Outfoxed

by Rita Mae Brown

  Cody, upset but levelheaded, drove over the minute her mother called this Tuesday night. Jennifer, dragged from her room, curled up on the sofa, rested against her big sister, arm around her.

  “What I’m trying to understand is why neither of you talked to your mother or me. I can’t change what happened. You can’t. We’re all going to have to live with this for the rest of our lives.”

  “I’m getting out. Send me to school somewhere else,” Jennifer begged.

  “No.” Betty stepped in. “The stories will catch up with you no matter where you go. You’ll face the music now and put it behind you.”

  “I have no life.” Jennifer’s chin wobbled.

  “Rada.” Cody squeezed her. Rada meant Royal Academy of Dramatic Arts, a phrase the kids used when anyone was being overly dramatic.

  “It’s true.” Jennifer flared. “My life is ruined! You at least have Doug.”

  “I have to live with my past the same as you. Stop this damned whining, Jen.”

  “Girls.” Betty’s voice was low, redolent with authority.

  The two shut up.

  Bobby spoke. “I’m here to apologize to you. I spent too much time running the business. I know that now. If I’d been paying more attention I might have noticed, I hope, anyway. But I’m here now and we’re going to get this straightened out. We can’t run to rehab every time something goes wrong, and I can’t afford it anyway.”

  “Dad, I’m paying my bills.” Cody felt guilty that she’d wasted her father’s money in the past.

  “For which we’re grateful,” Betty replied. “But let’s get to the bottom of this. Your father and I aren’t perfect parents. We thought by sharing riding with you that we were together, a family together, but we missed emotional clues. You’ve both told us that you drank because everyone else was drinking. I’m taking the words ‘everyone else’ with a grain of salt. However, we were young once. We remember the pressure to fit in, to be part of a group. I even understand the drugs. It can’t be that much different from drinking. Someone says, ‘Here, this will make you feel good,’ and you do it. What I can’t understand is Dean Offendahl’s allegations. Jennifer, you’ve locked your door and cried in your room for over forty-eight hours. I assume there’s no liquid left in your system.” A wry smile crossed her full lips. “So let’s get this out and over with. Why?”

  “I won’t go to bed with him anymore.”

  “She’s right.” Cody backed her.

  “You shouldn’t have gone to bed with him in the first place.” Bobby smacked the arm of his chair.

  Betty shot him a dirty look. “That won’t help.” She returned her gaze to Jennifer. “Let’s use the defense ‘diminished judgment.’ I believe that. I even understand sleeping with a boy in high school. It happens.”

  “Did you?” Jennifer hoped her mother had, of course.

  “No.”

  “I did.” Cody smiled at Jennifer. “Not my best move.”

  “I want to know what Fontaine Buruss had to do with this.” Bobby kept calm although if Fontaine were alive he’d kill him.

  Cody spoke first, partly to spare Jennifer and partly to give her time to organize her thoughts. “I needed money so I offered to ride Keepsake, the new horse Fontaine was trying. He’d come around the barn when I was working the horse and hey, he was sexy.” Noting the raised eyebrows of her father, she murmured, “Dad, he was.”

  “He was.” Betty corroborated her daughter’s judgment.

  “We did drugs. He’d give me extra money if I’d braid, a lot extra, really. He bought me new breeches, a saddle. Big stuff. I liked him but I didn’t love him and after a while I realized I was just another bird. Flying in and out. I also realized I was pretty messed up and I missed Doug. Dad, I know you aren’t crazy about Doug—”

  Bobby cut in. “He’s a fine young man. My concerns were social and I was wrong. I was wrong and I’m sorry.”

  Her father’s repentance touched Cody. She wasn’t accustomed to Bobby admitting error. “It’s okay, Dad. We’ll put that behind us, too.”

  “Didn’t you think about Sorrel?” Betty asked.

  “No. Mom, when you’re doing drugs you don’t think about anybody but yourself. Besides, he’d cheated on her so many times I didn’t see that one more affair was going to break her heart. He made the marriage vow; I didn’t.” She held out her palms upturned. “But I was wrong. I’m telling you what I thought at the time. People can rationalize anything, can’t they?”

