�12

�"How many of us are left?"Tracy reached over for another orange-glazed bun.

�Harry, upon learning that Tracy Raz was a "lost" member of Mrs. Hogendobber's high-school class, forced her to take the day off. Miranda huffed and puffed but finally succumbed. She tookTracy home, setting out a sumptuous breakfast-homemade buns and doughnuts, cereal with thick cream, and the best coffee in the state ofVirginia .

�"Forty-two out of fifty-six." Miranda munched on a doughnut. "Koreaaccounted for two of us,Vietnam one-"

�"Who was inVietnam ?"

�"Xavier France. Career officer. Made full colonel, too. His helicopter was shot down near theCambodia border."

�"Xavier France, he was the last kid I would have picked for a service career. What about the others?"

�"The usual: car accidents, cancer-far too much of that, I'm afraid-heart attacks. Poor Asther Dandridge died young of diabetes. Still,Tracy , if you think about it, our class is in good shape."

�"You certainly are."

�"You haven't changed a bit."

�"Gray hair and twenty more pounds."

�"Muscle." And it was. "How did you hear about the reunion? We'd given up on ever finding you."

�"It was a funny thing." His movements carried an athlete's grace as he put the cup back on the saucer. "Naturally, I knew this was our fiftieth year. I hadn't much interest in attending the other reunions and I'll come to that later. I remembered that Kevin McKenna worked for Twentieth Century-Fox. I'd see his name in the papers. He's director of marketing. Got to be worth a bundle. I called and got the usual runaround but I left a message with my phone number and damned if he didn't call me back. He sent me a copy of the invitation. I was footloose and fancy-free so I came early. Thought you might need an old fullback to help you."

�"Where do you live?"

�"Hawaii. TheislandofKauai . After high school I enlisted, which you knew. Well, in our day, Miranda, you enlisted or you were drafted. I figured if I enlisted I'd get a better deal than if I let myself get drafted. Army. Got good training. I wound up in intelligence, of all the strange things, and once my tour was up I re-enlisted but I made them promise to put me through Ranger school. Now it's Green Berets but then it was Rangers. They did. I stayed in for ten years. Left after being recruited by the CIA-"

�"A spy?" Her kind eyes widened.

�He waved his hand to dismiss the notion. "That's TV stuff. I had a wonderful job. I was sent all over the world to see events firsthand. For instance, during the oil crisis in the seventies I was inRiyadh . Worst posting I ever had wasNigeria . But basically I was a troubleshooter. I'd be the first one in, scope the situation and report back. They could make of my data what they wished-everyone inWashington has his own agenda. My God, Miranda, bureaucracy will ruin this country. That's my story. Retired and here I am."

�"Did you ever marry?"

�He nodded. "A beautiful Japanese girl I met inKobe in 1958. That's when I bought a little land inKauai . Li could get back to her family and I could get to the States."

�"I hope you'll bring her to the reunion."

�He folded his hands. "She died two years ago. Lymphatic cancer. She fought hard." He stopped to swallow. "Now I rattle around in our house like a dried pea in a big shell. The kids are grown. My daughter, Mandy, works for Rubicon Advertising inNew York , John runs the Kubota dealership in Kauai, and Carl is a lawyer inHonolulu . They speak fluent Japanese. I can carry on a conversation but the kids are fluent, which makes them valuable these days. They're all married with kids of their own." He smiled. "I'm kind of lost really." He slapped his thigh. "Here I am talking about myself. Tell me what happened to you."

�"I married George Hogendobber, he became the postmaster here, and we lived a quiet but joyful life. He died of a heart attack, nearly ten years ago. Sometimes it seems like yesterday."

�"I don't remember George."

�"He moved here fromWinchester ."

�"Kids?"

�"No. That blessing passed me by, although I feel as though Mary Minor Haristeen is a daughter. She's the young woman you just met."

�"Miranda, you were the spark plug of our class. I've thought of you more than you'll ever know, but I never sat down to write a letter. I'm a terrible letter writer. You'll always be my high-school sweetheart. Those were good times."

�"Yes, they were," she said simply.

�"I wanted to see the world and I did. But here I am. Back home."

