Left Fur Dead Page 5

  Amused, I put him on the floor. “We’ll visit Arty’s house to see if we come across something that will help us out.”

  I watched him happily scamper into his room and jump up on his pillow.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The delightful aroma of perked coffee wafted into my nostrils. My mouth watered. I blinked at Jess, who held the cup out to me with a question in her eyes and a smile on her face.

  “Oh, thanks.” I took the cup from her, inhaled the coffee, and then took a sip. Still dressed in yesterday’s clothes, I stood up and took stock of myself. I’d fallen asleep in a comfy chair next to the fireplace after my discussion with Bun. Surveying the room, I noticed he wasn’t with Jess.

  “It’s been raining all night. Thankfully, the snow is nearly gone. I put Bun in the barn with a few of his pals in the playpen. You must have been exhausted to have fallen asleep down here.”

  It wasn’t as much of a statement as it was a question. I nodded and slurped more coffee. In the kitchen, bacon sizzled, toast was piled high on a plate, and orange juice sat in a clear pitcher, waiting to be poured.

  “I made oatmeal for breakfast. Yours is a bit soupy, sorry about that. Hurry and eat it before it grows cold.”

  Truthfully, I detested oatmeal, and soupy or not, I rarely ate it, unless it was in cookie form. As a kid, my mother made thick, lumpy oatmeal, saying it was a good way to start the day. I’d gag it down and then give the rest to the dog when Mom left the room.

  At the table, I chewed a slice of toast, downed a glass of orange juice, and stirred the oatmeal in hope that Jess would go out to the barn, so I could dump it in the trash. I only kept oatmeal in the cupboard because I liked to bake cookies.

  “Well, are you going to eat it or whip it to death?”

  “Eat it, of course. I appreciate the trouble you’ve gone to, thanks.” I crunched bacon, followed by a spoonful of oatmeal, and then swallowed hard to get it down my throat. Jess rose from her seat as Bun raced into the room, slid to a stop, then ran toward the door and back again.

  “Looks like Bunny has something on his mind. I’ll be right back, finish your breakfast.”

  Rising from her chair, Jess headed for the door. “No, I’ll go, you stay here and eat up.”

  Thank God. I wouldn’t have to eat this slop.

  Bun’s voice came back to me as he and Jess went through the breezeway. “You owe me, big-time.”

  With a snort, I rushed to the sink, spooned oatmeal soup from the bowl into the food disposal system, and flipped the switch for a few seconds. I then ran back to the table. A few minutes passed before Jess returned.

  “How was that oatmeal?”

  “Truthfully, it was nice of you to make it for me. It isn’t one of my favorites, though.”

  Her brows hiked a tad and her eyes held surprise. “You should have said so. You didn’t eat it because I made it, did you?”

  Ashamed to admit what I’d childishly done, I said, “Well, uh, I actually dumped it into the garbage disposal unit. I’m sorry, Jess, I don’t mean to hurt your feelings, it’s just that my mother made me eat it every day when I was a kid. I hated it then as much as I do now.”

  With a hoot of laughter, Jess shook her head. “I thought I heard the disposal running. It’s very loud, you should have someone see if there’s something wrong with it. The one my mom has isn’t quite that noisy.”

  “Was there a problem in the barn?”

  With a stern glance at Bun, Jess said, “Somehow, Bun escaped from the pen and the other rabbits followed suit. They had a great time running around the place. We should make the frame higher and add more wire to it. They’re back in their cages, even Walkabout Willy.”

  I gave Bun a look of admonishment, but said nothing, nor did he. Instead, he blithely wandered off to his room and snuggled onto his fluffy pillow. This rabbit had a sweet life, for sure.

  “Do you have clinical today?”

  “Tonight. The only thing on my schedule now is the rabbits. Why?”

  “I’m going out later and wanted to make sure I was back in time if you were on the schedule for your clinical work. I also want to show you the space I have in the barn that you might consider for your veterinarian use.”

  “Then let’s get moving. Three rabbits need their morning checkups before we do anything else.”

