Left Fur Dead Read online

  “He doesn’t have any family that I can find.”

  “That’s a shame. He was a nice sort, we enjoyed our stints together, and parents appeared to like him.”

  He placed the half-empty cup on the table and rose. “If you remember anything, anything at all, call me. I don’t want time to get away from us. The longer the investigation goes on, the colder the trail becomes.” At the door he reached for the knob and then said over his shoulder, “I know you might want to help out because you knew this fellow, but please don’t interfere.”

  “I have no plans to,” I blustered.

  “I’m glad we’re clear on that. Don’t poke your nose where you shouldn’t, I won’t stand for it.”

  “What was the cause of death, by the way?”

  “The pathologist is doing an autopsy on Arty’s body now. He said it appears Arty was stabbed with a sharp instrument that pierced his skull. He won’t have a full report until he’s finished, but he thinks the man might have suffered hypothermia while cranial bleeding slowly killed him. Miserable death, for sure.”

  The thought of such a slow, horrible death sent shivers over my body. “What kind of weapon was used?”

  Heaving a sigh, Jack rolled the brim of his hat with his fingertips and then put it on. “Nothing definite on that. And, before you ask any other questions, I have nothing else to say. Good day, Jules.”

  The door closed with a snap as I grimaced over his attitude. Scratching sounded at Bun’s door. I swung the door wide and, hands on hips, I stared down at the furry creature.

  “There’s no gratitude for our brilliance.”

  “We haven’t been brilliant, not yet anyway. Besides, the sheriff doesn’t want our assistance.”

  “I think we should investigate, if not to satisfy our curiosity, then to get justice for Arty. After all, you might still become a suspect if Sheriff Carver finds out how bad your disagreement with Arty was.”

  “I had thought of that. If Jack presses me, I’ll have to admit the situation got out of hand. Until then, I intend to keep that information to myself.” I walked away before Bun could insist we become involved.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Never let it be said I don’t listen. The problem is that I don’t follow orders. Just because Jack Carver wanted me to stay out of Arty’s murder investigation didn’t mean that I wouldn’t check into a few things on my own. I owed Arty that much. I had questions that needed answers, too. Answers I wouldn’t get from Jack, that’s for sure. Besides, if he asked around, he might find my disagreement with Arty had ended in a screaming argument.

  A couple of weeks after our tiff, the barn had been broken into and the rabbit cage doors were left open. While I hadn’t thought Arty was to blame, it gave me pause to think he’d been involved somehow. The furry little darlings had remained in their homes for the most part, since they were wary when those unfamiliar to them entered their domain. Unusual, I know. Several of the rescue rabbits had been traumatized by the event. It took weeks to coax many of them out of their homes, so they could get some exercise. Jess and I had constructed a huge playground where the rabbits could scamper about and jump around, as well as run through a clear plexiglass tunnel.

  I’d been angered by the action that caused the rabbits mental harm. The barn doors had also been left wide open for escape. Thankfully, only one rabbit took advantage of his freedom. He’d eventually come back, looking for a meal and his own pen. Initially, Jess had named him Willy, but after his escape, she’d renamed him Walkabout Willy. We’ve kept a close eye on him, lest he take another trip around the farm.

  “What’s for supper?” Jess asked, tossing her work gloves in the laundry basket.

  “Shepherd’s pie is on the menu. Hungry?”

  “You bet. Is it ready now? I have clinical work tonight and have to be there soon.” She washed her hands at the kitchen sink and dried them with a nearby hand towel.

  “It is. Get the rolls and butter so we can eat.”

  She brought them to the table and took a seat. “What did Carver want?”

  The casserole steamed as my serving spoon sliced through the whipped mashed potatoes, digging into the corn before I scooped ground beef from the bottom of the pan in one big generous helping. Jess lifted her plate and I plopped the shepherd’s pie onto it, then filled my own dish.

  “He asked about the argument at the festival. I made light of it, which seemed to satisfy him. I never mentioned the barn break-in we had a few weeks later, because I didn’t believe Arty was behind it. I hadn’t notified the police department because only Walkabout Willy went exploring.”