  “World War Two proved that beyond a doubt.” Bobby put his fingertips together. “What happened when you left Fontaine? Or did you leave Fontaine?”

  “Nothing.” Cody shrugged. “It wasn’t a blowup. It’s not like we were in love or even that emotional. We had fun. That’s the best way to describe it. I had Jennifer drop me at the bar—” She thought a moment. “Maybe that second Saturday in October, I think. Anyway, Doug was there and I wanted him back. If he’d have me. Maybe I needed Fontaine to really love Doug. God, it’s messy.” She sighed. “I needed help. I still need help. I think I’ll be going to AA and NA meetings and drug recovery meetings for the rest of my life. I don’t think I can do it alone and”—she wanted to make her parents feel better—“you can only do so much. It takes a drunk to understand a drunk.”

  “Then how did Jennifer get into this mess with Fontaine?” Betty was more worried than she let on.

  “I’d go over to the barn to help Cody.” Jennifer sat up. “He’d be around, laughing, joking. He’d let me work Gunpowder. What a neat horse. He’d let me snort a line or two.”

  “But how did Dean Offendahl know this? I’m missing something.” Betty bore down.

  “I’d collect money from Dean and some of the others and buy coke from Fontaine. He had good coke. I didn’t take Dean over there.”

  “But you told him who was selling you the drugs?” Bobby rested his chin on his fingertips.

  “Bragging, in passing—how did you tell him?” Betty pressed.

  “Kind of, uh—threw it off.”

  “Why is he saying you slept with Fontaine?”

  “Mom, he’s making that up. He’s trying to get people’s attention off of him. He thinks this is going to hurt me.”

  Clearly Dean’s stories about Jennifer sleeping with Fontaine are what truly upset the young woman. It’s one thing to sleep with a boy your own age but at seventeen to sleep with a man of Fontaine’s years, that grossed out her classmates.

  “I guess it did. You’ve been in your room for two days,” her mother curtly replied.

  “It’s pretty rad.” Cody defended Jennifer.

  “Radical? I think it’s close to the mark. I’m still taking the ‘diminished judgment’ tack and if Jennifer was over there at Fontaine’s stable, the coke was pure or good or whatever it is, she gets high, he gets high, it’s not an impossible thought no matter how disgusting it is to me. And not so much that I’m disgusted with you, Jennifer, although I’m not proud. I’m disgusted with Fontaine. He took advantage of you, both of you.” Betty’s eyes blazed.

  “I’m over twenty-one,” Cody flatly said. “I knew what I was doing.”

  “I don’t think you did but I think he knew exactly what he was doing. Getting beautiful girls ripshit—isn’t that the word, ripshit—and then taking you to bed. Goddammit, I wish I’d shot him, the sorry son of a bitch!” Bobby jumped up from his chair, pacing in front of the fireplace. “But the fact remains that he is dead. And I expect Sheriff Sidell will cruise around to us soon enough.”

  “Why?” Jennifer thought this was strange.

  “Because either of you could have killed him in a rage—from a sheriff’s point of view. You do drugs, you leave him or maybe he leaves you. Who knows how that will fall out. You’re angry on two counts: He dumped you and no more drugs.”

  “That’s not true!” Jennifer shouted.

  “I didn’t say it was.” Her father coolly studied her. “But I’m trying to see this with a sheriff’s eyes. Right
now neither of you looks too good.”

  “Jennifer wouldn’t kill anybody,” Cody passionately replied. “You know that. She made a mistake.”

  “Did you know?” Betty’s heart was pounding inside and she didn’t know why. She was more afraid than when she’d fetched Doug from the bear.

  “Not until the end.” Cody lowered her voice. “I just never thought Fontaine would do something like that.”

  “You went to bed with him. Presumably you knew what kind of man he was.” Bobby’s sympathy was running thin.

  “I’m older than Jennifer. Going to bed with an underage girl is statutory rape, isn’t it? I never thought he’d do something like that.”

  “He knew he was safe.” Bobby grabbed the mantelpiece. “He knew neither one of you would ever tell because he was your candy man. He could do whatever he wanted and he did.”

