Left Fur Dead

by J. M. Griffin

  With Bun in his room eating hay and nibbling pellets, I washed my hands and joined her at the table.

  I withdrew the letter from my pocket and waved it about. “I haven’t had time to look at this, but I can feel it in my bones that it’s important.” I slipped it back into my pocket. “I’m starving, what are we having?”

  “Ham sandwiches and salad.” Jess leaned back in her chair and said, “You’re bristling with excitement, tell me what happened. Out with it, now.”

  I filled her in on the man who snooped around my car and his argument on the phone. “I have no idea how he knew it was there, or if he had simply come across my car by accident. I wasn’t followed. Anyway, he went through the woods, the same way I did, headed toward Arty’s house. Oh, crap, I forgot to leave the key.”

  “Did you hear what he said? As to the key, I’m sure if he knew it was available, he’ll know who took it. You better watch your back, Jules. If this guy doesn’t know what you were doing out there, he’s certain to become curious. Maybe he’ll even cause trouble for you with the sheriff by saying he saw someone on the property.”

  “I doubt he’d do that. After all, he’d have to explain his own actions, wouldn’t he?”

  “Good point. Let’s hope nothing comes of it, then. By the way, my clinical rotation is over today. I’ll be back around five. Would you answer any calls that come in? I’ve had several requests for information and questions on when my clinic will be opening.”

  “I’ll do what I can. Before I left, I thought I heard Molly offer her help.”

  “It’s a gorgeous day, I didn’t have the heart to keep her here. All she talked about was going to the park, then the mall, and meeting up with some friends later. Ray had to leave by noontime, so he’s already gone. Remember what it was like to be their age? Not that we’re ancient, well, maybe we are to them.”

  “Right, twenty-five is old when you’re still a teenager.”

  Plucking at a loose string on the cuff of my shirt, I said, “Andrew came by while you were gone. He asked about the investigation into Arty’s death. Wanted an update, I guess. I told him I didn’t know any more than he did.” I shrugged. “I don’t think he believed me. Though, he did offer to help me find Arty’s killer and was willing to go to the house with me. I blew him off by saying I’d consider the offer. I think he’s got his eye on us and our doings.”

  Her eyes widened as she gasped. “Why would he do that? He has no reason to be interested in us, does he?”

  “He’s keeping watch for our safety would be my guess.” I washed the last bite of sandwich down with a gulp of water and started to clear the table. “Get going.”

  Jess went on her way. I rushed through my house tasks and then returned to the barn to handle the rest of the day on my own.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  The hours flew by. I shuffled one rabbit after another into the bunny playground in between answering Jessica’s phone. If this was a measure, the clinic would do well. Thrilled as I was for Jessica, I worried over how she would manage alone while I took care of my own business. I knew I couldn’t do both.

  The last rabbit returned to his cage, I leaned against the counter and rolled my shoulders to relax.

  I went into the yarn shop and slid up on the stool. I propped my elbows on the counter surface, and cupped my chin in my hands in thought. I couldn’t handle this alone every day, and I wouldn’t ask Jess to help me after her clinic business got rolling. Peter would be leaving soon, Molly might want the summer off before heading off to college, and Ray Blackstone had already said he couldn’t work for me too much longer.

  The door opened, and Molly walked in. I opened my mouth to ask why she was here.

  “Don’t tell me you’ve worked all day by yourself?” Molly asked. “I know how busy you are with the rabbits, entertaining at birthday parties, and doing whatever else that comes along, but you have to have help, Jules.”

  “You’re right. I was just considering my loss of workers before you came in. Are you taking the summer off?”

  “Not if you need me. I could use the extra money, besides, I would miss you and the rabbits.”

  I agreed that she was a great help and said the rabbits responded to her quite well.

  She tossed her coat on the counter and said, “I can give you a hand right now to tend to the rabbits.”

  “You are wonderful. Thanks.”

  We gave each rabbit an extra cluster of timothy hay and squared them away for the rest of the day. The only thing left to do was make my rounds later on in case any of the furry critters were in need of something.

