I heard car doors slam and rose to go greet my support team that was trying to get my life back on track. I hadn’t wasted any time in removing my two gate alarms after I had eliminated the reason I needed them. The speaker at the front gate had been sent back for a refund and I had Wayne and Donnie Ray take both gates off their hinges and store them in the barn. It still felt strange that people could now drive into the courtyard unaccompanied by loud noises.
They greeted me politely, and followed me back into the kitchen with unreadable expressions. I served coffee with a dry mouth and an accelerated pulse. I sat and folded my arms on the table.
“I’m ready. Tell me.”
“We came bearing gifts!” Hank was grinning from ear to ear. I switched my gaze to Wade.
“Judge Dalby is writing a decision on your trial to set aside the jury’s guilty verdict, based on new evidence. It will take a few weeks, but it’s all over but the shouting.”
“You won’t be retried, Jo Beth,” Hank butted in. “In fact, I had to listen to the pompous district attorney, our own Bobby Don Robbins, explaining that he knew you should have never been tried in the first place, and how happy he was that justice prevailed.”
“I will want all the details later, but right now, this minute, are you both one hundred percent sure that I will remain free, not have to serve time, and won’t be tried again? Please think before you answer, my sanity depends on honest appraisals.”
“You are free of all charges, you have my word,” Wade declared.
Hank pumped his arm and raised it dramatically. “Ditto, Jo Beth, it’s over. The nightmare is over!”
I pushed back my chair and fled to the bedroom. It is easier to get a heart and pulse racing than it is to calm them down and feel normal. I cried for two reasons. Relief that I had gotten away with removing Bubba from my life, and regret for being pushed into taking his life to protect mine.
I knew I wouldn’t be riding off in the sunset feeling cleansed and rid of all guilt. I would be paying for my action for the rest of my life. The nightmare came each night. I was on my back and a bloody Bubba was towering over me, falling in slow motion to smother me with his blood. I would wake and be unable to sleep again. I’d read, catch up on my paperwork, or simply sit and wait for the dawn.
When I returned to the kitchen Hank and Wade were on their second cup of coffee and Jasmine had joined them.
“Tell us about the new evidence.”
Hank began. “When Celia confessed, it seems that Rand went to a lawyer and had him draw up a will. He anticipated getting his share of the estate. Now, I don’t believe that he had a conscience. My guess is that he wanted to brag about his ability in manipulating Celia and sandbagging you, and the only way to do that was to leave a signed confession to be opened after his death.
“He wasn’t thinking of dying so soon, he thought that it would happen years and years from now, and possibly he saw it as a future payback for his illegitimate mate birth. I’ll even give the sucker a little credit. He might have realized that he might die in an accident or illness while his mother was still languishing in jail. Whatever his reason for leaving a detailed statement in his handwriting exonerating Celia, he had to include you, Jo Beth, detailing where and when he lied on the stand about the night he witnessed the shooting. Upon his death the lawyer opened this document, and notified Judge Dalby. She notified the district attorney, Wade, and me. It is enough, Wade tells me, for her to reverse the jury’s decision and render a verdict of acquittal.”
“Could the appeals court or any higher court find that she erred, and possibly reverse it again?” Jasmine was exploring all possibilities of what could go wrong. We both are prone to looking a gift horse in the mouth, not only to discover his age but also to check for a tattoo to make sure that he wasn’t stolen. We both turned to Wade.
“Absolutely not. In fact, she should have done so the minute I asked for a directed verdict of acquittal, immediately after the state presented its case. I still don’t understand her reasoning for letting the trial go forward. Maybe she thought when the circumstances were placed into evidence that Jo Beth’s peers would fully exonerate her. She had to realize that she shouldn’t have been tried for murder two, it was clearly justifiable homicide.”
And just maybe, I reasoned, she wanted to extract a pound of flesh and make me suffer for the humiliation that her pride had suffered when I asked and she had to grant me favors. We are now even, Constance. We should both go forth and sin no more.
The questions asked and answered then turned into laughter and suggestions of different ways to celebrate.
I stood. “Sorry, guys, I’m going to be really busy the next few days, maybe we can celebrate next week.”
“Doing what?” Hank asked.
“Winning back Bobby Lee and proving to him that he’s the love of my life, and bringing him home forever.” And that is when I ran for the door.
“Bobby Lee!” I yelled, “Come here, you big lug! It’s time to come home!”
Two months later, on a warm May day, I was sitting in John Jason Jackson’s office waiting impatiently for him to finish his long-winded speech about the trials and tribulations of closing the probate file for Alyce Cancannon’s estate.
