Whisker of Evil

by Rita Mae Brown

  “I can’t turn around without bumping into him.” Fair laughed. “I could kill him.”

  “Me, too, and not feel a twinge of guilt. He overstepped the line. He called the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta, and in the process of asking for information about rabies, where had it shown up this spring and so forth, he apparently told them we have a human epidemic.”

  “What?” Fair’s jaw dropped.

  “Bill Langston called me and said his phone has been ringing off the hook.”

  “What does it mean exactly?” Paul inquired. “That he called the Centers for Disease Control?”

  “For one thing, the state veterinarian will be here tomorrow.” Tavener sighed. “A good man, but we’re all busy as can be and he’s going to want to see each of us. And for another thing, the head of Public Health will get his butt over from Richmond, and might I remind you this is an election year. He’ll chew out the county health officials, all of whom properly did their jobs. God only knows what will happen if some genius candidate gets hold of this. Remember years ago”—he directed this to Harry, Fair, Susan, and BoomBoom—“when old Richard Deavers went crackers? For you all”—he indicated Blair, Tazio, and Paul—“Richard Deavers had money, and when he lost his mind he decided that humans were abusing animals because they didn’t wear clothes. They were ashamed of their nakedness just like we were when expelled from the Garden of Eden. Anyway, to make a long story short, he must have spent hundreds of thousands of dollars trying to get legislation passed that would force us to put clothes on cats, dogs, horses, cattle, and so on. Some people believed him. Some of them put a new twist on it: nakedness encouraged human immorality. My God, what a mess. We finally voted it down as a state—not local, mind you, but state—referendum. Well, we could be in for something that ridiculous if Jerome Stoltfus isn’t sat down hard.”

  31

  No!” Harry uttered the forbidden word through clenched teeth. “No, I won’t do it.”

  Southerners are taught from infancy a variety of ways to decline without saying no outright. It’s considered bad manners to be so blunt. Furthermore, anyone who forces you into a true D no—a true D being a Southern expression that means the ultimate—is forever despised by you. They should know better. If they’re a Northerner, who prizes directness, they are doubly despised, first because they pushed you and second because they lack all subtlety and don’t appreciate same.

  Miranda’s eyes about popped from her head. Her hand flew to her mouth.

  “Now, Harry, you can understand that these are unusual circumstances.” Pug Harper’s voice remained genial.

  Having heard the no, Pug, born and bred in Albemarle County, knew he had mortally offended one of his best people.

  Jerome Stoltfus knew it also, but he didn’t care. “I spent this whole Wednesday morning with the state veterinarian and people from the Health Department. Can’t be having pets in public places.”

  Pug wanted to smash Jerome. “Harry, this will all calm down. Just for the next few weeks.”

  Jerome flared up. “Few weeks, hell. Animals got no place in a federal building. Says neither rain, nor sleet, nor snow or whatever will keep you from your appointed rounds. Doesn’t say anything about cats and dogs. From the looks of it, that fat gray thing couldn’t even get to the corner, much less your appointed rounds.”

  “I resent that!” Pewter spat.

  Mrs. Murphy, sitting next to Pewter in the mail cart, concurred. “Jerome, we can scratch your eyes out before you know what hit you.”

  “And I can bite you until you bleed!” Tucker, standing foursquare in front of Harry, meant every word.

  “That dog’s growling at me. That dog’s vicious. I can impound Tucker, you know.”

  “For Christ’s sake, Jerome,” Pug, at the end of his rope, hissed, “there has never been a vicious Pembroke corgi in the history of man!”

  This stopped Jerome for a moment.

  “Pug, I like you. I think you are a fine postmaster, and the volume of mail in this county has tripled in the last five years. You’ve done a wonderful job coping with that, plus the federal rules, which would stop Einstein. But I am not removing Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker from the post office. I mean it.” Harry put her hands on her hips.

  “Then I’ll write you a citation.” Jerome smacked his hands together.

  “Will you kindly shut up!” Pug raised his voice. “Harry, Richmond’s in an uproar. The damned media will get their teeth into the story. Crozet, Rabies Capital of America.” He sighed.

