Ten Little Bloodhounds

by Virginia Lanier

  “Only one,” I replied, with saccharin sweetness, “and if you deduct one from mine it makes us even. The relatives that visit, are they her children?”

  “She had no children. It’s five nieces, from two of her husband’s older brothers who died years ago. She partially raised them. It’s four nieces that visit, all of whom are married. The fifth, Celia Cancannon, resides here permanently and has never married.”

  “Is there a Mr. Cancannon?”

  “He died when Miz Alyce was thirty. She never remarried.”

  “How many servants are employed here?”

  “Forty-five, which includes the gardeners, but the total fluctuates with the seasons.”

  “Jesus! I thought I had a heavy operating nut. Just one more question, and then we’ll go face the dragon. Does she talk to you, confide, or seek your opinion on anything?”

  “She prefers conversations with men. Outside of her lawyer, veterinarian, and an elderly friend from New York who visits from time to time, I’m the only man on the island she sees. We have dinner together several times a week. Why?”

  If he didn’t see where my questions were leading, I wasn’t going to enlighten him at this point.

  “Just being nosy,” I answered vaguely. “Let’s do it.”

  He hesitated when we reached the top of the steps.

  “Jo Beth, I need to ask a favor. Will you take it easy on her? Her bark is worse than her bite.”

  “Should I bow before I tug my forelock, or after?”

  “I knew I’d mess it up if I tried to explain. She’s having a lot of pain from her arthritis. It makes her sound more testy than she really is.”

  “You like her, don’t you?”

  “Yes, I do,” he admitted. “Very much.”

  The question popped in my mind without thought. Did he admire her, or her money? I was irritated at thinking along those lines. I usually didn’t form a negative opinion about someone who I’d just met. Why was I so skeptical of Rand’s fondness for his employer? I felt an almost overpowering desire to turn on my heel and demand that he return me to the mainland immediately. Later I would curse my stupidity for ignoring my gut’s strong warning. Now, I just shrugged away my reluctance and smiled up at him.

  “If you like her, I’m sure I will too.”

  Relieved, he pushed the bell in the impressive entranceway to announce our arrival.

  A short stout Filipino female opened the huge door. She was in her fifties. She recognized Rand before her eyes discovered Ivanhoe. She was swinging the door inward and her shoe slid on the entrance tile, as she hastily tried to close it in our face.

  She was clattering excitedly in her native tongue to Rand. He arrested the moving door, spoke soothingly to her in the same language, as he was giving us room to enter. Ivanhoe and I entered the foyer and paused when the door closed behind us.

  The woman kept shaking her head and staring at Ivanhoe. Rand spoke again. She bit her lip, gave a terse answer, whirled, and took off in a big hurry.

  “None of us got much sleep last night. We all searched the grounds for Amelia. Celia is lying down, and I sent the maid to fetch her. She is alarmed over the big dog, didn’t want it in the house.”

  “A normal reaction,” I stated calmly. “I’ve known some men that feel daunted by his presence.” He shot a swift glance my way, but my face was serene. He took too long to think of an answer and decided to keep silent. There was a large clock ticking somewhere, and I could hear faint music farther away. I moved my feet and leaned against the silk-paneled wall. Although it looked elegant, it wasn’t practical for this climate. I also knew I couldn’t brace my foot against its delicate and pristine surface. Not practical at all.

  I wondered if Amelia had ever reached up to stretch and sharpen her claws on the lush fabric.

  “Where are my manners!” Rand remarked, as the clock ticked away. “Jo Beth, why don’t we move to the reception room here?” He was indicating a door to the first room on the right.

  “I’ll stand. Thanks anyway.”

  I felt a tug on Ivanhoe’s lead. I glanced down and he had his nose to the carpet and wanted to follow the smell that interested him. I pulled him back gently, and pushed on his broad back near his tail and forced his rear downward, into a sitting position. I was afraid to give him the “sit” command; he hadn’t heard it in years. It always embarrasses me when I give a command and the dog ignores it.