�"I feel as though I saw the world, too,Tracy . I suppose my world was within. I've drawn great strength from the Bible since George died. Harry calls me a religious nut."

�"Harry?"

�"The girl in the post office."

�"Yes, of course. Minor. The people out onYellow Mountain Road . He married a Hepworth."

�"Good memory. She's their daughter. They're gone now."

�"Whatever happened to Mim Conrad? Did she marry Larry Johnson?"

�"No." Miranda's voice dropped as though Mim were in the next room. "Larry was four years older than we were. Remember, he was finishing college as she was finishing high school? Well, he did go to medical school. They dated and then the next thing I knew they weren't dating anymore. He married someone else and she married Jim Sanburne."

�"That oaf?"

�"The same."

�"Mim marrying Jim Sanburne. I can't believe it."

�"He was big and handsome. He runs to fat now. But he's a genial man once you get to know him."

�"I never tried. Larry still alive?"

�"Yes, he practiced medicine here for decades. Still does, although he sold his practice to a young man, Hayden McIntire, with the provision that Larry'd work just one more year, get Hayden settled with the patients. That was several years ago. Still working, though. Hayden doesn't seem to mind. Larry's wife died years ago. He and Mim are friendly."

�"They were such a hot item."

�"You never know how the cookie will crumble." She giggled a little.

�"Guess not. Here I am. Miranda, it's as though I never left. Oh, a few things are different, like that old-age home by the railroad underpass."

�"Careful. No one calls it that anymore, not since we're getting so close ourselves. It's assisted-care living."

�"Bull."

�"Well-yes." She smiled. "The town is much the same. There are subdivisions. One on Route 240 calledDeepValley and one on the way toMillerSchool . There's a brand-new grade school which cost the county a pretty penny. But pretty much Crozet is Crozet. Not beautiful. Not quaint. Just home."

�"Do you need help with the reunion?"

�"What a delightful question." She folded her hands together gleefully.

�"That's a yes, I take it." He smiled. "Say, how does Mim look?"

�"Fabulous. You know it's her fiftieth reunion this year, too, atMadeira . She endured her second face-lift. She goes to the best and truthfully she does look fabulous. Slender as ever."

�"H-m-m." He dusted his fingertips to rub off the sticky icing. "Jim Sanburne . . . I still can't believe that. Is he good to her?"

�"Now. For a long time he wasn't and the further apart they drifted the haughtier she got. She was an embittered woman and then a miracle happened. I don't know if you believe in miracles but I do. She was diagnosed with breast cancer. Larry broke the news. She had a mastectomy and reconstructive surgery. Jim stopped running after women."

�"Stop drinking, too?"

�"He did."

�"He'd put it away in high school, I remember that. Class of '49. Good football player. I was glad I had a year after he graduated. Selfish. I wanted the attention."

�"You were All-State."

�"We had a good team for as small a school as we were." He paused. "I closed up the house inKauai . I'm looking to rent a house here, or rooms. Would you know of anything?"

�"I don't wish to pry but what would you be willing to pay?"

�"A thousand a month for the right place."

�She thought long and hard. "For how long?"

�"Well, until December first at least. Our reunion is Homecoming so I might as well stay a month after that."

�She smiled broadly. "I have an idea. Let me check it out first. Where are you staying now?"

�"FarmingtonCountry Club-pretty funny, isn't it? The way I used to rail about that place being full of stupid snobs. Now I'm one of them-on a temporary basis, of course. And I heard a young fellow was murdered there-what? Two days ago?"

�"Unlamented, I'm afraid. People are lining up to lay claim to the deed." She stopped. "Not very charitable of me, but the truth is no one is very upset about the demise of Charlie Ashcraft. How about if I call you tonight, or tomorrow at the latest? I may have just the place."

�"Whose animals were those in the post office?"

�"Oh, those are Harry's. If they aren't the smartest and cutest helpers."

�"I don't remember you being that fond of animals."

�She blushed. "They converted me."

�He laughed. "Then they do have special powers."

�28

�The slight drone of a bumblebee, growing stronger by the moment, irritated Mrs. Murphy to the point where she opened one glittering green eye. The marvel of insect engineering zoomed closer. She batted at it with a paw but the large black and yellow creature zigged out of the way.

�"Losing your touch," Tucker laconically commented.

