Wish You Were Here (10 page)

18

A persistent owl hooted in the distance. Mrs. Murphy and Tucker padded in the moonlight toward Maude Bly Modena's store. Tucker, restless, jauntily moved along, her tail wagging. They'd be back long before Harry woke up, so Tucker treated herself to small sniffs and explorations along the way.

As they approached the building Mrs. Murphy stiffened. Tucker stopped in her tracks.

“There's someone in there,”
Mrs. Murphy whispered.
“Let me jump up on the window box. Maybe I can see who it is. You come sit by the front door. If he runs out, you can trip him.”

Tucker quickly hopped up the steps and lay flat against the door. The only sound was the click-click of her claws and the tinkle of her rabies tag.

Mrs. Murphy tiptoed the length of the window box. She pressed her face against the glass panes. She couldn't see clearly because whoever it was had crawled under the desk.

Mrs. Murphy carefully dropped onto the earth.
“S-s-st, come on.”

They circled to the back as Mrs. Murphy explained why she couldn't see.

“I can't smell anything with the windows and door closed but we can pick up the scent by the back door or by a window.”

Tucker, nose to the ground, needed no encouragement. She hit the trail by the back door.
“I got him.”

Before Mrs. Murphy could put her nose down to identify the scent the back door opened. Tucker crouched down and tripped the man coming out as Mrs. Murphy, claws at the ready, leaped onto his back. He stifled a shout, dropping his letters, which scattered in the light evening breeze.

He thrashed around but couldn't reach Mrs. Murphy, who was far more agile than he. Tucker sank her fangs clean into his ankle.

He yowled. A few houses down, a light clicked on in an upstairs bedroom. The man gathered up the letters as Mrs. Murphy jumped off and scurried up a tree. Tucker scooted around the corner of the house and they both watched Bob Berryman run with a limp down the back alleyway. In a few moments they heard the truck start up and peel out onto St. George Avenue.

Mrs. Murphy backed down the tree. She liked climbing up much more than she liked coming down. Tucker waited at the base.

“Bob Berryman!”
Tucker couldn't believe it.

“Let's go inside.”
Mrs. Murphy trotted to the back door, which Bob had left open in his haste to escape his attackers.

Tucker, head down, followed this trail. Berryman had entered through the back door. He passed through the storage room and went directly to and under the desk. He stopped at no other place. Tucker, intent on the scent, bumped her head into the back of the desk.

Mrs. Murphy, close behind her, laughed.
“Look where you're going.”

“Your eyes are better than mine,”
Tucker growled.
“But my nose is golden, cat. Remember that.”

“So, golden nose, what was he doing under the desk?”
Mrs. Murphy snuggled in next to Tucker.

“His hands slid over the sides, the top, and the back.”
She followed the line.

Mrs. Murphy, pupils open to the maximum, stared.
“A secret compartment.”

“Yeah, but how'd he get it open?”

“I don't know, but he's a clumsy man. It can't be that hard.”
Mrs. Murphy stood on her hind legs and gently batted the sides of the desk.

A loud slam scared the bejesus out of both of them. They shot out from under the desk. Mrs. Murphy's tail looked like a bottlebrush. The hair on the back of Tucker's neck bristled. No other sound assailed their sensitive ears.

Mrs. Murphy, low to the ground, whiskers to the fore, slowly, one paw at a time, headed for the back room. Tucker, next to her, also crouched as low as she could, which was pretty low. When they reached the storage room they saw that the door was closed.

“Oh, no!”
Tucker exclaimed.
“Can you reach the doorknob?”

Mrs. Murphy stretched her full length. She could just get her paws on the old ceramic doorknob but she couldn't turn it the whole way. She exhausted herself trying.

Finally, Tucker said,
“Give up. We're in for the night. Once people start moving about I'll set up a howl that will wake the dead.”

“Harry will be frantic.”

“I know but there's nothing we can do about it. We're already in her bad graces for our work at the railroad tracks. Boy, are we in for it now.”

“No, she won't be mad.”

“I hope not.”

Mrs. Murphy leaned against the door catching her breath.
“She loves us. We're all she's got, you know. I hate to think of Harry searching for us. It's been a terrible week.”

“Yeah.”

“If we're stuck here we might as well work.”

“I'm game.”

19

Pewter, hovering over the meat case, first heard Tucker howl. The sound was distant but she was sure it was Tucker. A huge roll of Lebanon baloney, her favorite, beckoned. Courtney lifted the scrumptious meat from the case. Sandwich duty occupied her morning. By 7:00
A
.
M
. the farm crowd had wiped out the reserve she'd made up Sunday night.

“Gimme some! Gimme some! Gimme some!”
Pewter hooked a corner of the roll with a claw.

