Рита Браун - Scarlet Fever

“Weevil…actually all of you can go. I’ll get statements soon enough.”

“Would you like one of us to stay with you?” Sister offered.

“No thank you. The team knows what to do. If you can send the people home from the hunt breakfast, that would be a help. We don’t need an audience.”

—

Drew raced east and Bainbridge raced south on back roads. Roadblocks had been set up.

Back at the tailgate people had seen the SUV then the truck speed by. No one knew what was happening.

Drew managed to get to Black Cat Road east of Keswick. Hearing sirens, knowing they were closing in, he parked the SUV, got out, ran into a woods there. Thanks to his business he knew central Virginia inside and out. Shedding his scarlet coat, he slowly worked his way toward old Route 22. If he could reach it he felt certain he could elude the sheriff’s department and anyone else. Taylor Insurance covered a lot of properties in this area, many of them had outbuildings or old log cabins filled with equipment, or in some cases used as guesthouses. He had places to hide.

Bainbridge, on the other hand, flew on back roads in the truck, hit a pothole at high speed, and flipped over. The driver’s door, crushed, held him in. Alive but unconscious, he was taken to the hospital by ambulance.

Drew kept out of sight for the day and night. Ben put small teams on Route 22, Route 20, alerted the Orange and Louisa sheriffs’ departments. The TV station covered the car chase, told people a man was on the run, then identified him.

An alert landowner spotted a man in britches, boots, and a white shirt, skirting the back of his farm on the east side of Route 15 in the Green Springs area of Louisa.

By the time the law enforcement officers reached the old, well-tended farm, Drew had disappeared, but not for long.

Two miles over soft rolling hills from where the first man saw Drew, a couple saw him dip down into a streambed. So did their dog, who followed him briefly before returning to his owners.

The Louisa County Sheriff’s Office finally cornered him on the back of a farm he had circled, one he insured, Eastern View.

Drew refused to surrender, pulling out his handgun. This turned into a standoff, and as is the way with such situations, within an hour there must have been twenty squad cars there. Overkill.

And when Drew finally shot, it was overkill. The cops hid behind their cars, weapons drawn as Drew, in a small wooden shed, could watch all of them. No one could approach him without him knowing.

After three hours of this, one of the cops had the bright idea to smoke him out. To their credit they didn’t set fire to the small structure, but they threw in tear gas.

They heard one shot. Drew didn’t come out and no one could go in without a tear-gas mask, which a supporting officer from Louisa County happened to have.

Once inside the building, he found Drew sprawled, dead. He’d shot himself in the head.

His nephew at UVA hospital lay in a guarded room, hooked up to an array of monitoring equipment, blood dripping into his arm with a painkiller pump inserted.

Sister, keeping track as best she could, called Wanda, who kept the stable. The young woman had no idea what was happening but she promised to feed Binny and Ugh until further notice.

Sister, Gray, the staff, and club members, glued to their TVs and cellphones, tried to get the news.

It wasn’t until Friday afternoon that they found out that Drew had shot himself. Bainbridge’s accident, overturned truck, also made the news. Drew’s fate was broadcast much later.

Sister, Gray, Weevil, and Tootie sat in the library.

“If Bainbridge regains consciousness, maybe we’ll know.” Sister rested her hand on Rooster’s head, Golly behind her on the sofa back.

“Has to be about Morris. They both knew he was dead or they wouldn’t have run.” Gray was right.

“But why kill him?” Tootie wondered. “If he was violent, they could have put him in a home with a medical staff. He’d be on drugs, but to kill him?”

Weevil, next to her, said, “People have their reasons. We’ll find out in time.”

“What keeps crossing my mind is Harry Dunbar slips to his death, Drew kills himself. Two men tied by a past disagreement and now two men dead within a short span of time,” Sister thought out loud. “I don’t think Drew killed Harry. I doubt there was a connection except in other regards. Life plays tricks on you.”

Gray agreed. “So it will always be. I’m glad Drew was a bad shot.”

“Until the end,” Tootie quietly said.

CHAPTER 30

March 30, 2019 Saturday

A refreshing breeze swept over Roughneck Farm. Daffodils opened although the temperature remained cool. Longer sunlight gave the yellow plants hope and up they popped. Sister, Gray, Betty, Weevil, and Tootie marveled at how quickly a landscape can transform. No, it wasn’t spring announced by trumpets, but perhaps a few woodwinds.

Hounds, full, flopped on their raised beds. Others walked out to their huge runs to crawl into the condos or even sprawl a bit on the decks surrounding the condos.

Inky, gregarious once hounds were in the kennels, walked to the girls’ outdoor run.

Diana, head hanging over the deck, which she found comfortable even though it looked the reverse, opened one eye.

“Good day?” the black fox asked.

“Okay. You heard some of it,” Diana replied.

“You all left here and rushed over the wildflower field. What I heard was a bit of shouting and then everyone was over the hog’s back jump. Aunt Netty?”

“No, a visiting fox. I thought perhaps he’d come for you.” Diana sat upright.

“Not me.”

“Season’s over.” Diana sighed. “I hate that. Then again, I think I’d hate running in August.”

“I never seem to shed enough. I’d be willing to be the first bald fox.” Inky laughed.

Diana laughed, too. “Humans shave house dogs. I’ve seen it. Well, the best thing to do is dig a nice dirt bed under a tree and lay down in it. The earth is cool. Keeps the bugs off.”

“Ever find out about the dead human you all smelled?”

“Well…” Diana leapt off her deck, walked to the fence so she and Inky could talk face-to-face. “Listening to talk in the kennels we knew they found him. Sister, Betty, Tootie, and Weevil took the sheriff to the big pile. They couldn’t smell a thing. Terrible, terrible noses. It’s a wonder they can live. Oh, I’m babbling on here and you know a hound isn’t supposed to babble.” She laughed at herself.

Inky smiled. “Diana, you never babble. You are imparting news.”

“When we first flanked the brush pile we knew, of course, a dead animal was in there, most likely human. Distinctive, alive or dead.” Inky nodded in agreement, so Diana continued. “Anyway, the fox scent, pretty hot, kept us on track but then we went back. He used it, of course, but Weevil called us to him and that was the way. I mean, staff saw us rummaging around.”

“How long do you think? Dead, I mean?”

“Cold nights, cool days. No flies yet. I’d say two days, maybe three. Nothing could get to the corpse. We could pick up the sweet smell but not humans. Now, they can smell a dead body in a day in high heat. So I figure two days, maybe three. I couldn’t smell blood. I smelled human hair though. Mostly I smelled the woods, the faded fox scent. Whoever put the body in that brush pile had to work hard at it.”

“Hmm. People kill one another. It’s natural but they declare it isn’t. We rarely kill one another, if you think about it. They make a habit of it.”