�"Bull. I'm lying on my side. If I'd been sitting up that bomber wouldn't have had a chance. 'Course, if I'd been sitting up she wouldn't have come near me."

�"Yeah, yeah," Tucker, also on her side under a hydrangea bush, said.

�Mrs. Murphy sat up. "Where's Pewter?"

�"In the post office. Leave the air-conditioning? Ha!"

�The sweltering heat intensified. Mrs. Murphy and Tucker had left the post office to scrounge around Miranda's garden in the late morning. It didn't seem so hot then but they couldn't find anything of interest despite a soft, lingering chipmunk scent, so they fell asleep.

�BoomBoom's elegant BMW rumbled down the alleyway. She parked behind the post office, getting out of the driver's side as Marcy Wiggins and Chris Sharpton emerged from the passenger and rear doors.

�Chris glanced over at the dumpster and shuddered.

�"Guess I shouldn't have parked here." BoomBoom's hand flew to her mouth. "I didn't think of it. I haven't processed all this emotionally. I mean, I still have such unresolved-"

�"Let's go inside." Chris cut her off before BoomBoom's lament could gather steam.

�Marcy kept staring at the dumpster. "I heard he was covered in maggots."

�"No." Chris shook her head. "Stop this."

�Marcy began shaking.

�Tucker and Mrs. Murphy crept to the edge of Miranda's yard to listen more closely.

�"Marcy, are you going to be sick?" BoomBoom moved toward her to help.

�"No, no, but I can't take this. People talking behind our backs. Talking about Bill killing Charlie. Talking about me and Charlie. This is a vicious little town!" She burst into tears. "I wish we'd never moved here. Why did I let Bill talk me into this? He wanted to come home. He said he'd be head of oncology faster in Charlottesville than in some huge city."

�BoomBoom put her arm around the frail woman. "Things will get better."

�Chris put her arm around her from the opposite side. "People gossip in big cities, too."

�"But you can get away from them. Here, you're"-she gulped for air-"trapped. And I'm not working on your high-school reunion anymore! I'm sorry but it's too dangerous."

�"Marcy, that's okay," BoomBoom soothingly said. "But this awful stuff doesn't have anything to do with our reunion. It's some bizarre coincidence. Come on, let's get you in the air-conditioning. Harry will let you sit in the back while you, uh, regain your composure."

�Marcy allowed herself to be led into the post office.

�"Gossip." Tucker shook her head. "People would be much improved if their tongues were cut out of their heads."

�"Maybe." Mrs. Murphy yawned.

�"If I say red, you say black. If I say apples you say oranges. You're contrary."

�Mrs. Murphy smiled. "Sometimes I am, I guess. It's the feline in me."

�"Bum excuse."

�"Gossip is ugly stuff said about people behind their backs. But people, being a herd animal, need to be in touch. They need to talk about one another. There's good talk and bad talk but think about it, Tucker, the worst thing that can happen to a human being is not to be talked about," Murphy expounded.

�"Never thought of that," Tucker replied.

�"Follow me."

�The dog padded after the cat, the small pieces of gravel hot in the sun. They stopped in front of the dumpster. The yellow cordoning tape had been removed.

�"Nothing left."

�"I'm not so sure. Let's look where they put the plaster casts. See, there's little bits of plaster left in the indentations."

�"I see that," the dog crabbily said as she stared at the chain-link heel mark from the Bean boot and the high-heel mark not far from it. "Left foot and right."

�"Could be anybody's and these marks may have nothing to do with Leo's demise but if Rick Shaw took plaster casts we ought to pay some attention to them. They're close together."

�"Like two people, you mean. One holding him on the left side and one on the right. That's why the heel mark is deep on this right side."

�"It's a possibility."

�"So that means there are two people in on this."

�"That, too, is a possibility." She lifted her head, sniffing the air. "Rain coming."

�Tucker sniffed. "Tonight."

�"The bullet into Leo's forehead was fired at close range. And the humans are saying that means he knew who killed him. But who else, I mean, what manner of stranger, would a man allow close to him?"

�"A child."

�"Or a woman."

�"Ah, the two marks. A woman. She kills him and her male partner helps dispose of the body."

�"I don't know, but I'm leaning that way."

