Out Of Hounds

CHAPTER 37

March 15, 2020 Sunday

Gray, Sister, Betty, Tootie, Weevil, Walter, and Ben sat spread out in Sister’s living room. The rain continued to pour outside. A fire warmed the room. Even though it was two in the afternoon, it was dark, the clouds hung low outside.

Walter and Ben sat farthest away, praticing the social distancing. As both men had to see people they kept their distance. No reliable tests were available yet in the area. However, both felt fine.

Sister and Gray sat close, as did Tootie and Weevil. Betty sat on Sister’s other side on the sofa.

Aunt Daniella, given her advanced age, stayed home and Tootie told her mother to stay home. Gray told his brother he would call him, and Aunt Daniella wanted Gray to call her immediately then she would call Kathleen. Everyone, while irritated at not being allowed to be there, did understand.

“The Ides of March,” Sister simply said.

Walter replied, “This is only the beginning.”

“That, too,” she replied. “Ben, you’ve taken our statements, those of us in the middle of this. Did you get anything out of him?”

“His first concern was reducing his sentencing. He swears he didn’t kill anyone, which I believe, but I also believe he ordered the killings. He would have killed you two but he says he just wanted to scare you.”

“Including Delores Buckingham?” Sister asked. “Did he order her death?”

“Most especially Delores. She figured out, to a point, the scam, which involved drivers with prison records. Ex-cons have trouble finding work. Some can be lured back into crime, fortunately many can’t. The ones Carter recruited had all wracked up gambling debts. Cards, as you might suspect from the removed forefinger and middle finger on the right hand. Even with that advantage, they lost money. Drugs didn’t help.”

“So they were destitute and desperate?” Gray inquired.

“Add lax morals. Since the dead don’t talk, I can’t say whether they cared one way or another what they were doing. Carter refused to identify the driver found in the Gulf station. He’s vague about how he recruited these men, which means, to me, he knows a lot more about illegal gambling than he admits.”

“His problems are bigger than that. How did he get the idea to steal Munnings’s paintings?” Betty, having seen Carter at his worst, wanted to know particularly, since she’d thought she knew him.

“Carter visited many rich peoples’ homes, especially those who are older. He knew where good art hung. Over the years he might walk off, having someone else do the dirty work, with a small painting by a good artist. Not the biggest and not always highly expensive, but good. For a time he would lift street scenes from Paris by very good painters during the last half of the nineteenth century. The thefts were reported but he never got caught. Whatever happened to the men, and I’m not sure his minions were always men, he won’t say. I believe that he used women from time to time, those employed as housekeepers or even nannies.”

“He made money. Right?” Tootie asked.

“Enough to live well, buy a new car or truck every two years, and he blew a lot of money on his small yacht, which he calls a big boat. It’s a small yacht.” Ben leaned forward. “Foxhunting proved another entrée into an upper-class world.”

“Ben, most foxhunters are not all that rich,” Sister quickly said.

“No, but enough are to make learning to ride and ride well useful. Essex, Piedmont, Orange, Middleburg, Green Spring Valley, Radnor, to name a few, contain wealthy people. At one time or another he hunted at those hunts and made friends. He hunted at the hunt outside Franklin, Tennessee, hoping some country music money might be there. He was nothing if not thorough.”

“I guess. Did he hunt in Great Britain?” Weevil wondered.

“He did, but he would need a real network there among former or practicing criminals and there wasn’t time. Plus how to manage it? Also, his American accent wouldn’t help him.”

“Ah. I never think of that,” Betty murmured.

“How did he come up with the Munnings’s idea?” Sister echoed Betty’s question.

“He had visited The Munnings Art Museum in England. Learning about Florence Carter-Wood gave him the idea that a painting featuring her would be worth quite a lot. There were fewer of them. Then he also realized that the sidesaddle paintings existed in small number compared to the rest of Munnings’s work. Hence the idea to steal what showed Florence or a figure that could be Florence as well as other beautiful women. The key was the rarity.”

“It must have worked.” Weevil wanted to hold Tootie’s hand but, of course, did not.