  “You should have called them,” Jess remarked, and then thought for a moment. “Maybe it’s better that you didn’t. You’d be a suspect.”

  Slathering butter on a warm roll, I said she was right. “I still might be on his list if he asks others who were present at the festival. Arty was some ticked off, and I don’t know why. He ranted on about the cruelty of keeping animals penned up, and how they should roam freely.”

  After swallowing a mouthful of food, Jess said, “While that freedom is fine in theory, domesticated animals are less likely to survive when left on their own. We know they fall prey to larger animals, like foxes, wolves, bears, and wildcats. We do live in the countryside. I suppose you pointed that out?”

  I nodded, ate my dinner, and asked after her classes. When she graduated later this spring, I was sure Jess would go off on her own, and I’d have to find a replacement. Not a chore I relished, since we’d become friends.

  Her jacket flung over her shoulders, Jessica raced from the house, started her Volkswagen Jetta, and took off for her clinical shift. I packed away the leftovers, started the dishwasher, and then sat by the fireplace with Bun, who’d been quiet for some time. This was not a good sign.

  “Do you think Arty argued with someone else who wasn’t as forgiving as you are?”

  “I wouldn’t know, it’s possible, I guess. He never spoke of friends. Ours was a professional relationship. Did you see anyone, at any parties or functions we were at, who might have had an issue with Arty?”

  “At the party we attended for that little dark-haired girl, Racinda or something like that, I saw Arty in a heated discussion with her father, or maybe he was an uncle. I don’t know who the man was, but I’d recognize him if I saw him again.”

  “Her name is Racine Corando and her father’s name is Richard. She has an uncle who was there, whose name is, um, let me think, it’s Jose. What was said? You do have excellent hearing.”

  “The children bustled about and made a lot of noise, so I didn’t hear the men. I merely saw them argue. What does Richard look like? This man had a deep scar on his hand that was very ugly.” Bun twitched a bit.

  It was such a human action, I instantly wondered if he’d been reincarnated from a human into a rabbit. I shook off the thought and snickered.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “Bun, it isn’t like you to twitch over a scar. Why now?”

  “I can’t say. It’s just how it struck me. Kinda like the one Fredo has on his back. Very ugly.”

  Fredo, a lop-eared rabbit who’d been abused by his owner, had received sixteen stitches to close his wound. He’d come to us by way of Windermere’s animal rescue personnel, who’d asked Jess to deal with his injury. Fredo was a loving creature with a tan-and-white coat. His ears were edged in gray, as was his nose. His fear-filled eyes had been watchful on our first encounter with him. When the woman in charge of the unit requested we take him into our care, the immediate answer was “yes.” Jess and I had worked with him for a long time to gain his trust.

  “It isn’t the scar that’s ugly, Bun, it’s the people who inflict them on animals. Try to remember that, okay?” A loud banging interrupted our conversation. I rose and peered out the window toward the barn. The double doors swung back and forth in the wind, striking the building.

  I shrugged on my jacket. “Stay here. I’ll check the barn and secure the
doors. Be right back.”

  I rushed through the breezeway, catching sight of a shadowy figure running the length of the corridor that separated the rescued rabbits from the ones I raised. “Stop, you there, stop!” I yelled, and ran in his direction. His stride was longer than mine and he left the barn by the rear door.

  I reached the doorway, stepped a few feet into the darkness, and listened. Other than the wind, I didn’t hear anything. No feet pounding the frozen ground, nothing. I went back inside, bolted the door, and turned toward the cages. A cold blast of wind funneled its way through the barn. I hurried to shut and bolt the front double doors. Heat blasted from the furnace, and though the air was still chilly, I knew the barn would soon warm up.

  Grumbling, I wondered why they’d been left unlocked in the first place. It wasn’t like Jess to forget. Angered by the episode, I made the rounds, checked on each rabbit, and spoke softly as I went. I reassured them of their safety, and that I would take good care of them. Rabbits are intelligent animals, aware of what’s going on around them, and are very sociable.

