Read Online Murder at Monticello by Rita Mae Brown - Free Book Online Page B

animals. “Guess being up at Monticello has made me think. What would we be doing if this were 1803? I suppose, getting up at the same time and feeding the horses wouldn’t have changed. Mucking stalls hasn’t changed. But someone would have had to stoke a fire in an open hearth. If a person lived alone, it would have been a lot harder than today. How could anyone perform her chores, cook for herself, butcher meat—well, I guess you could have bought your meat, but only a day at a time unless you had a smokehouse or the meat was salted down. Think about it. And you two, no worm medicine or rabies shots, but then, no vaccines for me either. Clothing must have been itchy and heavy in the winter. Summer wouldn’t have been too bad because the women could have worn linen dresses. Men could take off their shirts. And I resent that. If I can’t take off my shirt, I don’t see why they can.” She carried on this conversation with her two friends as they hung on every word and every mouthful of egg that was shoveled into Harry’s mouth. “You two aren’t really listening, are you?”
    â€œWe are!”
    â€œHere.” Harry handed Mrs. Murphy an extra olive and gave Tucker a nibble of egg. “I don’t know why I spoil you all. Look at how much you’ve had to eat this morning.”
    â€œWe love you, Mom.”
Mrs. Murphy emitted a major purr.
    Harry scratched the tiger cat’s ear with one hand and reached down to perform the same service for Tucker. “I don’t know what I’d do without you two. It’s so easy to love animals and so hard to love people. Men anyway. Your mom is striking out with the opposite sex.”
    â€œNo, you’re not.”
Tucker consoled her and was very frustrated that Harry couldn’t understand.
“You haven’t met the right guy yet.”
    â€œI still think Blair is the right guy.”
Mrs. Murphy put in her two cents.
    â€œBlair is off on some modeling job. Anyway, I don’t think Mom needs a man who’s that pretty.”
    â€œWhat do you mean by that?”
the cat asked.
    â€œShe needs the outdoor type. You know, a lineman or a farmer or a vet.”
    Mrs. Murphy thought about that as Harry rubbed her ears.
“You still miss Fair?”
    â€œSometimes I do,”
the little dog replied honestly.
“He’s big and strong, he could do a lot of farmwork, and he could protect Mom if something went wrong, you know.”
    â€œShe can protect herself.”
True as this was, the cat also worried occasionally about Harry being alone. No matter how you cut it, most men were stronger than most women. It was good to have a man around the farm.
    â€œYeah—but still,”
came the weak reply.
    Harry stood up and took the dishes to the porcelain sink. She meticulously washed each one, dried them, and put them away. Coming home to dirty dishes in the sink drove Harry to despair. She turned off the coffeepot. “Looks like a Mary Minor Haristeen day.” This meant it was sunny.
    She paused for a moment to watch the horses groom one another. Then her mind drifted off for a moment and she spoke to her animal friends. “How could Medley Orion live with a body under her fireplace—if she knew? She may not have known a single thing, but if she did, how could she make her coffee, eat her breakfast, and go about her business—knowing? I don’t think I could do it.”
    â€œIf you were scared enough, you could,”
Mrs. Murphy wisely noted.

12
    The old walnut countertop gleamed as Mrs. Hogendobber polished it with beeswax. Harry, using a stiff broom, swept out the back of the post office. The clock read two-thirty, a time for chores and a lull between people stopping in at lunchtime and on their way home from work. Mrs. Murphy, sound asleep in the mail cart, flicked her tail and cackled, dreaming of mice. Tucker lay on her side on the floor, made shiny from the