Рита Браун - Probable Claws

“Urban terrorism. I’ve never heard you speak like that.” Marvella, sitting in the chair next to Sean, questioned.

“I can’t think of a better term. We’ve got these groups that want to save butterflies, flying squirrels, you name it. Now look, I am not in the business of destroying wildlife but there has to be some common sense. Richmond needs buildings, new buildings. People are pouring in. Businesses are relocating. We’ve got to build.” He took a long pause. “Intelligently.”

“Yes.” Marvella sighed. “I had no idea all this was going on.”

“Thanks to the skeleton being found at the Cloudcroft site, people want to crawl over everybody’s building sites. Not just ours,” he replied. “And if a company has a Middle-Eastern name, Turkish, anything not European, if you know what I mean, there’s even more dissatisfaction.”

Dryly, Marvella intoned, “Fortunately, Rankin is quite Northern European.”

He smiled sheepishly. “Well, yes. Then again, so is Lawson.”

“Touché.” She smiled back. “Well, given all this current uproar what better time to put forward Rankin Construction as a patron of the arts and especially as a benefactor to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts?” She took a breath. “Did you see the paintings?”

“You know I did or we wouldn’t be together.” He smiled at her again.

Sean knew when he was being managed and Marvella was an expert.

Harry watched in amusement.

“As I mentioned before, these are not well-known artists here or even in Europe. They’re good. Not great. We aren’t talking about a Russian Matisse but this is excellent work, hidden from all of us on the other side of the Iron Curtain.” Marvella stopped again. “Have you ever read that speech given in Fulton, Missouri, by Churchill? Where he first uses the term ‘Iron Curtain’?”

“No, I haven’t. Unlike you, I’m not a history buff.”

“What about you, Harry?”

“No.”

“Well, you can read it online. Do. Apart from Lincoln I don’t think there has ever been an American leader with a true gift for language.”

“Not even Jefferson?” Harry inquired.

“Too busy, and remember, he had a committee, essentially, for the Declaration of Independence. But he certainly was an extraordinary man. So far ahead of his time in some ways and so much a part of his time in others. I guess that can be said of us all in good time. Well, I digress. Sean, what I have been able to assemble with Sotheby’s help, they have been wonderful in pointing me in the direction of, shall we say, lost artists?”

“I especially liked Stepan Kolesnikov.” Harry watched as Sean pulled up subjects from the thumb drive.

“The wolf?” Sean studied the work.

“Emotional. For me, anyway. A lone animal in a harsh landscape, winter in Russia. Does it get any worse?” Harry wondered.

“I don’t know, but I always thought Napoleon’s siege of Moscow was where the French developed their taste for horse meat,” Marvella said without rancor.

Sean nodded. “He threw away over a million of his own men, and God knows how many of his enemies he killed, but he’s a hero. Hitler and Mussolini and Stalin are not. Imagine if an American behaved in such a way?”

“I find it odd a culture with such a rich, elegant appreciation of the arts thinks nothing of mass death.” Marvella shrugged. “But I suppose every nation rationalizes its worst decisions. Well, back to the hoped-for exhibit. Sean, was there any artist who you especially liked?”

“This one.” He clicked on Ivan Pokhitonov’s painting, Snowy Garden. “These have sold, have they not?”

Marvella nodded they had. “But with help we may be able to assemble many of them. If you and the board of directors for the company are willing to sponsor this, the first thing I will do is track down former ambassadors to Russia. They will know the right people and a few may even have an interest in the arts. Russia has produced gorgeous items over the years. Their uniforms, court dresses, extraordinary.”

“I think we can do this and we do need some positive P.R.” He shook his head. “If you take any construction company, there are workers who leave, workers who work a brief time and never return after collecting their paycheck. And remember, this Edward Elkins worked here before drug testing. You’d be surprised what a difference that has made.”

“I suppose there’s something good about violating your constitutional rights.” Marvella laughed.

Sean laughed, too. “I can’t say as I like random drug testing. It’s a cushy job for a doctor but drugs are rampant not just here, everywhere. And they grow ever more sophisticated.”

“Sports.” Harry uttered one word.

“Oh, they’ve known that for years.” Marvella waved her hand. “Just like they’ve known for years about concussions. Is there a Virginian who doesn’t remember Ray Easterling?”

She named a famous and beloved pro-football player, one of those men whom everyone liked, who took his own life in 2012. Turned out he had a damaged brain.

“We don’t give money to any form of sporting event and drugs are one of the reasons.” Sean leaned back in his chair. “We give to environmental groups, we give to schools where they still teach shop.”

“Do they?” Marvella was surprised.

“A few do. We need a big trade school actually. But we give supplies and we’ll send, say, an electrician to show them some of the more sophisticated wirings. Everything is connected now. It’s not just turning on the lights.”

“Never thought of that,” Harry commented, then inquired, “You give to Nature First?”

“We do. Ducks Unlimited gets most of our environmental funding, but as Nature First started here, we give.”

“Weren’t you surprised when Nature First took out a one-page ad criticizing you?”

“I was and I called Kylie Carter that morning. She apologized, said this was Lisa Roudabush’s idea, but she did agree that Nature First couldn’t appear to be bought off. Bought off!”

“I’m afraid, dear Sean, it’s the way of the world.”

“I was raised that you don’t bite the hand that feeds you.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“True,” Harry agreed. “But people in nonprofits aren’t always the most realistic. Often they’re driven by passion.”

“Did they find out how Lisa died?” he asked.

“No. The results aren’t back from the medical examiner’s office. Just found dead at her desk.”

“People can suffer strokes at a young age,” Marvella said to Harry.

“Heart attacks.” Sean chipped in.

“This is a happy discussion,” Harry said wryly.

“You’re right.” Marvella smiled. “Sean, thank you so much for getting behind this. I do think it will be helpful. Cast a positive light.”

As the two women took their leave of his office, Sean made a request. “When the medical examiner’s report does come back, let me know. It is odd.”

It was more than odd. It was murder.

34

April 16, 1787

Monday

Stacked along one side of the coach building wall rested planed maple. Even without veneer, the tight surface of this readily available hardwood glowed.

Jeffrey lost no time in developing a workplace in one of the old outbuildings at Big Rawly. Maureen, inflamed by his excitement, was already having a new building twice the size of this one constructed. Any piece of equipment Jeffrey wanted, she bought. The wheelwright, a very focused slave, also worked in the space so it was convivial, as the two men appreciated a high degree of skills. They had much in common as people. Slavery was the confusing wedge.