  I’d reached the last pen when I heard a noise. It took but a second to figure out I wasn’t alone. “Come out, right now.”

  My heart thumped, as if trying to escape my chest. My pulse raced, and I grew angrier by the second. “I don’t know who you are, or what you think you’re doing, but get out of my barn and off my farm before I call the police.”

  “You didn’t call the last time and you won’t this time. Besides, if you do, I’ll tell them your secret.”

  Confused, I froze mid-stride. “Wh-what secret?”

  “Why, that you killed Arthur, of course.”

  “B-but, I didn’t kill Arthur. It’s likely that you did and want to cast the blame on me.” I scanned the dimly lit area and wished I’d flipped on every switch in the barn to brighten it. Shadows loomed as I cautiously moved toward the breezeway. One step, then another, before I tripped and fell.

  “Oomph.”

  “You are so clumsy, Jules. Didn’t you hear me calling you?”

  “No,” I whispered, and felt Bun climb into my lap where I sat on the floor.

  “Who were you talking to? Jess left, didn’t she?”

  I answered with a light whisper. “She did. Go back to the house, we have an intruder.”

  Bun bristled as I told him of our visitor. “I’ll do no such thing. I’m staying put, who else will protect you?”

  I smiled and ran a hand over his thick fur while listening for footsteps or sounds indicating he’d gained ground on us.

  “Are you still there?” I called out to him. How had he gotten back inside? Unless he’d left by the rear door to sneak around the exterior of the barn, then reenter by the front and hide when I closed those doors.

  “Yes, I haven’t finished what I came to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Free the rabbits, of course. Arthur tried and failed to get you to do it, but I won’t.” His words sent chills up my spine as I heard one hutch door after another open.

  Unwilling to have the animals placed in danger, I set Bun aside and reached for the pitchfork. Holding it upright, I walked toward the electric switches. As I flicked each one, light filled the barn and the sound of footsteps began to recede. It was clear the man didn’t intend to be seen, nor did he want to face me down.

  When the rear door slammed against the barn, I hurried in that direction. At the doorway, I knew he’d gone. Lights cast a glow over the partially snow-covered ground, and I could see fresh footprints. It had been dark when he’d left the first time, and I wouldn’t be stupid enough to ignore the light switches again.

  I closed and bolted the door, wondering once again if the intruder had run from the rear door to the front of the barn to reenter before I could secure the entry. Making my way to the main area, I spoke to the rabbits, soothed their fear, and promised them a quiet night.

  I picked up the phone and dialed the police department.

  “Officer Langley.”

  “Could you connect me to Jack Carver?”

  “He’s gone home for the evening, ma’am. Can I take a message?”

  “This is Jules Bridge, there’s been an intrusion at my farm.”

  “I’ll send someone out immediately. Are you all right?”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “Stay on the line until an officer arrives.”

  “That’s not necessary, he’s gone.” I hung up and dialed Jack’s home phone. Jack’s wife, Meredith, answered the call.

  It took some doing, but I remained calm. If not for my sake, then for that of the rabbits. Bun hovered at my feet in what I believe he considered protective rabbit mode.

  “Hi, Meredith, it’s Jules Bridge, is Jack home?”

  “He sure is. Hold on a second.”

  I heard muffled words before Jack came on the line.

  “What’s going on?”

  “I’ve had break-in. I called your office but was told you had left for the day. A policeman is on his way, but the situation is more complicated than it sounds. Could you come out to the farm?”

  I heard him make a tsk noise before he answered me. “I’ll be right there. Where are you presently?”

  “In the barn. It’s locked up tight. I don’t think he’ll be back, but you never know. The house is secured as well.”

  “Stay there.”

  I hung up and strolled the length of the barn, talking to the rabbits as I went. They didn’t appear traumatized or fearful, which was a miracle. I rubbed a few bunny noses as they came close to their doors, then ended up back where I started. Bun announced a car had arrived.

  Knuckles rapped against the wooden entry door as a deep voice announced, “Deputy Adams, open up.”

  It took a moment to unfasten the locks to let him in. He entered and scanned the room. “You had a break-in, ma’am?”

