A Hiss Before Dying

by Rita Mae Brown

  Eudes stepped outside the kitchen, instantly recognized Jeffrey, who was listening carefully to Samuel Udall, a banker on the make, a different generation than the moneymen of ten years ago. “Mr. Holloway, I know your estimable wife has a good head for numbers. Expansion needs to be prudent, security is all important. If I can be of any service in the protection of your funds, I am happy to do so.”

  “I appreciate your advice, Sir, which I will share with Mrs. Holloway. As the daughter of a banker, her knowledge is considerable. She was saying to me a few days ago that she wished her father were here to help make sense of our financial contradictions.”

  “Contradictions.” Sam’s heavy eyebrows lifted.

  “The entire nation. Europe, too. She says the world is changing so rapidly. Also, a skilled slave woman has run off, a person of value. My lady is quite upset.” He paused, his light hazel eyes flickered. “You may find this heretical, Mr. Udall, but I feel the effort, energy, and watchfulness over a person, free or slave, who doesn’t want to be in your service undercuts their value.”

  Sam, fork in hand, paused. “It is a conundrum. I prefer indentured servants from England, Ireland, Scotland, or Wales myself. I have four such individuals working in the bank. They came highly skilled.”

  “You are wise.” Jeffrey smiled. “Unfortunately, with a large estate like Big Rawly, we need those who are skilled and those whose primary value is a strong back.”

  Eudes knew Sam, watched the two men in rapt conversation, and then went back into the kitchen. “Your old missus. Rich?”

  “Very. Rich as the Garths.” She paused, realizing Eudes did not know central Virginia. “Rich as the Randolphs. The old Tidewater families. Rich and cruel.”

  “Vain?”

  She smiled. “Don’t men think all women are vain?”

  “Not at all.” Eudes peered through the crack between the two doors again. “I’d say Sam Udall has a fish on the line.”

  Finally, the tables cleared as most of the men left to complete their day of business. A few stayed behind, having selected their human dessert. Jeffrey departed with Udall after leaving a nice tip for the serving girls on top of a printed description of Mignon and the reward amount.

  “Mignon, he’s gone.”

  “I will be extra-careful,” she whispered.

  “I’ll find out if he returns. The good thing is he doesn’t live here. But he knows about Georgina’s, so I expect he will be back sometime. Funny, he doesn’t want a girl, I mean if his wife is old.”

  “Middle-aged. Good-looking. A bit plump, but riches make anyone beautiful.”

  Eudes laughed.

  Binky brought the last of the china to the sink. He rolled up his sleeves. “Not a crumb left.”

  Eudes, happy, nodded. “Cold weather raises an appetite.”

  “So does a good cook.” Mignon raked the coals in the fireplace.

  “Well, we’ve got about four hours before they come back, and Georgina is right, it will be a big night. A night for roast lamb with mint jelly.” He watched Binky. “Boy, you got a good job here with prospects. A man can rise, run things, make good money. Don’t throw this away on Deborah.”

  “I’m not. She loves me. I love her.”

  “It’s her job to tell men she loves them, to tell them no one is as good as they are.”

  Binky turned to face Eudes. “She tells me everything she does. Says she can’t even feel them inside. They’re no good at it, you know. Says I make her feel wonderful and I want to marry her.”

  “And support her on your salary or will you let her keep working here?” Eudes asked sharply, as Mignon, her eyes wide, observed.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you’d better figure it out. And don’t upset Georgina. Then we’ll all pay. Stick to business.”

  “What do you know, Eudes? I don’t think you ever had a woman. It’s the best feeling in the world.”

  Eudes’s face darkened but he kept control. “The best feeling in the world is respecting a woman worth your time. I don’t want some silly fool fopping around about bonnets and bows. I don’t want some whore, either. A woman can take you down in a hurry. Think. And how can you support children? Think, Binky.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Mignon found her voice, surprised herself. “Binky, he’s telling you the truth because he likes you. He wants you to succeed.”