Finally, with a flourish, he had presented me with the promised check. I barely glanced at the figure; just enough to make sure that it had enough zeros as I tucked it into my purse.
When he realized I wasn’t going to thank him, he sighed and waved a hand toward the right side of the room.
“If the check didn’t excite you, I’m sure the four canvases your father painted will. I guess you didn’t notice them when you arrived. They are displayed on the south wall. I can’t wait to see the expression on your face when you pick the one that you’ll take home with you.”
I had spotted the pictures in my peripheral vision when I had entered his office, but hadn’t taken my eyes from his face to study them.
“I noticed,” I said softly. “I would rather be alone when I examine them.”
He opened his mouth to say something but had second thoughts. His ears were turning pink. He pushed back his chair and departed in haste, closing the door with more force than was necessary.
I stood and walked slowly to the wall and took my time on the first three. They were beautiful. Three different views of Cumberland’s coastline, gentle surf rolling in on the beach, sea oats waving in a soft breeze, and pine and oak trees looking majestic in the background.
When I moved to the fourth, I gasped with pleasure. Suddenly I was eight years old again, standing under a hot summer sun, sandy and perspiring, watching my father while he painted this picture.
The small stone cairn that I had leaned on was in the foreground. The view was of surf at low tide. A black-as-midnight, strong-limbed stallion ran in the shallow water leading his twelve mares. They were a herd of the famous wild horses of Cumberland Island. I could hear their hooves slapping the water’s edge and see the droplets sprayed into the air reflecting the sunlight. They were carelessly tossed jewels, a possible tribute from a benign deity.
Muscles rippled under warm hides and haunches bunched and relaxed in unison as they ran free and unfettered by man-made restraints.
I felt dizzy and placed a hand on the wall to brace myself. I shook my head to clear my vision and drew in tiny breaths so I wouldn’t hyperventilate. The painting was a glorious remembrance of a magical day I had spent with my father.
With great joy and a cheerful heart I went to tell Jackson my decision. The painting would protect me on the black nights when Bubba came to call, bearing his twin gifts of blood and guilt. I realized I was tentatively beginning to feel contentment.
Acknowledgments
I wish to thank the following people for invaluable advice, research, and encouragement:
Bruce Ludemann, Niagara County Sheriff Special Forces Unit, Lockport, New York. Officer Kathy “Kat” Albrecht, University of California at Santa Cruz Police Department
Search-and-Rescue, who owns Pet Pursuit, a business that finds lost pets with a bloodhound trained to find animals, not humans.
If I thanked William (Bill) D. Tolhurst of Lockport, New York in every future book, I still couldn’t convey how deeply I am in his debt for canine training tapes, scent machine advice, police procedure tapes, and all the additional lore I have learned from him. Thanks again, Bill.
I met two bloodhounds, Bogart and Columboux, at the eleventh annual Table of Content dinner on St. Simons Island, Georgia. I want to thank their owner, Brenda Brazil, for allowing them to share the spotlight with me, even though in this outing, I placed third.
I want to thank Susan Roberts, Director of Waycross-Ware County Public Library and Headquarters of the Okefenokee Library System, for all her kindness and efforts on my behalf. Waycross, Georgia, is truly blessed with excellent librarians, and Susan’s star is the brightest.
PRAISE FOR VIRGINIA LANIER AND
Ten Little Bloodhounds
“Lanier offers interesting, sympathetic characters and vivid southern settings … and her bloodhounds are endearing. … This is a strong book that should appeal to mystery readers who like independent women with complicated social and romantic lives.”
Booklist
“An engrossing story set in the wilds of rural Georgia. … Characters to care about. … I feel their joy and their pain, and I fervently want to know what happens to them next.”
Greensboro News & Record
“Bloodhound trainer Jo Beth Sidden is feisty, driven and relentlessly independent in her fifth, spirited outing. The novel is witty and brisk and so lovingly detailed with the fine qualities of bloodhounds that even the most avid dog-hater will be brought to heel.”
Publishers Weekly
“You don’t have to be a dog lover to fall for Jo Beth Sidden and her bloodhounds in Virginia Lanier’s Ten Little Bloodhounds. … Mrs. Lanier has a nice touch with Jo Beth and her dogs and her descriptions of the Okefenokee … are dead on target. In addition there is a cast of characters who are superbly detailed. Reading Bloodhounds is like having a good gossip about people you like.”