  The clock continued ticking. This was one of those silences that grows so heavy, you feel the need to punch holes in it, flood the silence with words; anything but simply listen to the damn clock eating up the seconds. My heart was pumping faster while I tried to keep my expression neutral. I knew Ivanhoe would smell Amelia inside the house, but I didn’t know if he would react to it, and track her outside excluding all other smells, such as rabbit, coon, et cetera.

  I still didn’t know the answer to the latter, but this foolish effort I was attempting now seemed a little more feasible.

  I don’t care how much you vacuum, clean, and spray a room with deodorizer, if a cat lives inside a house he leaves a distinctive scent, as do all species of animals and Homo sapiens. A bloodhound’s scent ability is over a thousand times more powerful than a person’s nose. Their long dangling ears are a useful tool as they search. They stir the scent, cup it, and bring it closer to their nose.

  A good ten minutes passed until a statuesque raven-haired beauty hurried toward us with the reluctant maid lagging a good distance behind her. To use the vernacular of this region, she was “built like a brick school-house,” which is supposed to be a compliment on one’s figure, but I’ve never understood the connection. I’ll just say she was built, period. Wide shoulders, nipped in waist, generous hips, and legs that ran on forever. I think we waited while she freshened her makeup. It was flawless. She looked like a well-preserved forty, but I’ve always been lousy in guessing people’s ages.

  She tossed Rand a brilliant smile and came toward me with her hand outstretched.

  “You must be Ms. Sidden. I’m Celia Cancannon, and I’m delighted to meet you, and your dog! I’m so glad Aunt Alyce’s generosity finally convinced you to come to our island!”

  While shaking my hand, she deftly moved to where my body was between her and Ivanhoe. I can be more gracious than a transplanted Yankee, any day.

  “Call me Jo Beth,” I oozed with southern charm. “Y’all have such a lovely home. Have you worked here long?”

  Her smile slipped a notch. “I’ve lived here most of my life, and now I’m glad to be here when Aunt Alyce needs me. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you to her. She’s quite distraught over Amelia’s disappearance. Rand can take the dog outside.”

  “I’m afraid not,” I said with politeness, “Ivanhoe and I are in the process of bonding.”

  I didn’t elaborate. I just let the issue hang there between us, like unavoidable flatulence.

  Her lips thinned. “Surely—”

  “Not a chance.” I projected over whatever she was about to propose.

  I watched her haughty demeanor drop with a mental thud, and anxiety, fear of her aunt, and uncertainty return. This was the woman I had spoken to on the phone, and one I could come to like. She was showing her true self, and was being painfully honest.

  “Oh God, she’ll have a fit! She’ll blame me for not being intelligent enough to con you into leaving the dog outside. What will I tell her?”

  I grinned. “Take me up and I’ll do the talking. Just shake your head and shrug, like I’m impossible.”

  “Bless you. I try so hard, but I never seem to please her.”

  “Speak up, and don’t let her intimidate you. She might fire you but she would respect you more.”

  “I can’t take the chance, I’ve been her doormat too long.” Her plaintive answer touched me.

  I turned to Rand. “Go sit in that room you mentioned, and don’t wander off. I may need to make a fast getaway.”

  “With your attitude, you’d bett
er be good and find Amelia quickly. It’s the only way she will forgive you. If you fail, I’d hate to be in your shoes next week!”

  “I’m not afraid of a millionairess.”

  “Try billionairess. It would be more accurate.”

  “You may have a point,” I said, giving him a wink. “Stand by for a really fast getaway. She could shoot me for insolence, and get away with it.”

  “It gladdens my heart that you pay attention so well!”

  He was irritated.

  “Gotcha.”

  I took Celia’s arm and we ascended the staircase. I had to almost pull her along. When we were on the second floor landing, she hesitated and whispered.

  “We must knock and wait until she gives permission to enter.”

  “Is it her bedroom?”

  “No, she’s in her office.”

