“In fact, Bettina, Father made her an offer that will nibble away at her. He offered to put in an orchard, provide the trees, manage it for three years until the first good apple crop, and he will train a man to manage the orchard in his stead. There’s a lot to it.”
“Trade my man for an apple.” Bettina guffawed. “Look what happened to Eve.”
They all smiled, then Rachel continued. “She hid behind Jeffrey. Said she would have to talk to him but she couldn’t part with such a valuable man. This will drag on, lots of back-and-forth, but in time, especially if DoRe finds a man to train there, she’ll swap apples and some money for your soon-to-be husband.”
“I see.” Bettina tried not to get her hopes up.
After all, she had seen and hidden Moses and Ailee. She had a good idea of Maureen’s character.
Rachel hopped in again. “Bettina, if you could impress DoRe with finding and training a good driving man, a man to run the stables, this will move faster.”
“The carriages, remember the carriages. If he finds a handsome young fellow who will look good on one of Jeffrey’s carriages, this will be easier. For Maureen, it comes down to money, money and her personal power over others,” Catherine added to her sister’s idea.
“I will talk to him. He’s a thinking man. I’m sure this has crossed his mind.”
“I’m sure it has, too, but you have the facts, for DoRe doesn’t know what Father’s offer was.” Catherine reminded her again of Maureen’s outlook.
“What price did she set on my man?” Bettina’s eyes widened a bit.
“Twenty thousand dollars,” Catherine forthrightly told her.
Bettina rocked back a bit in the chair. “He’s priceless.”
They all laughed, knowing this would take the rest of fall, most of the winter, and early spring, but Ewing, with Jeffrey’s help, could make it happen.
“Now to the wedding.” Rachel reached for Bettina’s hand. “Spring? Or early summer? Here at Cloverfields if you wish, but then again, if you’d rather all be quiet, we understand.” Rachel knew full well Bettina would want a “do.”
“Before the bugs get bad.” The cook laughed.
“May?” Rachel offered.
Bettina nodded her consent and Catherine beamed. “May.”
While the three women at Cloverfields were thinking that 1788 would be a big year, Ralston wasn’t thinking at all. He had managed to insert his member into a woman, his dream finally coming true. The pleasure exploded with such intensity, he knew he could never live without this. The desperate problem was that he had been inside Sulli.
Neither of them planned this, but William had been batting her around. Ralston, finishing his chores early, walked in the mist, as bad in Maryland as it currently was in Virginia, down to the large pond. He wanted to plan how to reduce William in Ard’s eyes, as William was doing that to him. William never missed an opportunity to point out something to Ard that he thought Ralston did wrong or didn’t do at all. So far Ard hadn’t paid much attention to him, but William did get the good rides and Ralston did not.
Standing at the calm pond, he heard footsteps, then turned to see Sulli. Tears ran down her face. He asked what was the matter and she poured out her misery concerning William, who hit her, didn’t love her anymore, criticized everything she did. He listened, put his arm around her, offering comfort. She turned to him, holding him around the waist, resting her head on his shoulder while she cried more.
He kissed her. She kissed him back. Comfort turned to something far more exciting and they slipped through the mist to one of the empty cabins. There were many. A pallet rested on the floor. They didn’t dare start a fire. They warmed up in the time-honored fashion.
She kissed him, said she had to go. He swore he couldn’t live without her. She promised he would not have to do so but she needed time.
Ralston waited a bit, then he, too, left the cabin, walking back to the bunkhouse, head full of new thoughts. They would find a way.
He, too, was planning for 1788.
Overhead, the migrating Canada geese honked to one another, a marvelous sound amplified by the mist. Sounds always seem louder when one can’t see. Those beautiful geese had no sense of the future. They just knew it was time to fly. The humans below lacked such sense.
39
May 11, 2018
Friday
The broodmares, open this year, contentedly munched on the grass now containing more nutrition. Harry, knowing that March and April can fool you, even if the pastures are green, the nutrition isn’t where it should be. She always supplemented her horses’ food either with the best-quality hay or sweet feed or both. Horses, like people, needed a change of diet as they aged. When in work, young or old, more calories were needed, but she didn’t want to give them anything that would make them hot. No corn. Stuff like that.
One foot on the bottom rail of the fence, she leaned on the top rail, watching her hoofed friends. Her old hunter, Tomahawk, a bighearted Thoroughbred, retired now, walked over to give her a kiss. He was followed by a younger horse, given to her by Joan Hamilton of Kalarama, named Shortro. Joan secured the horse from Shortro’s owner and, knowing horses, knew the gray 15.2-hand fellow would be perfect for Harry. He needed to adjust to hunt seat. Harry loved all these creatures.
She even loved Pewter, a stretch occasionally. This morning was such a day because Pewter had opened a cabinet door that Fair, in his morning fog, left open a crack. A large plastic container of homegrown catnip, crunched up, had been hidden in that cabinet. Not anymore. Pewter’s fangs and claws, with effort, tore the plastic container open. Pewter was so bombed, she lay stretched on the kitchen floor. Those glassy eyes testified to the gray cat’s condition. Mrs. Murphy, late to the party, managed some catnip, but she remained functional if a bit silly.
