Left Fur Dead

by J. M. Griffin

  “I don’t know about trimming, have you had experience in that? I wouldn’t want to hurt her.”

  “I watched some videos on YouTube last night. The hair needs to be gently lifted from her skin and snipped in small clusters, leaving about a half inch or so of fur on her body.”

  Surprised by her willingness to try her hand at shearing, I said, “I’ll help you with that. If you do well, I have a customer who has at least one angora rabbit that needs a haircut. Let’s get the rest of the chores done, and then we’ll take care of Petra’s fur.”

  From the other end of the barn, I could hear Jess and Ray rattle metal trays as they withdrew them from underneath the cages. Each tray had to be cleaned, sanitized, and returned to its proper cage. The two of them worked in unison, one person pulling and cleaning while the other sanitized it and put it back. A time-saving technique Jess had introduced the teenagers to.

  By the time all was done, Molly and I had taken Petra from her hutch and laid her on the table. Comfy in her position, she sprawled, stretching her legs a little farther. Used to having her fur sheared, she didn’t bat an eyelash as we smoothed her coat. Molly began the process of blowing her fur with a hair dryer to lift it, allowing for ease in handling it.

  We chuckled over Petra’s love of being groomed. She lay still and calm, making the job go faster than I’d thought it would. But then, Petra was used to me and Molly. We used sharp scissors to snip the fur, starting with her back, on to her spinal area, and moved outward in a circular motion from there. Within an hour, we had a swath of angora fur that could be spun into yarn. Jess and Ray did other chores while we finished up with Petra.

  “Have you been keeping track of the time between trimming Petra?” I always did, but wondered if Molly had.

  “It’s been about four months, and her fur was coming out in strands when I brushed her the other day. Her coat was a bit lackluster, too. It seemed like time, why do you ask?”

  Her answer spot-on, I said she’d done well, and that I’d refer her to my customer. “Of course, I’ll be there with you, just in case something goes haywire. It’s easy to accidentally snip their skin.”

  The remaining hours for the two teens flew by. The barn was shipshape when they were ready to leave, and I handed their wages to them before they went home. I watched as they went down the driveway, past the farm sign, and started their trek into town. More than once I’d offered a ride, but they preferred to jog in good weather. Today was one of those days.

  Having heard the tail end of my conversation with Molly, Jess asked, “Are you certain Molly can handle shearing on her own?”

  “I’ll work with her, she’s quite good with the scissors and is very careful. We’ll make a rabbit farmer out of her yet.”

  A snort of laughter came out. “I think she’s going to college.”

  I grinned. “Me too. Let’s have some supper, I’m starving and surely Bun is, too.”

  * * *

  The next few days were busy. Other than Mel Ferguson arriving to look and then buy my parents’ furniture and oddments, nothing out of the ordinary took place. Saturday finally arrived. At ten o’clock, Fred Costanza stepped through the barn entry door and greeted us. Jess was a bundle of anxiety and excitement combined.

  Introductions made, we walked through the shop and into the rear barn. We followed Fred’s lead as he studied the space, his face serious and demeanor businesslike. I wasn’t certain of what he saw that might be different from what we saw, but then, I wasn’t a carpenter, either. Bun had followed behind, offering his opinion.

  “Good golly, it’s cold in here. My toes are freezing. Give me a lift.”

  I picked him off the floor, held him against my chest, and gently kneaded his paws, which were very cold, indeed.

  We walked as a group to the end of the open space and back, Fred asking questions as we went. I listened as Jess answered him.

  “There should be at least three patient rooms and a waiting area for the overflow. A counter and shelf fixtures, and possibly cabinets. That should take care of the construction end of things.” She gave him the dimensions of the rooms.

  He’d nodded as she spoke, making mental notes, I guessed, since he didn’t have a notebook handy.

  “You’ve got enough room for that and storage for supplies, too. I’ll work up the numbers and get back to you girls.”

  “Would you like a cup of coffee before you go, Fred?” I asked.

