Nine Lives to Die

by Rita Mae Brown

  Harry was making coffee for everyone as Fair was frying up eggs and bacon. She said, “Not again.”

  “Another five minutes,” said Fair. “What about you?”

  “Coffee’s just about ready,” said Harry. “I’ll set the table. Would do everyone good to come inside for a bit. The cold seeps into your bones.”

  “This isn’t exactly how I thought we would ring in the new year,” Fair said. He put the bacon on paper towels to soak up the grease.

  “Don’t do that,” Pewter yowled. “Pour it on my crunchies.”

  Hearing the cat, Fair looked at the other two animals. He saved the grease, pouring it in a china cup. “I’ll let that cool.”

  “Heaven!” Pewter purred loudly.

  “It’s not on your crunchies yet.” Tucker enjoyed pricking her dream.

  “Wonder if Flo ran back to River Run?” Harry folded napkins.

  “If that’s where she headed, let’s hope she got there,” said Fair. “Tricky roads.”

  “Yeah. She’s been a pain, rude, you name it, but I feel sorry for her.”

  “I do, too.”

  Flo had ample occasion to feel sorry for herself as Esther drove into Cletus’s driveway that morning.

  After two long strides to the front window, Cletus ordered, “Hide! It’s Esther.”

  Flo ran into his bedroom, which was cold as ice. She prayed her sister hadn’t spotted her car behind the shed.

  Cletus opened the door and acted as though this was a common occurrence, Esther as his front door during a snowstorm. “Esther, how are you?”

  “Cletus, have you seen Flo?”

  “No. Come on in out of the snow.”

  Esther stepped inside the front door. “What a winter this has been! We have winters with no snow and then winters with lots of snow. I don’t understand it.”

  “Me neither.”

  “I’ve called the sheriff’s department. I’m so worried about Flo. She’s been wandering lately and gets so angry. I hate to think of her out in a storm. I thought she might have stopped by here. I remembered once she told me she’d drop by here to sit and talk.”

  “No. Should I call you if I see her?”

  “Better to call the sheriff’s department.”

  Hearing Esther’s voice, Buster clambered out of the crunched-up towels and barked.

  “Terminator, that’s enough.” Cletus knew it was Buster.

  “Do you still have that adorable dog? Oh, I must see him.”

  “He’s in the kitchen. You go in and I’ll be right behind you, if you will excuse me for just one minute.”

  As she stepped into the kitchen, Cletus opened the bedroom door and grabbed Flo by the wrist. They shot out the front door just as Esther bent down to look at The Terminator and also beheld Buster.

  “Buster!”

  As Esther shouted the dog’s name, Cletus skidded behind the wheel of Esther’s sturdy SUV, Flo already in the passenger seat. Esther had pulled in the driveway behind his truck. He had the presence of mind to notice she did not come to the front door carrying a purse and did not have keys in her hand. He took the chance that she’d left her keys in the ignition. Luckily, he was right.

  Turning on the heavy vehicle, he gunned it out of the driveway just as Esther stepped from the house, shaking her fist. “Stop!”

  “Crank up the heat,” Cletus ordered Flo.

  Frightened of her sister, she was also brimming with admiration for Cletus. “What are we going to do?” she asked.

  “We’re going back to Margaret and pray, and I mean pray, Flo, that we get there before the cops get us.”

  “Why would they get us?” Flo rubbed her upper arms as the heat was flowing out of the vents.

  “Because your sister is on the phone right now calling the sheriff, declaring we stole her car. My wall phone is hard to miss. The second call she’ll make is for Al to pick her up.”

  He was right.

  As Esther calmly explained to the police about the drunk and her crazy sister who stole her Lexus, citing the license plate, Buster shouted to The Terminator. He had to bark loudly at the deaf old dog, “Have you had your rabies shots?”

  Nodding his head, ears forward, The Terminator replied, “Yes.”

  “Damn,” Buster cursed.

  “Why?” the ancient dog asked.

  “You could bite her.”

  This made the old boy laugh, then Buster joined in. Esther, fuming, thought they were snuffling.

  A wary Cletus slowed down while driving the back roads, most of them gravel. The car would shimmy out now and then, but he’d steer it back on track. “Do you have a cellphone?” he asked.