  I tidied the kitchen while Jess went to the barn. In no time, the rabbit cages were cleaned and restocked with hay, food containers were filled with fresh veggies and a fruit mixture, and fresh water was added to their drip bottles. Jess followed me into the shop where I showed her the space off that area. She was thrilled at the length and width of it. We sketched out rooms and measured the sizes she thought would offer her the options of seeing and treating animals, not just the rabbits.

  The clock chimed eleven as Lizzy popped through the door with her enthusiasm in full bloom. “How do you like my redecorating so far?”

  Her infectious grin caused us to respond in kind.

  I said, “It looks great. I haven’t a decorative bone in my body, so have at it. How long will you be here today?”

  Pointing to the jumbled supplies in the corner behind the counter, Lizzy said, “Those supplies have to be organized. I’ll stay until four this afternoon, if that’s all right with you?”

  “Sure, I’ll be out for a while, so if you need a hand, Jess will be here as will the high school kids after classes end for the day.”

  Jess joined in. “Just give a holler if you want me to help you.”

  We left her to organize the rabbit-care goods she’d taken down to make the yarn displays. Jess went back to the rabbits, and I went in search of Bun.

  * * *

  “What are we waiting for, Jules? Let’s get rolling.”

  I’d browsed the newspaper obituaries for Arty’s death notice. His address wasn’t listed in the article. After some consideration, I called a customer Arty and I had worked for in the past and asked if she knew where he lived.

  “Funny you called, I was just putting my receipts together and have one of Arty’s in the bunch. You must be very distressed over the poor man’s death, it’s so sad,” Melissa Reynolds said as she went through her receipts.

  I agreed it was a shame he was dead, and heard paper rustling, then an “Aha!” came across the phone line. “Yes, here it is. He lived out on Summers Road. Um, let me see, oh yes, at number fifty-eight. Summers Road, that’s a good distance from town. If I remember correctly, it’s a wooded neighborhood with few homes on that road.”

  As his residence was off the beaten path, Bun and I would be gone a good while. Thanking her for the information, I was about to hang up when Melissa reminded me of the birthday party she’d booked me for in April.

  “I’d never forget Alison’s birthday, she’s such a sweet girl. I’ll be in touch before then to finalize everything.”

  “Wonderful, Alison adores your rabbits, and so do her friends. You wouldn’t happen to know of anyone who could take Arty’s place, would you? He’ll be sorely missed by the children. And some of the parents, too.”

  Who could take Arty’s place? No one I knew of. I said I’d give it some thought and rang off before Melissa came up with another request.

  “You got it? Are we going now?”

  “Look, before we go off on this adventure, we need a plan. We just can’t drive up and park in the yard, then sneak around. What if he has neighbors? What if the sheriff has labeled the door with crime tape or something? Think, Bun, think!”

  “I’m simply anxious to find the killer, is all.”

  “How about if we take a look around the grounds and if he hasn’t any close neighbors, we’ll go inside the house? No harm in that, right?”

  “What if his door is locked? What then, huh?”

  “Bun, you sound as if you’re afraid. I thought you were anxious to check things out.”

  “I’m not afraid. I’m giving the whole idea some thought, just like you said. We could be walking into wh
o knows what kind of mess. What if the killer is there, what about that, huh?”

  “If you’re that worried, I’ll go by myself and save you from having a nervous breakdown over the various scenarios you’ll come up with on our way there.”

  “Jules, I didn’t mean it like that. I was only trying to offer the what-ifs of the situation. You know how brave I am. Gosh, I could be a superhero. I’ve come to your rescue in the past, haven’t I?”

  I smiled, trying to remember if that occurrence had ever taken place. An image of Bun in a superhero’s cape nearly had me laughing out loud. I scooped him from the floor, tucked him into the sling I’d put on, and started our trip to Arty the Mime’s house.

  Bumping over the dirt road leading to Arty’s, I listened to Bun complain about being jostled, the condition of the road, and that he feared we’d be caught.

  The road in was nearly empty of other inhabitants. The long, winding road was bordered by overgrown trees that stuck out into the road, crowding any vehicle that traveled it. I counted three driveways with mailboxes at the edge of them, with no homes in sight. Dwellers must enjoy living deep into their land, sort of like I did. Granted, mine wasn’t overrun with trees or overgrown foliage. It was my lucky day, for sure.

