Outfoxed

CHAPTER 59

The sting of not being chosen to be joint-master faded as Crawford focused on Martha. Winning her back meant a great deal personally and socially.

This euphoria somewhat dissipated when Ben Sidell walked through the office door to announce that the .38 found in the ravine was registered to Crawford Howard.

“Are you accusing me of killing Fontaine Buruss?” Crawford sputtered.

Calmly, deliberately, the sheriff replied, “I am informing you that a thirty-eight registered to you, purchased last June, was the gun that killed Fontaine Buruss.”

Rising from his chair, Crawford said, “I didn’t even know the gun was missing.”

“Where do you usually keep it?” Without being invited to do so, Ben sat down in a chair by the coffee table. He opened his notepad.

“In my trailer.”

“What trailer?”

“My horse trailer.”

“Why would you keep a thirty-eight in your horse trailer? I thought foxhunters didn’t shoot foxes.”

Walking around his desk and leaning against it, facing the sheriff, Crawford, quickly in control of himself, replied, “In case I find a wounded animal. In case there’s an accident in the field. You know, a horse breaks a leg.”

“I see. Then why was the gun in your trailer and not on your person? I’d think you’d notice its disappearance promptly.” His tone was even, his voice deep.

Embarrassed, Crawford folded arms across his chest. “I anticipated being asked to carry the gun but when I wasn’t, I put it in the medicine chest in my trailer.”

“Why would you be asked to carry a gun?”

“One or two staff people usually carry a thirty-eight under their coat or on the small of their back. Just in case.”

“So you bought the gun last June—just in case.”

Crawford’s voice rose. “I thought I would be asked to become joint-master. My rival, as you know, since you’ve questioned everyone, was Fontaine Buruss. Jane Arnold was to have made her decision at opening hunt. However, the death, the murder of Fontaine, convinced her to delay that decision until next season.”

“You’re disappointed?”

“Hell, yes, I’m disappointed but not enough to remove my rival.”

“Why couldn’t you both serve?”

“It would have never worked.”

“Why not?”

“Fontaine was a lightweight. A bullshitter. What he wanted to do was seduce women.”

“I was under the impression he was successful without being joint-master.”

“Sheriff, this is Virginia. We’re both outsiders. It took me a while to realize that M.F.H. behind one’s name ranks right up there with F.F.V. Of course, if you have both you have everything.” He caustically winked.

“Tell me again of your whereabouts during opening hunt. You were unaccounted for for twenty minutes.”

“We went over that.”

“Refresh my memory.” Ben smiled at him, a cold glint in his eye.

“My horse went lame. I turned back. When I reached the small creek, Tinker’s Branch, I was afraid Czapaka would jump it and I didn’t want him to do that if he was lame. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me at first but I picked up his front feet and found a stone. I removed the stone, walked him a bit with me off. He was sound. So I got up and rejoined the group.”

“And no one saw you?”

“No. Not that I know of, anyway.”

“Crawford Howard, I am booking you under suspicion of the murder of Fontaine Buruss. You have the right to remain silent. . . .”