  “Cletus, I don’t have squat.”

  “Well, what good are you?” He half laughed.

  “Good enough to give you the most exciting New Year’s Day you’ve had in years.”

  He thought for a moment, then grinned. “Got that right, girl.”

  Carefully, they hugged the back roads, alert for state troopers and sheriff’s department vehicles. Fortunately, most of them were working the major highways and interstates today.

  At long last, Cletus turned down Harry’s snow-covered road, as she hadn’t had time to plow the new fallen snow.

  “Traffic. Look at the tire marks,” he noted.

  “Reckon she called the sheriff about Margaret?”

  “Flo, what the hell would you do if you came home and found a skeleton sitting under a light in front of your barn doors?”

  “You’re right. I don’t remember you being quite so forceful, Cletus.”

  “Get used to it,” he barked. “Now, this is what I want you to do. You find the highest-ranking officer, tell him your story. I’ll back you up. They probably won’t believe you. And if they don’t know already, they will soon enough that this is Esther’s stolen Lexus. So you will be put in jail.”

  “No.” Flo turned the door handle, and he grabbed her left arm.

  “Flo, do what I tell you and everything may turn out okay. Tell them everything. Everything.”

  “Oh, it’s so horrid. So very horrid.”

  “Flo!” He leveled his gaze at her. For a second, she glimpsed the man he once was.

  “I will.”

  “They’ll still lock you up. I’ll do what I can. The first people I will ask to help us are Fair and Harry. They were good kids. I expect they’re still good. I’ll do my best for you.”

  “Cletus, you already have.” Flo’s eyes were getting watery, but she brushed them clear.

  He pulled up next to one of the squad cars. Everyone was in the kitchen eating. Margaret remained in front of the barn doors.

  Tucker barked, “Intruders.”

  Harry walked to the back door, looked out the glassed-in porch. “It’s Flo and Cletus. Dear God, who next? The Rockettes?”

  Cooper stood up. “I’ll bring them in.”

  “I’ll put more food out,” said Harry. “Whatever they’ve been up to, they’ll be hungry. I’ve seen how they live.”

  Cooper stepped outside. “Come on in.”

  Neither Cletus nor Flo wore a coat. Still, they were apprehensive about coming in.

  “Come on, Flo. Your sister reported you missing and her car pinched. You can have breakfast before we deal with that.”

  “She tell you I stole her car?”

  “I took that call a half hour ago,” said Cooper. “She called the department.”

  Dabny stood up, as did the other two sheriff’s department men, when Flo entered the room. Their mothers taught them well.

  As did Flo’s. “Please sit down,” she said.

  “Let’s all have a New Year’s breakfast before we worry about details.” Cooper helped Harry put filled plates on the table.

  “You must be cold.” Harry placed two heavy mugs before them.

  “Deputy Cooper, are you the senior officer?” Flo asked.

  “I am.”

  “Jump up on the counter with me. We don’t want to miss any of th
is.” Mrs. Murphy effortlessly soared onto the counter.

  “Anyone want some cookies?” asked Harry. “Every Christmas, Fair and I receive these wonderful shortbread cookies from a couple in Wyoming.” She rose, opened the tin, placed rich shortbread cookies from Scotland onto a plate.

  Once on the table, everyone reached for them at once, which caused laughter.

  How wise Cooper was to let everyone eat, and let the warm food do its work. Her time with the churches had taught her what a hot meal can do.

  “Wyoming?” Dabny bit into the glorious food. “I’ve always wanted to go there.”

  “Gorgeous. Flat-out gorgeous.” Harry beamed. “We made such friends there. These are from Mimi Tate and Jim Smith. They own a ranch right up near the Montana border called Wymont. You know how you bump into people and suddenly you’re friends? That kind of thing.”

  Cletus finished his plate. He was full and most grateful not to be talking about the huge problem by the barn door. He nudged Flo under the table.

  “Deputy Cooper, I should tell you, tell everyone, why we’re here,” said Flo. “First, I apologize to you”—she indicated the Haristeens—“for putting Margaret Donleavey in front of your barn.”

  “Miss Donleavey!” Harry and Fair exclaimed.

