Catch As Cat Can

                "You two slept under the table. What I remember"-the tiger jumped up on the fireplace mantel where she'd been sitting during the tea dance-"is that Roger was already in the chair. Lottie came into the room. She'd been out dancing or in the garden. I don't know. The desserts had just been placed on the table. Everything was buffet style. People started to come in and crowd the table. They needed the coffee. Lots of drinking. Lottie picked up a piece of chocolate cake. She was in the line. Next she poured a cup of coffee from the silver samovar and then she put in three scoops of raw sugar. I remember it was raw sugar because she took a step back to put the sugar on the table, bumped into Thomas Steinmetz just as he reached for the sugar, and spilled it all over the floor. She apologized, he said it was his fault, and then she carried the cake and the coffee over to Roger, who was happy that she paid attention to him. I don't know what they said because I was, by then, watching the other humans." She thought a moment."She'd made a mess of the sugar. Thomas cleaned it up before one of the kids hired to serve got there. He picked up the broken pieces of the bowl and swept up the sugar with his napkin. When one of the servers got there he handed it to him to put in the trash. He'd wrapped everything in his napkin. I didn't pay much attention to it at the time except to think that he was nice to do it because there was enough on the floor that someone could have slipped on it. Drunk as many were, I'd say that was a sound conclusion on his part. And, well, within ten minutes, Roger was dead. And quiet. No gurgling or choking. I was sitting right here. Quiet!"

                "Lottie Pearson gives Roger coffee and cake. She went with Don Clatterbuck to the dance that night." Pewter frowned."Lottie Pearson."

                "And she's not very happy with Mom." Tucker flattened her ears.

                "Yes." Murphy remained silent for a long time."I was thinking that Sean-but now I don't know. But what would Lottie Pearson have to do with three dead men, Wesley Partlow, Donny Clatterbuck, and Roger O'Bannon? Is she a black widow or something?"

                "She could have been killing men before now, but thinking on it, maybe her animosity toward Roger was a big act," Pewter, suspicious, said.

                "If she isn't acting, someone around here sure is." Tucker hit the nail on the head.

                35

                Harry, not knowing what her animals were thinking, was working from her own ideas. Satisfied that Aunt Tally flourished, she headed her truck toward the old folks' home, the highest building in Crozet, which wasn't saying much.

                An expanse of asphalt surrounded the beige block building, still wet so the parking lot surface shone like mica. She pulled her truck to the back, cut the motor, and emerged followed by the "kids," Pewter shaking water off her paws at every step.

                Harry walked around the building. Nothing unusual presented itself. She then stopped at the edge of the tarmac to study the railroad tracks that swooped right next to the building with a long curve. Wesley had been found near those tracks. The brush, already grown up at this time of year, could easily conceal activity. She pushed through the bushes and brambles, leaves spraying water on her. An old mud road pockmarked with huge holes filled with brown water followed the tracks. The hanging tree, a fiddle oak, sat just south of that road, maybe fifty yards. From the tree the distance to the tracks measured about two hundred yards.

                Harry looked up at the strong, spreading limbs and shuddered. The sun peeked out from the clouds, then immediately disappeared again. Thunder shook the other side of the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was far enough away that it sounded like one of the gods, clearing his throat.

                "Not more rain." Harry exhaled."I tell you, it's either floods or drought these days."

                "You're exactly right. Lets go back to the truck," Pewter strongly suggested.

                "H-m-m." Harry walked around the tree, searched the ground, then checked the tree bark. Her curiosity was getting the better of her, a condition her pets feared.

                After ten minutes she returned to the truck, Pewter racing ahead of everyone. The skies grew dark gray rapidly. Harry opened the driver's door a crack, reached behind the seat, pulling out a towel. She wiped off each animal's paws before allowing them in the truck. Then she climbed in herself, opened the window about two inches, and sat. A fine mist slowly enveloped the old folks' building.

                The front door opened. Sean O'Bannon, his hand under his mother's elbow, guided her to her car. The mist thickened, heavy with moisture.

                "I forgot about that," Harry said to herself as she observed Sean slide behind the wheel of his mother's car, turn on the motor, and drive out.

                "What?" Mrs. Murphy nudged her.

                "Sean's grandmother lives here now. She's too old to properly take care of herself."

                "She understood you?" Pewter's jaw dropped.

                "Coincidence." Murphy laughed.