“You saw him play?”
“Sure. All of us who lived here did. We still go to games. Only now we go with our wives, children, grandchildren.” He smiled slightly.
“Can you think of anyone who would kill Frank?”
Paul folded his hands together. “No.”
“When did you last see Frank?”
“At Ginger McConnell’s funeral. He was hiding behind the pillars of the Rotunda. He hated Ginger. Frank was never shy about expressing that, but maybe on some level he remembered the classes, remembered the old days.” Paul shrugged.
“Olivia mentioned that Frank had studied with her father.”
“We all did. Everyone on all the teams tried to take the same classes. It created strong bonds between us, and also we could help each other. I would never have made it through chemistry without Nelson Yarbrough. I graduated long before Frank, but I’m sure many of his teammates were in the same classes as Frank. Tradition, sticking together.”
“Did he ever mention to you anything about Professor McConnell’s class?”
“After graduation, by the time I had contact with Frank, he was speeding on the way down. Once or twice he did mention a historical date, so I guess he learned something.”
“Do you think you had a good relationship with him?”
“Well, we never exchanged harsh words. Frank wasn’t capable of friendship. He was self-centered. Other people existed to be his audience. Like I said, we never had harsh words, but I gave him odd jobs. He was an All-American, and that counts for something.”
“When the tree was put in, were you there?”
“No. Harley Simpson was the supervisor. He’s on the job, but he’ll be happy to talk to you. I asked him if anything seemed amiss. He said no, it was a simple planting. Nothing unusual.”
She scribbled a few notes, then continued. “You would give Frank work?”
“Yes. As I said, especially in the spring and fall. He used to be able to work a full day digging, planting, weeding. The last few years, Frank worked slowly. He weakened. I’d use him when we were overloaded and whoever was supervising the project could keep an eye on him. Actually, Marshall and Rudy would use him, too, at busy times. He was unskilled labor, but he could use a shovel or his hands.”
“Can you tell me what he might have done for Mr. Reese and Mr. Putnam?”
“Marshall used him on construction sites, especially cleanup, and Rudy used him occasionally, but the paving business is different. You can’t risk a drunk around hot asphalt, but when Frank was sober, Rudy did use him.”
A red oak passed the window, small, being rolled on a heavy dolly.
Paul said, “A useful tree. Even has a nice silhouette in winter. The wood is beautiful.”
“You grew up in this business?”
“I did. I always loved it. I like working with living things, like creating vistas or privacy. People are more sophisticated about landscaping than even twenty years ago, when all anyone wanted was Bradford pears—a lovely tree, mind you, but not particularly sturdy.” He smiled.
“I like to see the driveways lined in Bradford pears when they bloom, early bloomers.” Cooper knew a little bit about shrubs and trees, but not like Harry, who could rattle on. “Let me get this straight. You, Mr. Reese, and Mr. Putnam often work on the same project, so if any one of you had hired Frank, the others might know or see him on-site?”
“Most times, yes. I wouldn’t say there was camaraderie.” Paul shrugged. “He could be a surly S.O.B., but when he was younger, stronger, he put in a good day’s work. Mostly, we didn’t want him to starve.”
She looked straight at him. “I believe those former UVA athletes that live in Albemarle County often help one another or throw business to one another?”
“We do. I send new people to Nelson if they need a dentist. We all use him. If he wants some landscaping, he calls me. It’s pleasant to do business with teammates, friends.”
“Yes. Your business is the biggest of its kind in central Virginia.”
He smiled. “We are.”
“You’ve bought additional acreage over the years.” He nodded, and she continued. “And, if a teammate, even one who played later, wants land, you might sell it to him?”
“Depends.” He shifted in his seat. “I need good soil for a nursery. If I have acreage, say, at one end of a larger tract, not such great soil but good views, I might sell that. Most people aren’t going to farm. They want a nice house and views. But mostly, Deputy, I should have told you that in the beginning.” She gave a little wave of the hand, and he continued. “I don’t sell. The cost of land in this county is out of sight. I need it if for no other reason than I don’t have as far to haul equipment. You know that tree we planted at The Barracks? An independent contractor with heavy equipment would charge you three hundred dollars an hour the minute he fired up the engine. We can do these things for less, and one of the reasons is scale, economy of scale.”
“Like Walmart.” She smiled.
He laughed. “I’m not in that league, but yes, same principle. That’s the reason Marshall and Rudy and I work together. Marshall creates historic subdivisions, upscale. He researches the history. I research the gardens for the time. I do the landscaping. Rudy grades, bulldozes roads, puts in the drainage, and then paves. Rudy doesn’t need history.” Paul smiled, then continued. “Working as we have over the decades, we rarely miss, or perhaps I should say we rarely get in one another’s way. The work is smooth. We get along.”
“The homes, the yards and gardens you create together are lovely. I like that there is so much land for each home. They’re not jammed up together.”
“That’s Marshall.” He paused. “He’s adamant about privacy. Adamant about the provenance, the history. He puts up markers that are more complete than the state ones. Marshall’s are easier to read too. I enjoy the history, but Marshall loves it. He was one of Ginger’s favorite students.” He inhaled. “Frank was too, until he tried to run off with Olivia.
“In a way, it’s a sad story. She bounced back, married well, is happy. He hit the skids.”
“Everyone has mentioned that to me.”
“High drama.” Paul leaned back. “High drama as only young love can be. People at that time of their life can’t believe anyone has ever felt the way they do. When I met Anita, I couldn’t eat, sleep.” He grinned. “Lovesick but, you know, she somehow liked me and I asked her to marry me before she came to her senses.” He laughed heartily. “This year will be our fiftieth wedding anniversary.”
“Congratulations.”
“Most of us, the team from 1959, married wonderful women. When I see the divorce rate, I don’t know. I felt things begin to unravel in the early seventies, and, well, I just don’t know. I was raised that there’s no back door to marriage, so choose with care. Maybe we were all lucky. No drugs. Drinking, yes, but no drugs, none of the anger that came later. Well, I’m off the track. Sorry.” He inhaled again. “And I’m sorry for Frank. A man given great gifts and he threw them away.”
“Yes. It certainly seems that he did.” She closed her notebook. “Mr. Huber, can you think of anyone or any reason why someone would kill Frank?”
“I? No, unless they thought they were doing him a kindness.”
April 29, 2015
Late Afternoon
“An act of kindness?” said Cooper as she walked Shortro, a young athletic Saddlebred, on a lead rope behind Harry, who was walking another one of the brood mares into a stall.
“Well, maybe it was, Coop. I’m sure other people might feel that way.” Harry slipped off the halter, hanging it outside the stall.
Cooper, having done the same, followed Harry into the tack room, where Mrs. Murphy, Pewter, and Tucker slept on fleecy saddle pads. Harry had tried cozy dog and cat beds, which they had ignored. The fleece saddle pads it had to be, so Harry used old ones, washing them once a week. Much as Pewter might complain, the two cats and one dog really were a little spoiled.