  “No thanks, the wife has me on a low-carb-and-no-coffee diet these days.” He shook his head. “Spoils all the fun in life, don’t ya think?” With that he went on his way, leaving us gaping at each other. When the door closed behind him, we burst into laughter.

  “I’m glad you don’t treat me like that, Jules.”

  I gave Bun a slight squeeze.

  Just then, Lizzy arrived. She rushed in, draped her coat and handbag over the hooks behind the register, and apologized for being tardy.

  “Of all times for my battery to crap out, it had to be today!”

  “We were here, not to worry, Lizzy.”

  “On top of that, my phone battery was dead, too. Do you mind if I charge it while I work today?”

  I agreed and then asked what great plans she had for Fur Bridge Farm’s Shop.

  A list in her hand, Lizzy gave it a quick look and said, “First off, I heard you have angora that needs spinning. I can do that for you and handle customers who drop by. Yesterday, I worked up an open house ad for your approval. It can be altered to your specifications, but we do need a definite date. Tomorrow is the beginning of April, and we should have a two-week lead up to the event.”

  Her energy was daunting, her ideas knew no bounds, and every time Lizzy came to work, there were more promotions and orders to consider. Maybe I should make her the farm manager, and I’d be a simple worker. I trashed that thought in a fraction of a second and asked to see the ad.

  She handed me the mock-up and waited while I looked it over, wringing her hands in the meantime.

  “This isn’t definite, if you want changes, we can shift stuff around. What do you think?”

  Jess and I had our heads together while we went over the list Lizzy proposed. I wondered if she knew the amount of time and energy it would take to pull off an event like this.

  “I know it’s a lot of work, Juliette. Though I think we can manage it with your helpers and me there to give you a hand. You might have to pay them, but you could ask if they’d donate their time, even for an hour or so in shifts.”

  I hauled in a breath of air, thinking the whole time how this woman ran on high octane and wishing I did. “I want to think this over. You get started on your projects for today, Jess will bring you the angora, and I’ll make lunch. Would you care for soup and a sandwich?”

  Her eyes rounded, laughter bubbled over, and Lizzy gave me a huge smile. “That would be lovely, thank you, Juliette.”

  “It’s Jules, and I’ll let you know when the food is ready.” I gave Jess a nod and went on my way, Bun in tow.

  Could life get any crazier? If I had to organize an open house, how would I find time to investigate Arty’s murder, let alone figure out who my intruder was? I shook my head, put Bun on the floor, and washed my hands before starting to cook.

  Draped in an oversized apron, I took sandwich ingredients from the fridge and cans of Progresso soup from the cupboard. Bun hopped about until I nearly tripped over him.

  “Hey, watch where you’re going. You almost crushed me.”

  With a glance over my shoulder, I whispered, “If you would stay out from under my feet, you wouldn’t get crushed.”

  He backed up a few feet and settled next to the counter. “Okay, okay. You might have a point there. I was only interested in what people food you planned to serve. Geesh!”

  “Sorry about being snippy. I just can’t think how we’ll manage an open house, run this business, have Fred here constructing, investigate Arty’s death, and find our intruder, who has been absent for
some time now. I’m not complaining about his absence, I’m merely wondering where he’s been and what he’s up to.”

  “Are you talking to the rabbit again?” Jess laughed and shook her head. “Good thing I know you aren’t crazy, Jules.” She opened the cupboard door, took out plates and bowls, then got flatware from the drawer and set the table for three, adding glasses to each place setting.

  “When I get overwhelmed, I talk to Bun about it. It makes me feel better to speak aloud in these situations.”

  “I understand. Lizzy has this agenda because she can see the possibilities, it’s from the marketing talent she has. Her job was downsized due to the economy, not because she wasn’t good at what she does. Don’t worry, we’ll work it all out. I think her plan is sound and would be a boost for business, too. We can offer so much to the public, and since you’re well-known, we could easily be overrun with people, potential rabbit owners, yarn folks, and more.”

  There was a chance that it would take over my life if we were successful, and though I knew it was a worthy plan, I was undecided on the whole idea. “Lunch is ready, let Lizzy know, okay?”