Washington Times
“Virginia Lanier is a truly special and unique addition to the suspense genre. Her wonderful characters and vivid descriptions make rural Georgia and all its residents come alive. If you haven’t yet tried this terrific series, here’s your chance.”
Romantic Times
Blind Bloodhound Justice
“Virginia Lanier’s Southern mysteries have one irresistibly appealing ingredient: dogs. … Jo Beth deserves a good scratch behind the ears for running a crackerjack operation.”
New York Times Book Review
“Jo Beth and her dogs are barking up the right tree. … Readers …will be amply satisfied.”
Atlanta Journal-Constitution
“An action-packed, sometimes humorous, always entertaining read. … An intriguing plot, colorful characters and vivid descriptions of small-town life bordered by an unforgiving swamp places Lanier at the top of the list of storytellers in the mystery genre.”
Times-Union (Jacksonville, FL)
“Fast-paced action, great subplots enhancing characterizations, and witty acerbic dialogue make this a winner.”
Jeff Davis Ledger (GA)
“Authentic mystery.”
Kirkus Reviews
“Spine-tingling.”
Publishers Weekly
“Grandness, humor, and eye for detail. … [Readers] will come to this series for Lanier’s bloodhounds and stay for her unstereotyped Southerners and vivid Georgia landscape.”
Booklist
A Brace of Bloodhounds
“Her dogs are in a class all their own.”
Mystery Review
“Every chapter pulls you further into the story and ends with the zinger that won’t let you put the book down. It’s too bad we can’t sit with Jo Beth on her front porch, with a glass of her freshly brewed iced tea in hand, and listen to more of her adventures.”
Times-Union (Jacksonville, FL)
“Whether it is tracking for a lost child or catching a wrongdoing judge, Jo Beth and her trusty bloodhounds get the job done with grit, determination, heart, and humor.”
Tales from a Red Herring
“Virginia Lanier’s series about bloodhound breeder Jo Beth Sidden is one of the best examples of how unconventional characters can enhance the core of a mystery. … Crammed with tidbits about bloodhounds and ‘mantracking.’ Characters are sharply defined and intriguing.”
Ft. Lauderdale Sun-Sentinel
“Murder, corruption, mystery, action, friendship, humor, a bit of sorrow, and some splendid dogs. … I love these books!”
Mysterious Women
The House on Bloodhound Lane
“An amiable Brett Butler-like narrator and a cliffhanger of an ending.”
Kirkus Reviews
“Exciting and entertaining. … If you didn’t read the first book, I’m sure you will want to get it, too.”
Valdosta Daily Times
Death in Bloodhound Red
“Absolutely fascinating … Jo Beth is a terrific character: smart, impulsive, idealistic and vulnerable.”
Orlando Sentinel
“Delightfully entertaining. … Lanier has created a heroine every bit as memorable as Sue Grafton’s Kinsey Milhone and Sara Paretsky’s V. I. Warshawski.”
Times-Union (Jacksonville, FL)
“Sue Grafton meets Michael Malone in a dead-on voice that doesn’t back off.”
Margaret Maron, Winner of the Edgar, Agatha, and Anthony Awards
“Lanier has an ear for dialect and mannerism that rings true in her depiction of the Good Ol’ Boy inhabitants of the Deep South. In Jo Beth she has created a character with biting wit, backbone, and enough faults to keep her likable. The bloodhound lore woven into the story is fascinating, as is Lanier’s obvious familiarity with the region she has set her story in. There’s danger, duplicity, humor, and yes, murder … enough to satisfy the most discerning mystery buff.”
Southern Book Trade
“It is rare when a writer can truly transport the reader, and this is just what Virginia Lanier has managed with Death in Bloodhound Red. Every time her sleuth, Jo Beth Sidden, a chain-smoking good old girl, took her beloved bloodhounds and me into the swamps of Georgia, I smelled every drop of sweat, felt every mosquito bite.”
Nevada Barr
Books by Virginia Lanier
Blind Bloodhound Justice
A Brace of Bloodhounds
The House on Bloodhound Lane
Death in Bloodhound Red
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
AVON BOOKS
An Imprint of HarperCollins Publishers
Copyright © 1999 by Virginia Lanier
ISBN: 0-06-109066-2
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub Edition © AUGUST 2010 ISBN: 978-0-062-04764-9
First Avon Books paperback printing: August 2000
First HarperCollins hardcover printing: July 1999
Avon Trademark Reg. U.S. Pat. Off. and in Other Countries, Marca
Registrada, Hecho en U.S.A.
HarperCollins ® is a trademark of HarperCollins Publishers Inc.
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