  We stopped in front of the door that Celia indicated. I rapped my knuckles twice—turned the knob and entered—gave Celia and Ivanhoe time to get inside the door before I closed it firmly. I turned to approach Miz Cancannon. She was at her desk and looked shocked. It was a long walk to reach her desk. She sat in stony silence.

  I settled in a large leather chair in front of her desk. Ivanhoe flopped on the Oriental carpet and prepared to take a nap. I gave Celia a pointed look, and she slowly perched her fanny on the edge of a cushion to my left.

  Celia spoke. “Aunt Alyce, this—”

  Celia stopped immediately, when Ms. Cancannon raised a veined hand. She was younger than I thought she’d be, she looked like she was in her late sixties. She had dark brown hair, with very little gray at the edge of her temples.

  For the first time, I took my eyes from her face and saw she was sitting in a wheelchair. It was rolled close to the large desk and obviously was on a raised platform. The chair didn’t make her look shorter, she dominated the desk and the room. I would guess her dress size was an eighteen. She wasn’t fat; her upper body looked firm from exercise.

  “My dear Celia, you don’t have to identify my visitor. The bloodhound accompanying her tells me who she is. I’ve been sitting here contemplating her bad manners and your sudden pseudo courage to sit in my presence without my permission.”

  Celia jumped up, as if someone had goosed her.

  “Celia, would you excuse us for a few minutes?” I asked, adding a warm smile. “Miz Cancannon and I need to talk.”

  She stared at her aunt with a silent plea, and hastily withdrew when she received a contemptuous wave of dismissal.

  I slouched lower in my chair, rested my right foot on my left leg, and waited until I had her attention.

  “Miz Cancannon, first let me apologize for my rude behavior in the way I entered your office. I was raised correctly to be polite to my elders, and I’ve always tried to practice good southern manners. I did it deliberately, as I wanted you to know two things quickly. You can’t run roughshod over me, and also to try to put a little starch in your niece’s spine. I didn’t accomplish either of my goals.

  “I wish to tell you, however, I’m sure most people who bow and scrape in your presence excuse your actions by calling them eccentric because you possess a few hundred million. Personally, I think you are a tyrannical harridan who gets her jollies by making the people around you squirm. Now it’s your turn.”

  6

  “Here, Kitty, Kitty”

  October 2, Monday, 3:15 P.M.

  Miz Cancannon gave me a long, calculating appraisal. She probably knows my bank balance, to the penny. Maybe she’s trying to decide if it’s worth the effort of having me squashed like a bug. Or she could be mentally measuring me for a shroud. I passed a message to my brain. You will not squirm or blink. Look her square in the eye.

  She shocked me. She snorted in amusement.

  “You have no idea how much you sound like me when I was your age. Full of piss and vinegar. Ready to tackle the world. Going to bring equality to all women, and right all wrongs. Yes, I was informed that you’re a feminist. How naive you are. You have just enough backwoods smarts and gall to be dangerous, not only for yourself, but people around you. I will turn sixty-seven the twenty-ninth of this month. What does that tell you?”

  “That we’re both Scorpios? Is that what you’re basing your comparison of the two of us on? Christ, Miz C., do you read your horoscope each morning and plan your day around it? It’s a wonder you’re not broke. We’re nothing alike.”

  “We both have a ruthless streak in our makeup,” she said, sounding smug. “You try to suppress yours, while I use mine to full advantage. Case in point. Without hesitation, you shot a man three times in the chest for killing your dog, and yet you’ve let that psycho you married come within a heartbeat of killing you twice. You don’t practice what you try to preach, Ms. Sidden. Leave Celia alone. She’s my responsibility.”

  I stood so I would have better control of Ivanhoe. He was getting restless. He must be smelling Amelia. She might have spent a lot of time in this room. A bloodhound can nap on his feet, if he can find something or someone to lean on. They will sleep twenty hours a day if they aren’t working. Ivanhoe was audibly sniffing the area of carpet around the chair and distracting me from thinking up a zinger to answer Miz C.’ s amateur analysis of my character.

  “I’ve enjoyed our little chat, Miz C., but the sun is slowly sinking in the west, and I need daylight to search for Amelia. I need to ask some questions. You do still want me to try to find your cat, don’t you?”