  “You’ll be fine. We’re almost there.” I parked my compact car out of sight behind a thick stand of tall arborvitaes at the rear of Arty’s house. In stealth mode, Bun and I left the car and crept toward the side entrance, peeking in the cottage windows as we went. Still in his sling, Bun poked his head out and gawked to and fro, taking in all that he could see, smell, and hear.

  “Anything unusual?” I asked as we drew closer to the door.

  “Nope, all’s clear. Try the doorknob.”

  It jiggled in my hand, but the door didn’t open. I searched for a key and found none under the doormat, in the flowerpot, or underneath it. I looked up at the small pitched roof above the entry, with a concrete step up to the door, and saw a silver key protruding past the edge of the left eave. I reached up, took it, and fit the key into the lock. When I tried the door again, it soundlessly swung inward, into the kitchen.

  Bun’s ears twitched as he rocked his head back and forth. His sign of approval, since he usually acted in such a way when I’d done something correctly. For all his bragging, Bun gave credit where it was due. We entered the dead man’s domain, and I set Bun free of the sling and began my search for whatever clue could lead to who wanted Arty dead.

  Off on his own, Bun hunted for what he thought might be useful to us. He bounded onto the living room furniture, stuffed his nose into a stack of papers in Arty’s rolltop desk, sneezed, and sat back bewildered as the pile fluttered to the floor.

  “Now you’ve done it. We’re not here to make a mess, we’re here to search and not be found out.” I picked the papers off the floor, rifled the lot before shuffling them into order, and put them back.

  “I could smell his essence on those papers, and it bothered my nose. He had a distinct odor, like someone who’s sick. Have you noticed Merry Bunny has a similar smell?”

  “Merry is recovering from surgery. I don’t find her smell any different because of it. You do have intense senses, though. What did he smell like, besides sick?”

  “Sort of gross, like a rotten potato. Sickly. That’s the best I can do, I’m not a doctor, I’m a rabbit.”

  Unwilling to let him see how humorous I found his comment, I rubbed his ears and gently scratched his nose. “You’re right, you’ve done well, Bun. Let’s keep looking, shall we? If you hear anything out of the ordinary, let me know, okay?”

  “Sure will.”

  We separated. He poked around while I went into what appeared to be Arty’s makeup den. Costumes hung on hangers on a rack, and a huge mirror was attached to the wall above a table covered with assorted jars of cosmetics. The table held a small drawer that caught my eye. I pulled it out and lifted notes from it. They didn’t seem important, but I tucked them into my jacket pocket for a closer look later.

  “Can I come in here?” Cautiously, Bun hopped across the threshold, his nose wiggling as he sniffed. His eyes squeezed shut, Bun let out a sneeze. He shook his head and backed away. His long ears flopped down and up again when he sneezed over and over.

  “Are you all right?”

  “More sickness in here, I’d say. The same smell lingers in this room as on the papers out there.” He tipped his head toward the other room and left me alone.

  It didn’t take long to go through the pockets of the outfits. I found nothing of interest and returned to Bun, who stared out the window from atop a short bookcase.

  “I’m going to see what’s in his bedroom. Can you go into the kitchen and have another look around?”

  His tail flipped up and down while his ears perked upward. Seconds later, Bun was in the kitchen. It’s always better to keep Bun busy when I want to check things out alone. Otherwise, he pestered me with questions. Who knew how long we would be here? What if someone showed up out of nowhere and caught us?

  The bedroom was quaint, as was the cottage. There might be two tiny rooms on the second floor, but that would be all. Arty had been neat as a pin for the most part. His bed was covered with a frayed, but spotless, star quilt. I wondered if it was a family heirloom he couldn’t bear to part with. Neatly stacked decorative pillows lay in front of the ones he used for sleeping, his shoes were lined up along the wall next to an old oak dresser, and a Bible sat on a crocheted runner. I noticed a card next to the Bible. For a moment, I wondered if Arty had been ill but kept it to himself. Startled when I heard Bun’s voice, I turned to him.