  Binky had sense enough not to sass Mignon. “I know it looks bad, but we’ll find a way. And I will do my job. I won’t disappoint Georgina. Deborah and I will need the money.”

  Eudes slapped his hands on the sides of his thighs. Mignon returned to her papers, which she’d slipped onto the shelf under the long table when they became really busy.

  Putting them on the cleaned table she read, “B is for bonnet and bows.”

  Eudes looked at her and couldn’t help it; he laughed.

  November 8, 2016 Tuesday

  “The cerise tie.” Ed Clark, animated as always, motioned to his own tie. “I’m far more conservative. Just popped right out at me.”

  Cooper sat across from Ed, a man of middle age in excellent condition, in the spartan lounge at the sheriff’s office. Ed lived in Waynesboro but had driven over for an afternoon meeting with Susan Tucker, MaryJo Cranston, Liz Potter, and Harry for the Virginians for Sustainable Wildlife. As this was election day, they didn’t know if the direction of the American public’s desires would be clear by the afternoon, but today was the one time most of the group could meet with him. While the president could upgrade or downgrade focus on issues, the rank and file of the various agencies such as the Forestry Department, the amorphous and confusing Environmental Protection Agency, and others would remain the same, for a time, anyway.

  Ed Clark, the founder and director of the Wildlife Center, traveled all over the world at various governments’ expense. He had traveled to Russia, South Africa, Brazil, European countries. His expertise, transmitted with energy and fair-mindedness, ensured his welcome. He was also called upon to testify in court cases as to the financial damage caused by poaching, killing, defiling animal habitats. He was friendly but formidable.

  “Pierre Rice called upon you?”

  “He did and he drove over to Lyndhurst where we have our headquarters, where many of the animals rescued are rehabilitating. He asked for a tour, which I gave him. Clearly intelligent and well informed. I liked him immediately. Of course, the tie made me like him even more. A man’s got to have…” he hesitated, then added, “…guts to wear cerise.”

  Cooper smiled. “Maybe women do, too. You obviously observed him carefully.”

  “Carefully. His shoes had to have cost at least eight hundred dollars. They were butter-thin Italian calfskin. He wore gray slacks and a well-cut, bespoke, probably, navy blazer. He was not at all what I expected.”

  “Which was?” Her pencil was poised over her reporter’s notebook.

  “A policy geek.”

  Cooper studied the handsome man before her. If his hair had not been silver, she would have assumed he was perhaps in his early forties, but she couldn’t discern his age. High energy, a man who loved what he did, one of the lucky ones with a grand passion in his life, which also included his wife, a beauty. Ed was a celebrity of sorts, and many who knew him or thought they did all mentioned Kim, his wife.

  “Narrow, rectangular black glasses, shirt hanging out of his pants, sweater with a rolled-neck collar.” She described her version of a geek.

  “Don’t forget the fact that the latest high-tech cellphone would be attached to him like an enema bag,” Ed noted acerbically.

  Cooper roared, she couldn’t help it. “I hadn’t thought of that.” Collecting herself, she returned to Pierre. “So Pierre Rice seemed to be in a class by himself?”

  “Yes. Easy to talk to, no throwing his weight around, and as I mentioned, it was obvious he was well educated, well connected, and rich, rich with taste. I would have killed for those shoes.” He stopped himself. “Sorry,
wrong thing to say under the circumstances.”

  “Actually, maybe not. Let me show you the photograph forensics took when we found the body. It’s not too bad.” She scrolled up the hooded figure on her portable computer, gratis the county.

  Ed shook his head. “I’m sorry and I hardly knew him. I can imagine his friends and family are inconsolable.”

  “Up to a point. Everyone knew his work would take a dangerous turn. His sister, Marvella Lawson—”

  He interrupted, “The Marvella Lawson?”

  She nodded. “She’s hit hard but in her way understands. He did not discuss his cases during or after with his sister or his friends. Finding your card wedged between the Tahoe seat and center console was our first real break. That and a cage in the back.”