  “I gave Jerome my paperwork. Dr. Shulman can vouch for the splendid health of my family. I won’t do it.”

  “I can put you in jail. I can impound your animals. You have contempt for public health. For the public good.” Jerome was on a roll.

  Pug wheeled on him, but Miranda intervened. “This is dicey. We can all see that, but, Pug,” she lowered her voice, “you are going to muster out these two little kitties and this adorable and very helpful puppy when the new building is completed, aren’t you?”

  Pug blanched. “Now, I didn’t say that but, well, there will be a new set of workers, you know, and if Harry brings her animals they’ll want to bring theirs. It will be like a zoo.”

  “It’s against the law.” Jerome, not necessarily relishing Harry’s discomfort, finally was in a position of some power. It went right to his head.

  Harry, in control of herself, said quite calmly, “Pug, I guess I knew this was coming.”

  “But that won’t be for at least seven months, given building delays—you know how that is—a year. But for now, take these guys home, will you?”

  “For good.” Jerome snapped his lips shut, the lower one slightly jutting outward.

  Harry looked at Miranda, whose eyes brimmed with sympathy, then she turned back to Pug. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to run the P.O. today. I quit.”

  “Me, too.” Miranda scooped up Pewter as Harry picked up Mrs. Murphy.

  Tucker, thrilled, strutted in front of the humans as they walked out the back door.

  “Aren’t you going to fire her?” Jerome prodded.

  “Fire her? She just quit, you complete and utter asshole!” Pug clenched his fists. He wanted to smash in Jerome’s face.

  Jerome took a step backward. “She’ll be crawling back. She’ll be here tomorrow. She has to work for a living. What would she do without the post office?”

  “You don’t know Harry very well, do you?” The square-built man jammed his hands in his pockets. “She won’t be back. She won’t ask for her job back, and you just cost me one of my very best people. She’s never late for work. She’s never even missed a day’s work, and neither has Miranda. You don’t find people like that every day.”

  Jerome shrugged. “She was breaking the rules.”

  “We’ve got too many rules in this damned country, and you know why, Jerome? So assholes like you can get a job enforcing them. God knows, no one else would hire your sorry ass. Now, if you need your mail, pick it up. Otherwise, get out of my sight before I lose all semblance of restraint.”

  Jerome skedaddled out the front door.

  Harry slid behind the wheel of her truck, parked at the rear of the small brick building.

  “Move over,” Miranda ordered her.

  “Why?”

  “I’m driving.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re too upset to drive. I don’t want you to have an accident. Go on, move over.”

  It wasn’t until that exact moment that Harry realized how much Miranda loved her. She burst into tears.

  “Ah, Mom, it will be okay.” Mrs. Murphy, on her hind paws, put her front paws on Harry’s shoulders.

  Pewter licked Harry’s left hand, while Tucker licked her right hand.

  “Home?”

  “Fair’s.”

  Miranda turned over the old 1978 Ford, the V-8 engine rumbling deep, pleasing notes. The old pickup was running on its eleventh set of tires, fourth set of brakes,
third clutch cable, and a brand-new exhaust and muffler. Ran like a top.

  Within ten minutes, Miranda pulled into Haristeen Equine Clinic.

  Harry noticed a white truck with the state emblem on the side. “Miranda, I think the state vet is here. I’d better not bother him.”

  Just then the state vet, a tall man, not much more than thirty-four, ambled out and climbed into his truck.

  When he drove off, Harry and Miranda walked into the clinic, and Harry no sooner saw Fair than she started bawling.

  “Skeezits, what’s wrong?” Fair hurried over to her, calling Harry by an old nickname, wrapping his strong arms around her.

  “Quit,” Pewter succinctly said.

  Miranda spoke since Harry couldn’t at that moment. “Oh, Fair, that Jerome Stoltfus has opened Pandora’s box. What a mess. He’s got everyone in an uproar, and Pug Harper came into the post office with Jerome. He told Harry the kitties and doggy had to go. For a time. But then I asked him if that wasn’t really going to be permanent when the new building was up. He said as much.”

