Miranda put her hand on Harry’s shoulder. “I’ve known you since you were born, Mary Minor. And I know you have doubts. Your faith gets shaken. But it’s there. Your mother and father gave you rock-solid beliefs. When you need it, it’s there.”
“I hope so.”
“In time of trouble—” Then Miranda stopped herself. “Let’s hope few troubles come your way. I think of them as tests, God’s tests. Blair is being tested. He needs us. He’s hurt physically and harmed morally.”
“Little Mim will be at his side.”
“We must all be there.” She glanced at the old railroad wall clock. “Oh, dear, I’d better hustle my bustle.”
Harry laughed as Miranda scooted out of the post office. Her old-fashioned phrases delighted Harry. She dropped the paper shades and double-checked the lock on the sliding door that closed off the office part of the post office, then walked to the back, dropped the hard plastic sheet in metal slots through the animal door, and secured it with a steel pin. Lastly she opened the back door. “Come on, gang.”
Three furry behinds scampered into the late afternoon as Harry locked the back door to the post office.
She opened the door to the blue Ford truck, lifting Tucker in. Pewter and Mrs. Murphy had already jumped up onto the bench seat.
Harry turned the key. The starter clicked, then the motor turned over. She let it idle for a few minutes. No point in pushing the old girl.
Once the motor hummed, she pushed down on the clutch, reaching for the long black stick shift on the floor.
Mrs. Murphy moved over to sit in her lap.
“Want to drive?” Harry asked her as Pewter laughed.
Dear Reader,
Cats will conquer the world! Well, if not the world, then the Internet. I now have my own domain on Mom’s website. Our address is:
www.ritamaebrown.com
It’s not necessary to address me as Your Most Exalted Striped Presence. A simple “Miss Pie” will do.
So
many of you ask whether Harry and Fair will get back together again. In my
mystery following this one,
Cats don’t have twentieth high-school reunions. We’re too vain.
Others of you have visited Crozet, Virginia. You have discovered that the post office does not exactly parallel what I describe in my books. That’s because I’ve blended the look of the Crozet Post Office with that of the Whitehall Post Office. Artistic license. Other than that, Crozet physically is pretty much Crozet. The characters are my own creations.
I dispatched seven field mice yesterday. Top that!
Affectionately yours,
SPECIAL_IMAGE-BMP-REPLACE_ME
Sneaky Pie
WISH YOU WERE HERE
REST IN PIECES
MURDER AT MONTICELLO
PAY DIRT
MURDER, SHE MEOWED
MURDER ON THE PROWL
CAT ON THE SCENT
SNEAKY PIE’S COOKBOOK FOR MYSTERY LOVERS
PAWING THROUGH THE PAST
CLAWS AND EFFECT
CATCH AS CAT CAN
THE TAIL OF THE TIP-OFF
WHISKER OF EVIL
THE HAND THAT CRADLES THE ROCK
SONGS TO A HANDSOME WOMAN
THE PLAIN BROWN RAPPER
RUBYFRUIT JUNGLE
IN HER DAY
SIX OF ONE
SOUTHERN DISCOMFORT
SUDDEN DEATH
HIGH HEARTS
STARTING FROM SCRATCH:
A DIFFERENT KIND OF WRITERS‘ MANUAL
BINGO
VENUS ENVY
DOLLEY: A NOVEL OF DOLLEY MADISON IN LOVE AND WAR
RIDING SHOTGUN
RITA WILL: MEMOIR OF A LITERARY RABBLE-ROUSER
LOOSE LIPS
OUTFOXED
HOTSPUR
FULL CRY
Don’t miss the new mystery from
RITA MAE BROWN
and
SNEAKY PIE BROWN
Now available in hardcover
from Bantam Books
SPECIAL_IMAGE-BMP-REPLACE_ME
on sale now
Barry Monteith was still breathing when Harry found him. His throat had been ripped out.
Tee Tucker, a corgi, racing ahead of Mary Minor Haristeen as well as the two cats, Mrs. Murphy and Pewter, found him first.
Barry was on his back, eyes open, gasping and gurgling, life ebbing with each spasm. He did not recognize Tucker nor Harry when they reached him.
“Barry, Barry.” Harry tried to comfort him, hoping he could hear her. “It will be all right,” she said, knowing perfectly well he was dying.
The tiger cat, Mrs. Murphy, watched the blood jet upward.
Gently, Harry took the young man’s hand and prayed, “Dear Lord, receive into thy bosom the soul of Barry Monteith, a good man.” Tears welled in her eyes.
Barry jerked, then his suffering ended.