“Stop that.” Courtney smacked her paw.

“
I'm hungry!
” Pewter reached up again and Courtney cut her a hunk. Buying off Pewter was easier than disciplining her.

The cat seized the fragrant meat and hurried to the back door. Her hunger overwhelmed her curiosity but she figured she could eat, and listen at the same time. Another protracted howl convinced her the miserable dog was Tucker. She returned to Courtney, was severely tempted by the Lebanon baloney, summoned her willpower, and rubbed against Courtney's legs, then hustled to the back door. She needed to perform this identical routine three times before Courtney opened the back door for her. Pewter knew that humans learned by repetition, but even then you could never be sure they were going to do what you asked them. They were so easily distracted.

Once free from the store Pewter sat, waiting for another howl. Once she heard it she loped through the backyards, and came out into the alleyway. Another howl sent her directly to the back door of Maude Bly Modena's shop.

“Tucker!”
Pewter yelled.
“What are you doing in there?”

“Just get me out. I'll tell you everything later,”
Tucker pleaded.

Mrs. Murphy hollered behind the door:
“Are there any humans around?”

“In cars. We need a walker.”

“Pewter, if you run back to the store do you think you could get Courtney or Market to follow you?”
Mrs. Murphy asked.

“Follow me? I can barely get them to open and close the door for me.”

“What if you grabbed Mrs. Hogendobber on her way to the post office? She's around the corner.”
Tucker wanted out.

“She doesn't like cats. She wouldn't pay attention to me.”

“She'll come down the alleyway. She walks it no matter what the weather. You could try,”
Mrs. Murphy said.

“All right. But while I'm waiting for that old windbag . . . What is it that Josiah calls her?”

“A ruthless monologist,”
Mrs. Murphy answered her, peeved that Pewter was insisting on a chat.

“Well, while I'm waiting why don't you tell me what you're doing in there?”

Mrs. Murphy and Tucker unfolded the adventure but only after swearing Pewter to secrecy. Under no circumstances was she to hint of any of this to Bob Berryman's dog, Ozzie.

“There she is!”
Pewter called to them.
“Let's try. Howl, Tucker.”

Pewter thundered over to Mrs. Hogendobber. She circled her. She flopped on her back and rolled over. She meowed and pranced. Mrs. Hogendobber observed this with some amusement.

“Come on, Pruneface! Get the message,”
Pewter screeched. She moved toward Maude's shop and then returned to Mrs. Hogendobber.

Tucker emitted a piercing shriek. Mrs. Hogendobber halted her stately progress. Pewter ran around her legs and back toward Maude's shop, where Tucker let out another shriek. Mrs. Hogendobber started for the shop.

“I got her! I got her!”
Pewter raced for the door.
“Keep it up!”

Tucker barked. Mrs. Murphy meowed. Pewter ran in circles in front of the door.

Mrs. Hogendobber stood. She thought deeply. She put her hand on the doorknob, thought some more, and then opened the door.

“Gangway!”
Tucker charged out of the door and hurried around the side of the house to relieve her bladder. Mrs. Murphy, with more bladder control, came out and rubbed Mrs. Hogendobber's legs in appreciation.

“Thank you, Mrs. H.,”
Mrs. Murphy purred.

“What were you doing in there?” Mrs. Hogendobber said out loud.

Tucker ran around and sat next to Pewter. She gave the gray cat a kiss.
“I love you, Pewter.”

“Okay, okay.”
Pewter appreciated the emotion but wasn't overfond of sloppy kisses.

“Come on. Mom's got to be at work by now.”
Mrs. Murphy pricked up her ears.

The three small animals chased one another down the alleyway as Mrs. Hogendobber followed, deeply curious as to why Mary Minor Haristeen's cat and dog were trapped inside Maude's shop.

Harry hadn't sorted the mail. She hadn't properly thanked Rob for the French postcard he'd smuggled to her. She'd burned the telephone wires calling everyone she could think of who might have seen her animals.

The sight of Mrs. Murphy and Tucker along with Pewter and Mrs. Hogendobber puffing up the steps astonished her. Tears filled her eyes as she flung open the door.

Mrs. Murphy leaped into her arms and Tucker jumped up on her. Harry sat on the floor to hug her family. She hugged Pewter too. This enthusiasm was not extended to Mrs. Hogendobber, but Harry did get up and shake her hand.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hogendobber. I've been worried sick. Where'd you find them?”

“In Maude Bly Modena's store.”

“What?” Harry was incredulous.

“We found a secret compartment! And Bob Berryman stole letters!”
Tucker's excitement was so great that she wiggled from stem to stern.