  Her expression puzzled, Jess said, “Will do.”

  Moments later, the two women strolled into the kitchen. Our meal was quiet for the most part. Lizzy spoke of her job at Windermere Marketing Consultants, Jess mentioned her clinical rotation, and then she asked Lizzy about spinning yarn. I was fascinated by handmaking yarn from animal fur and listened with interest.

  When there was a lull in Lizzy’s explanation, I asked, “Would you be willing to do a demonstration for the open house?” What was I thinking? I had no clue. It seemed to fit into the overall theme Lizzy had set out, so why not include it? I guess I’d made my decision on the venture, after all.

  From the other room, I heard Bun comment, “I knew you’d come around. It might even help us get a handle on who killed Arty. Just invite all those people you and he did parties for.”

  Ignoring his words, I asked Lizzy if she’d be interested in offering spinning classes. “It won’t be every day, just once a week or every two weeks, depending on the number of students that sign up, and your availability, of course. Spinning, weaving, and fiber arts in general are quite popular now. What do you say? We could include the information in the ad and offer registration forms to our guests.”

  “Gosh, Jules, I think you should have taken up marketing.”

  “Don’t even think about it, we have a murder to solve.”

  “I’m getting into the swing of things, is all,” I said to both Lizzy and Bun. “I’ll leave the marketing to you. Clearly, you know what you’re doing.”

  The table was cleared. Jess and Lizzy returned to the shop to consider what else might be of interest to the public, while Bun and I readied for a trip outside. I hadn’t gotten any real exercise in days and longed for a walk. I zipped my jacket, hung Bun’s sling across my body, and tucked him inside.

  He snuggled in until he was comfortable and said, “You’re getting really fluffy, Jules. I mean that in a good way. It’s certainly comfortable in this sling, now that you’re fluffier.”

  Fluffier, huh? I heard Bun’s light sigh and pondered a diet to go with my exercise and drove to the park.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  I left the car near the ball field and took the walking and bike path. Bun relaxed in the sling, until I began to jog. I grinned at what I knew would be his response to being bounced around.

  “Are you going to jog the entire path? My delicate bones are beginning to rattle.”

  “No need to whine about my jogging, Bun. I’m only trying to get my fluffiness under control.” It had rankled that he’d made the remark. Rabbit or not, he should have known better. As an intelligent rabbit with a good command of language, who could speak, albeit by mental telepathy, Bun should have chosen his words carefully.

  I slowed my pace, then lessened it again to a fast walk. Bun said nothing, but kept his head outside the sling to see where we were going. Having walked for a good hour, I noticed the sun had moved to the west. I turned to make our way back when Bun whispered, “Beware, we’re not alone.”

  “Wha . . .” A sudden, intense pain in my upper back knocked us sideways, off the path, and we went into a downhill slide.

  I came to a stop. Bun moaned and then whispered, “Act like you’re dead, don’t open your eyes, and hold your breath. He’ll think we’re dead or close to it.”

  Head pounding, my back in the throes of a painful spasm, I took short breaths. Groggy, I was aware of Bun’s advice and sucked in as deep a breath as I could and held it. Dry leaves left over from autumn covered the hillside. They crunched under the feet of our attacker as he came to view his handiwork. I let my mouth hang open, left my hand folded under at the wrist, and hoped my hair covered the rest of my face.

  A deep grunt came from him as he stood beside us. Rabbits have an uncanny way of pretending they’re dead to ward off those who would torture them until they died. Bun didn’t move, I couldn’t feel him breathing. The lower half of his body, still in the sling, was stuck under my armpit.

  A heavy-booted foot nudged my shoulder. It moved, and I was relaxed enough to let it drop back in place. The full weight of the boot hit harder this time, flipping us on our side. Bun didn’t flinch or move a hair, nor did I. As difficult as it was to maintain this act, my will to live had kicked in, forcing me to behave like Bun, as though we were no longer among the living.

  “Huh, the nosy woman is dead, and so is her rabbit. Good riddance.”