  Molly slung her coat over her arm and promised to work for me when I needed her. As she walked out, Jessica arrived.

  “Hey, I finished early and stopped by my apartment to get my mail. Has anything happened?”

  “Nothing. You had quite a few calls, I did my best to answer questions and made a list of people who want brochures. Are you planning to move back to your place?”

  “Not until this guy who’s been causing you trouble is in jail. Then, and only then, will I move out. Unless you want me to go now?”

  “Not at all, just asking.”

  Her coat still on, Jess went into the clinic to get the list I left her.

  “Jess seems quite happy. Her vet business is going to do well, I think.” Bun sat back on his haunches and asked, “Wanna share what’s on your mind?”

  “There are two suspects for Arty’s death and our break-ins. I think they’re somehow connected, but I can’t figure out how.”

  “Who’s your number one culprit?”

  “The first person would be the guy from today. I’m certain he’s our intruder. I recognized the timbre of his voice when he spoke on the phone, though I couldn’t make out what he said. The second would be Andrew.”

  “I understand your reasoning for the first suspect. I heard what he said, but it didn’t make a whole lot of sense to me. But then, I’m just a rabbit, so there you have it. Why Andrew, why is he a suspect?”

  My jaw must have dropped, leaving my mouth as open as a fly catcher, because Bun gawked and said, “Is there a problem? You’re not having a stroke, are you?”

  He drew closer, but stopped about a foot away.

  “You didn’t tell me you heard what he said. For goodness’ sake, Bun, why not?”

  “Uh, well, I guess I didn’t think it worthwhile. I was rather hungry, tired, and had been nervous when that guy passed by so close. I could also smell his scent.”

  “You smelled his scent and didn’t tell me? How can I solve this mystery without your input? Good gracious, Bun, stop thinking of how you feel. Think about Arty’s killer, and help me identify who is causing us problems.”

  Okay, so I was in a snit, and close to losing my temper big-time. I paced the kitchen a few times, took a pad of paper and a pencil from a kitchen drawer, and then dropped into a chair with a huff of irritation.

  “I’m sorry, I guess it was unthinking of me to hold back. It wasn’t intentional, it really wasn’t. I’ll tell you what I heard and about his scent, okay? Don’t be mad at me, Jules, I get scared when people get angry.”

  Knowing he played me like a concertina, I fell for his trap anyway. It was true, Bun didn’t like anger of any kind, he couldn’t deal with it very well, not even his own. His former owner and her family were to blame for that. He’d reaped the unsatisfactory rewards of their displeasure one too many times, leaving him on edge whenever things went awry, and someone became hostile.

  I lifted him off the floor, hugged him, and whispered in his ear, saying how loved he was and would always be. “I’m not upset with you, not really. I’m mostly frustrated when it comes to getting a line on the intruder. I have Andrew almost figured out, and that has taken some doing. I couldn’t have managed any of this without you, Bun. We’re partners, after all.”

  He squirmed a bit to get comfortable in my lap, then jittered his whiskers. I chuckled, smoothed his coat, and rubbed his ea
rs. Once again, all was well with Bun.

  “Tell me.”

  “The guy in the woods argued with someone called Sids or Sims, something like that. His voice was rather muffled, but still angry. It’s hard to be certain. His side of the conversation was limited, but he did say one thing that bugs me.”

  The rabbit had become solemn and quiet. When he wasn’t forthcoming, I asked, “Well, do I have to drag the words out of your mouth, or what?”

  He sniffed, and then continued. “Patience is a virtue, Jules. I was giving this a little more thought, is all. He said Arty had gotten what was coming to him, and so would the rest. I’m sure he killed Arty, but he didn’t say as much. I’m also certain the rest of us means you and me, the other rabbits, and maybe even Jessica. Creepy, huh?”

  I shivered and gave him a nod. “Sure is. What else did you hear?”

  “Not much, he was calmer by the end of the conversation. He agreed with something the other person said and put the phone away. Do you think it was his partner he was talking to?”