“Tucker bit the shit out of his ankle,”
Mrs. Murphy added.

“Inside the store?”

“Yes. The door was shut and they couldn't get out. I was walking down the alleyway—my morning constitutional on my way to see you—and I heard a ruckus.”

“You would have waddled right on by if it weren't for me,”
Pewter corrected her.

“What on earth were my girls doing in Maude Bly Modena's shop?” Harry put her hands to her temples. “Mrs. Hogendobber, do you mind going back there with me?”

Mrs. Hogendobber would like nothing better. “Well, if you think it's proper. Perhaps we should call the sheriff first.”

“He could arrest Mrs. Murphy and Tucker for breaking and entering.” Harry realized the instant the joke was out of her mouth that Mrs. Hogendobber wouldn't get it. “Let me call Market over to mind the office.”

Market happily agreed and said he'd even sort the mail. He, too, wanted to read other people's mail. It was an irresistible temptation.

The crepe myrtle bloomed along the alleyway. Bumblebees laden with pollen buzzed around the two women.

“I was right here when I heard Tucker.”

“Ha!”
Pewter sarcastically remarked.

Harry followed Mrs. Hogendobber, who recounted in minute detail her every step to the door.

“. . . and I turned the knob—it wasn't locked—and out they came.”

And in they ran too.
“Come on!”

“Me, too.”
Pewter followed.

“Girls! Girls!” Harry vainly called.

Mrs. Hogendobber, thrilled at the possibility of entering, said, “We'll have to get them.”

Harry entered first.

Mrs. Hogendobber, hot on her heels, stopped for a second in front of the huge bags of plastic peanuts piled to the ceiling. “My word.”

Harry, already in the front room, exclaimed, “Where are they?”

Mrs. Murphy stuck her head out from under the desk.
“Here!”

Mrs. Hogendobber, now in the room, saw this. “There.” She pointed.

Harry got down on her hands and knees and crawled under the desk. Pewter, grumbling, had to get out, as there wasn't room for all of them.

Mrs. Murphy sat in front of the secret compartment that she had opened the night before. A small button alongside the thin molding on the seam was the key.
“Right here. Look!”

Harry gasped, “There's a secret compartment here!”

“Let me see.” Mrs. Hogendobber, negotiating gravity, hunkered down on her hands and knees. Tucker moved so she could see.

“Right here.” Harry flattened against the side of the desk the best she could and pointed.

“I declare!” Mrs. Hogendobber, excited, gasped. “What's in there?”

Harry reached in and handed over a large ledger and a handful of Xeroxed papers. “Here.”

Mrs. Hogendobber backed up on all fours and sat in the middle of the floor.

Harry backed out and joined her. “There's another ledger in the desk.” She got up and opened the middle drawer. It was still there.

“A second set of books! I wonder who she was filching from.”

“The IRS, most likely.” Harry sat down next to Mrs. Hogendobber, who was flipping through the books.

“I used to keep Mr. H.'s books, you know.” She laid the two ledgers side by side, her sharp eyes moving vertically down the columns. The hidden ledger was on her left. “My word, what a lot of merchandise. She was a better sales woman than any of us knew.” Mrs. Hogendobber pointed to the righthand book. “See here, Harry, the volume—and the prices.”

“I can't believe she would get fifteen thousand dollars for seventy bags of plastic peanuts.”

This gave Mrs. Hogendobber pause. “It does seem unlikely.”

Harry took a page off the large pile of Xeroxed papers. They were the letters of Claudius Crozet to the Blue Ridge Railroad. Scanning them, she realized they involved the building of the tunnels.

“What's that?” Mrs. Hogendobber couldn't tear her eyes away from the accounting books.

“Claudius Crozet's letter to the Blue Ridge Railroad.”

“What are you talking about?” Mrs. Hogendobber looked up from her books.

“I don't know.”

Harry had to get back to work. “Mrs. Hogendobber, would you do something if I asked you? It isn't dishonest but it's . . . tricky.”

“Ask.”

“Xerox these letters and the accounting books. Then we'll turn it all over to Rick Shaw but we won't tell him we have copies. I want to read these letters and I think, with your training, you may find something in the accounting books that the sheriff would miss. If he knows we're studying the information he might take that as a comment on his abilities.”

Without hesitation, Mrs. Hogendobber agreed. “I'll call Rick after I've completed the job. I'll tell him about the animals. About us coming back here. And that's all I'll tell him. Where can I Xerox without drawing attention to myself? This is a great deal of work.”

“In the back room at the post office. I can buy some extra paper and reset the meter. No one will know if you don't come out of the back room. As long as I put in the ink and the paper, I'm not cheating Uncle Sam.”

“Maude Bly Modena sure was.”