  “Yes.” Flo twisted her napkin in her hands under the table. “How beautiful she was, remember? I was surprised you didn’t recognize her bracelet.”

  “Of course.” Harry’s hand flew to her cheek. “But so many ladies of her generation or their mothers wore them. It didn’t click.”

  “I nearly passed out when I saw that wonderful gold piece.” Flo continued, “First. I did not kill Margaret. Esther did. Everyone was at the football game against Louisa; the crowds went wild. No one paid much attention to anything after that game. People ran everywhere, tooting horns, celebrating. Margaret was in charge of cleanup, the light stuff. Another crew would come in the next day. Al went off to celebrate with the team, the assistant coaches. Margaret and Al were a hot item. Esther knew. She watched Al like a hawk. So she lured Margaret over to her car after everyone left the lot. Said they could go to the little beer joint and celebrate with the others. Said she’d come back in the morning and help if needs be.”

  “Didn’t Miss Donleavey know how Esther felt about Al?” Harry asked.

  “I guess she did, but Margaret wasn’t a person who thought badly of others, and Esther had never treated her badly. And she wanted to celebrate, too. But, you see, my sister was obsessed with Al. Esther still is to this day.”

  “How’d she kill Margaret?” asked Harry. She couldn’t help herself.

  “She drove through town, heading toward where the team was celebrating. Said she had to stop for a minute. Pretended to check a tire. Said it was flat. Margaret got out to help. That’s when Esther shot her. She laid her flat in the back seat. Put a towel under her back, in case she’d bleed. She’d shot her through the heart. Picked me up, told me I had to help her. She was as cool as a cucumber. She swore Margaret did not suffer, never knew what hit her. She said it was a humane ending.”

  Harry asked another question, but Cooper didn’t mind. “Weren’t you scared?”

  “You bet. I still am.”

  “Flo, I have to call in that we’ve found you or you’ve found us,” said Cooper. “As to this entire conversation we have witnessed, good. You weren’t coerced in any way.” Cooper turned to her crew. “Someone write all this down. Good to have backup.”

  “Right,” Dabny agreed as Harry rose to fetch a tablet out of the drawer along with a pen.

  Noticing the button Harry had also put on the table, Flo exclaimed, “Her sweater! That was on Margaret’s sweater. She had thistles on everything. Well, maybe not everything, but she was proud of her heritage.”

  Cooper was on the phone, reporting to HQ that Flo and Cletus were with them.

  “Cletus, did you know about this?” Dabny asked.

  “No. Not until Flo came to me yesterday. She was afraid of Esther.”

  “There are a few things I still don’t understand,” said Fair. He leaned forward. “Can you tell me why you brought Margaret here? And Flo, why did you or Esther remove Margaret’s bones from the upturned tree?”

  “Esther panicked when she heard the body was found,” said Flo. “The weather worked in her favor. I let her boss me around. The first time around, I helped her because she’s my sister. This time I was afraid of what she’d do to me if I didn’t. We untangled poor Margaret from the tree in awful weather! We wrapped her in a plastic tarp, then wrapped another one around that. She was so light. We slid her up the hill to the old road on the spine, above here. Esther said the shed behind Random Row would be a good place for a few days to stow her until we found another hiding place. She’d thought about this. Said no one would be there. That’s where we stashed her.” Flo reached for another swallow of coffee. “I shouldn’t have done any of this. When this first happened, I was worried that Esther would be found guilty of murder. I loved my sister. I don’t now, but I did then. And over time, especially these last few months, I started to think she might kill me. If she gets a chance, I do believe she will. But who will believe me?”

  Cletus vowed, “We’ll find a good lawyer.”

  “How can I pay for it?” Flo threw up her hands.

  “Don’t worry about that now.” Harry didn’t know what to believe.

  Formerly sullen, snappy, and odd, Flo was certainly in possession of herself now.

  “You two stay in here,” said Cooper. “We’ve got to go outside and finish up.” She stood, as did the others.

  They worked outside, taking photos, checking everything. Twenty minutes later, they all heard a big eight-cylinder motor come down the drive. A huge Suburban pulled up.

  Al and Esther quickly disembarked. “Where is she?” Esther appeared very worried.

  “She’s fine, Mrs. Toth.” Cooper smiled. “We’re taking her in.”

