Catch as Cat Can by Rita Mae Brown Page B

I called Reverend Jones and he said I should follow my heart. After all, the O'Bannons aren't close friends and Roger, poor fellow, could be a pest. It's not like he was family and, well, people do die. What about all those football players who drop before they're forty?” Her hand fluttered to her throat. “And you know how Big Mim gets if you miss one of her parties.”
    â€œWe know,” Harry and Fair said in unison, then blushed. The years together often meant their thoughts were similar.
    â€œIs Big Mim such a dragon?” Thomas's pleasant voice coated each word like honey. “She's so gracious.”
    â€œAs long as you do things her way.” Lottie's lips formed a pout.
    Don, running his finger under his neckband, said with sense, “Ought not to criticize the hostess when you're enjoying her hospitality.”
    Thomas bowed his head slightly to Don. “A Virginia gentleman.”
    â€œDon?” Lottie said with surprise.
    Harry deflected the conversation, speaking directly to Don Clatterbuck. “How's my woodpecker?”
    â€œFrozen stiff.” He laughed.
    â€œWoodpecker?” Thomas inquired.
    â€œWhen I woke up a few days ago, I found, well, actually, my gray cat, Pewter, found a pileated woodpecker. One of those huge woodpeckers. Dead. She pretended it was her kill, which if you know Pewter is absurd, but I finally convinced her to give it to me. Made a beeline for Don. He's the best. You should see his work.” She paused and said, “Museum quality.”
    Don blushed as Lottie's eyes darted about. How would she ever extricate Diego from Harry? She wanted to ask him to accompany her to a huge alumni fund-raising dinner and dance, but he was glued to Harry. She believed Harry would look much less attractive if he could see her covered in grease as she repaired her ancient tractor. Harry was just too butch.
    â€œWhat's a peel—?” Diego smiled, groping for the next syllable.
    â€œPileated woodpecker.” Fair Haristeen's deep voice finished the word. “The largest woodpecker in America, close to twenty inches. You've seen the Woody Woodpecker cartoons?”
    â€œYes.” Diego laughed.
    â€œThey're based on the pileated woodpecker, which has a brilliant red crest and red mustache as well as a distinctive loud call. Woody Woodpecker borrowed a bit of that, too.”
    â€œCan one see such a bird?” Thomas asked.
    â€œActually, you can. They don't hide. And they fly in an odd manner.” Fair, as a vet, held the floor, which he liked. “They flap a few times, gaining speed rapidly, then fold their wings flat to their sides and zoom like a rocket. You'll hear them before you see them. They're noisy.”
    â€œRapping into dead trees echoes in the woods. Fair's right. It's loud.” BoomBoom was glad they'd steered away from Roger O'Bannon's demise. She'd felt a bit detached about it as he moved in a different circle. But when Lottie brought up the subject of Roger, BoomBoom decided she was both stupid and vain.
    â€œThey eat ants in the trees.” Harry smiled at the two visitors. “You fellows don't really want to know about woodpeckers, do you?”
    â€œI do. I'm an amateur naturalist. North America has many unusual animals.”
    Jim Sanburne strode by, clapping Fair on the back. “Going coon hunting tomorrow? Jack Ragland's bringing out Red Cloud.”
    â€œRed Cloud?” Diego was thoroughly enjoying himself, as this really was different from Embassy Row.
    â€œFabulous hound, brother, fabulous hound. Won about everything there is to win in this country in hunt trials.” Jim's voice carried over the room.
    â€œLike foxhunting?” Diego asked curiously.
    â€œOh, you don't want to go coon hunting. It's so country.” Lottie rolled her eyes.
    Jim Sanburne cleared his throat. “Music.” The one word explained coon hunting to the locals. Jim loved the sound of the hounds, those