“You just did.” She smiled. “I’m assuming you want to leave the scaffolding stand?”
“Yeah, we can knock out the trim tomorrow. I don’t see the point of painting the interior support beams, do you?”
“No, the barn swallows will just poop all over them. I don’t think there’s a building on this farm except for the house that doesn’t have barn swallows. I love to watch them dart about.”
Sitting nearby in their nests for an afternoon, two couples heard Harry.
The oldest male, Luciano, puffed out his chest. “But of course.”
The younger male, shoulder to shoulder with his mate, remained silent. No point in adding to Luciano’s statement. That the bird’s name was Luciano already broadcast how he felt about his singing abilities.
Closing the five-gallon paint cans, Harry carefully tapped all the way around them with a light hammer. She’d paid good money for this exterior paint and she wasn’t going to waste any of it. That task gave way to setting the rollers in sharp-smelling cleaning fluid. Harry used only oil-based paint for exteriors. Cleaning rollers and brushes was indeed a time-consuming chore, but she never repented of her commitment to oil-based paint. She didn’t care what the paint companies said about latex, she thought oil-based better, especially for exteriors.
Swishing around the rollers, she then lifted them out, swished some more, then dried them, hanging them upside down in the shed. Harry poured the fluid into a can used for that purpose and closed that lid. Vigilant about anything she thought could damage soil, creatures, or plants, she never tossed out oil, diesel fuel, gasoline, paint thinner. She found uses for them or let them dry up in their containers.
Every outbuilding had a frost-free pump, either inside the wall or outside. At the equipment shed she stood outside and washed her hands, the flow of water gushingly strong.
A female barn swallow swept past Harry, climbed high, then dived straight at her, turning at a right angle at the last minute.
“Whee!”
Harry ducked her head back which encouraged the beautiful bird to show off even more. By now the female barn swallow was joined by Luciano. The two of them put on quite a show, adding a bright chirp now and then. Harry laughed. She loved all the creatures on her land. Well, maybe not chiggers and ticks, but she even liked the snakes. She learned from other animals.
Finished cleaning up, she entered the kitchen.
“You did make lunch.” She sat down. Before her was a huge Cobb salad, as well as a large glass of untea, unsweetened iced tea.
Proud of himself, Fair sat opposite her.
Before they got the forks to their mouths, Tucker rushed to the door, signaling a visitor. She didn’t bother to bark, which meant a friend was here.
Harry half stood up. “Coop. If there’s not enough, I can split my salad. It’s so large.”
He rose. “Sit. I’ve got enough.”
“She’ll say she’s not hungry.”
Fair laughed. “We’ve heard that before. You can wear her down.”
“I could use some of that bacon.” Pewter lifted her nose.
“Me, too,” Mrs. Murphy and Tucker agreed.
Coop knocked on the screen door, opened it, then walked through the kitchen door. “Sorry to barge in.”
“You’re not barging in. Sit down. There’s enough for all.”
“No, no, I couldn’t do that,” Cooper demurred.
Fair placed a large bowl on the table, towered over her and she was relatively tall. “Sit down.”
He then brought over a napkin and utensils. “Sweet or unsweet?”
“Uh, sweet.”
She speared an egg slice in the salad, each person enjoying the cold food. Tucker sat by Fair, Mrs. Murphy took Harry, and Pewter felt she could work over Cooper.
“The shed looks great,” Cooper remarked. “One of these days I’ll paint mine.”
“We’ll do the trim tomorrow,” Harry informed her. “The best part is the day was bearable. If you stand out in the sun it will get you, but we painted the unshaded side first, early. Wasn’t bad.”
“It’s a good day.”
“And this is a good salad by my talented husband.” Harry smiled.
Cooper stared at Fair. “You know, you make me believe having a husband is a step forward.”
“Depends on the husband.” He laughed. “And I can still pluck her last nerve.”
Pewter reached up to pat Cooper’s leg. “What about my nerves? Smelling that delicious ham, bacon, and even the cheese rattles me. I need some food, your food.”
