A Bloodhound to Die for

by Virginia Lanier

  Susan stood frozen in shock. You could have heard a pin drop on the indoor-outdoor carpet. A few seconds later she regained her poise.

  “And you are…” she replied unemotionally.

  “Oh, you wouldn’t know her, Susan,” I drawled. “Edna doesn’t read, so she wouldn’t frequent a bookstore. Maybe we should all take up a collection and buy her a Ms. Manners book on etiquette, if they print one with lots of illustrations.”

  “You stay out of this, Jo Beth! You’re not the hotshot you think you are. You saved the hostages and even the damn dog. Why couldn’t you have saved Leon?”

  A woman standing next to her and having a strong family resemblance put a hand on Edna’s shoulder, which she angrily shrugged off.

  “You owe Susan an apology, Edna,” I said quietly. “If I were you, I think I’d ask Florence who-all she told, and then check who they told. I wouldn’t be surprised to find out that you confided in a few more yourself. Come along, Susan, we don’t want to be late in paying our respects. Ladies.”

  When Susan and I were back in our seats, I reached for her hand and squeezed it gently.

  She managed a wan smile. “Thanks.”

  “Forget it. Consider the source.”

  During the service, I happened to glance her way and saw tears brimming her eyelids. I wanted to throttle Edna for being such a bitch. Half the town had contributed to the tragedy. I vowed silently that I would never again ask her who had told her and would stop trying to find out how the vicious rumor had started. A lot of people were suffering and any action on my part couldn’t bring back the three people who had died.

  Reverend Willis announced that the graveside services had been canceled due to the inclement weather. We began lining up to speak to the family, and say our farewells to Leon.

  I had always believed, even as a child, that viewing the body in the casket was a barbaric ritual. Prettying up a corpse, dressing it in pastels or backless business suits, and displaying it on padded satin seems a bit much. Some of our townspeople still practiced the old ways of bringing the body home and sitting up all night with relatives and friends. To each his own, but I had made it quite plain in my burial instructions that my casket would be sealed.

  I looked ahead and noted that Edna was not in the receiving line. Since Leon’s parents, two brothers, and a sister were there, no cousins were needed to represent the family. I was relieved. I wouldn’t put it past Edna to make a public scene as Susan was passing. I focused on the flowers that were at each end of Leon’s casket. I had no desire to view his remains. Instead, I remembered the sunny afternoon just five months ago that he came with Sara to pick up Sherlock from the kennel.

  He had laughed and held Sherlock and was surprised by the loose wrinkled-skin soft bundle of fur. That’s the way I’d remember him.

  We moved past the family, briefly touching hands and patting shoulders, and I nodded with sympathy when we reached Leland. Both Susan I and took a deep breath of the rain-laden air when we reached the sidewalk. Two funerals down and one to go. A truly depressing day.

  12

  “A Puzzling Incident”

  August 27, Tuesday, 8:15 A.M.

  I was up with the birds, but it was after eight when I sent Bobby Lee to fetch his lead. When I joined him on the back porch, he seemed puzzled. He looked at me and back to the post where both leads usually hung, as if asking what was going on. Both nails were empty.

  “Where are your leads?”

  He whined once and stood on his hind legs as if he was confirming that they were not there.

  “Let’s go see Wayne. Maybe he’s cleaning them or something.”

  Donnie Ray was steaming the dirty bowls from breakfast and Wayne was weighing a litter of three-month-old pups. Some kept wiggling out of the cart and others were trying to climb back in. We watched until he had finished.

  “Good morning,” I said aloud and signed to Wayne. “Do you have Bobby Lee’s leads?”

  He pointed to a grooming table with a frown and began signing.

  “They were in the middle of the floor in here this morning when I came in at seven.”

  I glanced at Bobby Lee and back at Wayne.

  He wasn’t smiling. “They were neatly coiled, and not damp with saliva.”

  I knew that Bobby Lee was incapable of neatly coiling the leads. Even if he had accomplished that feat, it would have had to have happened the night before if they were dry. Just taking them off the nails he got them wet.