  His voice was more of a growl than anything else. It chilled me to the bone to think someone would be glad we were lifeless. The footsteps receded as he climbed the hill. Bun and I had been left for dead. This was the second time in my life this had happened. I wondered if Bun had suffered the same experience in his lifetime.

  We lay there for what seemed ages. Finally, Bun said, “He’s gone. Really gone. We can become undead now. Are you all right, Jules? I was nearly crushed by you. Thank goodness you’re fluffy and not bony. I’d be a goner if you were.”

  I opened my eyes to a mere slit, noticed how deep shadows filled the twilight, and peered at Bun. “I don’t think my bones are broken, though my back hurts. How about you?”

  He rubbed his sweet little nose against my hand and said he was fine. I ran my fingers over his head, allowing him to fully wiggle into the sling before I sat up. “We’d better get out of here before it’s completely dark. Our first stop is the sheriff’s office. I left my phone in the car, or I’d call and let the rescue people come get us. Are you ready?”

  His head moved in agreement. I got to my knees, took stock of our surroundings, me and the sling, and realized I was filthy, yet again. What was it with me and dirt anyway? First at Arty’s house and now here. On my feet once more, I staggered up the hill, pulling us up by grapevines that protruded from the underbrush. Some gave way, and some held fast. The journey up was harder than the one going down. I grimaced with back pain while we continued to the top of the path.

  A cyclist, the beam of his headlight shining like a beacon, skidded to a stop next to us.

  A look I took as astonishment covered his face. “Wow, you’re a mess. Can I help you?”

  “If you have a phone handy, I’d like to use it.”

  He fiddled around in the pack secured at his waist and handed me the phone.

  I dialed the police station and asked to speak with Sheriff Carver. Two seconds later he came on the line.

  “What can I do for you, Jules?”

  “Bun and I were attacked on the bike path. Could you come get us?”

  “Are you injured?”

  “Somewhat. I’m able to walk but could use a hand.”

  “Be right there, stay put. Are you and the rabbit alone?”

  “A cyclist is here with us.”

  “Let me speak to him.”

  Whatever the sheriff had to say was answered by several “yes, sirs” and nothing else. When the call end
ed, the man introduced himself to me as Frank Audet, and I told him who I was.

  I wiped my hand on my pants and held it out to shake his. He dismounted and shook my hand, asking if I would like to try to walk with him, alongside the bike. I nodded and took a tentative step forward. The going was slow. We’d gone a few yards when a team of rescue personnel charged down the path, bright flashlights lighting the entire area. They stopped short when they saw me, then came forward at a lesser pace. Sheriff Carver caught up to them, looking as if he needed their help more than I did. He huffed and puffed, apparently short of breath.

  I stared at him for a few moments. “Are you all right, Sheriff Carver?”

  Having gotten his breathing under control, he nodded and asked if I could walk to the end of the path. “It isn’t far from here, Jules. The rescuers can bring a rolling gurney for you, if you can’t make it on your own.”

  “No, I’m fine, I have to keep moving. We were struck, and I fell sideways down the hill. The man who attacked us kicked me in the back to make sure we were dead. It was scary, Jack.”

  “Left for dead again, were you?” Jack asked in a voice tinged with relief. Anger flashed in his eyes and stiffened his features.

  “Seems that way. I was worried for a few minutes. Figured he might finish what he started.”

  “Any idea who it was?”

  I shook my head. His body hidden from view, Bun’s head appeared, reminding me of the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland. Focused on the sheriff, his nose wriggled.

  “Does he think we had time for that? Good gravy, it’s likely nobody has time for that when they’re being attacked.”

  My knees shaking, I remarked, “I didn’t have the opportunity to do a meet and greet, Jack. He struck me from behind. Like I said, he knocked me off my feet, sending me down the hill. I lay there like a rag doll as he kicked me.” That was when I fainted.

  When I came to, Bun hung in Jack’s grip. He handed him to another man in a jacket that had the letters EMT embroidered on it. I reached up and demanded, “Hand over the rabbit.”