“Is she ill?” Pirate asked Tucker.
“If she were human, she would be called ‘three sheets to the wind.’ ” The corgi giggled. “She’ll sleep it off and pretend nothing happened.”
“Is there anything like that for dogs?” Pirate asked, a note of envy in his changing voice.
“No. Maybe the closest is Greenies, but a Greenie chewy doesn’t affect your mind. Makes you happy, though.”
“Let’s go find Mom.” The half-grown puppy headed for the kitchen door, after that the screen porch door, both of which contained animal doors.
“Right.” Tucker, already dwarfed by the Irish wolfhound, bounded outside, saw Harry, and raced toward her.
“Hello, you two worthless dogs.” She smiled at them.
“They are,” Shortro agreed.
“You are so full of it.” Tucker narrowed her eyes.
“I’m terrified.” The gray Saddlebred blew air out of his nostrils, which made both dogs back up to laughter from the horses in the paddocks.
Harry laughed, as horses have a good sense of humor—she’d been the butt end of equine jokes, too.
“Come on.” She turned for the barn.
A big industrial push mop leaned against the tack-room door. She cleaned out the center aisle, picked out the stalls, which weren’t bad, and sprinkled some fresh shavings. Shavings, not an unreasonable expense, could still cost, so best to be prudent and not throw them around. She scrubbed out the water buckets, rehung them, then filled them with the hose attached to the faucet in the wash stall. Many people might be bored with such menial labor, but Harry enjoyed it. She could think while doing physical chores, including painting the fences, which she couldn’t say she enjoyed but she could still think while doing it, painting herself mostly.
She hung the mop, brush-side up, between two nails on the wall for just that purpose. Then she walked into her tack-room office, maybe her favorite place, better than any room in the farmhouse. Plopping in the chair, she put her feet up on the desk.
“Mud.” Tucker ch
astised her.
She looked down at her dog. “Where are those bad cats?”
“Plotzed,” the dog simply said.
Harry, not knowing what her friend said, reached down with her dangling arm to scratch the smooth head while Pirate, on the other side of her, put his rough-coated head in her lap.
Closing her eyes, she took a fifteen-minute nap, wakened, reached for the phone, and dialed.
“Harry.” Arlene Billeaud’s alto voice sounded happy to hear Harry. “How are you?”
“Good. Just finished my barn chores, the day is radiant, and the barn swallows are back, darting everywhere.”
“You know they are related to purple martins and tree swallows. I have never been able to entice purple martins to my place and I’ve put out the housing they like. Get the tree swallows, though. Love that iridescent dark green. Do you know that tree swallows and barn swallows can travel six hundred miles a day in search of food for their young?”
“I did. Not a real bird-watcher, I don’t travel around the world, but I know what’s here.”
“What can I do for you?”
“Actually, Arlene, I was thinking of what I could do for you.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“I can’t get the murder of Jason and Clare’s death out of my mind. Murder, I think, too.”
“We don’t yet know how she died.”
“I know, but I am convinced the two deaths are related and unnatural.”
“Okay. Why?”
“The obvious conclusion that people seem to be drawing is no one knows why he was killed, but she died of a stroke or heart attack, possibly worn down by the shock of his death and her grief. They were very close. No, I don’t buy it. Nor were they killed because of their dealership, unless that’s tangential. I can’t think of a rival wishing to wipe them out.”
“That is pretty far-fetched.”
“I believe this goes back to their work days, the Navy and the foreign service.”
“How can their deaths be connected to that?”
“I’m not sure, but I believe they are, and I think it involves their fluency with languages.”
A silence followed this. “That’s an intriguing supposition, but I’m not sure I get it.”
“I’m not either. I’m rummaging around. Then there was the disappearance of Paula Devlin, another person in the foreign service and CIA.”
“Harry, I’m not sure where you are going with this. I adored Paula. She was sensible. I know a lot of CIA people. The ones in Washington, in the building, if you will, and some in the field. Many retire and can be more open about their careers. Most don’t talk about it. Perhaps you shouldn’t either.”
“Well, I am not CIA, not foreign service, not military, although I respect those careers.” She took a moment. “Arlene, I believe you might be in danger.”
“Me?” came the incredulous reply.
“You knew them all. You knew them stateside. Then with beagling. You knew them better over time.”
“Harry, I am in no danger.”
“Arlene, you could be killed. I believe it.”
“No one is going to kill me.”
“Humor me.”
“I am.”
“No, really humor me. Meet me at the Institute and let’s walk through where the bodies were found, what we know, and what we don’t know.”
“Why don’t you come to Hume? You’ve never been to my place. I think you’ll like it. Bring your animals. We can talk here.”
“No, thank you. I would like to see it, but I would like to walk through the Institute grounds with you. Maybe between the two of us, we’ll hit on something.”
Knowing this was a losing battle, Arlene asked, “When?”
“How about tomorrow at noon? If that doesn’t work, next Wednesday.”
“Sooner is better.” A pause. “Have you run these ideas by Susan?”
“Not fully.”