  “What’s your guess?”

  I couldn’t think of anything. I was coming up empty.

  Wayne shrugged and looked worried.

  “Maybe Bobby Lee is asking for a raise,” Donnie joked.

  “He’s too proud of being able to fetch them off the nail. He couldn’t and wouldn’t do something like this.”

  Wayne signed his agreement.

  I glanced around, trying to make sense of what had occurred.

  “Everything else is in place?” They both nodded.

  “Jasmine left early for a drug search at United Chemical. She didn’t have any ideas, either.”

  “Are all the trainers here this morning?”

  “Everyone but W.A.”

  W. A. Beekham always ran late. He took care of his father, who was confined to a wheelchair. I understood his problem and let him make up the time when he could. I shook my head.

  “A mystery. Maybe we’ll find out something later. I’m gonna train the six-month class.”

  I had finished with my charges and was back in the house cleaning up when Jasmine arrived around half-past ten. We discussed the misplaced leads.

  “It doesn’t make sense,” Jasmine said when she found I was clueless.

  “Agreed. I can’t think of any explanation.”

  I turned in my chair and stared out at the warm sunshine. All the clouds had passed and it was becoming another sultry August day.

  “You know, lately I feel as if I’m exuding some kooky kind of essence around here. I don’t know, it seems that I’m drawing weirdos into my orbit.”

  Jasmine looked a little uncertain. “Are you turning fey on me?”

  “What have I done, that I rate that mentally deficient Jimmy Joe claiming his undying affection and trying to entrap me in some sort of conspiracy?”

  “Have you heard anything more on his escape?”

  “Nobody tells me anything,” I said moodily.

  “Hank hasn’t called?”

  “Nope.”

  “Why don’t you call him?”

  I sighed. “I’ve been dreading it, but I guess I’ll have to if I’m gonna find out what’s going on.”

  I dialed his number.

  “Cribbs.”

  “Are you still speaking to me?” I tried to sound contrite.

  “Of course,” he answered evenly. “How can I help you?”

  “I’m sorry I took out my frustration about the search warrant on you. Will you forgive me?”

  “Certainly.”

  Uh-oh. He was still mad.

  “Have you heard anything more about our escapee?”

  “I guess he’s still missing. I haven’t heard differently. Their silence is unusual. I thought they would be screaming for your head on a platter. They haven’t even officially requested my office to mount a search.”

  “The warden called me and requested one.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “No soap.”

  “How did he take it?”

  “He threatened to cancel the contract and hung up.”

  “I heard that he called the county commissioner’s office and complained that you refused a call out.”

  “I bet your snitch was your third cousin, once removed, from your mother’s side. She still works in the office?”

  “She’s not a snitch, she’s family.” He sounded complacent.

  I was envious of his close-knit extended family.

  “If I had your connections, I would own the county by now,”
I said dryly.

  “Nah, you’d be worn out trying to run everyone’s life.”

  “You think?” I countered.

  Hank laughed. “If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  I hung up and glanced at Jasmine. “He hasn’t heard a peep.”

  “Strange. It’s almost like they’re ashamed of losing him so quickly, so they’re laying low and keeping mum. I’m going to make a fresh pot of coffee.”

  “Good idea.”

  I was idly turning over the pile of mail from this morning, stacking the bills and throwing out the advertising fliers and other junk mail. Halfway down the pile was a regular-size plain white envelope with my name and address printed in pencil. There was no return address or postmark.

  I was curious and reached for the letter opener. Pulling out a single, ruled sheet of notepaper, I scanned the few lines and closed my eyes.

  I must have made a noise of some kind, because I felt Jasmine’s hand on my shoulder and the paper being removed from my fingers. I looked up at her as she read the contents aloud.

  Missy,

  Y’all are a sound-sleeping bunch. Your dogs are too friendly for their own good, especially the one that lives in your house. He brought me his lead and gave me the grand tour. He’s a mighty fine dog. Remember that when they pressure you to find me.