  “Dad, he was never ugly. He was fun.” Jennifer thought she was relieving her father’s distress. “He wasn’t a mean kind of guy.”

  “Let’s set motivation aside.” Betty returned to her original question to Cody. “What did you do when you knew, and how did you know about Jennifer and Fontaine?”

  “At first I half suspected but like I said, I couldn’t believe he’d do something like that. When Jennifer skipped school that one day and came to me, I asked her. She said yes.”

  “And?” Betty stared at her.

  “I told her to stop.”

  “Did you?” Betty focused on Jennifer.

  “Yeah. I went to rehab. I never got the chance to go back, I guess. I mean I didn’t even talk to him until opening hunt. Hi. That was it. So yeah, I stopped.”

  “Do you think Fontaine bribed your little sister with drugs to get even with you?” Bobby felt sick to his stomach.

  As distressed as her father, Cody replied, “I don’t know. I don’t think so but then again I didn’t think he’d seduce Jennifer in the first place. He could have done it to get back at me. Anything’s possible.”

  “Did you tell him to stop?”

  Cody exhaled. “Mom, I went over to his stable to pick up my tack. I didn’t want to ride for him anymore. I wanted to put everything in my place, since I was going into rehab. He drove in just as I was driving out. He rolled down the window of his Jag and I told him to stay away from Jennifer.”

  “What did he do?” Bobby stepped away from the fireplace toward Cody.

  “Nothing. He rolled his window back up.” She shrugged. “Nothing.”

  Jennifer, crying again, asked, “Does this mean I can’t go to Thanksgiving hunt?”

  Bobby and Betty looked at each other and then at Jennifer.

  “No.” Bobby said. “It doesn’t mean that. We’re better off doing the things we usually do. It’s worse to hide.”

  “People will laugh at me.” Jennifer sniffled.

  “Get it over with.” Cody didn’t relish the spectacle either. “Let them laugh and get it out of their systems. After a while they’ll be bored with it.”

  “I can’t go back to school.”

  “You can and you will. Ignore Dean Offendahl. His father was an ass to protect him. The only way you learn about life is to pay for your mistakes. If you don’t pay, believe me, there’s a much bigger bill waiting for you down the road. Pay up, Jennifer. Hold your head up and just keep walking.”

  “That’s easy for you to say, Dad,” she sniped.

  “Not so easy. Crawford Howard came into the shop and called you two coke whores,” he fired right back at her. “And you aren’t the only person in the world, Jennifer Franklin. I’ve got feelings, too. So does your mother. We’re in this together; let’s think together.”

  “He called us that?” Cody was outraged.

  “If that asshole says one word to me in the hunt field, there will be two murders. I’ll commit mine right in front of God and everybody!” Bobby exploded.

  CHAPTER 62

  Being no fool, Crawford Howard hired a public relations specialist from New York City. Since his .38 was the weapon used in the commission of a crime, since he was booked on suspicion of murder and released on bail, he needed damage control.

  Jonathan Sweiss arranged special interviews with the local television station, the local newspaper, and the Richmond paper as well.

  Crawford, being a man of the world, was not surprised when Jonathan didn’t ask if he really had killed Fontaine Buruss. Jonathan didn’t care. He was hired to perform a service and this he did.

  In each of the interviews, Crawford explained that he did not like Fontaine, a personality conflict as well as a conflict of modus operandi. Differences between them had escalated during the past six weeks. Crawford expressed no regret at Fontaine’s death because he said that would be false but he vehemently declared he did not kill the man, he would not kill any man unless in self-defense.

  Martha stood by him, the ordeal bringing them closer together.

  The social consequences were immediate. Fontaine’s friends dropped them both from their lists whereas everyone else picked them up. The thrill of having a possible murderer in their midst proved enticing to many a jaded hostess.

  After all this he called Sister Jane, ready for a fight. He was going to argue that he paid his dues and therefore he should be able to hunt no matter what people thought. Hunting was about sport not about what people thought, did, wore, et cetera. . . . He was stoked.

