Pawing Through the Past

by Rita Mae Brown

  “Is it true?” Bonnie, very upset, turned on Dennis. “It must be true. Why would anyone make something like that up!”

  Bob Shoaf stopped playing footsies with BoomBoom. His eyes narrowed, he pushed back his seat as he strode over to Dennis, towering above him. “Rablan, there’s something wrong with you. I’d call you a worm but that would insult worms.” He bent over, menacing, as Fair rose from his seat just in case. “I don’t know why you’re making up this story about Ron Brindell getting raped in the showers but I do know that you were the person who found Rex Harnett dead and no one else was in the men’s room. Do you think we’re that stupid!”

  Dennis, shaking with rage, stood up, facing off with Bob. “I’m not making it up. I wish I’d done something at the time. I felt guilty then and I feel guilty now.”

  Bob reached for Dennis’s neck but Fair grabbed Bob’s arms. Bob Shoaf had been a great pro football player but Fair Haristeen was a six-foot-four working equine vet. He was strong and he had one advantage: his knees still worked.

  “You aren’t going to listen to him! He’s guilty and the sheriff is waiting for him to make a mistake,” Bob exploded.

  “Why would I kill Charlie Ashcraft and Leo Burkey?” Dennis became oddly calm.

  “You tell me,” Shoaf taunted. “It’s like your story about knowing who Charlie Ashcraft knocked up. You don’t know anything. You say these things to make yourself important. You don’t know shit.”

  “I do. You know I do.”

  By now Hank Bittner was on his feet. Everyone else was watching.

  “Then who’s the mother?” Bob stepped back, already dismissing Dennis.

  “Olivia Ulrich,” Dennis loudly said.

  “I am not!” BoomBoom flew out of her chair. “You liar. I am not.”

  “Come on, Boom. You loved his ass,” Dennis mocked.

  Susan, now at Harry’s side, said, “I don’t recall Dennis being this snide.”

  “Me neither. Something’s sure brought it out of him.”

  “Fear,” Mrs. Murphy said.

  “If he was afraid he should have stayed home.” Pewter moved farther away from the humans in case another fight broke out.

  “Maybe he’s safer here than at home,” Tucker sagely noted. “He has no family. All alone. The killer might not want to slit his throat but there are a few people here who wouldn’t mind. If I were Dennis, I’d rent a motel room for a couple of nights.”

  “Or maybe he has to be here,” Murphy shrewdly said.

  BoomBoom, shaking, pointed her finger in Dennis’s face. “Because I’d never go to bed with you—this is your revenge. You waited twenty years for this. My God, you’re pathetic.”

  “But you did have an illegitimate child.”

  “I did not and you can’t prove it.”

  “You know, I take class pictures for the schools in town. And I recall a beautiful girl who graduated three years ago who had your coloring but Charlie’s looks. Western Albemarle. You gave that girl up for adoption.”

  “Never! I would never do that.” BoomBoom was so furious she couldn’t move. She had never before felt a paralyzing rage.

  “Boom, don’t try to pull the wool over our eyes. You don’t care about the consequences. You never did. You steal people’s husbands.” Dennis looked at Harry when he said that. “You dump inconvenient children. Why, if Kelly Craycroft had known about the girl he’d have never married you. You wanted his money.”

  “I married Kelly Craycroft after I graduated from college. Do you think I was thinking about marrying money in high school? You’re out of your mind.”

  “Think it’s true?” Pewter asked Murphy.

  “I don’t know.”

  “And furthermore, I didn’t steal anybody’s husband. They aren’t wallets. You can’t just pick them up, you know.” She put her hands on her hips. “As for the rest of you, I know what you think. The hell with you. I do as I please. Ladies, virtue is greatly over-rated!”

  Harry whistled. “At long last, the real BoomBoom!”

  BoomBoom stalked out of the room with Bob Shoaf following after her, reaching to slow her down.

  Hank Bittner sat back down, calling over his shoulder, “Dennis, Rex may be physically dead, but buddy, you’re dead socially.”

  Everyone started talking at once.

  Mrs. Murphy watched Dennis sit down next to Hank. She hurried over to hear the conversation since there was so much noise.

  “You’re an even bigger coward than I am, Bittner. I just figured it out. Sheriff Shaw said something to me today. He said if these murders are revenge for Ron Brindell’s rape then someone who loved Ron has to be committing them. He said what if Ron had a lover, another high-school boy that no one knew about. The boy stood back and didn’t stop the rape. He didn’t want anyone to know he was gay. He never lifted a finger to help Ron. And no one ever suspected. That was you.”

  Hank deliberately put down his fork, turned to Dennis, and said softly, “Dennis, if I were gay I would like to think I would have the courage to be what I am. I would like to think I would have fought for Ron. But I’m not gay. It wasn’t me and I don’t know what’s wrong with you—unless that coward is you.”

  * * *

  45

  Sheriff Shaw had taken the precaution of having Dennis Rablan tailed to the reunion dinner. He also had a plainclothes officer watching Dennis’s house in Bentivar, a subdivision up Route 29.

  He’d pinned another flow chart to the long bulletin board in the hallway. The interior of the school was neatly drawn. Exits and entrances were outlined in red, as was each window.

  Cynthia Cooper was to have attended the dinner but Rick changed his mind: he thought her presence might inhibit people. Little could have inhibited that group, though, and Coop hoped Harry and Susan would save the leftovers. She beseeched them to bring a lot of Ziploc bags and containers.

  “You think the killer will crack?”

  “It’s his or her big night, isn’t it? Whoever it is has waited twenty years.”

  “Are you expecting someone to be blown up in the parking lot?”

  He shot her a sharp glance. “I wouldn’t put it past our perp.”

  “I think he’s enjoying the chaos—and the fear in the eyes of whoever is left on his list. I think he’s sitting in that gym loving every second of it.”

  “Wish we knew more about Brindell. His parents have passed away. His cousin was no help and snotty, to boot. There’s got to be somebody who can tell us who his boyfriend was—or girlfriend. One of the girls could have loved him even if he was gay. People don’t have much control over love. Mim Sanburne is proof of that.” He smiled because the Queen of Crozet had married beneath her, although everyone conceded that Jim Sanburne, in his youth, was one sexy man.

  “This is what bothers me.” Cynthia, suddenly intense, stubbed out her lit cigarette. “The killer knows we know this is the big weekend. He knows we’re expecting another incident at the dinner or right after since they canceled the dance. He knows,” she repeated for emphasis. “Is he going to risk it? He knocked off two this summer. He’s killed this morning. He might just wait, enjoy the panic, then strike when it suits him. Whoever he or she is—this lover or best friend—he’s fooled us.”

  “You don’t buy that it’s Dennis Rablan. He had access to everyone. Not much in the way of alibis but then we’ve both seen ironclad alibis suddenly get produced in the courtroom, along with the expensive lawyer.” The sheriff rubbed his chin, opened his drawer, pulling out a cordless electric razor.

  “Boss, do that in the car. Let’s go over there.”

  “Jason’s in the parking lot.”

  “Like a neon sign.”

  “What are we, then?”

  “I don’t know but I think we ought to—” The phone rang, interrupting her.

  “Sheriff Shaw,” Rick answered as the operator put the call through. “Well, stay with him.” He hung the phone up. “Jason says Dennis Rablan ran out of the high school, f
ired up his van, and is pulling out of the parking lot.”

  “Jason can stay with Dennis. Let’s go to Crozet High.”

  “I hope so.”

  * * *

  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, fa
ding 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.