�"It could have been Marcy and Bill Wiggins."

�"Could have been Laurel and Hardy, too."

�"There you go again. Smartmouth." The dog headed toward the animal door of the post office.

�The cat came alongside, brushing against her friend. "You're right. I'm awful." She walked a few steps, then stopped. "What bothers me is that we're missing something and I won't feel reassured until we know it. I don't like that Mom knew these two as well as she did."

�"She wasn't romantically involved with either of them."

�"For which we should be grateful."

�"And no women have been killed."

�"Grateful for that, too."

�Tucker blinked, then sneezed. "Lily pollen."

�"It's on your coat, too."

�"Don't want Miranda to know I was in her lilies."

�"Roll in the dirt."

�"Then I'll get yelled at."

�"Better to be yelled at for that than for creeping through the lily beds."

�"You're right." Tucker rolled over.

�When they slipped through the animal door no one noticed them, since everyone was ministering to Marcy Wiggins.

�Tucker crawled under a mail cart. Mrs. Murphy hopped into it, landing on a recumbent Pewter, who jumped up, spitting and hissing.

�"Pewts, Pewts, I'm sorry," Murphy laughed.

�Pewter, not yet in a forgiving frame of mind, lashed out, cuffing Mrs. Murphy on the cheek.

�Mrs. Murphy returned the favor and soon the mail cart was rolling, thanks to their violence. Tucker's rear end stuck out behind the cart.

�"Hey, you two!" Harry clapped her hands over the mail cart, which diverted the cats' attention. Then her eye fell on a dirty corgi behind. "What have you done?"

�"Nothing," came the meek reply.

�"Fleas," Mrs. Hogendobber declared. "Rolling in the dirt because of fleas."

�"Guess it means a bath and flea powder when we get home." Harry sighed.

�"Thanks, Murphy," Tucker growled.

�"How was I to know?" she said, then whispered to Pewter what had happened. Pewter giggled.

�"It's like having children," Chris laughed.

�"Marcy, feeling better?" Mrs. Hogendobber offered her more iced tea.

�"Yes, thank you." She nodded, then turned to Harry. "I told BoomBoom and Chris I'm not working on your reunion anymore. Who knows what will happen next?"

�"I understand." Harry didn't believe in trying to convince people to do what they didn't want to do.

�"And I'll thank you all to stop talking about me."

�"We aren't talking about you." Harry wrinkled her brow, puzzled.

�"Everyone is. You think I don't know." She stood up and whirled on BoomBoom. "And don't tell me I need to drink chamomile tea or some other dipshit herbal remedy! You all think I'm having marital problems. You think I slept with Charlie Ashcraft and-"

�"Marcy, you need to go home." Chris grabbed her friend under the elbow, pushing her out the back door as Marcy continued to babble.

�"Paranoid," BoomBoom flatly said.

�"That's a pretty harsh judgment," Harry countered.

�"Call it what you like then."

�"Well, BoomBoom, try to see it from her point of view. She doesn't have the advantage of being one of us," Harry said.

�"Right now I'd say that was not such an advantage," Pewter called out from the mail cart.

�"Boom, you seem out of sorts today." Miranda hoped to calm the waters.

�"I am." She glared at Harry. "Cynthia Cooper called on me this morning before I left for golf and do you know what she asked me? If I had had any illegitimate children with Charlie Ashcraft or if I had any sexually transmitted diseases!"

�"How come you're yelling at me?"

�"Because you baited her into it."

�"Boom, I don't know anything about such . . . matters."

�"Well, you obviously think my life is one big promiscuous party!"

�"Girls." Miranda held up her hands. "I do wish you two would make some kind of peace."

�"Peace? She nips at me like a Jack Russell. Sex. Always sex. Right, Harry?"

�"Wrong." Harry's face darkened as the animals watched, fascinated. "I haven't said a word to Cynthia, and why would I even think about venereal disease? God, BoomBoom."

�"Then who did?"

�Miranda looked heavenward. "Please, dear Lord, don't send anyone into the P.O. for a while." She returned to the battling pair. "Time out. Now you two sit down, be civil, and discuss this or I am throwing you both out. Do you hear me?"

