Рита Браун - Homeward Hound

“Do you think my mother should be alone in the house? Sam should come over and stay with her. The Van Dorns’ house is far enough away that someone could sneak in and out and she doesn’t have a dog.” Tootie worried.

Sister, who had risen to fetch treats for Golly, the spoiled rotten cat, said, “Yes. That’s a very good idea. Would you like to call her or would you want one of us to do it?”

“I think she’ll listen to me.” Tootie then pulled out her cellphone. “But if she doesn’t, I’m handing the phone to you, Sister, and if she still doesn’t listen, Gray will talk her into it.”

Tootie dialed her mother as the others listened.

“She believes me but she wants to talk to you.” Tootie handed the phone to Gray.

“Fishies. Thank you.” Golly gobbled her treats as Gray talked to Yvonne.

“Would you like me to call my brother?” A silence followed this as Gray listened. “Of course. I’ll do it right now.” He handed the phone back, got up, and walked into the library to call his brother on the landline.

The three looked at one another. Then Sister said, “I’m going to call Ben Sidell and ask him to check every hunt club member’s big freezer if they have one. Oh, and while I talk to him, Tootie, pull a bowl of cold chicken potpie out of the refrigerator. I’ll heat it up when I’m done with Ben.”

“I can do that.” Tootie walked to the refrigerator, Weevil with her as he took the bowl from her hands.

“How about I do it?” He looked into the bowl. “I’ll heat this up and if she wants a piecrust, we’ll have to improvise.”

“Oh, Sister will be happy with the insides. Me, too.” Tootie smiled up at him as she stood by the stove watching him pull out a big pot, which she indicated was stored in the oven.

After a good ten minutes, Gray came back, observed the impromptu supper, got a wonderful loaf of homemade bread from the bread box. Sister did things the old way: bread boxes; crust made from scratch; real butter, not the fake yellow stuff.

Finished talking to Ben, Sister observed the activity. “Weevil, if you give up hunting, you might have a career as a cook.”

He smiled his blinding smile. “Oh, I’d just be a short-order cook. Nothing special.”

“Those bangers and mash were fabulous.” She looked to Gray cutting the bread in thick slices. “Well, I’ll fetch drinks. By the way, Ben agrees. He will check freezers. I told him to get the keys from Margaret to the Gulf station or from Arthur, her cousin. Millie had a big freezer in there. He checked outbuildings but he needs to go inside.”

Millie DuCharme, married to one of the DuCharme brothers, ran a little café at the Gulf station for years.

“There’s only one problem with the freezer search.” Gray inhaled the light aroma of the chicken potpie, a good meal for a cold night. “It will tip off the killer.”

“You think?” Tootie stirred the potpie while Weevil searched for fresh parsley in the fridge.

“I do. It means we have part of the puzzle put together,” Gray replied.

He was right.

CHAPTER 36

For a Thursday the field proved large. Bugden, a new fixture, drew the people wanting to hunt it for the first time. The land, rolling, pleasant, rested east of After All, nudging toward the border with Farmington. The owners intended to build a bed-and-breakfast catering to the hunting crowd since if you stuck a compass point into the center of the property, made a circle of fifty miles, you could hunt with seven packs. Extend that circle to one hundred miles, more hunts than you can count on both hands. One hundred miles, hauling horses, takes about two hours. In a car it’s an hour and a half. The young couple with the bed-and-breakfast dreams might make a living out of this yet.

Jefferson Hunt cleared trails, built interesting jumps, all of which pleased Kylie and Christopher Smith. They currently lived in Charlotte, North Carolina, but would move, start building in the spring. The owners of Mousehold Heath, down the road, another young couple, hardworking, rented them a little cottage on their land.

Sister liked having young people in the mix. She especially liked it when they bought property.

The hunt, a few good runs, ended with everyone at the trailers. Betty’s yellow Bronco, per usual, held the food, and Walter’s truck, the drinks. As it was cold, everyone outside, this wouldn’t be a long tailgate.

Every now and then Ronnie Haslip could hunt a weekday fixture. For Kasmir, Dewey, Sam, and others with flexible schedules or their own businesses, a weekday hunt sparked up the day.

Ronnie swore he did better work after a hunt.

Dewey teased him. “How can a lawyer do better work? Everything is precedent. You don’t have to create anything.”

“You’re too harsh. One can interpret laws in new ways. Nothing really is written in stone.”

Kasmir joined them. “My freezers have been investigated. How about yours?”

“I don’t have one,” Ronnie volunteered.

“I do. Two. One at the office and one at home,” Dewey told them.

“Why would you have a large freezer at the office?” Ronnie inquired.

“Big staff. Meetings with clients, construction companies. Best to not run out of cold drinks and thank heaven for the microwave. If we need to serve food unexpectedly, we can.”

“Dewey, are you running the microwave?” Ronnie lifted one eyebrow.

“No, I am being sexist and encouraging my secretary to do it.”

The three men laughed. Then Kasmir said, “It is unusual. Ben Sidell, and by the way, I am impressed with his work, went through everything at Tattenhall Station. I asked him what he hoped to find. He said perhaps a few threads from the coat. As Gregory wore an old English coat, he had hoped that the dye might leave a mark. No colorfast then. Anything, anything at all. My freezers were of no help but Ben is determined to solve this and I’m glad he is.”

“Might take a long time,” Dewey remarked. “Real crime isn’t like Netflix, know what I mean? Impulsive anger, that’s easy but something plotted out, maybe not.” Dewey shrugged. “This seems the work of a looney but a looney with brains.”

“True.” Ronnie agreed. “I wish I had paid more attention to Gregory. You knew him, didn’t you?”

“I’d met him at fundraisers but I can’t say as I knew him. You had that explosive dinner at Farmington. That was the first time I’d been in his company without tons of people around. I think fundraising is the second-oldest profession. Soliden is generous to many nonprofits, which meant Gregory rarely got a break. Someone was always besieging him.”

Ronnie laughed.

“I admire people who run nonprofits. Even if one has a deep endowment, still endless fundraising. And so many of the nonprofits around here are small affairs, horse rescues, saving a pre–Revolutionary War house, that sort of thing. The director of the nonprofit always has her or his hat in his hand,” Kasmir noted.

“Milford Enterprises is nowhere near the profits of Soliden, but nonprofit people work it over pretty good. Given the pipeline uncertainty, I am currently of no use to them.” Dewey downed his hot coffee. “I need warming from the inside out. Temperature’s dropping. The weather report calls for more snow.”

“Saw that.” Kasmir caught Alida’s eye. She came over.

“Nice run once we got on the other side of that stone jump.” Alida smiled. “Sister’s right to create a variety of jumps. Although putting together a dry-laid jump takes some doing.”

“Does. You take them seriously though, don’t you?” Ronnie added.

“Anything solid.” Kasmir looked up at the sky. “Low clouds. I think the weatherman is right.”

“Well, some snow is one thing. A storm like we had for Christmas Hunt, I sure hope not,” Dewey mentioned. “Well, that and everything else at Christmas Hunt.”