  “Taking her in?”

  “Yes. After all, she stole your car,” Cooper cleverly replied.

  “Oh, that.” Esther was ready to say more when Al noticed the skeleton.

  “What is that?”

  Esther turned and saw Margaret’s bones as well. Her face betrayed no recognition.

  Cooper quietly said, “We believe it’s Margaret Donleavey.”

  Al howled. “No. No, it can’t be.” He sagged against the car.

  Dabny rushed toward him, held him up.

  Al regained his footing, tears streaming down his face.

  “How can you be sure?” asked Esther. She now looked upset but not stricken.

  “Flo,” came Cooper’s clipped remark.

  “But Flo’s having mental problems. Surely she can’t be counted on to tell the truth.” Esther’s voice oozed reason.

  “I have to run her in, Mrs. Toth.”

  Just then, Flo, unable to stand it, ran outside wearing one of Harry’s jackets. Cletus, without any overcoat, was followed by Fair.

  Esther turned to see these three. “Flo. Come on, I’ll take you home.”

  “Mrs. Toth, I have to take her in.” Cooper was firm.

  “Surely not.” Esther was equally firm.

  “She may be a murderer or an accessory to murder.” Cooper dropped one shoe but not the other.

  Taking a step back now, Al appraised his wife with a new eye. He said nothing as the tears dripped off his chin.

  “She drove here in your stolen car,” said Cooper. “And Flo also provided us with valuable information regarding the remains.” Cooper pressed ever so slightly.

  Esther blanched, then color flushed back into her cheeks. “Surely, Deputy, you aren’t going to listen to my mentally impaired sister and her dipsomaniac companion.”

  “Oh, but I am.” Cooper turned to Dabny. “Better take her in now, Dab.”

  As Dabny gently pushed Flo into the four-wheel-drive squad SUV, Flo turned to Cletus. “Take care of Buster.”

  “I will,” he a
nswered. “I will. You don’t worry about a thing, Sweetheart.”

  “Sunshine! I can’t believe it.” Harry tossed horse manure into the wheelbarrow, doors open to the barn.

  “Too much white.” Pewter squinted.

  “Do you always have to find something to complain about?” The dog brushed past her, deliberately trying to provoke the gray cat.

  Pewter reached out with her right paw to snag Tucker, who easily avoided the smack.

  “Fatty, fatty,” she mocked.

  Pewter puffed up, danced sideways. “You’d better be afraid. I can bloody your ears, shred your nose, and, if I feel really furious, blind you.”

  “Ta, ta!” The corgi bumped her again.

  Pewter, enraged, leapt toward the dog, who shot down the center aisle. Her claws clicked on the brick carefully put down in the 1840s.

  Mouth open, eyes bright, Tucker charged through the aisle, ran right out into the snow, hooked a left, dropped down in the snow so only her ears showed.

  “Peon!” Pewter ran after her, miscalculated the depth of the snow if she’d even considered it, and sank out of sight.

  Tucker dug out, ran over to where the cat disappeared, turned around, and kicked snow all over the spitting feline. “Weenie!”

  “What is going on?” Harry asked the tiger cat. Prudently remaining on a tack trunk, Mrs. Murphy was the epitome of good reason.

  Stepping outside, Harry arrived just in time to see a gray cat with a dunce cap of snow on her head crawl out of a hole. Tucker, flat on the snow, egged her on.

  The cat did look funny. Harry laughed.

  “You’ll pay. You’ll both pay.” Pewter shook her head, strode toward the barn, a study in wounded dignity.

  “Tucker, don’t play so rough,” Harry chided.

  “Every now and then, Mom, even a good dog breaks her chain.” The corgi offered the old excuse.

  Back in the barn, with stalls picked clean of droppings and the wheelbarrow resting to the side of the barn, Harry knew she’d need to dig out a path to the manure spreader. Each morning, Harry picked stalls, rolled the wheelbarrow to a level spot. The earth had been dug out, secured with heavy logs. The manure spreader in good weather rested there. Harry would tip over the wheelbarrow into the manure spreader. Later, she’d hook up the tractor, pull out the spreader, and spread the manure and straw, which would be churned up, cut up, by the blades at the end of the wagon. Couldn’t do that today.