed a Billy Ray Cyrus tune, then cleared his throat."You seem to have hit it off with Diego."

                "Yes," came the terse reply.

                Fair knew better than to expect an explanation out of Harry. He'd known her all his life and having been married to her he felt he knew her better than anyone except maybe Susan Tucker. But women's friendships existed on a separate plane from spousal relationships. He often laughed to himself when he'd hear idle chatter about the differences between men and women. Women, according to the experts, were more forthcoming about their emotions than men and they bonded through sharing emotions whereas men bonded through activity. In all the years he'd known Mary Minor she'd never volunteered an emotion. You had to pry them out of her. She'd happily tell you what she thought, read, saw, did, but not what she felt. Susan used to harangue her over it but Harry was Harry and that was that."Take me or leave me" was her attitude and when Fair thought about it, he concluded she was right. You either accept someone or you don't and no amount of jawing about it will change them or bring you closer.