Hard Row

hunting in the hope that she would turn out to be a

worker as well as a pet. She loved the thirty-mile drive

to his favorite marshland, she loved being in the marsh,

she loved splashing in the water, but as soon as he fired

the first shot, she took off like a rocket. He called and

whistled for hours.

No Taffy.

Eventually, he had to drive the thirty miles back and

face Miss Phyllis, who hadn’t wanted him to take their

house pet hunting in the first place. It was a miserable

eternity for him until Taffy finally dragged herself home

a week later, footsore and muddy.

Even though he never again took her hunting, the

dog did prove to be an excellent retriever. A rutted sandy

lane bisects the farm. Locals call it the Ward Turnpike

and use it as a shortcut between two paved highways.

According to Aunt Zell, Taffy’s always coming back

from her morning runs with drink cups or greasy ham-

burger papers that litterbugs throw out. Over the years,

she’s brought home golf balls, disposable diapers, mit-

tens and ballcaps, a large rubber squeaky frog, a plastic

flamingo, the bottom half of a red bikini, and a paper-

back mystery novel titled Murder on the Iditarod Trail.

“Phyllis said it was a right interesting book,” Aunt

Zell reported.

47

MARGARET MARON

But a man’s hand?

Even though the Wards’ place was five or six miles

east of Bethel Baptist, surely that hand had to go with

those legs that had been found Friday night. Unless

we’ve suddenly thrown up a serial butcher?

Dwight was probably already out there and it would

be unprofessional of me to bother him, but I was sup-

posed to be having lunch with Aunt Zell and nobody

could fault me for calling her during the morning break

to let her know when I’d be there, right? Burning curi-

osity had nothing to do with it.

(“Yeah and I’ve got twenty million in a Nigerian bank

I’d like to split with you, ” said the disapproving preacher

who lives in the back of my skull. “Just send me your

social security number and the number of your own bank

account. ”)

“Deborah? Oh, good!” Aunt Zell exclaimed. “Did

you hear about Phyllis and Taffy? Is this not the most

gruesome thing you’ve ever heard? First those legs and

now this hand? Cold as it is, Phyllis said she had to give

Taffy a bath in the garage before she could let her back

in the house. I hope you don’t mind, but I told her I’d

bring them lunch if I could get you to carry me out