“Good. No point scaring her to death. Noon at the Institute building. If we don’t find anything, will you let this go?”
“I will. I promise, but if we do figure this out, we can both go to the authorities.”
“All right,” came the unenthusiastic reply.
A half hour later, as Harry totaled up the barn expenses for the first two weeks of May, the phone rang.
Reverend Jones’s deep voice announced, “Did you know that some members of the Dorcas Guild had an unscheduled meeting here this morning?”
“No.”
“Janice called it to prepare for homecoming. In this case a true mailing, an invitation card.”
“That’s probably not a bad idea, but I wish they’d included Susan or myself.”
“When I came into my office I found Mags and Janice going through my files! I told them never to do that without asking permission.”
“Right.”
He continued. “They said they were looking for an updated address book.”
Harry murmured, “None of us has one, but it was rude.”
After a bit more discussion, Harry hung up the phone. She felt she’d need to keep an eye on Janice and Mags. Something wasn’t right, but that something was going to have to wait, for Aldie commanded her complete attention.
40
May 12, 2018
Saturday
Light fragrances filled Harry’s nostrils. Finally a true spring. Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, Tucker, and Pirate sat on the Institute porch. Arlene drove in on time, for Harry, per usual was early, parking at the stone building.
Harry leaned over the porch railing. “Perfect timing.”
Arlene shut the door to her Subaru Forester, looking up. “I was in the Army, remember. Zero dark forty and stuff like that.”
They both laughed as Harry came down the stairs to greet her, her four friends behind her. “It’s good to see you.”
“It’s good to see you, too, Harry, although I truly believe I am safe.”
“Let’s walk a bit.” She started away from the Institute, passing the stables, the canary cart visible as only yellow can be. “The ground isn’t soggy. Feels good.”
“Does.”
“My neighbor and dear friend is a deputy for the Albemarle County Sheriff’s Department, Cynthia Cooper. I bedevil her. I’ve asked her, since she can procure information that I can’t, would she keep me informed if there’s a development here or with the medical examiner before anything is made public, if it is. She told me yesterday that Clare’s autopsy showed she had been poisoned with tetrodotoxin. From blowfish liver, can you believe it? Just a small amount, one to two milligrams, can kill. Causes paralysis, slow at first, just a little woozy, a little numbness. Then the nerve systems begin to fail, then the throat muscles, finally asphyxiation.”
“Tetrodotoxin?” Arlene looked skeptical. “How can you test for that? It can’t be detected.”
“So you’ve heard of it?” Harry watched Arlene.
Arlene dropped her head. “You were right. Two deaths, connected most likely.”
“This isn’t about selling cars.”
“No,” Arlene replied evenly.
“Let’s go to where Jason was found.”
They walked up the farm road, crossed the creek burbling along, reached the top of the hill, pastures on both sides, woods at the edge of the pastures. Good bunny territory, as there was cover.
Arlene, hands on hips, looked around. “Odd, isn’t it? Cavalrymen buried out here. Jason dropped here. Not that we know exactly where those men are, but sometimes I think Aldie truly is haunted.”
“Me, too. You don’t seem especially worried about Clare being poisoned.”
“I told you. I don’t think I’m going to be murdered.”
“But you knew them for years.” Tucker nudged closer to her as Ruffy bounded up t
o join them.
“In a professional capacity and not that well. Jason more than Clare because I was assigned to the State Department for a time.”
“But you liked Jason and Clare?”
“I got along with them. I enjoyed hunting with them. I hunted with them at their territory, but I wouldn’t say we were close, which is why I’m not worried.”
Harry swept her eyes over the pleasant land, heard some birds chirping loudly.
Bud the chickadee swooped low near the dogs but not too close to the cats. “Six eggs!”
“Congratulations.” Tucker praised the bird, who swooped again, then headed for a bird box at the woods’ edge.
The Beagle Club had put out quite a few bird boxes to encourage all manner of them.
“Saucy.” Harry grinned.
“They are.” Arlene also swept her eye over the area. “He was just off the road, over this little rise here.” She stepped to the place that they had revisited with Clare. “I don’t think he suffered.”
“I’m not sure either one did, Arlene. Quick deaths. He knew who killed him. I’m convinced of that.”
“Yes, me, too.” Arlene inhaled the fresh odor of spring. “I wonder how many are out there. Who? When? Where?”
“We know the when,” Harry posited. “Back to our time. I have racked my brain and I know this language stuff matters. So hear me out. What if they had discovered someone or someones here who were working against our country’s interests? We know that Clare was CIA. As to Jason, no, but he surely had access to sensitive information as he advanced in his career. They would suspect before the rest of us. Maybe they got too close.”
“No,” Arlene replied emphatically.
“Well, why not?”
“Neither of those two had that kind of courage. I know Clare was a captain in the Navy. I don’t doubt she was good at what she did, but she wasn’t on anyone’s front line.”
“She listened.”
“That she did, and I don’t doubt that over time she could recognize voices, as could Jason. Jason, of course, was expected to contact people in the Turkish government. He had an easy way about him. He made friends, I bet.”
Whiskers in the Dark Page 22
