A cold snap had settled over the suburbs of Richmond during the night, making the tops of the trees heavy with frost. The tall pines bent slightly toward the ground, trembling in the cold wind. There was still another hour before sunrise.
Larry Blazney looked up at the trees and shivered as he pulled up the collar of his worn sheepskin coat, hunching his shoulders. His thick gray wavy hair was doing nothing to keep his head warm and the wind was easily cutting through the dark blue flannel pajama bottoms.
“Damn, it’s cold,” he muttered, giving the leash a shake to make Happy, his old yellow lab, stop sniffing and keep moving. “If you’re not gonna’ go there, keep movin’,” he said, his lips stiff from the cold. “Didn’t need a coat yesterday, today I’m freezing my butt out here. Damn Richmond weather. Come on dog! You’re trying my patience,” he said half-heartedly. He didn’t really mean it. Since his kids had grown up and moved out the dog was his pride and joy.
Happy was nosing the ground around the tall English boxwoods that lined the edge of the property in front of the neat gray Colonial. Larry gave a small jerk on the leash to try and make her start walking again. The large dog stumbled to the side for a moment and went back to the bush, burying her nose at the roots.
“What are you doing?” asked Larry, annoyed. He grabbed Happy by the collar and pulled her head toward him. The dog let out a low growl, her mouth shut firmly around something, as she tried to turn back to what she was doing.
“Oh, you think you’ve found breakfast, do you? A little road kill du jour?” Larry spread his feet wide and carefully grabbed hold of Happy’s jaws, prying them apart till she dropped what was in her mouth. The dog was old but she could put up some resistance to hold on to food.
“That kind of thing’ll make you sick, Happy.”
A small bone no bigger than the tip of his finger with the faintest bit of flesh still attached rolled out and came to rest at the tip of Larry’s shoe.
“What’s that?” he said, as he gave the bone a small kick to make it roll over. He held Happy back as he picked up the bone with his gloved hand, turning it around to get a better look.
“What have you found, girl?”
He walked toward the bushes, still bent over at the waist and brushed the dirt away uncovering two more small bones, the same size as the first.
He straightened up, feeling an ache in the small of his back.
“Oof,” he muttered, still holding on to the bone from Happy’s mouth.
Larry startled as he noticed the man slowly walking toward him from the other end of the street just as a cold breeze suddenly blew straight into his face making his eyes water.
He blinked hard and looked at Happy squatting by the bush getting ready to relieve herself, and gave the leash a hard pull till Happy gave up and started trotting slowly toward the man.
Larry let the small bone drop not noticing where it fell, and started walking again. “Probably some new dumb gardening tip,” he mumbled to himself.
“Morning,” he said, as he passed the man. The man nodded in return and kept moving. Larry stopped and turned back toward him.
“Your car break down?”
The man turned and looked at Larry, a faint smile on his lips as he squinted in the early morning sun. He didn’t answer and started to turn away.
“Your car? Wouldn’t it start in the cold?” The man turned back again and faced Larry. Larry took a few steps toward him as Happy trotted to catch up.
“Not too many people exercise in such a nice suit,” said Larry, admiring the open charcoal grey cashmere overcoat and polished wing tips. “You trying to walk to a bus line? Need to use a phone?”
Larry liked being helpful. He was raised on a farm just across the river and had never let go of some of the old ways even if he did sell the farm years ago to make way for a mall.
“No, have a cell phone,” said the man, patting his jacket.
“Oh, sure,” he nodded. “You must be new to the neighborhood. I pride myself on knowing everyone,” said Larry, smiling as he offered his hand to shake. The man made no effort to extend his hand.
“Larry Blazney, I live right back there,” he said, pointing over his shoulder from where the man had come from. “I’m the one with the purple door. That’s how people give directions around here. Go past the purple door and hang a left,” he said, letting out a small snort. “Was my wife’s idea. Which one’s yours?” He looked back toward home, trying to figure out which house nearby had recently sold. As he turned back he caught a glimpse of a leather shoulder holster.
Larry’s face gave him away, the surprise obvious in his raised eyebrows even if only for a moment. “Oh,” he said, as he quickly tried to get back his easy-going smile.