Of course, Cooper dropped a thick piece of cubed ham.
“Don’t spoil her,” Harry admonished her neighbor.
“And you don’t?”
“Well, she can be a pest,” Harry rejoined.
“Here, Tucker, you’re behaving like a good dog.” Fair dropped an egg slice.
“I am a good dog.”
Harry gave Mrs. Murphy a ham cube, which Pewter eyed, deciding not to start a fight.
“Are you wondering why I’m here?” Cooper asked.
“No,” Harry replied.
Cooper sipped the delicious tea. “Not even a little bit?”
“You’re our neighbor,” Harry said. “What’s to wonder?”
“Can you tell me if you noticed anything odd while working with Rae and her crew? An offhand remark, perhaps she mentioned that things have gone missing before. You notice things, undercurrents.”
“They were all very professional. What I did notice when I first went to the office to discuss what I needed were the posters on the wall and small framed photos of some of the work. I assume it was some of their work. Rae also showed me other websites, mostly farms, business ones, and some campaign websites from last year.”
“Did you notice equipment on a table or shelf?” Cooper asked.
“I did. All the sound equipment was stacked on a table and the big keyboard was on the desk in the middle of the room. Why?”
“None of the expensive equipment was touched. The robber or robbers were interrupted by Deon returning. He came in the front door and whoever went out the back.”
Harry whistled. “There’s a fortune in equipment there.”
“Which is why I doubt the motive was robbery.”
“Had to be something recorded by Rae’s crew,” Harry mused. “I have a suggestion. I’ll be willing to help, let’s sit down with Rae, Deon, and Bethel and review footage.”
“Why can’t we just look at it on our computers?” Cooper wondered.
“We can, but that’s the final edited website version. Perhaps there’s something compromising, something not on a final version.”
“Well—” Cooper was thinking.
“It could be something tiny, maybe a line of cocaine on a far table, the outline of a still in the distance near water, a poached deer, you know, out of season. It could be anything, but whatever it is, if there is something, it might offer a clue.”
“Normally, I’d say that’s far-fetched. This is an attempted theft.” Cooper inhaled deeply again. “Rae’s company specializes in websites for farm products, Thoroughbreds, local and state political campaigns. I suppose it can’t hurt to take the time.”
“Maybe whatever it is could cost someone a job, money, maybe an election,” Harry wondered, as did Fair, leaning forward in his chair.
“Rae is a Democrat, not wildly liberal, but more liberal than her customers,” said Coop. “And I didn’t know this, but these Web people as well as advertising agencies are divided up by party. Charlottesville is a liberal Democratic town; all those videographers were already on the party payroll. Well, not the party, but anyone running for office from the area used certain people. Being a fairly new business, Rae took what she could get. She was so good she wound up shooting websites for those nonliberal candidates.”
“Did Ned tell you that?” Harry inquired about Susan’s husband, Albemarle County’s representative to the state legislature.
�
�No. Rae did. But talking to Ned is a good idea.” Maybe he’d have an idea of what might be hidden on the missing tapes.
Monday, August 1, 2016
Harry and Cooper sat in the small Crozet Media screening room, piles of DVDs before them. Those DVDs represented the finished product. A smaller pile of outtakes sat next to that.
Cooper stuck her long legs in front of her once in her seat. “Harry, two hours, that’s it.”
“I know, but look at it this way.” Harry turned around for a moment to make eye contact with Rae. “You have nothing to go on regarding Barbara Leader’s death. That was followed by this break-in.”
“I don’t see how they can be connected,” Cooper grumbled.
“Well, I don’t, either. But if we look at website outtakes and some websites of those who knew or worked with Barbara, maybe something will pop up. You’re only losing time.”
Rae stepped in. “When I sifted through my list of clients with Harry she knew some of the people who knew Barbara. Of course, we have no way of knowing a casual acquaintance. As it turned out, not many of my clients did know Barbara. Let me start with The Barracks.”