  “Of course I do!” she snapped. “That’s why I offered the big bucks, which you wouldn’t refuse!”

  I let that one pass. This woman knew enough about me without giving her a hint about the judge. She must have checked me out when Amelia had been lost long enough to know she was going to need outside help. I could picture her on the phone about midnight, awakening sources with impunity, demanding answers and information. This made me pause. She was a formidable foe. I don’t needlessly poke at rattlesnakes. I should watch my p’s and q’s while in her presence.

  “Was the house searched from top to bottom? I don’t know much about cats, but I do know they can hide in some extraordinary places if they are sick or hurt.”

  “I can assure you that Amelia is not inside. My entire staff combed the building. They were told if Amelia was overlooked, they all would share the blame.”

  That ought to do it, I silently agreed.

  “What was the perimeter of the outside search?”

  “Within the immediate vicinity of close buildings. I, unlike you, know a great deal about cats. I’ve had Amelia five years, and I haven’t always been in this wheelchair. She didn’t like the tall grass and uncleared brush. She would never go beyond the mowed areas. When dew or frost or rain was present, she never left the house. She didn’t enjoy getting her feet wet.”

  “There’s the possibility that she was kidnapped, or catnapped, to be more accurate. Do you have any enemies, someone who might want to get even with you for anything?”

  I was proud of myself in keeping a straight face while I delivered these words. I bet her enemies were legion.

  “Impossible,” she snapped angrily.

  “Nothing is impossible,” I paraphrased. “Some are just more improbable than others.”

  “You misunderstood my answer,” she said, sounding superior and omniscient. “I have more enemies than a third world nation. That’s why I have remained on this island for the past twenty years without once leaving it. I have two round-the-clock motor patrol boats three miles out, making constant surveillance of all watercraft, using both radar and sonar. The coastline was checked during the night for any boat that was rented or moored within two hundred miles in either direction. The overlook flight film didn’t produce a single boat near this island for the last twenty-four hours. That was why I stated it was impossible!”

  Good God, she must have both Army and Naval Intelligence in her pocket. Was it possible that the overlook flight she mentioned was actually our “Spy in the Sky” satellite, or
our national weather satellite’s orbit over this area? Hell, it might be both, or maybe she was afflicted with megalomania, with delusions of grandeur.

  “Uh-huh,” I muttered, keeping skepticism out of my voice. “I’ll need something that Amelia touched, a sleeping pad cover or something she played with, to use as a scent article.”

  “Anything else?”

  “No, ma’am.”

  She picked up the phone.

  “Celia, come up and show Ms. Sidden out. Give her the bag you prepared of Amelia’s things.”

  “Just remember, I have only a slim chance of finding her. This dog was not trained for cat recovery, and has been in retirement for four years.”

  “You must have a reason for using this particular dog. I understand you have fifty-nine adult dogs in your kennel at the present time, not counting your pet, Bobby Lee.”

  I gawked at her. I noted the malicious pleasure on her face. My head whirled in shock. The only way that she could know the actual head count at the kennel was from one of my employees who worked inside the compound. The number of dogs fluctuated—sometimes daily—but never remained the same for longer than a week. How many dogs we had currently wasn’t posted on the sign outside my business or inside.

  The only reason I’m aware of the exact count myself and knew she was correct was that Wayne had shipped Simply Simon to his new home in Hainesville this morning. The transfer of ownership papers was lying on my desk while I was totaling out September. I had entered the sale in the computer.

  “Did I make any mistakes in closing out September this morning?”

  I knew she had violated my computer. The only people who would have this information lived within the compound with me. Wayne, Jasmine, and Donnie Ray. I’d trust them with my life.

  “How can you be certain it wasn’t one of your staff?”

  “Some people have loyal friends. I have many. How about you?”

  She only smirked. I was at the door when she decided to speak.

  “I met your father once, almost twenty years ago. I recognized he was a genius with oils and I invested in his paintings.”