  J. J.

  “Call Hank,” she demanded.

  I licked my lips. “Why? What can he do?”

  I waited for her answer.

  “He needs to know. Are you all right?”

  “No, I’m not all right. I’m angry and scared,” I whispered.

  I reached down and laid my hand on Bobby Lee’s side, which was moving slowly up and down with each breath while he slept. I was rewarded with a half thump of his tail but he didn’t open his eyes.

  I took a deep breath. “Get Donnie Ray and tell him that I need him and Wayne pronto.”

  She headed out and I called Hank.

  “Cribbs.”

  “It’s me again, I just opened the mail. I have a note from Jimmy Joe Lane. He paid me an after-hours visit last night. Seems he toured the kennel with Bobby Lee as his guide.”

  “Any proof of his visit?”

  “Nothing provable. Bobby Lee’s leads were coiled neatly on the floor in the middle of the grooming room this morning.”

  “That gained your undivided attention, I bet!”

  “You got that right,” I said wearily.

  “Don’t handle the note any more than you already have. I’ll be there within the hour.”

  “Do you have a mug shot of him? I need one to show the crew so they know who to watch for.”

  “I’ll get one from the prison and bring it with me.”

  “Thanks, Hank.”

  I stared out at the late-morning sunshine and realized that I had to return to the siege mentality and replace the security gates and pressure plates, and electrify the fences I had used when Bubba was stalking me. I was just getting used to the freedom from raucous alarms. It didn’t seem fair, but what other choice did I have? I had discovered at the age of ten that life isn’t always fair. It’s just that sometimes I forget that fact.

  There is a very slim line between unrequited love and vicious hate. Jimmy Joe had alluded to the safety of my dogs from the get go. I couldn’t let him roam freely over my property. His admiration could become vindictive quickly. I also realized that I couldn’t just sit on the sidelines and not get involved.

  I couldn’t understand his actions. He seemed to want me to search for him. Maybe he wanted to pit his abilities of escape against my trying to find him. Who knew what made him tick? All the years of being confined had to have molded his personality in many different ways from the simple swamp-loving teenager of long ago.

  I could feel empathy for that boy and still be aware that the current Jimmy Joe could be a formidable threat to my animals and me. Defense was not enough; we would also have to go to offense.

  Wayne and Donnie Ray rushed in with a hasty knock and questioning expressions, Jasmine right behind them.

  “Well, we have problems.” I explained about Jimmy Joe’s visit.

  “Hank is coming out and bringing a photograph. Run off copies and make sure all the trainers have a copy to study. Jasmine is going to call the security people and get our fences and alarms back. I don’t know how long it will take them to reinstall the equipment, but until it’s in place, we’ll have to set up night watches. I don’t think we have to worry about him in the daytime, just at night. He’s a wanted man. We do, however, have to be vigilant at all times. Any questions?”

  A subdued Wayne and Donnie Ray left to resume work and Jasmine took my address book back to the bedroom to call United Security.

  Bobby Lee awoke and edged closer to lean against my leg. I spoke softly as I caressed his ears.

  “Some watchdog you are, greeting the enemy and giving him the grand tour.”

  Bloodhounds are so gentle and loving. My heart swelled with love as I fretted for his safety and that of all the animals under my roof.

  Jasmine returned and handed me my address book.

  “I lucked out and got to speak to one of the installers. He started to give me a date for a week from now, but I told him that if it was installed by tomorrow at six P.M. you would pay the installer a personal bonus of a hundred bucks. He jumped on it and promised to deliver. Was that all right?”

  “Good thinking. We’re spread too thin already. We can’t afford losing sleep for a week.”

  13

  “A Stroll in the Swamp”

  August 27, Tuesday, Noon

  When Hank arrived, he entered quickly, and wasn’t smiling. He handed me Jimmy Joe’s mug shot and spoke tersely.

  “Borrow your phone? We have a call out. I have to get details.”

  “When it rains, it pours,” I mumbled, and sat waiting quietly while he spoke with the dispatcher.