  Ed peered at the picture of the supine figure again. “Like Sherlock Holmes.”

  “Beg pardon?”

  “Disguises. Holmes would go out in disguise. No one would pay much attention to a black fellow in a hoodie.”

  She thought. “Yes. But someone was and someone was on to him or at least whatever it was that he was investigating—which is why I must ask you the nature of his questions.”

  “Certainly. One of my functions when called into court on a black market case—”

  She held up her hand. “Black market?”

  “For feathers, animal parts. You would not believe how lucrative it is. Billions. And this black market is worldwide, but it has flashpoints, if you will. He wanted to know about eagle feathers, not just the sale of them but who might be stockpiling them. He knew that thousands of cardinals, the state bird of Virginia, are being captured and sent overseas. Goldfinches, too. Huge market for them as well as bear claws, black bear gallbladders, antler.”

  Cooper held up her hand again. “What for? Forgive me, Mr. Clark, gallbladders?”

  “Ed. Please call me Ed.” He took a deep breath. “Our nation has many constituencies with different, um, spiritual ideas than our own. The eagle feathers, for instance, are vital to the Apaches for their ceremonies. They aren’t the only tribe cherishing eagle feathers for their regalia, but you get my idea. Asian men believe body parts of rare animals will restore their fading potency. Many cultures, not just African, believe rhino horn cures impotency. They even have special bowls for the ground powder. That’s just the people living in our own country. Look out at the world and you get an idea of how vast this killing, poaching, et cetera, is. If a species is thought to be near extinction—say, elephants—these criminals stockpile the parts and then raise the cost. Really raise the cost and as you probably understand, a man who can’t get an erection is ready to buy anything, pay any price.”

  “Haven’t they heard of Viagra?”

  “They come from different cultures. All some of them have to do, the really smart and rich ones, is declare the use of such animals is part of their right as Americans.”

  “The First Amendment?”

  “Deputy Cooper, I have heard this amendment used to sanitize outrageous acts against other living creatures.” He paused. “Including humans. I would hazard a guess that more people have been maimed and killed in the name of our amendment or God than anything else.”

  “I fear you’re right. So Pierre seemed to be investigating this black market?”

  “Here. Yes. I could tell from his line of questioning that he had studied the issue, and he had to have been working for either a government agency or someone running a national nonprofit.”

  “And whoever hired him probably had to be protected. At least until Pierre had enough evidence for a possible conviction.”

  Ed took a deep breath. “Yes, but as all such government agencies are mandated to be transparent, that presents tremendous problems for a director, especially a director trying to slow down or halt this trade.”

  “No slush funds?”

  He held his hands palms upward. “I would expect every agency has some, but I would also expect that there are reporters, media people, whose entire purpose for living is to expose wrongdoing in government and this could be perceived as wrongdoing even though they were trying to halt an illegal activity.”

  “Ah, yes, the principle is always more important than life itself.” A note of bitterness crept into her voice.

  He stared at her. “You’ve seen it, too. People who are enraged concerning so-called abuse of power or language which offends them but they do nothing to stop child abuse, violence against women or animals. Obviously, I’m focused on the animals, but I swear to you—and I mean swear, I will swear on a Bible—that the abuse of children and women begins with animals.”

  She remained silent for a long time. “Yes. As a law enforcement officer, I know that, but I have to keep my mouth shut.”

  “Fortunately, I don’t. Let me tell you what I think Pierre Rice was doing. He may have been investigating for an agency, but my hunch is he was working for a congressman or -woman who needed facts, and even better a huge bust so he or she could introduce legislation to ban these activities. It’s also probable that the profits from these activities could be going into the pockets of those who had contributed greatly to some elected official’s company, or worse, been directed toward a dark account which couldn’t be traced to, say, a senator. It’s easy to do.”

  This jibed with everything Cooper had learned about Pierre’s activities, but she didn’t have his political experience. “Ed, why can’t a clean congressman just introduce the legislation?”