�"Yes, ma'am," they both said, startled at Miranda's vehemence.

�"Sit down." She pointed to the table. They sat. "Now, questions such as BoomBoom is asking do not come out of the blue. Instead of accusing Harry, why don't you both think back. Think back as far as you have to go."

�They sat mute.

�Harry fingered the grain on the old table. "Remember in our junior year, people whispered that Charlie got someone pregnant?"

�BoomBoom thought about it. "Yes, but no one left school."

�"If the baby was due at the end of the summer she might not have had to leave," Miranda said. "Some women show less than others."

�"There's always gym class. If someone was packing on the pounds, we'd know," Harry said.

�"Did anyone get an excuse from gym class?"

�"Lord, I don't know. That was twenty years ago."

�"Perhaps it wasn't someone at your high school. There's St. Elizabeth's, or it may have been someone already out of school," Miranda offered.

�"That's true. Cynthia must be getting desperate, running down ancient rumors." BoomBoom folded her arms across her ample chest.

�"Charlie's death could have old roots."

�"Twenty years is a long time to get even," BoomBoom said.

�"Depends on how angry you are," Mrs. Murphy said. "Someone hurt badly enough might live their entire life waiting for revenge."

�"What do you want in there?" Harry called out to the cats in the mail cart.

�"Nothing. We're trying to help," Murphy replied.

�"There were rumors about Charlie right up to the present." BoomBoom softened somewhat. "I'd heard that he'd gotten AIDS. Heard that at the club. He'd slept with some society queen in Washington, no surprise, but I heard she died a year ago. The papers hushed it up. Said she had heart failure."

�"Did you tell Coop?"

�"Yes. And I also told her that anyone infected with the AIDS virus by him could be mad enough to kill."

�"A mother wishing to protect a child might also have plenty of motivation," Miranda added. "But it's a dreadful thing to do. I would think the child would find out who her father was, sooner or later."

�"Her?" Harry looked quizzically at Miranda.

�"Him."

�"Do you know something we don't?" BoomBoom's voice grew stronger.

�"No, I don't. But remember your Bible. Numbers. Chapter thirty-two, Verse twenty-three. 'Be sure your sin will find you out.'"

�Chris popped her head back in the door. "BoomBoom, if you need more time, I'll run Marcy home. She's having a hard time."

�BoomBoom rose. "I'll be right there." She paused before Miranda. "Do you think it's a sin to have a child out of wedlock?"

�"No. I think it's inadvisable but not a sin. To me the sin is in not caring for the child."

�BoomBoom silently opened the door and left.

�"Miranda, you surprise me."

�"You thought I'd say the woman should be stoned?" The older woman smiled ruefully. "Harry, I've lived long enough to know I can't sit in judgment of anyone. So many young women out there want to be loved and don't know the difference between sex and love."

�"Then what sin were you referring to when you quoted Numbers?"

�"Oh." She dropped her head for a moment. "The sin of cruelty. The sin of bruising another's heart, of abandoning someone to pain that you have caused. The sin of carelessness and callousness and self-centeredness. I don't know what Charlie's sins were, I mean, other than gossip. And I certainly don't know what Leo's sins were, but someone out there feels he or she has suffered enough."

�46

�"Jesus, what a mess." Harry watched as the reunion dinner fell apart. "We might as well clean up and go home."

�"Yeah." Susan, also dejected, picked up the plates, depositing them in huge trash bags. "One good thing, they ate more than I thought they would. We'll have a lot to take home but at least people enjoyed the food."

�Fair stayed behind, as did Hank Bittner, Bonnie Baltier, Market Shiflett, and Linda Osterhoudt. Within an hour and a half the place looked as though they'd never been in it. The huge senior superlative photographs easily came down. Market rolled them up, placing them in large tubes.

�"You might as well throw those out," Fair told him.

�"Maybe our thirtieth reunion will be better. Anyway, there's plenty of space in the attic of the store. Who knows, huh?"

�Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker, tired from the rich food and the human fuss, sat down under the raised basketball backboard.

�"Guess that's it." Harry put her hands on her hips, surveying the polished gym floor. "Too bad we couldn't have had the dance. Alvarez made serious tapes. He was always good at that kind of stuff."