  “Nothing of interest out there, Jules. Can I help you?”

  “I think you should keep watch in case someone comes. Will you do that for me?”

  “Okay, boss. I hope this will soon be fruitful for us. I’m getting hungry.”

  As Bun went off to perform his task, I fingered the Bible and lifted it off the dresser. It was worn, well used, and the idea that there’d be worthwhile information inside it pushed me to open the front cover. Inside, a family tree lay scrawled across a two-page spread. I wanted to study it, but Bun bounded into the room, his eyes wide with panic.

  “We’ve gotta go, now, right now, come with me. Hurry up, we must leave the house. Come on, come on.”

  Taking one look at his wild eyes, his fur jittering as though he was electrified, I knew we had a visitor. “Okay, we’ll go out the rear door. Climb in.” I bent down, lowered the sling, and helped Bun inside. We scrammed from the bedroom, out the back door, and along the side of the house, away from the car’s motor that I could hear running.

  A stack of logs piled high sat not far from the door. Holding Bun close, I rushed past the woodpile and hunkered down, trying to avoid falling on the wet ground. When Bun tried to stick his head out to see, I slipped in the mud and landed hard. Squishy muck soaked my jeans, then splashed my jacket, causing Bun to fall out of the sling.

  “Oh dear, my paws are dirty. Get me off this disgusting ground.”

  His distress apparent, I lifted him up and held him close to my chest. I refrained from any attempt to rise for fear I’d upset the woodpile and we’d be spotted.

  “Did you see who drove up?” I whispered.

  “It looked like the sheriff’s car, but I didn’t see who was driving. Sorry, Jules.”

  “Not to worry, we’re safe and hidden from view.”

  A couple pieces of odd-shaped logs offered a peephole with a restricted view of the backyard and included the door we’d left by. Was someone searching for the same things I had? Why hadn’t they looked before now?

  I squinted at the door and drew in a breath when Officer Bonnie Jones stepped outside. Bun’s head was pressed against mine as he edged in and tried to see through the small opening. His head snapped back, and he hunkered into my arms, burying his nose into the crook of my elbow.

  Leaning away from the woodpile, I smoothed his fur and scratched his head. The car door closed w
ith a snap. I peeked through the small space again to find the area empty. Moments later, I heard the car engine rev. We seemed to wait forever for Bonnie to leave, yet I’m sure it was only a minute or so until the sound of the car was gone.

  Slowly, I rose from the mud, looked over the top of the stacked wood, and viewed the property. “She’s gone.”

  “Thank goodness. I was scared she’d find us.”

  “Why do you fear her, Bun? I know it’s more than being here and breaking into Arty’s house.”

  “Don’t overreact because I was frightened. I doubt I’d look good in a jailbird’s jumpsuit.”

  Laughing at the vision he presented, I murmured, “I don’t think you have anything to worry about. Let’s get out of here, before someone else comes along.”

  “Good idea, I’m really starving now. Could use a nap, too.”

  A towel sat on the floor behind the front seat. I used it to wipe away the now-dried mud on Bun’s feet and then scrubbed the seat of my pants. I stamped my feet, and most of the muck came off. The rain certainly had done a good job of making the snow disappear, but left soggy ground in its wake. I sniffed the fresh air and wished for an early spring.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Slowly, we bounced over the road, taking our time to get to the main highway in case Bonnie lingered somewhere on the way back to town. I kept close watch for the cruiser lest she hid from view with a radar trap.

  On the seat, Bun dozed in the sling, one dirty paw extended from within, sort of cupping his furry little chin. Why hadn’t he shared his real reason for fear? I took a left onto Baily Schoolhouse Road. I’d taken this shortcut into town in the past, which cut off several miles of travel to the farm. The fuel tank read less than a quarter, and I turned into the nearest gas station. Leaving Bun and the sling on the front seat, I filled the tank and was screwing in the cap when Bonnie’s cruiser came to a stop on the other side of the gas pumps from me.

  “Hey there, Jules. Haven’t seen you in town lately,” she said as she washed the cruiser windows.

  “I’ve been busy at the farm,” I said while rounding the trunk of my car. “What’s going on with you?”