  “There isn’t enough interest right now. Other congressmen have to see that working for this makes them look good, enlivens their constituency, so to speak. Gets their face in front of the camera. If the lid can be blown off even just one black-market activity like eagle feathers, they have their chance.”

  “So this congressman would be one of the good guys?”

  Ed nodded in agreement as Cooper went on. “And smart enough to bide his time. Good intentions mean nothing in D.C. And let us not forget those who had profited would make life uncomfortable for our good guy or woman. The proverbial hornet’s nest.”

  Ed shrugged. “Add to that, there are so many layers to government right now, it’s all ‘cover your ass.’ It’s all about the paycheck and for the really disgusting, their egos. There, I’ve been indiscreet and said it.”

  “I’d like to think you’re wrong, Ed, but I see it even in law enforcement. I hasten to add that our department is good, good people and woefully underfunded, but I look at some of these megacity police departments and I have to wonder. I always thought I wanted to work, say, in Atlanta or even Washington but now I don’t. Too much pressure from without and also from within.”

  “I understand.”

  “Did Pierre appear troubled or worried?”

  “No. Very cool.”

  “What about a company whose product, say animal food, is under review?”

  “Same thing. Graft. Cover-ups. Done every day whether it’s corn meal or dog food. The corporation doesn’t give the congressman money but perhaps a second home will come his way dirt cheap. Then again, one can always dump millions in his aunt’s bank account. The permutations are endless.”

  “I see. One last question. Do you think whoever Pierre was working for or with could be in danger?”

  Without a moment’s hesitation, he answered, “Without a doubt and as we speak, if the ring is big enough, profitable enough, the bad guys are trying to find out who initiated the investigation.”

  “Like I said, finding your card was our first true break in this case. I know I’ll have more questions over time. I’ll call and if you think of anything you call me. Now, just one more thing…” She reached in her black carry bag.

  “Could you tell me what bird these feathers are from?” She put three brownish feathers in his hand.

  “Bald eagle,” Ed instantly said. “I’m not a man to spread fear, but, Deputy, you are up against what I think is a powerful ring, given the protection status of bald eagles. Only the big guys will have
a secure network to get away with killing them, selling live ones, selling feathers, claws. Any protected species is important, but the bald eagle is the most important, to Americans anyway. They won’t hesitate to kill.”

  March 15, 1786 Wednesday

  Walking toward her father’s house, Catherine noticed the plume of smoke from the chimney hanging low, spreading out. That meant more weather on the way.

  She passed her mother’s garden on which Isabelle had lavished so much attention. Each season was represented by colors selected to demonstrate what Isabelle thought of that season. A few brave snowdrops pushed up through the snow on the ground. Her mother’s spring color scheme always started with white, then moved into the yellows, pinks, and purples of croci, from there to jonquils and daffodils. As she passed the rows of snowdrops, Catherine thought how organized her mother’s mind was in terms of space, color, harmony, and height. Her father, on the other hand, could remember columns of figures from years back. His mind, very good, was organized in a different fashion. The two complemented each other.

  Catherine looked up to her parents’ marriage. She and John proved a strong team, radiantly in love. Rachel and Charles surprised each other by their newfound passion for architecture. Rachel had inherited her mother’s sense of proportion, color, aesthetics; Catherine truly was her father’s daughter, a fact recognized by men. Women may have been seen as helpmates to their fathers and husbands, but it was a slow-witted man who did not realize Catherine possessed her father’s business brilliance. She could see far beyond the nose on her face.

  The aroma of maple syrup greeted her as she stepped into the kitchen through the back door. Serena, putting away the cleaned dishes, smiled at Catherine.

  “Missus, there’s plenty batter left over. Would you like some pancakes?”

  “No, thank you, Serena. I made a big breakfast today as John will be at the back bridges shoring up a damaged foot. Well, I call it a foot. And do you know my husband can cook? He made his special eggs while I brewed coffee, wonderful coffee from those beans Father bought from that Jamaican trader. I’m nattering on. Where’s Father?”