Harry filled Cooper in. “Barbara kept a horse there for years. Occasionally I’d see her in the ring.”
“We shot this last fall.” Rae punched some keys on the large keypad, and an image of The Barracks’s sign out on Garth Road appeared. Next a moving shot through the gates revealed the land beyond, fenced, the mountains in the far background, and to the viewer’s right the large main building of The Barracks. From there Bethel had walked through the aisle, shots of tidy stalls, contented horses, and thence into the large covered riding arena, the big draw of this place. Over this, Claiborne Bishop’s voice explained the dimensions of the ring, the footing, while two riders in the background were taking a lesson over fences.
Once outside, Claiborne introduced horses in the near paddocks, the house she shared with her husband, Tom, in the background. The brilliant fall day added to the allure. This was the slick final product Rae produced.
Now she slipped in a DVD. Claiborne stood by the fence, and a flaming chestnut horse thundered up, looking stunning, and then pooped as if on cue.
Harry chuckled.
“Wait until you see the next one.” Rae gave them a little anticipation.
Back in the main stables, two teenage girls washing one of the horses obviously didn’t know footage was being shot. A few harsh words were spoken. The blonde reached around the horse with a wet chamois, flicking it at the dark-haired girl, a few pounds overweight. That fast, the larger girl turned her hose on the blonde. The wet-T-shirt moment would have been appreciated by most of the male audience, but it might not have done The Barracks much good. Amazingly, the horse stood quietly through it all, not even folding back her ears.
That was it for The Barracks outtakes.
One hour later, the group had seen most everyone who went to school, worked with, or knew Barbara, if they had websites.
“Okay, last one,” Bethel said. “Edward Cunningham at Big Rawly. We had so many delays, interruptions. We’re still piecing footage together for his new campaign website. Won’t be long until it’s up.”
Edward, sleeves rolled up, no necktie, wearing beige pants and loafers, was walking through the living room, opened massive double doors to the outside slate patio, stepped down, and stepped on a rubber ball.
“Goddammit!” He bent down to pick up the ball, chucked it out on the lawn in disgust.
A golden retriever appeared, entering the frame from the left, joyfully chasing the ball, bringing it back to Eddie. He dropped the ball at Eddie’s feet. Picked it up. Dropped it again.
“Piper, leave it.”
Piper experienced a moment of canine deafness.
Frustrated that the ball was slimy, Eddie yelled, “Chris, will you get out here!”
Entering from the right, pretty Chris appeared, wearing the fisherman’s top favored by Picasso, white clam diggers, and navy blue espadrilles. Ball in hand, she coaxed the golden to follow her.
Chris Holloway Cunningham, the perfect country club wife, should have stayed in the video. Poor Eddie, flummoxed by the dog, spoke his lines too quickly.
Off camera, Rae’s words could be heard. “Cut. Mr. Cunningham, take a deep breath, slow down. Actually, the dog looked great, but we’ll leave using her up to you.”
Another outtake showed Eddie in the impressive library, his grandfather there also. His grandfather, the former governor, sat behind the desk. Eddie’s father, Taylor Cunningham, dropped a book as he entered the library. He laughed, picked it up, and said to the camera, “Marcus Aurelius, one of the governor’s favorites.”
In the last outtake, Eddie was promising he would fight the creep of federal government as a senator. He called upon the memory of Sam Holloway defying Washington while standing at the entrance to the state house when he was loudly interrupted by the governor complaining from his desk in the background.
A middle-aged woman slipped in, handed him a glass filled with ice and a splash of amber liquid. She pressed a pill in his hand.
Harry recognized the woman as Barbara Leader.
Barbara leaned down, whispering in the governor’s ear.
He grinned, popped the pill, drained his glass. His energy returned and his face became more animated. He became more animated.
He looked directly at the camera, his voice booming. “I want to explain why I fought the federal government forty-five years ago. I apologized, but I’ve never really set the record straight.”
Standing in front of his grandfather’s desk, Eddie froze.
Women’s voices filled the background. Entering the frame from the right came Barbara Leader, again followed by Penny and Millicent Grimstead.
