“Who’s d’Artagnan?” Knute loved the Alexandre Dumas novel, but then who didn’t.
“Valentina, but a seasoned one, she’s past the girl-from-thecountry stage,” Alpha smiled.
“Well, Tootie’s the brains of the bunch,” Bill said, pouring more hollandaise sauce on the asparagus, which was quite good for institutional food.
“Let’s get her in the administration,” Knute laughed.
The holiday season picked up everyone’s spirits. The kids burst with energy and the faculty and administration were looking forward to their vacation as much as the students. The only person not bubbling was Charlotte, but she was trying.
After dessert the three girls came up to Charlotte.
“Ladies, did you keep any notes from your work with Professor Kennedy?”
“Yes, ma’am,” they chimed.
“Bring them to me after classes. How about four?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Then Felicity said,“Mrs. Norton, mine are in a notebook.”
“That’s fine. I want you to sit down and go over your notes with me. And if Pamela has notes, bring her. On second thought, I’ll talk to her.” She smiled, realizing these three did not get along with Pamela. “What I want to do is review what you found, what you learned, and then when Professor Kennedy’s report comes in, we can compare. I think it will be very interesting.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“And as my Christmas present to you, you can hunt with Sister Jane this Thursday. The field will be small and you can get up front to see the hounds work.”
“Thank you!” Their faces flushed with their good fortune.
“That means you are missing my class,” Alpha remarked with sternness.
“Well, Mrs. Rawnsley, I am the culprit,” said Charlotte. “Will you accept this absence if they write a book report on Siegfried Sassoon’sMemoirs of a Hunting Man?”
Alpha’s eyes lit up, “Marvelous book. All right, ladies, you have your assignment.”
After more thank-yous, the three hurried out of the dining room to the library to check out copies of Sassoon’s book. The library boasted extensive hunting titles as well as a vast equine collection. Some of these books were worth hundreds of dollars and could only be read in the rare book room.
Knute watched them hurry out while trying not to run.“You made them happy. I can’t imagine their notes will be much.”
“At the least there should be descriptions of the items each girl had to handle.” Alpha was all for training young people to use their powers of observation and then accurately describe what they saw, heard, felt, tasted, touched.
“I think we’re lucky some of it didn’t disintegrate in their fingers,” Bill added, stifling a laugh.
“Bill, it’s not that bad,” Knute replied.
“Not that good.”
Alpha shrugged,“Mixed blessing.”
“Why do you say that?” Charlotte’s senses were keen. She looked for anything out of line.
“Custis Hall has a long, dramatic history. Our founder, our benefactors, truly have given so much to this school, but what do we do with it? And Pamela may be a troubled child, an unhappy child, but I think she’s hit the nail on the head.”
Knute snapped,“By calling us racist pigs, in so many words.”
“She was pretty direct.” Bill again had to stifle a laugh.
“No.” Alpha was accustomed to her male colleagues’ flares of ideological passion, or of plain old ego. “She’s forcing us to look anew. Her motives are scrambled but then is there anyone on the planet with pure motives? In a way, I think she’s done Custis Hall a favor.”
Charlotte thought a moment.“Alpha, I think you’re right.”
“Well, I don’t. Whatever this report turns out to be it’s going to cost us money.” Knute put his right hand on the table, quietly, palm down. “Obviously, some of those pieces have to be worth money. And even if they aren’t, they are important to Custis Hall. We’re going to have to wire the cases, put up new locks, and who knows what else?”
Bill grimaced.“Nothing has been right since Al was killed.”
Knute nodded in agreement.“We’ll never find another Al.”
“No progress.” Alpha’s eyebrows raised quizzically.
“Not that I know of,” Knute replied.
“It will take time, but you know Sheriff Sidel will keep at it; he’s a dedicated man.” Charlotte liked Ben Sidel a lot.
“Small-time,” Knute simply dismissed Ben.
“Back to the objets d’art or whatever you’d like to call them.” Bill felt expansive after his delicious lunch. “You can’t rewire those old cases. You’ll have to rebuild everything in there, which means the whole damned hall gets torn up. And the contractors will probably find old horsehair stuffing in the walls, which someone will declare a health hazard. People used horsehair for insulation for centuries and seemed to live quite normal lives, but trust me, it will all be ripped out. And then the old plaster will crumble and that will come out, too. You’ll rebuild the interiorof the whole damn hall, I’m telling you, and the electrical costs alone will fry you, forgive the pun.”
“You’re full of Christmas cheer,” Knute sourly replied.
“It’s the truth. Your worry about security costs is scratching the surface. The security costs will be a pittance compared to the rest of it.”
Alpha asked Bill,“Isn’t there another way? Does it have to be that extensive?”
Bill laughed, a true belly laugh.“Well, I can make it look like it’s wired, like we have a security system. Hell, I can even set up infrared beams. It won’t cost the school more than two thousand dollars because I’ll throw in my labor for free.”
“Bill, that is completely irresponsible!” Knute raised his voice. Those left in the dining hall looked at him. He immediately shut up.
“Why don’t we wait for the report?” Charlotte smoothly said as she rose, her folded napkin on the side of the plate.
C H A P T E R 2 7
Even in summer’s sunshine, Hangman’s Ridge exerted a brooding presence. On a cold December night, with clouds piling up on top of the Blue Ridge Mountains, the place reverberated with accumulated sufferings, no matter how well-deserved.
Georgia, exploring her territory, climbed up to the ridge, beheld one murderer’s ghost jibbering, and shot down through the underbrush.
She ran up on her mother, Inky, strolling to the kennels.
“I’m not going back up there again!”
“Dead humans,” Inky simply said.
“Why don’t they go away? Where do they go?” Georgia hadn’t considered the human soul.
“Depends on the human, I guess. Some believe they go up to the sky and play harps.”
“How strange.” Georgia thought that version of an afterlife quite tepid.
“Others think they go to paradise and have forty virgins if they die a martyr’s death,” Inky wryly commented.“Exhausting, I should think. And others think they don’t go anywhere. And then there are those who think they come back in some other form at some other time.”
“We could have been humans?” Georgia thought out loud.
“I don’t know. They call it reincarnation, and if it’s true and a human comes back as a fox, it would be a step up,” Inky confidently replied.
“Be on four legs. That’s a whole lot better right there.” Georgia marveled at how humans kept their balance.“How happy they’d be. They could run and jump and turn in midair. They could see at night, too. I hope reincarnation is right.”
“I don’t know.” Inky inhaled the tang of oncoming moisture.“Snow in a few hours. Light, I think.”
“My den is warm. I’m glad Sister moved me. Shaker, too. They set out treats.”
“They’re good that way.”
“Where are you going?”
Inky heard a faint complaint in one of the trees as a wren awakened.“Kennels. Thought I’d see if Diana would be out for a walk. She likes to sit still at night and listen. She’s very enjoyable.”