A Bloodhound to Die for (9 page)

“Do you really think he was successful in escaping, or is he hiding somewhere on the grounds and hoping he can get out after the excitement dies down?”

“He’s had six years to plan this. He has a large, close-knit family that is willing to help him. I don’t know how he pulled it off, but I believe he’s celebrating freedom right now in the Okefenokee Swamp with a few close relatives and friends.” I lifted my coffee cup. “Here’s to Jimmy Joe. May he live a long and happy life free of restraints!”

“Hear, hear!” Jasmine agreed. “Were you serious about not going after him, if the powers that be should ask?”

“Absolutely. I really didn’t appreciate the search warrant. I can only guess what happened with the message I left at the information desk. Either the guard ignored it, or he left a message on the captain’s desk and when Jimmy Joe was discovered missing, the captain checked the visitors’ log and decided that I helped him somehow.”

Jasmine frowned. “They found him missing very quickly. Did he trip an alarm or something?”

“They have an early meal for supper on Sunday afternoon, right after visiting hours end. They have the lockdown count at five P.M. I suppose that is when they found him missing. God, he really had to be touched in the head to try to escape in broad daylight when he
knew they would discover his absence within the hour. So far he seems to be successful. Course Hank wouldn’t call to tell me if they already had him in custody. I imagine the only news we’ll get will be from the newspaper and the radio station.”

“After hearing what was going on, I understand now what the captain meant by ‘What message?’ He really did seem surprised.”

“I agree with you. I don’t think he knew anything about my message, but then again, he may have but thought I was trying to throw him off the scent. Who knows?”

Jasmine smiled. “Tell me what you think of your newest admirer.”

“Don’t you dare tease me about his confession of undying love for me. Tell me why I’m so unlucky in the men who seem to be attracted to me. Is it something I say or do?”

“I’m not going near that question, thank you very much.” Jasmine yawned and stretched like a cat. “I’m exhausted, and have an eight A.M. class. I’m gonna hit the sack. Need anything before I go?”

“Not a thing. I’ll see you tomorrow. Sleep tight.”

She trudged off to bed and Bobby Lee and Rudy left for their late-night run. I didn’t wait up for their return. I undressed, crawled under the sheet, and prepared to spend a long time before I slept. I went out like a light. I awoke once during the night from the nightmare that visited at least once a week.

Bubba was moving toward me in slow motion, his bat poised to clobber Jasmine. I pushed her away lightly and she floated out of my vision as I slowly fired six rounds into his torso. Bubba clutched me in his fatal fall and the copious flow of his blood covered me like a soggy blanket.

I awoke in a cold sweat and trembling from fear. I exchanged yellow-colored sheets for white ones with blue sprigs of summer flowers and pink shorty pajamas for light green. I lay back down to rest, knowing sleep would be impossible. I drifted off near dawn.

  
10
“Saying Good-bye”

I
slept in this morning. After the late night
and
an unwelcome nightmare, I felt quite peaked. After three cups of coffee and a bowl of cornflakes with a banana, I began to feel somewhat human again.

I read the paper with my coffee. If I hadn’t been informed last evening about the “Great Escape” I could have easily missed the short two-paragraph report on page three. Fred’s front and second pages were devoted to the tragedy of three of our townspeople shot and killed in a high-school history room. The funeral announcements were heavily outlined in black, with pictures directly above each notice. The ghouls would be disappointed with the coverage. Fred had avoided any mention of how or where they died, nothing about a shotgun or gore, and had affixed no blame. This was
for the local families who could clip the articles and have them Xeroxed and encased in plastic for the family albums.

I dreaded funerals and today I had three to attend. Leon Kirkland’s parents refused to let Sara be buried next to Leon and also wouldn’t let her be a part of his service. Sara would be buried in her parents’ plot and her funeral would be at eleven A.M. Leon’s funeral was at one P.M., and Norma Jean Tramore, a widow of six months, would be buried beside her husband, Randy. Who would have thought that they would both die in the same year?

The phone rang before I finished the paper. A female voice asked for Jo Beth Sidden.

“This is she speaking.”

She asked me to hold for Warden Sikes, Monroe Prison. Aha! Jimmy Joe had been found within the wire and I was gonna get an apology, or he was still missing and the warden wanted me to find him. Either way, it was payback time. I’d met Sikes during past searches. He seemed to be a nice, polite person and had admired the bloodhounds.

“Ms. Sidden, Warden Sikes. How are you?”

“I’m fine, sir.”

“I want to apologize for the misunderstanding last night. Captain Jenkins just transferred here this spring and he wasn’t aware that you did our searches for missing prisoners. He was, ah, a trifle hasty securing the search warrant, without my permission.
The incident would not have happened had I been here.”

“I accept your explanation, sir.”

“Has Sheriff Cribbs notified you that we are now ready for you to search for this prisoner?”

“No, sir.”

“We have scoured the grounds with no success. It’s obvious that he has freed himself and we have no idea how he did it. How many men do you need to go with you and when can we expect you?”

“I won’t be available for a search for Jimmy Joe Lane.”

“Did I hear you correctly? Did you say you wouldn’t search for him?”

“That’s correct.”

His tone of voice was sharper and he sounded surprised.

“May I ask why?”

“For several reasons. Just be assured that I won’t be able to help you.”

“It is my understanding that you signed a contract that still has three or more years to run. Is this correct?”

“Perfectly correct.”

I was going to make him work for every answer that I gave him and volunteer no additional information. His voice was now cool and had a crisp snap.

“Will you explain your failure to fulfill this request for assistance?”

“No, sir.”

“What?”

“No, sir, I will not explain.”

“This is ridiculous. I’ll get back to you shortly!”