  “You know, Bun, I’ve always wondered if this intruder was working with someone else, but who? Andrew? He’s such a loner, it’s difficult to see how that would work out. Then there’s the big brute from the walking path at the park.” Shaking my head, I set Bun on the floor and pulled the paper and pencil toward me. Fiddling with the pencil, I wove it out of my fingers like a baton and thought hard.

  “Before I forget, his scent smelled peppery and strong. You must not have a decent sense of smell, it was very bold. I nearly coughed, it choked me up. What are you doing now?”

  “I’m putting my facts and suspicions on paper. Then I’ll take what I come up with to Carver. He knows more than I do about this whole thing, and he isn’t sharing. This could be my chance to get him to open up. At the house, I searched for the Bible. It had been on the top of Arty’s dresser when I saw it last. Now it’s nowhere in the house.”

  “Do you need my help with getting your thoughts together?”

  I could hear the hopefulness in his voice. “Not now, but when I’m done, I will read them to you, and you can see if they make sense. You’re brilliant when it comes to that.” Who was playing whom now?

  Preening over the praise, Bun didn’t seem disappointed by my not taking his offer to help.

  “I’ll sit right here, then, and wait until you’ve finished.”

  I scribbled words onto the paper as fast as my thoughts presented themselves, well, almost as fast. After Bun interrupted one too many times, I slanted him a look that quelled any other questions or input he might have. Not wanting to miss writing one single thing I’d learned, I kept going until my hand became cramped. I dropped the pencil, stretched my fingers, and sat back, reading the scrawled words.

  Andrew was a loner, yet he’d offered to assist me in breaking and entering. He’d questioned me about the murder, about how far the investigation had progressed, and was keeping a keen eye on my home and all of us. Why?

  How long had he really been squatting on my land? Hmm. Had he truly believed the property was state-owned as a sanctuary? Not likely. Was he our intruder? No. What was his interest in Arty’s house? Were he and Arty related? Possibly. Was something there that Andrew wanted? Maybe. And that line of thinking went on and on. Two pages later, I had exhausted Andrew’s possibilities.

  I moved on to the tall, thin, hooded intruder. He’d worn the hoodie before, leaving his features covered. Would I have recognized him if I’d seen him? I didn’t know, but knew Rusty wasn’t the intruder. Who was the intruder working with, if anyone other than the brute who tried to kill me and Bun? What did these people have against me? I didn’t have a clue. Had he killed Arty? I thought so. Had he done it because he had to? Maybe. But what would make him have to kill someone, especially Arty? Had he searched for the key I found at the scene of Arty’s death? Possibly. What had the document box held? That line of thought took hold and I hastily scribbled words. I reviewed what I’d scrawled and had difficulty reading my own handwriting.

  Bun thumped his paw on the rug, his patience barely in check. Well, I had finished writing, hadn’t I?

  “Are you done yet? I can hardly wait to hear what you’ve written on that paper.”

  I set him on the chair next to mine and read all that I’d written. When I came to the end, Bun’s ears drooped sideways, then bounced up straight again as though they had springs. Having never seen this reaction, I worried that he thought I might be on the wrong track altogether.

  “I must say, Jules, that you have been very observant, that you’ve listened to what I’ve said, and made great mental note of it all. I couldn’t have done better, if I had written all this myself, if I could write, that is, but, I am only a rabbit, and that must be a consideration. One thing, though, you shouldn’t take this to Carver. He’ll say you’re meddling, you’ll get into trouble, he might even put you in jail, and then where will the other rabbits, and I, be?”

  So very like Bun to turn things in his direction, I nearly laughed aloud. It wasn’t easy to keep the laughter inside, but I managed a smile and thanked him for his input.

  “You have such a knack for getting to the crux of a situation, Bun. I’m always impressed. As to where you and the other rabbits would be, um, let me think.” I tapped my index finger against my lips, pretending to be thinking hard. “If I land in jail for interfering in an investigation, which is highly improbable, mind you, Jessica and the students will care for your and the other rabbits’ needs.”