Eddie hurried to stand beside the governor’s chair. “G-Pop, the federal government is like a giant kudzu plant. They want to cover us all and control us all.”
Standing, the old man, still handsome despite his illness, boomed, “It is the obligation of every generation to keep the central government in check. I was right about that, but I chose the wrong issue and I regret it. I will die regretting it.”
“G-Pop, you fought the good fight.” Eddie glanced up at his grandmother and aunt.
“Edward, you sorry ass, I hate an overly centralized government. I hate an imperial presidency, but sometimes only a strong president and Congress can right a terrible wrong. Segregation was such a wrong. I cannot, I will not, abide you using me to cloak your intentions.”
“Daddy, Daddy, come on now,” Millicent cajoled.
“I’m not going to be used like this!” he shouted.
“Honey, Millie and I will work with Eddie. You come on. You’re going to overtire yourself. You need all your strength to fight the leukemia.”
Shaking with anger and effort, he refused to allow his wife and daughter to lead him away, but he did go.
Penny’s voice could be heard off-camera. “Come on, honey. They can do a video just of you.”
“I’m ready to talk,” he hollered.
“Please, Daddy, this is for Eddie’s website.”
“Maybe people interested in him should hear me out! I have something to say.”
“Of course, you do, dear.” Penny’s voice was clear. “You were the most eloquent governor of Virginia since Thomas Jefferson.”
Then Barbara’s voice could again be heard. “Come on, Governor, we’ll have our own party.”
On camera, Eddie sank into the chair just vacated by his grandfather. “Give me a minute.” He looked into the camera. “He suffers these outbursts. A lot of anger. I blame the medication. They’re filling him full of too much stuff.” That was the end of the footage.
Cooper pulled her outstretched legs back. “Poor fellow. Do you all remember anything else?”
“No,” Deon answered. “As you’ve seen, most of the outtakes are flubs. Maybe a wind came up, messed up the sound for an outside shot. Pretty much what you’d expec
t. Well, maybe not the governor, but I guess that’s what happens when people get that old.”
“Or that medicated,” Harry added.
“Scares me,” Rae admitted. “Doctors pumping you with God knows what.”
“You don’t have to be old for that.” Harry feared overmedication, too.
“Right,” Deon agreed.
Rae said to Cooper, “I didn’t question Edward Cunningham why he wanted us to shoot this footage.”
Cooper stood up. “We all saw the governor’s condition. I would guess Edward needed a video of him. The old man is frail, but he’s still presentable and still powerful.”
Fed up with politics, Harry said, “Elections are now never-ending. Edward Holloway Cunningham has his website. The amount of money spent these days on running for office is astronomical.”
“A big waste of money,” Deon said. “All that money could be put toward fixing some of our problems.”
“True, it is, but that money is coming to us,” Rae reminded him. “For which I’m grateful. It’s all ego, don’t you think?”
Bethel grimaced. “I know when I’m old enough to retire there won’t be any money in Social Security. All that money taken out of my paycheck and Deon’s paycheck will be squandered.”
“Yeah,” Deon simply agreed.
“Well, you could run for public office,” Harry suggested.
“And be like them?” Deon’s eyes widened.
Rae quietly added, “I really think when most people take that path they want to do good. Then the process corrupts them.”
“As a public servant I can’t partake in this discussion,” said Cooper. “But I can also tell you Albemarle County has a good sheriff. We are chronically underfunded and people want more and more services. Harry’s right. You all should run, or find someone young who you like, and encourage them.”
Harry added, “Someone young who isn’t corrupted.”
Deon felt cynical. “Yeah, but won’t they become corrupted, like Rae says?”
“You can always hope that a few won’t,” said Harry. “I don’t think anyone can corrupt Ned Tucker or could corrupt the late Emily Couric or Mitch Van Yahres, before your time. They were liberal, but I trusted them. We all did. But such people are few and far between now.” She stood up. “Maybe it was always this way and we think times were better in the past.”
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