  “I won’t work without my babies,” Harry wailed.

  “Are we babies?” Tucker thought for a moment.

  “Tucker, she’s upset. We’re her partners and friends,” Mrs. Murphy reasonably said.

  “I won’t. I quit. I can’t live like that, Fair. I know millions of people get up, go to offices, sit in front of computer screens, but I’ve only got this one life and it may be kind of a small life but, still, it’s my life. I’m not living like that. I want to be with my animals and I want”—she caught her breath, then said with vigor—“to be outside. Working in the post office was too much inside as it was.”

  “I understand.” He held her tight. “Miranda, what about you?”

  Alma, Fair’s secretary, discreetly stayed behind the reception desk.

  “I quit, too.” Miranda smiled broadly. “Times are changing.”

  “Guess they always were. I mean, I guess someone thought that in fifth century B.C.” Harry was recovering.

  Alma softly inquired, “Mrs. Haristeen, could I fetch you some water or coffee?”

  “Alma.” Harry wiped her eyes. “I would love a Co-Cola. I think I cried myself into dehydration.”

  “Come on, let’s sit down.” Fair propelled her to the sofa.

  Miranda followed.

  “You’ve got patients.” Harry felt guilty.

  “My patients are in good shape today.” He sat next to her as Alma handed her an ice-cold Coke and a glass of ice.

  She returned to give Miranda one and then Fair.

  “Thank you, honey.” Miranda poured the bubbling liquid over the ice cubes, which crackled in the glass.

  “I’ll wring his neck. I mean it. I will cut him off at the knees!” Harry was returning to form.

  “I’ll snap off his fingers.” Tucker puffed out her white chest.

  “Jerome or Pug?” Fair smiled.

  “Jerome.”

  “You’ll have to take a number and stand in line. You should have heard Tavener on the phone about an hour ago. And you know how Tavener can talk. I think he’ll put a contract out on Jerome. Said he wasn’t worth going to jail over but he needs killing just the same.” Fair laughed.

  Harry took a deep breath. “Miranda, I’m sorry I got you into this.”

  “Actually, you didn’t. I’ve seen enough of the post office. George was frugal. He left me enough to garden and put gas in the car, visit my sister once a year. It was time for a change.”

  A wave of fear washed over Harry. “Oh, my God, I’ve got four mares to feed plus my guys.”

  “Half those mares are mine. Now, look, don’t worry and don’t do anything rash. Everything’s going to work out.”

  “I’m not going back.”

  “I didn’t say that you were. And,” he smiled, “there will be four well-bred yearlings to go to the sales next year, God willing. Everything’s going to be all right.”

  “God bless Sugar Thierry.” Miranda sighed.

  “What was going on with Tavener?” Harry’s curiosity flooded back, pushing out her upset.

  “Media. As the senior vet, the television crews from Channel Twenty-nine, Six, and even one from D.C. have camped out on his doorstep. After leaving him, they plagued Hayden and Bill. The problem with TV is they can edit out the important material and go for the jugular. Tavener, Hayden, and Bill aren’t going to fan the flames of panic. People will go out and shoot any stray animal they see and, for all I know, one another. I know everyone’s been reasonable and responsible, but it scares me how it will come out on the tube.”

  “Aren’t you due for another rabies shot?” Miranda asked Harry.

  “Next week.” Harry finished off her Coke, the caffeine and sugar improving her mood. “Fair, thanks. I’m sorry to barge in. Thanks, Alma,” she called to her.

  “No problem.” Alma stood up from behind the reception desk.

  “Think you’ll help out Pug?” Fair cleared his throat.

  “Well, it’s never good to storm off like that. I should give notice but I can’t take the kids. So I’ll call him. I can give him some names and—well, he has them, anyway, people who can fill in. But I’m not going in.”

  “Okay.” Fair nodded.

  “And I won’t, either,” agreed Miranda. “All the years I gave that post office. George was named postmaster in 1962. And you know, I enjoyed it and I was so glad to come back in when Harry took over after George’s death. But I meant it when I said times are changing, and I suppose every person has to decide whether to change with the times or not.” She placed her glass on the coaster. “It’s time for me to do something different. I’m like Harry: I think things are too overregulated. When you think of the time we all waste on nonproductive labor, it’s amazing anything of significance ever gets accomplished.”