I listened to silence and smiled. I gently replaced the receiver.

When I entered the grooming room, Wayne informed me that Sara Kirkland’s parents had picked up Sherlock earlier.

“Did they say why,” I quickly signed, “or leave a message?”

“Mrs. Watson said she was taking him to the funeral.” Mrs. Watson was Sara’s mother.

I groaned. “Did she mention if she was going to bring him back?” Wayne gave a negative shake of his head and looked questioningly at me to fill him in.

“Beats me. Maybe I’ll get a chance to ask her today,” I said.

I wanted to know what was in Sherlock’s future. I would be glad to buy him back.

The relatives of Sara and Leon were feuding with each other instead of dealing with their grief. I was going to try to track down the vicious rumor that had destroyed their children’s lives. I just hoped that they wouldn’t fight over Sherlock. Sara’s parents were too old to work and train him; they were both in their early sixties. Sherlock had progressed well with his basic obedience training. He was alert and willing and would make an excellent search dog.

I hated to think of what he would be like in a year if they decided to make him the family pet as a monument
to Sara’s memory. He would be overweight, wouldn’t have enough exercise, and would have lost his edge to learn and be trained even if they finally agreed to try. I made a mental note to myself to go visit them in a couple of weeks and try to explain what he needed.

After a brief inspection of the kennel, I was walking back across the courtyard when a blue car nosed around the corner from the drive. It slowly pulled up to where I was heading to the back-porch sidewalk.

I went around to the front of the car while a man unfolded long legs and stood up beside the opened door. He was very tall. I had to keep adjusting my vision upward until he finally finished straightening to his full height.

He was over six feet, I would guess by five to six inches. He had broad shoulders and looked like a college basketball player twenty years down the road who had maintained his waistline but had lost the battle to keep his hair. His hairline had receded. What hair was left was dark and he had unusual light green eyes and was a total stranger. I stared at the eyes a tad too long. He gave me a small smile.

“Everyone assumes they’re contacts, but they are inherited from a northern Celt and a Scottish lass, or maybe it’s the other way around. I’m not sure.”

“They’re beautiful,” I blurted, feeling the color creep up my neck. “I’m Jo Beth Sidden. How can I help you?”

“I’m Leland Kirkland, Leon’s oldest brother. Please call me Lee.”

“I’m called Jo Beth. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you. You never expect your baby brother to die first. I understand you tried to get everyone out. I want to thank you for the ones you saved.”

“I hoped to save all of them, but a slug who’s an agent for the GBI yanked me out prematurely and I didn’t get a chance to try.”

“You did good. Mom saved the paper for me.”

“You’re not local, then? You’re just here for the funeral?”

Why don’t you ask the guy a few questions? I thought with irony. Jesus.

“I live in Fox Grove. Know it?” I shook my head no. “It’s almost three hundred miles to the north, in the mountains. I visit Mom and Dad two or three times a year, now that they are getting older. Leon’s death just moved my scheduled visit up a few weeks.”

“Leon was a couple of grades ahead of me in school and you said you’re the oldest brother. If you went to school here, I was probably running around barefoot and with pigtails.”

“I’m sorry that I don’t remember you, just as you don’t remember me. Right?”

I smiled. “Right.”

“Mom and Dad sent me on an errand. They want me to pick up Leon’s dog, Sherlock, and pay the kennel fees for boarding him.”

Uh-oh. I must have looked surprised.

“He is here, isn’t he?”

“Not exactly.”

“No?” It was his turn to look surprised.

“Sara’s mother and father picked him up over an hour ago. My kennel manager, Wayne Frazier, told me that they wanted him at the funeral.”

“You’re kidding!”

“I’m afraid not.”

Lee focused on the tarmac and moved a foot back and forth absentmindedly.

“Is the dog valuable?”

“If you mean money-wise, I really don’t think that’s the reason both sets of parents want possession. They are all hurting right now, blaming each other and trying to assuage their pain with anger.”

“I’m just trying to understand what’s going on. Legally, who gets the dog?”

“That’s going to be touchy, if they’re gonna fight for possession. I’m not sure, but I would think that
if
Sara and Leon had a reciprocal agreement that everything goes to the other, Sara survived Leon—but since she was the cause of his death, she doesn’t stand to gain from her crime.” I gave him a straight look.

“I’m really worried about Sherlock. He’s a very talented dog, and with another month of hard work, he should finish his obedience trials. If he’s going to be in
limbo for months while the court settles a civil dispute, he might not ever achieve his potential.”

“Couldn’t you board him here and keep up his training until they decide who inherits?”

I smiled. “It’s not that simple. It takes a great deal of time, commitment, stamina, and money.”

“How much time?”

I laughed. “I think I know what you’re thinking. I really couldn’t explain a bloodhound’s needs in less than two or three hours and we both have funerals to attend today. Why don’t we have lunch later this week? How long are you planning on staying?”

“My first game is in three weeks, but I should get back before then. I’m a high school football coach. I will be staying for a few days. I’ll call you about lunch.”

“Great.” I glanced at my watch. “I’m sorry that I don’t have time to visit with you longer. I have to get dressed for Sara’s funeral. Will I see you there?”

“My mom would disown me. Personally, I liked Sara, but under the circumstances I couldn’t go.”

“I understand.”

He left and I stood there gazing after him. I’d asked almost everything but the most important question, did he have a wife? I had left this too late to work it in smoothly without being obvious.

Why would I even be thinking along those lines anyway? I’d had a long-distance romance with Jonathan
that had withered on the vine because of a lengthy commute; it would be foolish to even contemplate another. I should forget that Lee was the first to even stir any interest, lo these many months, and those wonderful green eyes, the broad shoulders, et cetera, et cetera. I went to take a cold shower.