“Yes, it did. He had an oil prince with God knows how many skyscrapers in Dubai.”

“One person?” Sister’s voice rose.

“A prince, a leader, they all must have money beyond imagining. Yes, it was one person. One person with billions. He sent his personal jet to pick up the paintings here and in Kentucky.”

“How do we get them back?” Betty wondered. “And why don’t you say his name?”

“Because I spoke to our State Department in Washington as well as a few of my buddies in the C.I.A. To openly shame someone with whom our country does critical business would be foolish, and dangerous in a different way.”

“How do we get the paintings back?” Tootie had little patience for high-level politics, perhaps a feature of her generation.

“I believe our government will, and I think much of the money is still in Carter’s possession.”

“Why?” Gray wondered.

“Because he tried to buy me off.” Ben smiled. “Which will be another charge against him.”

“Who murdered the drivers and was Parker Bell part of it?” Weevil could still feel the force of that kick.

“Parker had gotten wind of the driving. He knew some of those men from his time in the pen. Others were imprisoned elsewhere but they knew one another. Parker wanted in on the take. He would have been killed ultimately but he didn’t know that. He saw money. So Carter realized he had to go. He also realized, thanks to Parker, that he would have to kill the drivers, save one, one that he trusted or perhaps was his partner. That man that escaped in Shelbyville. Carter killed Parker himself. He doesn’t admit it, but it falls into place.”

“Why won’t Carter identify the Gulf corpse?” Walter asked.

“We don’t know enough. He’s told us some truths, some half-truths, and some outright lies. Once he hires a good lawyer, and with his money he will, the lawyer will try to bargain first. We might be able to pull some stuff out. But it was a network. It was well-organized and it was to be Carter’s grand accomplishment. He would make so much money, which he did, he wouldn’t need to worry about money again.” Ben stared at the fire for a moment. “I don’t think he would have stopped. There’s a high to getting away with this, plus the money.” Then he smiled. “He had Fennell’s lead shanks used because they are so supple yet sturdy. Idiot bragged no one was killed with shoddy goods. The murders were like dominoes. One driver killed another then he was in turn killed until only the Shelbyville man was left. Possibly the drivers from the Headley-Whitney Museum’s heist, too. We’ll get to the bottom of that.”

“Was Buddy Cadwalder part of this?” Sister wondered.

“No. Carter said Buddy was a straight arrow plus he wasn’t smart enough to pull off something of this size.”

“If Carter were so smart, he wouldn’t have gotten caught,” Tootie quite rightly said.

“Sister scared him,” Ben informed her. “And he knew she was closing in because she figured out the Florence Carter-Wood link.” Ben looked out the window a moment at the downpour. “Having seen photos of the famous Florence at Sunset painting plus those of Florence herself, she was quite beautiful, as was Munnings’s second wife. But Florence really was a sorrowful figure, not of her own doing, I think.” Ben smiled a sad smile.

“He didn’t think out how to kill me?” Sister mused.

“He said you were always smart. Plus he didn’t know who you would tell. He told me he bore you no personal animus, it was strictly business, and he felt he had to get rid of you fast.”

“Lucky for me, Gray rode in the back with me and the hounds turned back. If it weren’t for Betty, Tootie, and Weevil, he would have succeeded.”

“Sister, the odds were against you, but who is to say?” Ben smiled at her. “Over time the details of names, perhaps hidden contacts, will leach out, but you have the big picture. And of course, Carter believed the rarity of sidesaddle and Florence’s image would drive up the prices for those special paintings, which it did. Which isn’t to say the value of the works featuring other women were low. Far from it.”

“You know, Ben, Munnings never spoke of Florence but I think he was haunted by her.” Sister then changed the subject. “Would anyone like tea or coffee or something stronger? I should have asked before we sat down.”

All demurred.

Walter shook his head slightly. “Sister, we both lose our bet. Both wrong. You thought the thieves would be part of the show world and I thought they’d be part of the art world, dealers, museums. Well, we saved money.”

She laughed. “That’s one way to look at it.”