  “Amen,” Alma called from behind the desk.

  “Honey, I’ll come over after work tonight. I’ll bring sushi,” Fair told Harry.

  “Hooray!” Pewter leapt up on the coffee table and turned a circle.

  “Okay.” Harry brightened.

  Miranda drove Harry to her farm, then stayed there to garden while Harry painted her shed. She’d built scaffolding, which speeded the process since she could walk from end to end at the top. The bottom half she could paint while standing on the ground. She liked painting, because she saw an instant result. This instant result was gray since she was methodically putting on primer.

  “Harry, your phone is off the hook in the tack room, it’s ringing so much.” Miranda called out from the rose beds.

  “I know. I’ll call everyone later. Needed to think. Oh, by the by, as soon as you’re ready let me run you home.”

  “In good time.”

  Susan, BoomBoom, Tazio, Little Mim, Big Mim, and even Aunt Tally, furious at not reaching Harry by phone, all came down the drive within the next hour.

  After recounting events, listening to everyone’s ideas and opinions—all favorable to her, which was gratifying—she was alone. Susan drove Miranda back home.

  The quiet slap of the paintbrush underscored the fact that she was unemployed, in her late thirties, no prospects in sight, and bills to pay. She’d graduated from Smith College with a degree in Art History and fell into the job as a postmistress the summer after graduation. George Hogendobber had died of a heart attack and Harry took the job to fill in. She never dreamed she’d stay behind the counter of the small post office in small Crozet. Not that she was heading for New York City and wealth, but with her education it seemed natural that she’d go on, get a doctorate, and teach at one of the wonderful universities within driving range: Sweet Briar, Mary Baldwin, the University of Virginia, or even Hollins, which was down in Roanoke. Randolph-Macon was in Lynchburg. There were many possibilities and Harry excelled in her studies.

  The first year passed and she settled into the job. She liked being at the hub of events. They might be events such as hail peppering BoomBoom’s barn roo
f or a new restaurant opening at the corner, but she liked knowing the news. She’d even gotten to the point where she read the papers, watched the nightly news, but came to the conclusion that where you live is what’s real. Not that she didn’t care about what happened in other parts, but she lived in Crozet, and if she was going to do any good in this world it would be in Crozet, Virginia.

  Now what?

  32

  Fair called Jerome Stoltfus, who was shadowing the state veterinarian.

  “Animal control,” Jerome barked into his cell phone, as he drove the exact speed limit. Jerome was that kind of guy.

  “It’s Fair Haristeen.”

  “Now, don’t you jump down my throat because Harry went postal.” He chuckled at his little joke. “Those critters don’t belong there, anyway, and she’ll think things over and be back at work Monday. I give her Thursday and Friday to mull it over.”

  Fair cleared his throat. “Harry usually takes a long time to make a decision. When she makes one quickly, uh, I’d watch out. And you ought to know by now, Jerome, whether she makes a decision slowly or quickly, she won’t back down. Not ever.”

  “We’ll see.” Then a flash of illumination changed Jerome’s tone. “But you were married to her, so I guess you know. I was fixing to call you, but this has been intense. Today has been intense. Can we change our get-together?”

  As this was why Fair was calling Jerome, he was relieved. “Sure. Any night after five. I’m usually at the clinic until six.”

  “How about Monday?”

  “Fine.”

  “I’ve been talking to a lot of doctors. You start listening to those guys and it’s a wonder anyone is healthy. Sure are a lot of ways to get sick.”

  “Seems to be.”

  “I’ve been looking up stuff on the Internet. Cave climbers, what do you call them . . . ?” he asked.

  “Spelunkers.”

  “The Internet site on rabies said those people get rabies inoculations.”

  “That’s very interesting.”

  “Said that when you’ve got an enclosed place with little ventilation and thousands upon thousands of bats that have been living there since B.C., well, you might can inhale rabies.”