�"His wife sure tells him what to do," Hank Bittner laughed. "I thought he might sneak back to the dinner."

�"She probably dragged him to Monticello. That's what all the out-of-towners want to see." Susan pressed her hand to the small of her back. All the bending over and lifting had made her ache a little. "I hate to see our reunion end this way."

�"Yeah," the others agreed.

�Harry asked Hank, "Do you believe the story about Bob, Rex, Charlie, and Leo attacking Ron?"

�"Yes," Hank replied.

�"Was Dennis there?" Harry continued her inquiry.

�"I think he was. I think he stood by the door to watch out for Coach. I can't prove any of it but I believe it."

�"How did you hear about it?" Fair asked.

�"Ron told me," Hank said, looking truly sorrowful.

�"Why didn't you go to the principal or Coach or somebody?" Harry blurted out. She didn't want to sound accusatory but she did.

�"Because Ron said he would deny what happened. He didn't want anyone to know. He especially didn't want Deborah Kingsmill to know. He was taking her to the Christmas dance. He thought she'd break the date if she knew." Hank paused. "And if he'd told, who knows what they would have done to him. There was a kind of wisdom to his silence."

�"If she really cared about him, she'd go anyway," Susan said.

�"Not Deborah." Hank half-smiled. "She didn't care about anybody-which made the guys want her. And remember, she was a cheerleader and all that crap. Even then, her ambition made her cold. Ron felt like he was, I don't know, moving up, I guess, having a date with her."

�"Did you know he was gay?" Harry wondered.

�"Kinda." Hank shrugged. "What do you know at that age? I'm not sure even Ron knew. I do know that Leo, Charlie, Bob, and Rex spent the rest of the year teasing him but they weren't violent again."

�"Maybe Dennis was his boyfriend?" Fair stooped over to pick up a carton loaded with food. He was going to start carrying food and drinks out to his truck, Harry's truck, and Susan's car.

�"He's got two kids and one ex-wife," Susan said.

�"That doesn't mean he's not gay." Hank also bent over to pick up a carton. "Hell, I've been married and divorced three times-to the same woman. That doesn't mean I'm nuts."

�"Hank, I've been meaning to ask you about that." Fair smiled as the men walked out of the gym.

�"I'm going home. Thanks for the food, Susan." Bonnie kissed Susan on the cheek.

�"Drive safely." Susan kissed her back. "That ninety miles can get truly boring."

�"Back to Washington." Linda Osterhoudt did her round of kisses. "Call me when you come up. The opera this year is worth the trip."

�"We will," Susan and Harry said. "Hey, why don't you let the guys carry that out for you?"

�"I'm not taking that much home." She lifted her small carton and left.

�Market came back in for more tubes. Subdued, he waved and left.

�Harry and Susan sighed simultaneously.

�"It's a bitch," Harry exhaled.

�"Yeah. I understand revenge. But why wreck the reunion for everyone else?"

�"Guess your mind warps after a while. Hey, Boom let us all have it, didn't she? And you know, she's right. It's her body. A husband isn't a purse. You can't snatch him unless he wants to be snatched. I give her credit for fighting back."

�"You're mellow."

�Harry clapped her hands together for the animals. "Sick of it. Not mellow. I'm sick of being angry at her, angry at him, angry at me. Done is done. Took me a long enough time to get there, though. In a strange way this reunion has helped me."

�"I'd like to know how?" Susan asked, genuinely interested.

�"I've had ample proof of what carrying around anger, hate, and the desire for revenge can do to somebody-whoever that somebody is. So he's winning. Winning what? His life is reduced to this one issue, a very great pain, a terrible wound and it would seem an equally terrible act of cowardice. But life moves on. Our killer didn't. In my own little way, I don't want to be like that." She smiled as the three animals trotted toward her. "I've seen enough embittered women not to want to become one."

�Susan hugged Harry fiercely. "I love you."

�"I love you, too. I couldn't ask for a better friend."

�The two women stood there with tears in their eyes.

�"Maybe it wasn't such a bad reunion after all." Susan wiped away her tears and Harry's, too. "Shall we?"

�They bent over to pick up two cartons and walked out the door. Harry paused for a moment to look back, then cut the lights. "Good-bye, class of 1980."