  Jasmine signed that she was making lunch and disappeared. I could hear Hank’s side of the conversation and recognized the name and knew where we were going.

  Hiram Burton, seventy-seven, and his wife, Beulah, seventy-three, lived in a small isolated farmhouse about ten miles out of Balsa City on one of the many dirt roads that wound around the edge of the Okefenokee Swamp.

  He was the sole caregiver of his wife of fifty-five years, who suffered from dementia first caused by a stroke, ten years in the past, then a gentle slide into feeblemindedness and chronic confusion caused by the worsening dementia. Her body still worked, but her mind was gone. He bathed her, fed her, and watched her constantly.

  Their kids begged him to place her in a nursing home but he wouldn’t hear of it. She wandered off occasionally even though he was ever vigilant. Last year we were called in and I found her a short way from the house, sitting peacefully on a creek bank staring at the water.

  I hoped it would be a repeat performance. I admired Hiram; he firmly practiced and believed his marriage vows from all those many years ago. Till death do us part.

  I stuck my head in the kitchen and saw that Jasmine had sliced ham and was assembling sandwiches. I picked up one with mustard and Swiss cheese.

  “I’m taking Gulliver. It’s a seventy-three-year-old female who wanders mindlessly away from home. Who do you wish to use?”

  She stared over my shoulder, considering.

  “Ramona, I think.”

  I nodded acceptance because I had just taken a large bite of the sandwich and headed to the bedroom since Hank was still on the phone. I called Donnie Ray, and when he answered told him to load up my van with Gulliver and Ramona, that Jasmine and I would travel together.

  When I came back to the kitchen with extra socks, another pair of shoes, and a bandanna, Jasmine had left to change clothes and Hank was sitting at the kitchen table eating a sandwich and drinking iced tea.

  “Ready?” he mumbled with his mouth full.

  “Donnie’s loading the van. It’ll ta
ke a few minutes.”

  I picked up the sack of sandwiches and headed to the back porch.

  Rudy was pacing the wide planks, tail twitching with indignation and giving Bobby Lee malignant glances as he emitted small sounds of protest.

  Old Faithful was patiently and hopefully waiting with both leashes clutched in his slobbering jaws.

  “Ah, Bobby Lee,” I crooned, feeling awful. “Not this time. No, no.”

  I worked on my gloves and gently removed the leads and put them back on their nails. Avoiding his eyes, I knelt and hugged his neck. “Forgive me?”

  “Why don’t you let him go?” Hank asked as he closed the screen door. He was holding his half-eaten sandwich.

  “He’s supposed to be your best dog in the kennel, if not the whole world, to hear you tell it. You never take him into the swamp anymore. Won’t he get rusty or lose his edge or something if you don’t let him keep in practice? You know this search is a stroll. How far can a seventy-three-year-old woman travel? Look at him. He’s crushed.”

  “I’m taking Gulliver,” I replied evenly.

  I glanced Hank’s way and saw his eyes widen.

  “You’re afraid he’ll get hurt! I’ll be damned. You’re protecting him! How come?”

  Jasmine, hurrying up the steps to help me load, saved me from an explanation. I ignored his question and took the wheel when Donnie Ray pulled the van even with the back gate.

  Hank turned his unit in front of us with a screech of tires and activated the siren and flashers.

  “I wish he wouldn’t do that,” I said waspishly. “It gives me a headache!”

  “What were you two discussing when I arrived?”

  “He wanted to know why I wasn’t taking Bobby Lee,” I admitted.

  “And you said…?”

  “Don’t you start.”

  “Forget I asked.”

  “All my dogs are great and I love them dearly, but Bobby Lee is special. I lost him once because of the trial and it was months before I won back his trust. I couldn’t stand it if anything happened to him. After Jimmy Joe’s visit and his knowing that Bobby Lee lives in the house, he must be aware that I think he’s special. Jimmy Joe said he read all the press on my career, so he also knows that Bobby Lee was sightless for most of his life. I won’t put him in jeopardy.”