“Good afternoon, Ben. What can we do for you?” Sister set her feet wide so Doughboy couldn’t yank her off balance again.
“Wanted you to know the gun that killed Ralph was a .38. Can’t trace it, so it has to be an old gun sold before registrations or one sold on the black market.”
“What about the used market?” Shaker knew you could buy a used side arm without going through the computer checks.
“Possible. Do you have people in your field who carry guns?”
“Yes. Both whippers-in carry a .22 filled with ratshot which, I am happy to say, they have not had occasion to use for years, and Bobby Franklin carries a .38 hidden in his jacket.”
“Why?”
“We don’t want to upset people,” Sister forthrightly replied.
“No, I don’t mean that.” Ben stifled a smile as he folded his arms across his chest. “I mean, why would he carry that caliber? Why not a .22?”
“Should a horse break its neck, or a hound, we want to end its suffering as soon as possible. And again I’m happy to say the last time we had to do so was in 1984.”
Shaker added, “And sometimes the deer hunters don’t finish the job. They don’t track their deer, or it gets away. We have to kill them.”
“Very upsetting.” Sister reached down to pat Doughboy, who sat quietly observing the sheriff. As he was only five months old, she was very proud of him.
“I see. Well, I would imagine that many of your members have old weapons.”
“Probably.” Sister’s voice rose upward.
“You have members, older members, many of whom might have guns that they bought back in the fifties or sixties.”
“I suppose. What would you like me to do?”
“Get them. I want to test them. I can go to each house and demand them, but I think the most efficient method is to have you ask for them.”
“I’d be glad to do that. Did you drive the whole way out here to ask me that?”
“Uh, yes.” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “And”—he paused a moment—“it’s such a beautiful place here. I like visiting your farm. And I was wondering if you might advise me, which I will keep to myself because I realize the position you’re in, I was kind of wondering if you could suggest someone I could ride with—take lessons, that is.”
“Ah.” She smiled, as did Shaker. “Lynne Beegle. Actually, I should ask what kind of riding.”
“Foxhunting. The more I find out about this sport, the more it intrigues me. It’s complicated.”
“Oh, just keep the horse between your legs.” Shaker laughed.
“There is that.” Ben smiled.
“As I recall, Ben, you’re from Ohio, and there are some good hunt clubs there. Rocky Fork Headley, Chagrin Valley, Miami Valley, Camargo, Grand River, and Gully Ridge. And they’ve been there for a long time. I think Chagrin Valley was founded in 1908.”
“Camargo and Rocky Ford Headley were founded in 1925,” Shaker added.
“How do you remember all that?”
“You tend to remember what you like. I just thought you might have seen hunting in Ohio.”
“No. Not until I got here.”
“Well, it’s a way of life in Virginia.”
“A way of death, too,” Ben commented, a wry tone to his voice. “You don’t need to hunt the fox, you’re so busy hunting one another.”
Sister exhaled, which brought Doughboy’s ears up. He looked at her quizzically. “These truly are extraordinary circumstances.”
Shaker murmured his agreement with that statement.
After Ben drove away, the two walked the puppies back to the puppy palace, as they called it.
“Want to hear my plan?”
“Can’t wait.”
CHAPTER 38
“Janie, are you sure?” Tedi’s lovely blue eyes were sorrowful.
“Yes. But I can’t prove a thing yet.”
Tedi, Edward, Walter, Shaker, and Sister sat around Sister’s kitchen table. She had thrown together a quick dinner for them. Each had come with the express instructions to tell no one where they were going that night. Not a soul.
Sister started the bowl of peas around to the left. “Tedi and Edward, I know this is most disquieting.”
“We’ll handle it.” Edward spoke with authority.
“The killer has to be Sybil, Ken, Xavier, or Ron. If you think about each one, each has benefited since Nola’s and Guy’s deaths. When Ron first hung out his lawyer’s shingle, you used him and you also switched insurance over to Xavier. Right?” Walter asked.
“Right.” Edward nodded. “Ken encouraged us, and both men gave us very good service.”
“They all ran around together,” Tedi added. “Our support in the early stages of their business lives was beneficial.”
“And would it be possible for Sybil to divert some of her monies to either Ron or Xavier without either of you knowing about it?” Sister added.
“Up to a point,” Edward succinctly replied. “If the sums were excessive, I think I’d know.”
“I’ve been thinking about Hotspur.” Sister changed the subject. “The only way that Henry IV could defeat him was to divide and conquer. He picked Hotspur off before he could join up with his father. Had the two been united, Sir Henry Percy’s father would have sat on the throne. They were much better soldiers than the king. I believe our killer separated Nola and Guy. She’d been unfaithful to Guy.”
Edward interrupted, “But it’s not like she was married to him!”
“No, but love isn’t rational. It would seem to me that both Nola and the killer had something to lose. Nola would lose Guy, and she had finally fallen in love with Guy. What the killer would lose, I don’t know. If we knew the answer to that I think we’d solve this.” Sister looked at Walter; she couldn’t stop staring at him, but she made sure he didn’t see her doing it. “Well, perhaps I make too much of this Hotspur thing. My mind works in fits and starts. They don’t all lead in the right direction, but they do fire me up.”
“Me too.” Shaker reached for the fried chicken, then handed the plate to Tedi on his left. “And I find the older I get the more wood I need to get fired up. Sister, let’s get down to brass tacks here.”
“Well, yes. I digress. I want Walter to grow a military mustache or paste one on and play a key part. And I want us to find two actors who can ride who resemble Guy and Nola.”
“Have you lost your mind?” Edward sat up straight in his chair.
“Maybe there isn’t much of it left to lose. Now hear me out before you become ruthlessly logical, Edward. I believe our killer is still in love with Nola or Guy. We’ve got to shake him or her out of the covert. Bolt our fox.”
“Ah.” Walter was getting it, as was Tedi.
“Perhaps you have noticed how much Walter resembles Raymond. With a mustache, the resemblance will be impossible to miss.”
All eyes were on Walter, who blushed.
“Uncanny.” Tedi blinked.
“Remember Raymond’s big hunter, A. P. Hill? Found a horse who looks much like him and is very kind.” She smiled at Walter. “We’ll take care of you, Walter.” She said to the others, “I want to place Walter far enough away so when he is glimpsed—and it will be just a glimpse—people won’t really know if they’ve seen him or not. And I want Nola and Guy together down by Cindy’s two ponds at Foxglove Farm. There’s got to be someone we can use—call Central Casting, if we must. I want to blast this murderer into the open. Let us resurrect our dead. They’ll beckon to the killer. However, we can’t use a Ralph stand-in. We can’t do that to Frances.”
“It’s lunacy.”
“Edward, we have no hard evidence. I’d rather be a lunatic than do nothing,” Tedi said, touching Nola’s ring.
Sister softly said, a bit of humor in her voice as she hoped to defuse Edward’s resistance, “I know, Edward, you won’t overestimate my faculty for constructive thought. I’ve had to resort to imagination.”