  “Earlier, I came to check the rabbits for the night and found an intruder. He was trying to let the rabbits loose.”

  He gave me a long look before he turned to the door as it opened. Jack walked in and the officer immediately stood at attention.

  Carver nodded at him and then looked at me. “An intruder, huh?”

  “I was telling Deputy Adams the man was trying to free the rabbits. He said Arty wanted them freed. I tried to coax him out from the shadows, but he refused and threatened me. I had my trusty pitchfork handy and turned the lights on as I followed the sound of his voice.”

  “That was foolish. You should have called us right away,” Adams remarked.

  “He threatened to say I killed Arty. I didn’t, but he said he’d claim otherwise. I finally decided to protect myself and my rabbits from the likes of him.”

  Jack’s bushy eyebrows hiked a bit. “What would you have done if you’d come face-to-face with the man? Attack him with the pitchfork? It’s a deadly weapon that most likely would have been used on you instead.”

  “I know, I know, I wasn’t thinking clearly, but it angered me that this jerk might harm us all. The bunnies had already been scared senseless in the past.” I stopped talking so abruptly both men trained their attention on me.

  “When was this?” Adams asked as Carver opened his mouth.

  “Um, uh, well . . .”

  CHAPTER THREE

  “Don’t hem and haw, just tell us,” Carver demanded.

  “Okay, fine. In November, someone entered the barn after the rabbits were settled for the night. I have no idea how he got in, there was no damage to the doors or windows, but he tried to set the rabbits loose. They’re quite comfortable here, usually never afraid, and are well cared for, so they didn’t budge, except for Walkabout Willy.”

  The rabbit’s name brought snickers that turned into chuckles. Indignant that I wasn’t being taken seriously, I snapped, “He likes to go out and explore. He’s the only rabbit that does.”

  As always, Bun hovered near my feet, once again in protection mode. “Can’t they see that you were protecting us?” />
  I looked down and gave him a wink before I faced the two policemen. “You asked,” I remarked grudgingly.

  “You’re right, of course.” Carver glanced at Adams and then said, “Continue on, then.”

  “The rabbits were stressed over the incident. Jess and I worked for weeks to regain their trust.”

  Adams held back a smirk. “Why didn’t you report this?”

  “I figured it was a kid making mischief.”

  “You didn’t think it was Arty?” Jack asked.

  I shook my head. Never would I admit that Arty might have been the culprit or the incident might have been connected to him. It would lead to suspicion of me as a murderer, and who needed that?

  His pen and notebook in hand, Adams quickly scribbled what I’d said and mentioned he’d have a report on Carver’s desk first thing in the morning. Carver instructed the deputy to check the footprints left outside the rear door and then dismissed him, while he alone stayed behind. Oh boy.

  Noting the barn and its layout, Carver said, “Take me on a tour, if it won’t stress the rabbits too much.”

  I gave him a keen look. “Do I sense a smartypants attitude?”

  His nod was my answer. We walked the length of the single-floor, low-roofed, squat barn. I explained the rabbits, their needs, and where they came from, before taking a quick detour to check on Walkabout Willy. He lounged in the three level, wood and wire frame hutch near his food and water dispensers. Willy didn’t seem any worse for wear after our visitor had tried to free him.

  “Many of those rabbits, to your left, have been treated abominably. They’ve been tortured, and even attacked. One needed sutures from a knife wound.” I sighed and continued, “These are endearing creatures, and more than that, they’re loving. There’s nothing mean about them, which is more than I can say for humans.”

  “I see you’re dedicated. Tell me about the argument with Arthur. I know there’s more than what you said earlier.”

  He matched my stride as I slowed my pace. “We were at the festival, where the petting pen was located, with kids enjoying the rabbits. No one was harming any of them. Arty, dressed in his mime costume, strode over after the last child had wandered away. I was about to wrap up our part of the event and return to the farm with the rabbits. He started to ramble on and on about animals needing to run free. His rant grew louder by the minute. I tried to explain how we provide for, and consider, our furry friends, but he refused to listen.”