  After hellos he stated, “I intend to hunt Thanksgiving. I know some people in the hunt field think I’m a murderer but—”

  Coolly she interrupted before he got rolling. “Crawford, the laws of the land are innocent until proven guilty. You’ve been charged but you haven’t been convicted. I’ll see you at Whiskey Ridge on Thursday.”

  He hung up the phone pleased with her response. Later it dawned on him that she would have to answer for allowing him to hunt. He wasn’t making her life any easier but still he was determined not to slink away. The difficulties of being a master were slowly percolating in his brain. Maybe you couldn’t run a hunt club like a business.

  CHAPTER 63

  The small piles of corn brought out birds, woodchucks, deer as well as foxes.

  Aunt Netty merrily nibbled away, ignoring the beautiful little bluebird swooping down next to her. The bird would grab a mouthful, then fly up to a tree branch. No matter how mellow Netty appeared to be, no reason to take chances.

  The sides of the ravine loomed up; a few shady crevices had thin lines of snow stark against the dark gray rocks. The ravine remained cool.

  Inky picked her way down the sloping southern edge.

  Aunt Netty, her sleek head deep red now that her winter coat was in, called out, “Hello.”

  Inky bounded next to her. “Isn’t this wonderful?” She ate a big mouthful of rich yellow corn.

  “Sister’s laid a trail. We might as well enjoy it. It’s miles of trail. She’s been working on it for days. She’s even got corn under the hanging tree.”

  “Does she normally do this before the biggest hunts?”

  “No. Sister only puts out food when weather’s bad—like during the blizzards or during a terrible drought. She feels that we have to hunt for our food or we’ll get soft. I expect she’s right.” Netty munched more corn, careful not to drop any.

  “I wonder what she’s going to do? A light frost tonight will ensure that our scent is everywhere. Mom and Dad will be out. I guess you all will be out.”

  “Uncle Yancy will eat and go to bed. He said he did his duty on opening hunt.” Aunt Netty smiled. “I don’t know who will stay out but if they do retire, scent should be good for a while anyway. Given reports from the other foxes, I expect Sister made a loop of about four miles.”

  “She won’t run people through here.” Inky appreciated the ravine’s inhospitable character for galloping.

  “Maybe not but she’s got something on her mind.” Netty pointed to an envelope inside a plastic baggie tacked to a tree by the pool at the creek crossing.

  “Try
ing to catch Reynard’s killer.”

  Netty smiled. “Well, she’s trying to catch Fontaine’s killer but it amounts to the same thing, same person. You know there are a lot of hiding places in here. I’m going to be down here. I won’t run tomorrow. There are enough other foxes to do that. I want to be fresh to see what happens down here and to be ready for anything. What are your plans?”

  “I was going to wait on the back side of Hangman’s Ridge, then go down toward the kennels.”

  “Let me make a suggestion. Stay here in the ravine. Let me show you the dens. One or two are occupied by groundhogs but those are near the top of the ravine. You may have need of them and then again you may not. I suggest you not participate tomorrow either. When you hear hounds coming this way—and some will—climb a tree so that you can see everything. Between both of us we ought to figure out what’s going on.”

  “Won’t hounds pick up my scent and wind up under the tree?”

  “With any luck, the hunted fox, most probably Target at this point, will run through this crossing and up toward the rocks. He can easily lose hounds there. If, for some reason, that doesn’t happen, sit tight.”

  “That will bring down the huntsman.” Inky thought a moment. “Huntsman and probably a whip.” She shook her head. “Won’t work. That will foul up the plan. Even though we don’t know what the plan is I’m sure it doesn’t call for two foxes in the ravine.”

  “Crush up pokeweed stalks and throw them around. That will foul scent.”

  “Maybe. Cora won’t be fooled for long. I think what I’d better do is sleep here tonight in one of these dens. In the morning I’ll walk in the middle of the creek until I find a tree close enough I can jump to. I don’t mind sitting up there for a few hours, especially with all this corn to eat before I get up there.”

  “Why don’t you take that den there.” Netty indicated a den on the east side of the ravine not far from the pool. “I’ll take this one on the west side. I’ve investigated them. Lots of exits.”