PW01 - Died On The Vine Read Online Free PDF Page B

immediately turned into a squirming whirlwind, but I kept a tight hold on him.
    “Whoa! Hold on, buddy!” I tucked him into the crook of my arm and covered his eyes. He stopped fighting. I was glad I was wearing my heavy jacket to guard against needle-sharp claws.
    I stood up and looked around. If there were any more kittens, I would have to come back for them. I listened intently, but there were no more squeaks. I addressed my little black captive. “Where are your brothers and sisters, Tough Stuff? Are you all alone?”
    His only response was a continual shiver. I turned in a circle, looking all around. No more kittens, but there was something odd over in the merlot.
    Something had happened over there; I could see some of the wire was down and the vines were knocked over. Clutching the kitten, I walked over to investigate.
    And that’s how I found Colonel Obadiah Winslow. He was lying on his back, having brought down several of the merlot vines with him. The handles of Jack’s secateurs were protruding from his chest.
     
     

 
     
    FOUR
    I stepped back quickly, tripping over Polly. She deftly darted out of the way, leaving me to land on my rear. I squeezed the kitten and he peeped indignantly.
    The oddest things go through one’s mind in a moment of crisis. The first thing I thought was, “Boy, if seeing a dead cat makes you sick -!”
    Regaining my footing, I eased forward to confirm that Winslow was dead in our vineyard. And he sure was. As with the dead cat, I utilized a sort of cringing sideways squint, as if trying not to see too much. Perhaps a bit cowardly, but it kept me from losing my lunch.
    Now I know what the phrase ‘lifeless eyes’ means. That’s when the moisture of a living eye has dried, leaving the eyes dull and filmy.
    Maybe I should have felt for a pulse, but I could see the man was dead and couldn’t bear touching him. I scrambled out of there in a hurry and raced back to the house.
    Polly pranced along beside me, much more intrigued by the live kitten than by the dead human. Occasionally, she leaped up to ensure that I still had a hold on him.
    I checked the garage first, but Jack’s pickup was still gone. So it was just us. I ran though the back door and into the kitchen.
    Dumping the kitten on the countertop, where he immediately approached McCavity’s food and water bowls, I grabbed the phone from the wall and died 911.
    911 is new in Passatonnack County. A year ago, all the roads had been given names and every residence given a number that corresponded to a computerized grid. The number is prominently displayed on a post by the driveway, and as the phone rang I was frantically trying to remember what the number was.
    “Passatonnack Sheriff, Fire and Rescue. Operator Fifteen,” said a bored female voice.
    I took a deep breath. “This is Mrs. Rayburn out on River Road,” I said as calmly as I could. “There’s a dead man out in our vineyard. He’s been stabbed.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” the voice replied, as if stabbing victims were a routine occurrence. “May I have your 911 number?”
    “I think it’s 98632. Or 98623. Oh, for heaven’s sake. It’s the second house on River Road. One of only two. The old Davis place. Surely someone knows where that is.”
    “Yes, ma’am,” the voice was unperturbed. “But I’ll need the number for my log.”
    “Use 98632, if it’s wrong you can change the darn log. Polly, get down!”
    Polly had her paws on the counter, causing the kitten to back into the sink.
    “Ma’am?” The voice was finally startled.
    “Sorry, that was the dog. Look, could you get someone out here right away?”
    “Yes, ma’am, someone will be there in a few minutes.”
    I paced through the house, looking through the front windows for the arrival of authority, and out the back windows, looking for I-don’t-know-what. Authority finally arrived, in the person of Investigator Dawson.
    I’ve met Dawson before. He was out here in December for our holiday open