�Mrs. Murphy and Pewter dashed ahead of the humans, turned a few very pretty kitty circles, and waited at the door. Tucker barked at the door; she'd barreled on ahead of them.

�Harry put her carton down for a second. The faint sounds of fifties music wafted down the hall from the cafeteria. She wanted to stick her head in and watch but thought better of it. Hank came back in for another carton.

�"Should we dance?" He nodded toward the music.

�"No. It's their night."

�"Well, I'm not flying back to New York until Monday. If you change your mind about dancing, call me." He winked, picked up Harry's carton, and headed for the door. Harry turned to follow but thought she heard a sound on the stairwell.

�The lights were out in the stairwell. She walked up a step and went over to turn them on to double-check.

�A black-gloved hand came down over hers.

�A man's tenor, a familiar voice, snarled, "Don't, you idiot!"

�Before she could respond he drew back the side of his hand and hit her hard in the windpipe. She staggered back, choking, falling off the one step. She saw briefly the back of a man, dressed in black, a black ski mask over his face as he jumped over her. Nimbly, he ran down the hall.

�Tears of pain rolled down her face; she couldn't get up. She was fighting hard to breathe.

�Mrs. Murphy noticed first. "Something's wrong!"

�The three animals tore back down the hallway, their paws barely touching the ground. They were all going so fast that when they reached Harry they spun out of control.

�Harry, on her hands and knees, gasped for air. Tucker licked her face.

�"I'll catch him!" Pewter took off down the hall. Once the humans saw Harry, Murphy ran after Pewter.

�"Harry? Harry!" Susan came running toward Harry, the sound of footsteps receding, fading into the fifties music.

�Murphy left Harry, hit Mach One, sped past Pewter, sped past the running man, ducked into the cafeteria, pushed out a skateboard from behind the door, and pushed it so it would cross the man's path.

�He never saw the skateboard. He hit it running flat out, fell down, and skidded on the polished floor. He struggled up and kept running, although his arm was crooked.

�"Dennis Rablan! It's Dennis Rablan!" Murphy yelled, but only Pewter understood as she came alongside Murphy.

�The two cats followed Dennis, running hard, his right arm hanging uselessly by his side. He turned, hit the doors with his left side, and escaped.

�The double doors swung shut, keeping the cats inside.

�"Damn!" Mrs. Murphy spit, the hair on her tail puffed, her eyes huge.

�As Susan reached Harry, Tucker, hearing a second set of footsteps, bounded up the stairwell. Tucker, now on the second floor, heard footsteps thump down the far stairway. The corgi ran down the hall, reaching the top of the back stairwell as the human hit the bottom, turned right and, narrowly missing the cats, opened the doors and escaped. The cats escaped with him. He was in black sweats with a ski mask covering his face.

�Within seconds Tucker was at the bottom of the stairs. With her greater bulk, she pushed a door open and followed the cats.

�About a hundred yards ahead of them they heard footsteps drop over the bank; they followed as the figure ran toward the houses behind the school. He disappeared, they heard a car door slam and a car took off, heading west, no lights.

�"Damnit!" Tucker cursed.

�"It was Dennis Rablan," Murphy panted.

�"But who was the guy upstairs?" Tucker kept sniffing the ground.

�"Let's follow the tracks," Pewter wisely suggested. They followed two sets of tracks to the end of the schoolyard.

�Looking down at the houses below, Murphy said, "I would never have thought Dennis capable of these murders. I can't believe it but I smelled him. It was him."

�"Let's go back inside," Tucker said.

�"We can't open the doors." Pewter sat in the cool grass.

�"I can. Come on."

�Once inside, they checked down the hall. Everyone was around Harry.

�"Let's go upstairs and work backwards. There may be a scent up there that will help us." Pewter started up the back stairs.

�The other two followed.

�Tucker, nose to the ground, moved along the hall. Pewter, pupils wide in the dark, checked each room, as did Mrs. Murphy.

�"English Leather." Tucker identified the cologne. "Enough to mask the scent of an entire regiment. Odd. So heavy a scent even humans can smell it. Why advertise your presence like that?"

�"What's this?" Pewter stopped in the hall, patting at a thin, twisted piece of rope with a wooden dowel on each end.

