“His color is better.” Mrs. Hogendobber offered a biscuit to Cynthia after shooing Pewter off the table.
Too late, though, for Pewter had yet another fresh biscuit firmly clamped in her jaws. She chewed some of it, then tore the remainder with her claws. “That's what I'm going to do to that blue jay.”
“Dream on.” Murphy listened, unmoved, to the details.
“Doubting Thomas,” cooed Pewter, who at that moment felt glorious, since she had successfully stolen a biscuit.
“We're lucky.” Murphy hopped off the counter and rubbed against the corgi's snow-white chest. She dearly loved that dog, although she wouldn't say it out loud.
“We saved Blair.” Tucker licked Murphy's ear.
“Yes.” She rubbed her cheek against Tucker's cheek.
Big Mim, Little Mim, Herb, and Tally came in. Cynthia didn't tell them the news about finding the drug records because Big Mim already knew. If Rick Shaw didn't call her the second he knew something, she'd make his life miserable. It helped that she made major contributions to various law-enforcement events and charities.
“We're all feeling better, thanks to you.” Mim shook Cynthia's hand.
“I don't deserve any credit, really.”
“You're too modest. All those hours of questioning people, investigating sites, poring over evidence—no one sees how much work there is.” Mim smiled.
Tally spoke up abruptly. “This Saturday at three at my place, the old cemetery, you are invited to a funeral.”
“Oh, no! Who has—” Miranda rushed to console Tally, who held up her hand for silence.
“I'll explain at the funeral. Reverend Herb will conduct the service and afterward I will serve refreshments with the help of my niece and tell you who died and why. I won't live much longer myself. I need to tell you—” She paused, reaching for the counter to steady herself. “I need to tell you how things stay with you. The past, I mean. The past lives right through us. Even if no one ever reads another history book, even if whole nations resign themselves to ignorance, the past pulls like the moon on tides. Please come.”
“Of course we'll come.” Miranda's voice, filled with warm sympathy, almost made Tally cry.
“I'll be there. Thank you for inviting me,” Harry said.
“How about that?” Pewter was amazed.
After the group left, including Cynthia, Harry and Miranda sorted, then swept the floors.
“I wonder why Tally invited me to this funeral?” Harry asked.
“I believe it has something to do with you.”
“Me?”
“Your blood. There was talk about Tally and your great-grandfather. I was too young to pay attention. But there was talk. This was before my time. Mother remembered, though.”
“I guess we'll find out on Saturday.”
“You know that you were ransomed from the futile ways inherited from your fathers, not with perishable things such as silver or gold, but with the precious blood of Christ, like that of a lamb without blemish or spot.” She put the broom back into the broom closet. “Redemption. I should think that whatever she tells us, Saturday is about redemption.”
“What chapter and verse?”
“First Peter, Chapter 1, Verses 18 and 19.”
“You amaze me.”
“In my day we learned by rote. Stays with you.”
Harry scooped up Murphy and kissed her head. She was thinking about the animals driving the Porsche and knowing she couldn't tell anyone.
“Miranda, do you really believe that people can be redeemed? A murderer can be redeemed?”
“Certainly I do, if he but accepts Christ as his savior.”
“What about Murphy and Tucker, and Pewter, even though she's a little thief?” She smiled.
“A thief is the only person guaranteed a place in paradise. Remember, it was a thief crucified with Christ who accepted him as the Son of God, and Jesus promised him everlasting life.”
“Hope for Pewter.”
Miranda, years ago, would have been offended at this discussion, at the idea that animals have immortal souls and spiritual lives . . . but working with them and watching them, she had changed her mind. Not loudly. Not even so much that others might notice by observation. “There's redemption for Pewter. God loves all his creatures and I believe we will be reunited in heaven.” She stopped, and this, for her, was a revelation. “Harry, sometimes I think that animals are closer to God than we are.”
“Not blue jays,” Pewter announced, being uninterested in theological discussions.
“I do, too.” Harry looked around. “It's a wrap, partner.”
Miranda put her hand on Harry's shoulder. “I've known you since you were born, Mary Minor. And I know you have doubts. Your faith gets shaken. But it's there. Your mother and father gave you rock-solid beliefs. When you need it, it's there.”
“I hope so.”
“In time of trouble—” Then Miranda stopped herself. “Let's hope few troubles come your way. I think of them as tests, God's tests. Blair is being tested. He needs us. He's hurt physically and harmed morally.”
“Little Mim will be at his side.”
“We must all be there.” She glanced at the old railroad wall clock. “Oh, dear, I'd better hustle my bustle.”
Harry laughed as Miranda scooted out of the post office. Her old-fashioned phrases delighted Harry. She dropped the paper shades and double-checked the lock on the sliding door that closed off the office part of the post office, then walked to the back, dropped the hard plastic sheet in metal slots through the animal door, and secured it with a steel pin. Lastly she opened the back door. “Come on, gang.”
Three furry behinds scampered into the late afternoon as Harry locked the back door to the post office.
She opened the door to the blue Ford truck, lifting Tucker in. Pewter and Mrs. Murphy had already jumped up onto the bench seat.
Harry turned the key. The starter clicked, then the motor turned over. She let it idle for a few minutes. No point in pushing the old girl.
Once the motor hummed, she pushed down on the clutch, reaching for the long black stick shift on the floor.
Mrs. Murphy moved over to sit in her lap.
“Want to drive?” Harry asked her as Pewter laughed.
“I only drive Porsches.” Mrs. Murphy giggled.
Dear Reader,
Cats will conquer the world! Well, if not the world, then the Internet. I now have my own domain on Mom's website. Our address is:
It's not necessary to address me as Your Most Exalted Striped Presence. A simple “Miss Pie” will do.
So many of you ask whether Harry and Fair will get back together again. In my mystery following this one, Pawing Through the Past, Harry prepares for her twentieth high-school reunion. This gets her all wispy and misty about Fair, but then, humans are prone to nostalgia.
Cats don't have twentieth high-school reunions. We're too vain.
Others of you have visited Crozet, Virginia. You have discovered that the post office does not exactly parallel what I describe in my books. That's because I've blended the look of the Crozet Post Office with that of the Whitehall Post Office. Artistic license. Other than that, Crozet physically is pretty much Crozet. The characters are my own creations.
I dispatched seven field mice yesterday. Top that!
Affectionately yours,
Sneaky Pie
Books by Rita Mae Brown with Sneaky Pie Brown