Read Online Whisker of Evil by Rita Mae Brown - Free Book Online Page A

Fair.
    The two cats, recumbent in a mail cart, loved Fair, too, but not enough to disturb their repose.
    â€œCertainly didn’t hurt Germany or Japan.” Tavener nodded his head in agreement. “The United States gives away more money than any nation in history, and you know what? Those nations take our money and despise us. We really ought to keep some of it right here in Virginia. You’ve got a good idea there, Haristeen.”
    â€œIsn’t life wonderful? Isn’t life grand?”
Tucker wiggled, then stood up on her hind legs, resting her front paws on Fair’s shins.
    â€œMiss Happy Camper,”
Pewter sarcastically said, and rolled to her other side, which meant she rolled into Mrs. Murphy since the canvas in the mail cart had no firm bottom.
    â€œMiss Fatty Screwloose.”
Mrs. Murphy opened one jaundiced eye.
    â€œI am not fat. I am round. It’s the way I’m built.”
    â€œDoesn’t explain the ‘Screwloose.’ ”
Mrs. Murphy gave a little laugh that sounded like a cackle.
    â€œI’m leaving you, Hateful.”
Pewter lurched out of the mail cart, which further discomfited the tiger.
    The cart rolled a little bit, the form of Mrs. Murphy clearly delineated on the bottom.
    â€œHello, Pewter.” Fair leaned over the counter.
    â€œHello, Fair.”
The cat minded her manners.
“I am going on record: Mrs. Murphy is conceited and mean. She’s mean because she doesn’t eat enough. She thinks she’s sleek and beautiful. She looks weedy and”
—a spiteful pause—
“wormy.”
    That fast, Mrs. Murphy shot out of the mail cart. She erupted like a feline Old Faithful geyser, straight up and spewing, as she headed right for Pewter, who flattened herself to withstand the onslaught.
    â€œYou’ll pay for that!”
Mrs. Murphy pounced on Pewter, who rolled over so her powerful hind legs could bang into Mrs. Murphy’s beige tummy.
    They rolled, hissed, spat, and then Pewter broke free to give everyone the thrill of seeing her circle the interior of the post office three times at top speed before blasting out the back animal door, where she crossed the alley and headed into Miranda Hogendobber’s beloved garden.
    Mrs. Murphy was right on her tail.
    â€œThe energy.” Miranda shook her head in wonderment.
    â€œLife.” Tavener smiled. “We’d do well to learn from them. To live in the moment.”
    â€œI don’t mind their living in the moment. It’s when the claws come out. I mind that a lot,”
said Tucker, who had been scratched on the nose a time or two.
    â€œHarry, my girl, I left my key in my other coat pocket.” Tavener put both elbows on the counter.
    She reached into the back of the postbox, pulled out a handful of envelopes and two magazines, which she slid to him over the counter. Behind her a sign read, PLEASE DON ’ T FORGET YOUR KEY. MAIL CANNOT BE HANDED TO YOU OVER THE COUNTER . This was yet another federal regulation ignored because it made not a bit of sense in a small community. Most farmers and merchants in Crozet were responsible, hardworking people, who had the great good sense to set aside the morass of state and federal regulations whose only purpose was to drag down productivity and increase paperwork.
    In fact, most Virginians went about their business minding their own business. If they absolutely had to do something like get a county sticker for their vehicle, they did. But the motto of residents of the Old Dominion was, “That government governs best which governs least.” This was first uttered by another Virginian, Thomas Jefferson.
    Of course, if Jefferson could return to see the mess of it, just the tax laws alone, he’d pass out. Then he’d wake up and get to work cutting the Gordian knot the rest of us have allowed to become entwined around ourselves.
    When Tavener took the mail from Harry’s hands, he blinked, then