  I tossed the papers onto the table, picked my laptop off the corner desk in the living room, and made sensible notes out of my scribbled ones. If I were to talk to Carver about this, I’d need coherent and orderly notes. While I typed, Bun insisted I was making a great mistake by bringing such notes to Carver. Resolute in his belief these notes incriminated us as home invaders, he reminded me that such behavior was against the law. In answer to his griping, which might have been closer to a full-on rant, I said, “Don’t nag, I know what I’m doing.”

  “There’s no need to be rude, I’m not a nag. Someone must watch out for you, since you don’t do it. Besides, if you just let all those thoughts simmer for a day or so, you might come up with the solution to Arty’s death. You’ll even know who the intruder is and how this whole scenario fits together like pieces of a puzzle. Carver only complicates things and I’ve noticed he only has linear thinking. Typical, I guess, for a lawman. Not like us, Jules, we step outside ourselves and see the grand picture. Has Carver ever given you any concrete information? That would be a huge ‘NO.’”

  While Bun went on and on, he made sense. Still, in my determination to get Carver to share with me, it was clear the only way to do that was to put my information in front of him and see what happened from there. When Bun perked his ears in my direction, I knew he was about to start talking again. I pointed at his room in silence, wiggling my finger in that direction without giving him a verbal “go to your room” remark.

  A disdainful sniff accompanied a dire warning of what to expect from Sheriff Carver. Rather than sunshine and roses, Bun muttered, I’d undoubtedly end up in a dreary jail cell because I couldn’t mind my own business.

  His attitude rankled, because he might be right. Stubborn to the core, I was certain I was doing right by Arty, and us, in taking what I knew to the lawman. The printer spit out three full sheets of notes that read better than an outline for a mystery novel. I’d managed to organize the information, and thought the sheriff would appreciate my efforts.

  I folded the pages and tucked them inside a business-size envelope, and squirreled it away in my handbag along with Arty’s handwritten note. I grabbed my spring jacket and went out the door just as Jess entered the kitchen.

  “Going somewhere?”

  “Just making a trip to see Carver. I shouldn’t be gone very long. Bun’s in his room, and everything should be fine in the barn. I guess the change of locks did the trick.”

  “Too bad we hadn’t thought of it
sooner. Anyway, I’ll be here for the rest of the night. Don’t feel rushed.” Jess turned toward the living room and over her shoulder, she said, “Call if you need bail money.”

  “Very funny. I’ll pick up something for supper.” With a wave, I drove to the police station, with hope filling my heart that Jack and I could discuss what each of us knew and maybe bring the investigation to an end. I was fairly certain Arty’s death and my intruder were connected.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  The desk sergeant took my name and rang Carver’s office. It wasn’t long before Jack ushered me into his office.

  “This is a surprise. What can I do for you, Jules?”

  “I thought we might talk about Arty’s death and the investigation itself.” I slid the envelope across his desk and watched as he withdrew the notes. Unfolding them, he gave me a cool stare and smoothed the folds from the paper before reading them. Within a few minutes, he tossed the papers onto the desk and teetered back and forth in his chair, an unhappy frown on his face.

  “Do you have anything else to tell me?”

  I shook my head.

  Okay, so this wasn’t going quite the way I wanted it to. Dang, I really hate it when Bun is right. There’d be no living with him if he found out I was on the hot seat.

  “The only thing I did want to see, but didn’t get the opportunity, was to check the contents of the Bible at Arty’s house. I had seen it on his dresser, but now it isn’t there.”

  Heaving an enormous sigh, followed by a roll of his eyes, Carver asked, “And how would you know that?”

  “We, uh, I, uh, peered through the windows of his house.” It was weak, I know, but unwilling to admit I’d broken into the man’s house, I had to say something.

  “I see.” He teetered back in the squeaky chair, his look disbelieving, and the shake of his head surely meant I was in for a lecture. “By ‘we,’ I take it you mean you and the rabbit?”

  “Uh, yeah. It was just me and Bun.”

  “Did you see anything else in there that might have been helpful to my investigation?”