�"A garotte!" Mrs. Murphy exclaimed. "He was going to strangle someone."

�"Think we can get Susan or another human up here?" Tucker said.

�"No, they're worried about Mom and we should be, too," Pewter replied.

�"We can't just leave it here." Murphy thought a moment. "Tucker, pick it up. Drop it at their feet. When things quiet down one of the humans will notice."

�Without another word, Tucker picked up the garotte, and hurried down the stairs to Harry.

�Rick Shaw and Cynthia attended to her. They had just arrived at the school. Hank, Fair, and Susan knelt down with Harry.

�"It's not crushed, thank God." Cynthia gently felt Harry's windpipe.

�Harry still couldn't speak but she was breathing better.

�Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker quietly walked down the stairs.

�Tucker dropped the garotte at Rick Shaw's feet. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, bent over, and picked it up. He whistled low.

�Tucker eagerly looked up at him, then turned, walking toward the stairwell.

�Harry whispered-her throat felt on fire-"They chased him."

�"There were two of them!" Pewter, in frustration, yowled.

�Rick followed Tucker up the stairs. The dog stopped where Pewter found the twisted rope. Although it was cool on the second floor-the heat was turned down for the weekend-Rick was sweating. He knew what a close call Harry had suffered. And he also knew because Jason called in on the squad car radio that he had lost Dennis Rablan at the intersection of Route 240 and Route 250. A big semi crossed the intersection and when Jason could finally turn, Dennis was out of sight. The officer drove down Beaver Dam Road, turned back on 250 to check that out, turned west on 250, and finally doubled back on 240. No trace.

�Slowly he walked down the hallway, down the back stairwell, to the doors. He pushed open the doors, accompanied by Tucker, and walked to the edge of the hills.

�He knelt down; the grass was flattened. He stood up and quickly walked back to the school. He and Cynthia had locked the doors at the top of each stairwell. He walked up the stairs. The door was open, a stopper under it so it wouldn't swing back and forth. The lock had been neatly picked. He walked the length of the hall to find the other door, also propped open. It had been opened from the inside. Then he came downstairs and checked on Harry again.

�Harry, sitting with her back against the wall, was pushing away a glass of water Susan wanted her to drink. She was breathing evenly now.

�Rick knelt down with her. "Can you talk?"

�"A little," she whispered. She told him about hearing a sound, going up a step to turn on the lights, and hearing a man's voice say, "Don't, you idiot." Then he hit hard and she fell back.

�"Did the voice sound familiar?" Rick put his hand on her knee.

�"Yes, but . . . it was just a whisper. I didn't recognize it, and yet, there was something familiar. Eerie."

�"Height?"

�"Maybe five nine, ten, average, I guess."

�"Build?"

�"Average."

�"And you couldn't see the face?"

�"Ski mask." She reached for the water now. Susan handed it to her.

�Rick stood back up, asked everyone where they were. In the parking lot, they all confirmed one another's presence, except for Susan, who waited at the doors for Harry.

�"Listen to me," Rick commanded. "Say nothing of this. Harry, if you can't speak normally for the next few days, put out that you have laryngitis. Let's see if we can disturb our guy. He's going to want to know what you've seen."

�"Okay."

�"Next thing. Keep someone with you at all times."

�"I wish they could listen. Dennis Rablan!" Murphy meowed, knowing it was hopeless.

�"It's all right, Mrs. Murphy." Harry reached for the cat. Pewter came over, too.

�"You're covered at work. Miranda is there," Rick said.

�"I'll stay," Fair gladly volunteered.

�"Z'at all right with you?" Cynthia, sensitive to the situation, asked Harry.

�"Yes." Harry nodded.

�"Do you think he was waiting in the stairwell for Harry?" Susan shuddered.

�"I don't know," Rick grimly replied. "If he was up there throughout the dinner, he'd have seen who was leaving and who was staying. If he'd gone to the dinner and then come back, well, maybe he hoped his intended victim was still there." He turned to Harry and then Fair: "This is a highly intelligent and bold individual. Take nothing for granted." Rick was seething inside that he hadn't posted a man upstairs. He assumed locking the doors would do the job.

�The three animals looked at one another. They knew they'd be on round-the-clock duty, too.