Рита Браун - Outfoxed

“I’m sorry. I’ll come back.”

“Would you like a fried-egg sandwich?”

“No. I’ve already had my lunch. Thank you.”

“Sit down. A Coke?”

“I’ll get it.” He opened the refrigerator door, pulled out a Coke, got a glass of ice, and sat down.

Sister winked at Doug when Crawford’s back was turned. “Doug, stay a few minutes after feeding tonight.”

“Sure.”

Crawford sat heavily in the chair. He’d had a face-lift, a good one. He’d gotten some fat sucked off his middle, too. While it improved his appearance it didn’t much improve his personality. “Doug, I’m glad you’re here. I’ll pay you twenty dollars a ride if you’ll work with my horse. I’ll board him here. Sister, what’s full board?”

“Four hundred. Field board is two-fifty for hunt members.”

“The Haslips get five hundred.”

“I know, but we do try to limit ourselves to members, giving them a discount.”

“Can’t think like that, Sister. Business means whatever the market will bear. You’ve got to make hay while the sun shines.”

“I’ll consider it.” Sister remained noncommittal.

“I’d be happy to work with Czapaka. He’s a talented horse.” Doug wiped his mouth with a napkin, rose, and carried his plate and glass to the sink. He washed them off, putting them in the drying rack. Sister hated dishwashers. Pretty much she hated most appliances. “Well, I’ll be working the greenies if you need me.”

Sister, wishing she could go with him to ride the young horses, waved as he left by the back door.

Crawford hunched over the table. “I’ll get to the point.” Being a Yankee, Crawford felt this was the superior approach, the waste-no-time approach. He never gave a thought to the fact that spending time with someone shouldn’t be wasting time. “I have money. I have contacts. I have vision. I want to help the club. If you appoint me joint-master I will expect to contribute fifty thousand a year plus whatever overruns we have. You are the senior master. I can’t hope to know what you know about hunting and hounds but I can learn.”

This was a generous offer from an ungenerous man, in most respects. She placed both hands around her cool glass. “I appreciate your financial acumen. Just keeping the territory open costs us roughly twenty thousand a year, as you know. And you do have vision. I have a lot to think about, Crawford, and I’d like to make a decision before the season is over.”

“I thought you wanted to make a decision by opening hunt?”

“That’s two weeks away and I’m on the horns of a dilemma. I do truly appreciate your special skills but there is strong support in the club for Fontaine Buruss.”

“Yes, I know.” Crawford’s jaw clenched.

“He’s a foxhunting man.” Which was to say he was better qualified in many ways than Crawford, although Sister would never be so crude.

“He’s also an irresponsible person. His sexual peccadilloes alone will—well, you know. His latest is Cody Franklin and I’m not so certain he doesn’t give her drugs. Supply her.”

This startled Sister. She wondered if Douglas knew. “That’s a disturbing accusation.”

“I’ve hired detectives.”

“You what?”

He nodded, grinning. “Oh, yes. I take the reputation of this club seriously. There’s a century of history in Jefferson Hunt. We must protect that.”

“Can you prove this about Fontaine?”

“I think I can. I also know he’s been in meetings with Gordon Smith, the developer around Dulles airport. Now, I ask myself what would someone of Smith’s stature want with Fontaine? To develop.”

“Does he?”

“I called him and he said the talks were merely preliminary. Smith said he was interested in developing along the Route Twenty-nine corridor. He’s not interested in gobbling up hunting fixtures. He was plain about that but then he’s a hunting man, too. I think Fontaine is doing this to make himself look good. He doesn’t really have much to offer Mr. Smith.”

“He has contacts. He knows everyone.”

“Well . . .”

“Can you prove this about the drugs?”

“By opening hunt, Sister, I think I can prove a lot of things.”

“I hope you’re wrong. I truly hope you’re wrong.”

Crawford dimly realized he’d upset Sister. He thought the news would be disturbing and put him in a good light. Now he wasn’t so sure.

“We can’t have someone like that as a joint-master.”

“No, we can’t, Crawford, but you can’t hang a man without evidence. I beseech you not to discuss this—”

He jumped in. “Of course I won’t. Fontaine would get wind of it; then I can’t nail him.”

“Do you intend to turn this over to the sheriff?”

“Yes. I do. Absolutely.”

“I see.”

CHAPTER 20

A light wind kicked up at twilight and by seven o’clock had some bite to it. Sister, walking to the stable, turned back and grabbed the blue barn coat with the blanket lining. With Raleigh at her heels, she caught up with Doug on his way back to his cottage.

“Sorry I couldn’t get back to you until now. It’s been pandemonium. The caterer lost the menu. Had to go over the entire thing. Marty Howard called to ask if she could come by tomorrow regarding her ex. Betty Franklin called to say she disavows herself from Bobby’s support of Crawford. My sister called to say she thought she should have Mother’s china for the next year. I’d had it long enough and would I ship it to Sutton Place. I swear, Manhattan isn’t far enough away. I think I’ll suggest that Kay spend the next year in Paris. God, what a pain in the ass she is. Oh and the load of pearock we ordered for the walkways was delivered to the Haslips instead and they think they’ll keep it. Fortunately, they paid the bill.” She suddenly smiled brightly. “And how was your day?”

“Pretty good. Aztec jumped a whole course today. I think you should hunt her Saturday. The jumps have settled in at Rumble Bars.” He mentioned Saturday’s fixture. “She’ll do fine.”

“Why not? Lafayette can stay home and loll about. Sorry to dump my worries on you. It’s been that kind of day.”

“I still don’t see why you hire a caterer for opening hunt. The members can feed everyone. You do enough.”

“No. The members host breakfasts throughout the season. It’s fitting that I should host the first one.”

“I guess.” Douglas was always thinking of ways to save Sister money. As far as he was concerned people could bring their own drinks and sandwiches.

“What’d you think of Crawford?”

“Barreling up the driveway?” His green eyes noticed a cobweb on the stall bars. He attacked it immediately. “Spider intelligence.”

“Huh?”

“They come where the flies are.”

“Fortunately, there aren’t many of them.” She loved fall and winter for that reason as well as others. “Crawford.”

“If you need the money that badly, okay. If there’s any other way to steer this ship into the future—do it. I’m sure that Attila the Hun was more offensive but you know, Attila’s dead.”

“M-m-m.” She walked with him to the end of the aisle.

They rolled back the tall double doors, stepped outside, rolled them back.

He shivered. “That came up fast.” Looked at the treetops. “Out of the northwest, too. No point standing out here. Come on.”

Once inside his two-story cottage, Sister sat by the fireside. Doug quickly built a fire, throwing on a walnut log, which released a warm aroma. He took good care of the cottage. The heart-pine floors shone. The old Persian carpet Sister had given him fit perfectly in the living room, as did an old leather sofa facing two wing chairs with a simple coffee table between, a square one.